The wind whipped through Highhaven, carrying with it the distant hum of rebuilding. The wooden walls, scarred from the battles they had endured, were now being mended by the fae who flitted around like worker bees. Their delicate wings shimmered in the sunlight, their hands steady as they repaired what had once been torn asunder. The city, once shattered by Avaris’ forces, was slowly rising again from the ashes.

  Lyanna stood at the edge of it all, her white cloak billowing in the breeze. Her eyes scanned the work, the steady progress of Highhaven’s revival, yet despite the movement around her, a weight still settled in her chest. It was the weight of knowing that the peace they had fought so hard for was fragile. Highhaven will recover, that much was certain.

  Her people were resilient, their magic ancient and strong. But there was something else, something lingering in the shadows, a threat that had not been eradicated. Avaris, the Gearsmith, the murderer, would not remain idle forever. His golem army would rebuild and strike again. Lyanna knew this in her bones. The war, though it seemed to have ended, was far from over.

  She took a deep breath and called out to the fae working near the northern wall. "Good work, all of you," she said, her voice steady but with an air of authority since she had been chosen as Guardian of Highhaven.

  They nodded, their expressions filled with respect as they continued their work, but Lyanna could see the weariness in their eyes. They, too, understood the cost of what had been lost.

  "Lyanna," a voice called, breaking her from her thoughts.

  She turned, her cloak swirling around her as she faced the newcomer—a young fae dressed in a bronze cloak. His wings were less intricate than those of the others, a subtle hint at his youth, yet his eyes spoke of potential. Eti.

  He bowed low before her, a gesture of respect that felt more formal than needed, but Lyanna let it pass.

  "Guardian Lyanna," he said.

  Lyanna smiled softly, shaking her head as she approached him. "Eti, you don’t have to be so formal with me," she said, her voice light but firm. "You are my ward, Eti. There is no need for this reverence."

  Eti stood, his gaze flickering between her and the work being done around them. His expression was guarded, a mask of duty. "I have to, Guardian," he replied, his voice carrying a slight edge of hesitation. "You are my mentor, and I am your ward. It is only fitting."

  Lyanna paused for a moment, taking in his words. There was something about the way he said it, something that lingered like an unspoken truth. A Guardian must have a ward and Eti was chosen among the promising fae. He was to learn from her, to protect her, to grow. Yet there was a part of him still tied to the old ways—respect, duty, formality. It was a part of him that Lyanna had never fully understood, though she had respected it.

  "You’ve learned well, Eti," Lyanna said, her tone softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "But you’re still young. Don’t forget to live as well."

  He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I won’t forget, Guardian Lyanna."

  She studied him for a moment before turning her gaze back to the walls, to the fae working tirelessly around her. The repairs would continue, the city would rebuild. But Lyanna’s heart tugged at the knowledge that something else was pressing in on them, something darker than the rebuilding of walls. The battle with Avaris—those wounds were still fresh. And the worst, she feared, was yet to come.

  "I need to go," Lyanna said, her voice quiet but filled with certainty. "There are things I must see to. We will manage here, but I cannot remain idle."

  Eti's eyes darkened with concern, but he did not challenge her. He was loyal, ever watchful, and he knew better than to question her decisions. "I must accompany you, Guardian," he said, his tone steady but filled with the duty he had sworn to her.

  "Very well," Lyanna said with a soft nod, her eyes meeting his. "But you must follow, and not question me."

  Eti's gaze softened, and for the first time, there was no formality, no protocol. "Of course, Guardian," he said simply.

  ******

  The wind carried Lyanna through the skies, the vast expanse of land beneath her fading into a blur of green and brown. She flew for days, not stopping to rest, the weight of her mission pushing her forward.

  The delicate wings at her back carried her with a grace that had always come naturally. Eti flew beside her, though his wings, still new to the work, were less fluid, more hesitant. He had only recently been sworn as her ward, newly chosen to stand by her side. There was much to learn for him still, much to experience.

  The towering trees of the faelands fell behind them, and the sprawling forests thinned, giving way to vast plains. The path ahead was uncertain, but Lyanna could feel the call of it, the pull toward the human kingdoms.

  The wind finally died down as they reached the border. The border between the fae and the humans. It was a place where fae wings were forbidden, an ancient covenant that both protected and restricted.

  Lyanna touched down first, her feet landing with barely a sound on the hard, dry earth. Turning, she looked back at Eti, who hovered just above the ground, uncertain. The hesitation in his stance was clear, his wings faltering slightly, as though they were unsure of the transition.

  "First time in human lands, Eti?" Her words were light.

  Eti hovered there, his wings twitching in the air, and he gave a small, almost embarrassed nod. "Yes, Guardian," he said quietly. "It feels different here. Not like the faelands."

  "It’s an ancient covenant. When we cross into human lands, our wings disappear. They’ll come back when we return to the faelands. It’s not permanent."

  Lyanna’s smile softened further, and she took a step forward, the breeze teasing the edges of her white cloak.

  "I see." The hesitation still lingered in Eti’s eyes, the uncertainty of the unknown.

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  Lyanna placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her touch light but firm, as though grounding him in the moment. "It’s not something to fear," she said. "It’s a part of the journey. But you’ll see—this land holds its own power. It’s different from the fae, but not without its beauty."

  Eti took a deep breath, his wings twitching with uncertainty. And then, slowly, he crossed the line. As soon as his feet touched the earth, his wings vanished as if they had never existed, leaving him standing just as human would. Feet on the ground

  He stood there for a moment, before Lyanna spoke again, her voice warm. "See? It’s not so bad."

  "I can’t feel them," he said. "My wings… they’re gone."

  Lyanna nodded, understanding the sensation well. "It's strange at first but they’ll come back.”

  With that, they continued on their journey. Together, the pair walked forward, their feet stepping onto the earth of the human lands.

  ******

  The tavern in Newvale was dimly lit, its flickering hearth casting dancing shadows across the walls. The air inside smelled faintly of old wood and spiced ale, a comforting, familiar scent that did little to settle the unease that gnawed at Lyanna's stomach.

  Lyanna and Eti stepped inside, the creak of the door barely heard over the sound of the patrons. Her focus was on the table at the center of the tavern. It was broken, splintered into uneven halves, as if someone had shattered it with a brutal, sudden blow.

  Her lips twitched in amusement, despite herself. Grent, she thought, the recognition instantly apparent. Grent had always been a man of great strength but little subtlety. She couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath, a laugh easing her tension.

  At the back of the tavern, in a shadowed corner near the bar, sat two familiar figures. Grent and Terrance, both of them grim, their expressions hardened by the burden of the news they had just received. They had heard of the battle of Highhaven and the sacrifice.

  Lyanna approached them without hesitation, moving through the room and slid into the seat across from them, her eyes flicking briefly to the broken table before settling on the men. Eti stood near the table but gave his Guardian space.

  "We heard the terrible news from Highhaven," Terrance said, his voice heavy. Grent sat solemnly next to Terrance, silent.

  Lyanna’s gaze didn’t waver. "My brother… he sacrificed himself," she said quietly. "He gave up his reincarnation for Highhaven."

  The weight of those words hung in the air. Her brother was meant to be the Guardian, not her.

  "Tell me, what of the ceasefire here?" she asked.

  “The ceasefire is… fragile at best," Terrance said, his words measured. “But it is still holding. That Master is strange, he communicates. Tries to. He detonated a few wisps to get our attention.”

  Lyanna froze. Wisps.

  Terrance noticed the sudden shift in her, the subtle tightening of her shoulders. "What’s wrong?" he asked.

  "A Master that used wisps was in the battle of Highhaven," she said. "There was one—someone with green skin, with a sickle made of ice. He fought against one of the Golds."

  Grent grunted, his large frame shifting as he leaned back in his seat. "Vynessa told me," he said, his voice low. "This Master. The Newvale Master. He got an Ice sickle, sounds the same as the one you just described."

  Lyanna’s mind whirled as the pieces began to fall into place. Ice sickles, wisps, green skin—it all matched. The puzzle was coming together, but with it came a growing sense of dread.

  Could it be him? The realization struck her with a terrible finality. The Newvale Master working with Avaris?

  Terrance watched her closely, his brows furrowed. "Do you think it was him, then?" he asked.

  She couldn’t say for sure, not yet, but she knew this wasn’t coincidence. The pieces were falling into place far too neatly for her to ignore.

  "There’s something else," Grent said. "The walls—they turned gray the other day. For a day. Not during the Sunday meeting. No one knows why, and no one can explain it."

  "Gray?"

  “Yeah, means the Master ain’t around right? So where he go?” Grent pondered, more to himself than to the others.

  Eti, who had been standing at the edge, had been listening in. He tried to be unobtrusive but he had shifted now, his body tense, his shoulders square, his hand trembling. He had been silent but his voice broke out.

  "That Master must be helping him. He must be killed. No question."

  Lyanna turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "Eti, the square is introductory," she replied. “As a bronze, you can’t –”

  Terrance, however, cut her off. “No, Lyanna," he said. "It recently turned bronze.”

  Lyanna said nothing, looking at Eti and his outburst.

  Terrance stood then, his chair scraping back against the floor with a harsh screech. The movement was slow but deliberate, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. His towering frame seemed to grow even more imposing as he locked eyes with Eti, his face set in a grim expression.

  “You think you're ready to kill him? I had a young recruit once. Just like you—confident, eager, brave. He thought he could take on any Master, take on any square. He was too full of himself. And the square… The square and its Master broke him. He lost everything—his will, his spirit. I had to kick him out, never to return. It wasn’t worth it."

  The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Terrance’s words sinking into the room like lead. Eti stood frozen, his eyes wide but unblinking.

  Terrance’s gaze never wavered, his posture solid, unwavering. "You shouldn’t make the same mistake. I’m sure Lyanna doesn’t want you to make the same mistake.”

  Eti inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling, the air thick around him as he stood there, caught in the weight of Terrance’s words. He glanced at the Guardian and looked down.

  Lyanna watched the exchange between the the experienced knight and her young ward. She had seen it before. The call to action, the hunger for victory, the temptation of revenge, that can blind a young warrior to the dangers that lie ahead. It was all too familiar.

  "You're right," Eti said quietly. "I understand."

  "Eti’s got the right idea though," she said, her eyes flicking toward her ward, her expression hardening as she spoke. "The Newvale Master can’t wage war yet, but another Master can. Avaris is still alive."

  "This is why I came here," Lyanna continued. "I’m getting the old party together. I’m gathering Golds to raid Avaris’s Factory. We’re going to kill him."

  Grent and Terrance exchanged a look, one that spoke volumes without a word being uttered. They felt the weight of Lyanna’s mission, her pain.

  Terrance was the first to respond, his voice deep and resonant. His hand reached for his shield, its surface worn and scarred by years of battle. With a grim nod, he lifted it high. "You have my shield," he said.

  Grent stood as well, his large frame towering over the table. He reached round his back and drew his greatsword with one arm, its steel gleaming.

  "And you have my sword," he said. "We’ll face him together, Ly. Avaris won’t know what hit him."

  "Thank you both," she said quietly. "But there are a few more adventurers I need to call upon. Lagos. He’ll be crucial to the raid."

  "He is in martial art school. I can guide you there," he said.

  Terrance, who had been standing with his arms holding onto his shield, nodded slowly. "I’ll settle some things with the sword school. You know how it is—paperwork and such. But I’ll meet you both in Highhaven once I’m done."

  Lyanna nodded in response. The road ahead was long but it would be easier with her allies.

  "That sounds like a plan," Lyanna said. "But we had a long journey. We’ll rest here tonight, in the inn upstairs. Grent, you can join us in the morning. We’ll head out first thing."

  Grent gave a grunt of agreement, his massive shoulders shifting as he relaxed slightly. "A good night’s rest sounds good," he said.

  ******