The night was still and heavy as Kael prepared to rest, the pressures of Ascension lifted from his body. His shelter was quiet, the only sounds he heard were the wobbling of his slimes. The orb beside him pulsed faintly, casting long shadows in the cramped shelter since Jello increased in size.

  Then, Blue appeared.

  The wisp floated in, its flickering light fast, panicked. Blue blinked rapidly, its tiny form quivering. The last time Blue had acted like this, it had been when humans were preparing for war against him. Whatever had Blue worked up, Kael knew it was not something trivial.

  Kael rose to his feet, slipping the Slime Cape over his shoulders, his hand instinctively reached for the frozen Blacksmithing Hammer at his side. He exited his shelter when the night sky erupted with light.

  A brilliant trail cut through the darkness like a burning star. It exploded in a shower of sparks and light, bright enough to illuminate the entire clearing in an instant. The light filled the air with brilliance before it slowly faded, leaving nothing but the remnants of its light, ghostly afterimages in the dark.

  Another streak of light tore through the night, this one brighter, bursting into a dazzling array of colors.

  “Blue, see what is that,” Kael said.

  Blue darted forward, its glow leading the way as it shot toward the explosions in the distance. Kael looked through Blue as human soldiers were scattered in loose formation. In the center of them stood Terrance, his heavy armor unmistakable.

  One of the soldiers stepped forward, lighting one of the large sticks and in a flash, it was sent flying up into the sky. It exploded once again, a burst of color filling the night.

  It was silent, the sound muted by the blue walls. But Kael imagined it would have the most dreadful sound, of violence, of danger.

  Blue drifted downwards, its light pulsing as it approached Terrance. He floated down to his eye level and the knight unfurled a piece of parchment. The writing on it had been scribbled quickly but the message was clear.

  Your Master?

  The words were bold, insistent. And Kael heeded that call. Kael emerged dramatically from the shadows, his silhouette against the night. His robes billowed slightly in the cool breeze, the faint, eerie light of the stars illuminating his presence. He was riding the creature that had been his loyal companion since the beginning, Jello, now grown to the size of a man.

  Kael’s expression was unreadable, his eyes a cool, distant gaze that betrayed little emotion. As he approached, the two stood silent, the tension between them palpable.

  Blue traced a new shape in the sky, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement. A line of glowing words cut through the air:

  I am not a dog to be called, Terrence.

  Terrance hesitated, the implication of it was clear. The Master still bore hostility. He drew a deep breath, only to decide not to correct the Master’s spelling of his name. It was not the time to debate over trivialities.

  Terrance’s fingers gripped his parchment and quill tighter, and he quickly scribbled his response, his writing sharp and deliberate, though his hand trembled slightly.

  I wish to ask you a question.

  Kael’s eyes flickered over the parchment, a flash of interest passing through him, but he did not respond. His gaze was steady, unreadable. Kael was curious over this late night visit, but he quickly hid any expression behind the careful composure he wore so well. The Outside Races should not be privy to his thoughts.

  Terrance waited for a response, but the Master remained unmoved. Terrance’s hand, steady, moved across the parchment again.

  Do you know a Master Avaris?

  The question lingered in the air, and Kael’s eyes widened ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he quickly masked it. Avaris. His former conclave master. Kael had not expected this. Did they find out about me in Highhaven? Kael thought.

  Terrance caught the subtle change in the Master’s expression—the slight widening of his eyes, the shift in his posture. For the first time, he had reacted. That was all Terrance needed to see. He knew he had struck gold, but he couldn’t be sure if they were working together or against each other. Either way, the Newvale Master was linked with the monster that ravaged Lyanna’s homeland.

  Blue’s ethereal body pulsing softly as it traced Kael’s reply into the sky.

  Who?

  Terrance sighed heavily, the Master wanted to be coy. He knew it would be hard to get an answer. Yet, he had to try.

  Someone said they saw you in the Battle of Highhaven.

  Kael didn’t answer immediately. One of the fae must have reported it to the humans. Was that what led to this sudden curiosity from Terrance? Was this enough to break the ceasefire?

  No, Kael thought. The ceasefire is for nearby humans. Not fae across the world.

  Kael’s wisp, Blue, traced in the sky again, its glow flickering.

  Highhaven?

  Terrance sighed softly, his shoulders sagging just slightly under the weight of Kael’s deflection. He had hoped for something more direct, but Masters love playing games. But Terrance had enough.

  His frustration was palpable in the slow, deliberate movement of his quill as he scribbled his next words.

  Avaris will be killed by my hand and by my party, for his evils.

  Kael read the words. Kael’s lips formed into a smile as he realized the situation at hand. For his evils—those were words laced with the promise of vengeance, of finality.

  Kael's reply was simple, a brief phrase that could have meant anything. It could have been taken any way. He didn’t mean it to be anything other than what it was: genuine.

  Good luck. I wish for your success.

  Avaris was no simple Master, his golem army no small feat. Kael meant it, truly. It would be a difficult battle for Terrance and his party as they walked that dangerous road.

  But the words, so simple in Kael’s mind, were received with something else entirely. The moment Terrance read them, his face hardened.

  Terrance’s eyes lifted to Kael’s, the blue wall separating the two into their respective domains.

  “Mockery? Taunting? Do you think I am afraid of your friend?” Terrance shouted, losing his cool.

  Kael blinked, looking at the aggressive movements of the knight, unsure of what had been said.

  “For what he had done to the fae, we will do onto him a hundred fold. Do you hear me?” Terrance continued.

  Terrance stood still for a moment, his posture rigid, still simmering with the last embers of anger from their brief exchange. He had wanted to turn away and focus on the mission ahead. It was a mistake coming here. But Kael’s actions caught his attention again before he could take the first step.

  Kael’s finger was moving.

  Blue shifted in the air, its body forming a light trail for the message.

  To solve a problem, you must find the heart of the solution.

  Kael stood still in the clearing, watching as Terrance pondered about his message.

  He had given Terrance only a small clue, hoping it would be enough. If Terrance succeeded in taking down Avaris, it would remove a major threat from Kael’s path. That would be a tremendous help.

  But at the same time, Kael couldn’t help but feel a flicker of doubt. He had given the human the knowledge. Kael had hoped that they would be able to put the pieces together, to realize that the heart, the power of Avaris’s creations lay within the heart crystal of his golems. Pathox had given him the same clue before and Kael had passed it on.

  Terrance thought about the message. The message was ambiguous at best, and dangerous at worst. Was he offering genuine advice, or was he planting a trap for him? Heart of the solution. Was it a metaphor for Avaris’s weakness? Was the solution tied to his heart in some way? It felt like the Newvale Master was deliberately vague, teasing him with just enough information to get him thinking, but never enough to act on directly.

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  A heavy silence hung over Terrance as he walked away, lost in his thoughts, the distant sound of his soldiers’ footsteps echoing in the night.

  What Terrance didn’t notice, however, was the presence lurking in the shadows of the trees. A young fae, small, cloaked in bronze, stood motionless, hidden by the veil of night. The fae watched Terrance, eyes flicking from him to Kael.

  Time for revenge.

  *******

  Lyanna stood in the darkness, her heart pounding.

  In front of her stood Mother Crystal, the heart of her people, the beacon of their magic. But it was cracked, the surface littered with jagged lines that ran deep. The vibrant fae magic oozed, fading, as the magic seeped away, dying before it could reach the heavens.

  Lyanna could feel it, the loss, on everything she had known. The crystal’s light was fading, and with it, the fae.

  Oluru stood before it, his hand hovering just above the crystal. His fingers trembled, not from doubt, but from fear.

  "Oluru, no," she whispered, her voice trembling as she took a step forward. "You can’t—"

  But it was too late. He didn’t hear her.

  His hand hovered closer, and the faint glow of the crystal pulsed in response. Then, Oluru pressed his palm upon the surface of Mother Crystal.

  At first, nothing happened. The crystal’s surface shuddered, and a terrible sucking sound filled the air. Mana began to drain from Oluru, leaching from him, pulled into the very depths of Mother Crystal.

  "No! Stop!”

  His face twisted in pain as his energy was siphoned away. His form trembled, his body slackening, his skin getting paler.

  “Oluru, please stop!"

  Lyanna pulled at him, trying to tear him away, but his body felt like stone, like it was cemented to the crystal, trapped in the very act that would drain him of his essence.

  "Let go!"

  She pulled harder, but he didn’t respond. His breath was labored, ragged. There was nothing she could do to save him.

  "Oluru, please... you don’t have to do this. Please, don’t—"

  His body seemed to deflate before her eyes, the life draining from him, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. His skin, once radiant, looked dry, like a husk. He looked like someone that had been full of life but had been sucked dry of everything that made him who he was. He looked empty.

  Lyanna fell to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she reached out, but it was too late. He was gone, taken by the very act of saving them all.

  His body jerked suddenly, a ragged gasp escaping him. He rose, his limbs stiff and awkward, like a puppet with its strings tangled. His eyes opened, but they were no longer the eyes she remembered. They were cold, lifeless.

  His fingers, stiff and slow, wrapped around her neck.

  "You—Why didn’t you sacrifice yourself?"

  Lyanna’s breath caught, her throat closing as she gasped for air. His grip tightened around her neck, the pressure unbearable. Her vision blurred as tears stung her eyes. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t her brother.

  The world around her shattered, and with a violent start, Lyanna woke.

  Her body jerked upright in the bed, her heart racing, her chest heaving with the effort of her breath. Sweat clung to her skin, the nightmare still clinging in her mind. Her eyes darted around the room, the familiar walls of the inn slowly coming back into focus.

  Lyanna forced herself to calm, to steady her breath. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It was just a nightmare.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the floorboards cold against her bare feet, but the chill of the night didn’t ease the heat that still burned in her chest. Lyanna stood, wrapping her body with her white cloak, and made her way to the door. She needed to breathe, to get away from the suffocating thoughts.

  She had seen it so clearly, seen him, hollow and drained, giving up his own life to save Highhaven, and the pain of it still gnawed at her heart.

  Stepping into the quiet hallway, Lyanna made her way down the creaking stairs and out into the tavern. As she went through the door, the usual noise had all but faded, leaving only the stillness of an early hour.

  And there, at one of the tables, sat Grent.

  He was alone, his massive frame hunched over slightly as he stared into the low flame of the hearth. His eyes flickered up to meet hers as she entered, a knowing look passing between them.

  "You couldn’t sleep?" Grent asked, his voice gruff.

  Lyanna paused for a moment, the weight of her nightmare lingering behind her eyes. She flashed him a smile, one that was not quite as carefree as it used to be. "All is well," she said. "The fae don’t need as much sleep."

  Grent raised an eyebrow at her, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I remember otherwise," he said. “Terrance had to rent a cart just so you could sleep while we were traveling. You were a pain to carry."

  Lyanna laughed again, shaking her head. "I was not a pain," she protested, though the edge of her smile softened. “And that was one time. After a Master used a sleeping spell on me."

  "Well, I think I can’t be worse than Lagos," Lyanna continued, shaking the thoughts from her head. "Remember he tricked us all into thinking his species needs to hibernate for a full day. He had us convinced for a while, didn't he?"

  Grent’s bark of laughter was deep and sudden, shaking his broad shoulders. "I should’ve known something was off when he kept eating all our rations in the middle of the day."

  Lyanna laughed too, the tension in her chest loosening slightly at the memory. "He is 400 years old and is the worst prankster," she said, shaking her head.

  "That’s a teenager for Chelorans years, I suppose," Grent said with a shrug. "But ever since he became Grandmaster, he’s been acting wise. Each sentence laced with Cheloran Wisdom.”

  Lyanna chuckled again, but there was a hint of something more in her smile, a quiet warmth that lingered as she leaned back slightly in her chair, her gaze flicking to Grent. "I can't imagine him being wise," she said. "The first time I met him, I thought he was going to get us all killed."

  Grent’s eyes softened, a fleeting tenderness crossing his face. "That’s what I thought too. And now he is a grandmaster. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

  The mood between them shifted then, a brief, comfortable silence settling in. The laughter faded into something quieter, something unspoken but no less real. It was just the two of them, surrounded by the warmth of the tavern, the scent of firewood and ale, and the comfort of shared memories.

  "I’m glad we’ve had this time," she said finally, her voice softer than before. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?"

  Grent’s expression softened, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer. He didn’t answer right away, as if weighing his words carefully, but finally, he nodded. "It does," he said quietly. "But it’s a good lifetime. A good memory."

  Lyanna couldn’t help but laugh softly, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. "We weren’t always good, you know."

  Grent’s gave a small smile, though it was now laced with something deeper. "Yeah, I know."

  For a long moment, the two of them sat in silence, the weight of the past and the present hanging between them, the laughter and the unspoken words lingering in the air.

  But Lyanna knew duty was calling. The road ahead was still dark, and they could not afford distractions.

  The silence lingered, and when Grent spoke again, his voice was low, almost wistful.

  "I know it’s not the right time," he said. "But... white looks good on you, Ly."

  Lyanna felt a warmth spread through her chest at the unexpected compliment. The words were simple, almost casual, but it was familiar.

  "Thank you," she said. She pulled at the hem of her cloak, a small, almost unconscious gesture.

  Grent didn’t respond immediately, but the tension between them shifted, the moment thick with something more than just words.

  "I—" Grent began, but then stopped himself, his words faltering. He didn't finish.

  Lyanna looked at him then, her expression softening. There were no more words for it.

  "Thank you, Grent," she said again, her voice barely above a whisper. She stood up, placing her hand on his muscular shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The weight of the conversation with Grent still clung to Lyanna as she made her way back to her room. She imagined what could have been said, what might have been spoken between her and Grent if the world hadn’t been so full of duties, battles and traditions.

  Lyanna shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside as she reached the hallway of the inn. She needed a rest, some distance from her thoughts of the conversation.

  Her steps slowed as she passed Eti’s door. It was ajar, just a sliver, the faintest crack in the otherwise quiet hallway. She paused, a sudden knot of worry tightening in her chest.

  She stepped inside, the room dark and still. The bed was empty, the blankets tossed aside in disarray. There was no sign of Eti.

  Where is he? Lyanna thought. He couldn’t have…

  He had gone to the square.

  Lyanna’s mind flashed back to the conversation earlier, to the way he had insisted on killing the Newvale Master. She had not known he would disobey her, nor had anticipated this kind of impulsiveness.

  Lyanna stepped out of the room and walked briskly down the hallway, her instincts pulling her toward the door. She needed to find him. She needed to make sure he hadn’t done something foolish. She was already halfway through the door when she heard it.

  A soft, wet sound.

  Lyanna froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned quickly, her hand instinctively reaching for the swords at her side.

  As she turned, she saw him. Eti.

  He was drenched, water dripping from his clothes in heavy streams, his hair plastered to his face. His eyes were wide with exhaustion and something deeper—guilt, shame, maybe even fear.

  Lyanna’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she simply stood there, staring at him.

  "I’m sorry," Eti said, his voice barely a whisper, thick with regret. "I shouldn’t have disobeyed you. I—" His words faltered as he stepped closer, his eyes meeting hers, the guilt there in the silence between them. "I thought I could handle it. I thought I could go alone, find the Master, kill him. But… I was wrong."

  "You went to the square alone," she said. "Did you…?"

  Eti’s head hung low, his eyes not meeting hers. "I was killed," he said. “I woke up in the well.”

  The Well of Reincarnation, where all souls returned to the world after death. Except for Oluru.

  "I understand, Eti," Lyanna said. "The Masters—they attacked us, killed us, and nearly destroyed Highhaven. All I want is to walk into Avaris’s factory, stand before him, and kill him myself. Put his head next to Mother Crystal. But we can’t act purely on emotion."

  Lyanna’s gaze hardened, the visions of Oluru almost overcoming her calm exterior.

  "Raiding a square without a plan is suicide. Each time we die, the Master gets stronger. It’s not just our lives that are at risk; it’s everything. The fae, the humans, the entire realm." She let the weight of her words settle. "We’ll deal with Avaris. We’ll tear his factory down, but then... then we’ll deal with this Master. But we will have a plan. A good plan."

  She paused for a moment, her eyes on the young fae. She wished she could be the one to walk into Avaris’s den and end it. But she knew, deep in her soul, that this battle could not be fought alone.

  "I understand," Eti said. "I won’t act rashly again. I’m sorry... for what I did."

  "It’s okay, Eti. We all make mistakes. But the important thing is that you’re learning. We’re all learning. But we don’t have the luxury of making the same mistake twice."

  ******