With Red and Black behind them, Grace adjusted her hat with a huff before running through the shattered celestial gate and into a galaxy-like hallway. Morgiana was right beside her, vision widening in fear and wonder. El Santo kept ahead of them, maintaining a distance to react to defend them or attack any opposition that might arise.

  Grace glared at the petals leading them on, awaiting the next round of misfortune to strip her of yet more clothes. Currently, she was sleeveless, barefoot at this point, part of her blue jeans were now shorts, at some point a part of her lower shirt was torn, and what was left was certainly something to be concerned about. Luckily, her belt and holster were a-okay! Her guns? Practically useless.

  “Y’know, I’ve seen some backwater saloons with less charm than this place. Damn thing’s closin’ in on us.”

  She shot a glance at the walls of geometry symbols as they seemed to narrow, closing the path behind them; retreat wasn’t an option. Peering past the Mexican Legend, she saw only a wall of glyphs, opening up the further they traveled.

  “I’m startin’ to think Rachel’s petals are just leadin’ us to a stage of coyotes waiting to hoot and holler at me. At least my steel can be used as a bludgeon! Right?”

  “Qué?” El Santo chuckled, his deep voice echoing in the confined space as Rachel’s guiding buds flickered faintly ahead, more dying out the further they went. “Then we’ll find our glory in knocking their heads, Se?orita. Is that not the mark of legends? We adapt!”

  “Pfft! Beatin’ up the ol’ degenerate does seem to be a staple of old tales. Don’t it, big fella?”

  Morgiana forced a smile, her hard hair bouncing on their flight through the silent void they ran in, sigils crawling across empty space like flowing water. “You remind me of Lord Ali, Grace. He often joked and poked fun at the situations we landed in.”

  “Sounds like a fun guy! And legends?” Grace snorted, brushing dirt from her ripped shirt. “Pretty sure legends don’t trip every damn trap in a—”

  As if on cue, the symbols her heel struck spiraled outward. Grace froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. “Aw, hell. Boss!”

  Above them, a series of jagged, mystical spears shot down from a rift with a sharp, magical chime. [Rapid Mode] activated. Time seemed to slow further as Grace instinctively put weight on her left foot to jump to the side—too late, even with Rachel’s dimensional-time distortion.

  I won’t make it…

  The blazing blue points of the descending trap loomed over her, and just as she braced herself for the worst, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist.

  “?Cuidado!” El Santo’s voice boomed as he grabbed her and yanked her at an angle. The spears slid too perfectly between her outline to disappear into the abyss below them. Only one thing was cut—well, multiple of one thing—the single straight line of protruding buttons down her flannel shirt. “A close one!”

  Strong yet steady hands lifted her effortlessly, the motion smooth and practiced. Grace found herself cradled like a bride, her cheek brushing against the solid warmth of his chest. His muscular arms held her securely, one under her legs, the other against the small of her back while his fingers lightly cupped the curve of her head, supporting her with a surprising tenderness.

  “Well, ain’t I the legendary damsel,” Grace mumbled, cheeks burning as she pulled her brim down to hide her face and her button down flew open to reveal her white tank top. “I should work on my flexibility. And the buttons, Rach? C’mon.”

  “You are most definitely in distress and already quite flexible. What a lovely tank. Double pistols on it?” he replied, his grin wide beneath his mask.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “A se?orita of great skill, you are, Ms. Damsel, but perhaps cursed with unfortunate timing. Will you take a bare bum over a free ride?”

  “Fair point.” Grace sighed, settling in as her gaze drifted to the side. More traps were triggered and he easily evaded them, Morgiana seemingly knowing exactly what ones not to press; it was likely too complicated to explain on the fly by her focused gaze. “Agh. I suppose ya can temporarily act as my horse for now.”

  She internally snickered at Jim’s pulse of defiance within her soul. Don’t worry, bud. You know you’re my main steed. Gotta save you for the battle, though. Let’s let the big guy take the bullets.

  “Timing?” Grace playfully repeated, jabbing her finger at his chest. “Timing ain’t the problem! I swear on every star in the sky, my own boss is workin’ against me! You heard her. She started a war against my fashion sense. Next thing you know, my hat will be plucked off with an arrow.”

  “Perhaps not giving the hare ideas,” El Santo chortled, jumping above to run along the ceiling as gravity shifted to follow, unbothered by her glare. “I certainly am not complaining about your rather light mass.”

  Grace rolled her eyes, checking the button and how it opened up her front to reveal her tank top underneath. “Humph. I’ve got more layers than I let on but it’s a dangerous game we’re playin’ now that my button up is now buttonless. And if I hear one more thing about fate, I’m shootin’ somethin’. Assumin’ my gun decides to work.” She patted her revolver for emphasis, muttering under her breath about cursed weapons and traitorous bosses.

  Ahead of them, Morgiana had darted forward, moving with a speed and grace that seemed almost inhuman.

  Damn, woman, where were you hiding that agility? It’s like watchin’ Rachel.

  She paused at the mouth of it, her hand clutching the amulet around her neck, now glowing faintly in her grip. Her dark eyes scanned the sigil-laden walls, her fingers brushing faintly against the runes as if listening to their whispers.

  “This way,” she murmured, her voice soft but weighted. “It’s another puzzle that… What am I seeing?”

  A new passageway of symbols opened up.

  Morgiana’s voice faltered, her words dissolving into a breathless whisper as the passage opened into an impossible vista.

  Grace blinked, her mouth going dry as El Santo came to an abrupt halt. They stood at the edge of a gravity-defying platform that jutted out into the void. Below them, the desert world—the world they’d been on just moments ago—was breaking apart.

  “What in the…” Grace’s words trailed off as her eyes locked onto the scene.

  The planet was fracturing, splitting like a hollowed-out shell. Jagged shards of landmass floated freely, twisting in orbit around a dark, pulsing mass at its core. Coiling around that dark entity, like serpents born of shadow and malice, were tendrils of incomprehensible darkness.

  They moved with an eerie, fluid grace, drawing pieces of the planet into themselves, while bubbles of what looked like cities, towns, and kingdoms hovered precariously in the void, tethered by thin, ephemeral strands.

  The entity throbbed like a heartbeat, sending ripples of whispers through the air—soft, seductive murmurs that seemed to hum just beyond understanding. The whispers that had revealed horrific truths about her mother and grandmother.

  It was back.

  Grace pressed a hand to her chest as the sound made her skin crawl, the soundless words clawing at her thoughts. Her gaze shot to Morgiana, who was clutching her amulet like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

  Morgiana’s lips trembled as she spoke. “Is this…real? Is that my home?”

  Grace tried to muster her usual wit, but the words died on her tongue. Even El Santo had no words of encouragement as he set her down, pumping his fists to get blood moving again.

  She held the top of her hat with trembling fingers, her gaze fixed on the titanic flower-like structure forming below. Its massive stem coiled upward blindingly. Radiant petals unfurled as if trying to drink in the destruction. The entity at the planet’s core pulsed in time with it, as if communicating. Its dark tendrils retreated from the flower, constricting around a point too far away for them to see.

  In the distant horizon, a brilliant light expanded—no, exploded—on the edge of the blackened sky. A fiery wave spread outward, slow but unstoppable, swallowing everything in its path. The words came out as if not her own.

  “A supernova,” She swallowed hard, her throat dry as her eyes tracked the expanding wall of solar fire that moved to meet the umbrella-like flower petals. “The whole damn star’s goin’ up. No wonder my [Calamity’s Bullet]’s off the scale…” She let out a low whistle, the sound hollow and unsteady. “The skies on fire… Wow. The whole damn solar system is about to be vaporized. What is Rachel?”

  El Santo’s typically unshakable demeanor faltered for the briefest of moments. His fingers twitched at his sides as he stared at the approaching fire unfolding before them. “This is no mere apocalypse…” His voice dropped. “This is creation itself unraveling. A destruction that transcends the end of a world.”

  She blinked rapidly, shaking her head. “This ain’t no ‘end.’ This…this is only the beginnin’, bud. Hah! It’s like Rachel’s out here tryin’ to rewrite what we call destruction. Somethin’ worse than apocalyptic. Damn…”

  She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “She’s fightin’ on a solar system scale, and we’re out here chasin’ after some spoiled princess and her little traitor. What the hell are we even doin’? Do we even matter?”

  El Santo placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his voice low but firm. “We are playing our part, Grace. Small though it may feel, it is no less important. The hare has her role, and we have ours.”

  “That your way of sayin’ ‘stick to your lane’?” Grace muttered, her voice sharp but not unkind. She let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to focus on the here and now as she took out her flask, hands shaky while taking a deep swig. “Mmk. I needed that… Well, folks, let’s move before that sun swallows us, too.”

  Morgiana remained rooted to the spot, her gaze locked on the scene below. The amulet in her hand burned with a faint light, the glow reflected in her wide, tear-streaked eyes. “Lord Ali…” she whispered. “What were you fighting against to save us?”

  Grace exchanged a glance with El Santo, then clapped Morgiana on the back, her tone brusque but oddly reassuring to herself. “C’mon, sugar. We ain’t got time to freeze up now. Well, I think we’ve wasted a good minute or two just, eh, admiring the sight and scale. Drink?”

  The dark-haired woman took her flask and practically inhaled it, coughing and choking before humming it as if in a trance:

  “The … In a world on fire smoke is high, sun is low. Where did it go? Nobody knows. In a world on fire, nothing is ever as it seems. Even your dreams, bathe in oil. Oh, in a world on fire. If you close your eyes and you pick a side, will you follow blindly into the darkness? If you close your eyes and you pick a side, will you find yourself broken and heartless? In a world on fire… In a world on fire…a fable end…”

  El Santo accepted it next to steady his nerves, watching the impending calamity and monstrous entities shattering the planet—no, space itself. Grace couldn’t help but chuckle upon seeing a black-furred hare, sitting not far off, leering down at the colossal core of the broken globe.

  Grace shook herself, the enormity of it all settling into her bones. Whatever you’re cookin’, Boss, it’s on a scale I’m just… But that doesn’t mean we can just stand still, doin’ nothing.

  She nudged Morgiana gently, her tone more gruff than usual. “In a world on fire, huh? I guess my clothes are the least of my concern.” She flashed a smile, peering into the distance and finding a new level of respect for the hare she’d only met several hours ago. “C’mon, sugar. Lord Ali wouldn’t want ya standin’ here gawkin’. Would he? Look…”

  The dark-haired girl nodded, her fingers tightening around her amulet as the golden path stretched ahead. “You’re right,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

  Then, with a deep breath, she turned toward the golden light that led to a massive pearl door carved into the side of a floating sphere of immaculate design, runes covering every inch.

  It was opening, figures at its base.

  Four figures.

  Two villains.

  Two victims.

  Grace adjusted her hat, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Alright, boys and girls, show’s over. Enough standin’ around gawkin’. Let’s ride.”

  She snapped her fingers, and a pulse of energy rippled outward. From the shimmering crimson distortion, her trusted horse, Jim, emerged. The ethereal stallion’s hooves sparked faint trails of light as he trotted forward, his mane and tail flowing like threads of twilight, which was new. She liked new.

  Nice.

  He shook his head, clearly agitated, nostrils flaring.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, bud,” Grace said, patting his neck. “Wasn’t plannin’ on workin’ you this hard, but desperate times and all. Plus, you’ve got an upgrade! Don’t give me that look.” She returned the fiery stare with her hands on her hips. “You know I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

  She turned to El Santo and Morgiana after a short snort, jerking her thumb toward Jim. “Get on. You’re ridin’ ahead.”

  Morgiana blinked, her fingers tightening around her amulet. “Wait, what about—”

  El Santo didn’t wait for an argument. With a grin, he scooped Morgiana up like she weighed nothing, eliciting a startled squeak from the girl.

  “No time to argue, Se?orita. We move forward.” He placed her on Jim’s back with surprising skill for only riding a few times, then vaulted up behind her in one smooth motion.

  Grace smirked at the sight. “Well, ain’t you just the perfect knight.” She stepped forward and, without warning, slapped El Santo’s butt with a sharp smack. “Ride hard, lover boy! Whoops, wrong ass,” she snickered with a wink as Jim shot forward like a bullet.

  Stolen story; please report.

  El Santo laughed, unphased. “As you wish!” He grabbed the reins just before the whirlwind of activity that assaulted them, keeping Morgiana on with his body.

  Grace watched them go for a moment, her grin widening despite the chaotic backdrop.

  “Man’s got style, I’ll give him that,” she muttered before summoning her rifle in a fluid motion. The familiar weight of the weapon settled against her shoulder, grounding her as she set her sights on the massive pearl door in the distance.

  “Now, is my luck as bad with a long weapon vs a short?”

  [Lesser Magic Eye] gave her a clear picture, especially after all the Grade and Rank upgrades she’d had on the way here. And there had been many.

  Her gaze lingered on the four figures at its base—two standing tall, imposing, and radiating malice; two crumpled, barely recognizable but unmistakably Ali Baba and Kassim.

  Grace let out a low sigh. “I’m safe from being the damsel in distress if I’m out here. Right, Boss?”

  She glanced upward, spotting the dark, eldritch hare, sitting in the void of space as if frozen in time, staring at the entity below.

  “I think I’ve found my role model… Ms. World Destroyer.”

  Her eyes caught the faint glimmer of Rachel’s petals still floating ahead, their glow dimmer now but resolute—they’d split.

  “Hah! You really are somethin’ special, Boss. You’ve got me where you want me, on this twisted ride, and, for all my complaining…”

  Grace couldn’t help but crack a wry smile.

  “This is kinda funny when you think about it.” She glanced down at her tank top, now completely exposed under the flapping remains of her button-down shirt. “Losing buttons, runnin’ barefoot, shootin’ a gun that jams more than it fires, anxiously waiting to see if the odds are in my favor… Hell, maybe Omen’s not such a bad fit for me after all.”

  Firming her hat against her head, she shook her head.

  “What does that say about me, Ma?”

  The golden path beneath her feet trembled, the whispers from below intensifying. Grace forced herself to focus, rolling her shoulders as she took aim with her rifle.

  Ahead, Hasan and Princess Layla stood over the crumpled forms of Ali Baba and Kassim. The villains moved with a calm precision that made Grace’s stomach turn. Hasan let them clatter to the golden bridge. Layla’s lips curled into a smug smile as she raised a glowing relic.

  It brightened, multiple jewel patterns turning and folding inward before changing colors. The two shared a look before turning toward the massive pearl door. Without hesitation, they stepped through as if it were ethereal. Layla’s laughter echoed back, faint but sharp as a dagger.

  Grace tightened her grip on her rifle, her sharp eyes tracking the faint outline of their retreat, able to see them beyond the gate. “Cowards,” she muttered under her breath, her voice low and steady.

  “Time to earn your keep, Milky… Lord, I hope I outgrow that nickname. And laugh all you want, darlin’. Let’s see if your fancy plans hold up against a cowgirl with a grudge. It doesn’t matter if you’re out of the picture… I’ve got you in my sights.”

  She adjusted her rifle, her sharp eyes tracking the faint light of the petals hovering beside her. The sound of Jim’s hooves faded into the distance, but she wasn’t worried. El Santo would keep Morgiana safe.

  Taking a deep breath, Grace exhaled slowly, her voice soft as she spoke to the empty air. “You’re up there rippin’ stars apart, breakin’ worlds, doin’ things I can’t even wrap my head around,” she continued, her voice softer now. “And me? I’m over here, shootin’ at leftovers and chasin’ spoiled royalty. Funny how that works, huh?

  Ali Baba urged his son to crawl in, his narrowed eyes lingering on the horse and her—there was a hollow finality in his gaze. The dagger in both their guts was recent by the blood staining their garments. Morgiana would be frantic but El Santo was a good stabilizer.

  The son and father entered through the open gate, showing it was still active. The pair soon followed, leaving her alone on the golden path with a creepy black hare suspended in time and space nearby—she didn’t look, but if she did, she had no doubt her boss would be grinning at her with those crazy teeth.

  “And damn, if that ain’t poetic misfortune. Looks like I’m not the queen of calamity after all. Got calamityed right outta my own title. What a bitch… But I’m not out of the running yet! I figure if a girl wants to be a legend, she should just go ahead and be one. I’m a free animal.”

  Grin rising, she held up her fingers, where a bright white round appeared. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed it and slid it into the chamber. Taking another deep breath, she saw the outline of the villainous pair monologuing to their audience as villains do.

  “What misfortune will come from this?”

  Waiting a short while, she watched the outlines inside, having marked each one. El Santo moved to confront the thief, leaving the princess unguarded. Morgiana tended to her lords and Jim ran up level after level, gaining a high vantage point.

  You always know what I want, boy…

  Coming to a halt at the top, he maneuvered through what was no doubt mountains of valuable loot. Rachel’s butterflies ended there; she could see them without her magical eyes.

  And…bullseye.

  * — * — *

  The rhythmic thunder of the stallion’s hooves jolted Morgiana from her spiraling thoughts. El Santo’s arms kept her locked in from either side, her back pressing against his broad chest for balance, feeling the ripple of muscle with each powerful stride. The horse was unlike any she’d ever ridden—faster than wind, steadier than stone.

  The air seemed to crackle around them as Jim surged forward, his glowing mane casting shifting shadows against her brown skin. Grace was totally blocked from view behind them.

  Her heart pounded, not just from the ride but from the growing weight of dread. Every fiber of her being screamed to stop, to turn back, but the sight of the two crumpled figures crawling through the pearl gate urged her forward.

  Jim barreled straight into the gate, and for a breathless moment, Morgiana felt the cool, liquid texture ripple across her skin. Then they were through, the world exploding into golden light.

  El Santo’s arms tightened around her waist briefly, his words hot against her thumping ears. “Hold fast, Se?orita!”

  He pushed off the saddle, allowing Jim to charge on.

  Jim didn’t stop. The stallion took the stairs on the outer edges, ascending higher and higher, leaving them at the foot of the holy chamber’s gate.

  The scene immediately stole her breath.

  A chamber, vast and domed, stretching beyond the limits of sight, far larger than it appeared on the outside. Golden light refracted through the air like shattered glass, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the walls, which were adorned with artifacts and treasures that seemed to defy comprehension.

  Swords hummed softly in their scabbards, their hilts carved with runes that glowed. A crown rested on a pedestal of blackened obsidian, its surface shimmering with unearthly power, while a staff of gleaming silver floated midair, its tip adorned with a spinning orb that radiated prismatic light.

  A golden hourglass hovered near the far wall, its sands flowing upward and downward simultaneously, the passage of time itself seemingly trapped within. And yet, none of these marvels held Morgiana’s attention for long.

  At the heart of the chamber, a pool gleamed—a rippling basin of pure, aurelian liquid. It churned and swirled as though alive, its surface reflecting not the room around it but a vast, unknowable void filled with faint glimpses of stars and otherworldly realms.

  Hasan and Princess Layla floated through the air to reach it, already far ahead of them.

  All of that was swiftly tuned out upon seeing the two most important men in her life—bleeding, only a few meters to her right.

  “Lord Ali! Lord Kassim!” Morgiana’s voice cracked as she rushed forward, the sight of them igniting a mixture of relief and horror. Ali and Kassim lay crumpled on the smooth crimson floor, their bodies battered and bloodied, malnourished.

  “Morgiana…” Ali Baba’s voice was weak but steady, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You came.”

  El Santo moved to her, ripped off his shirt and handed it to her. His muscles gleamed with the faint glow of the room, his expression resolute upon seeing Hasan turn to guard the princess’ advance.

  “For their wounds,” he said, keeping his focus on the threats. His massive hand settled on her shoulder for a brief moment, grounding her. “Don’t worry about a thing. Focus on them. I will deal with the villains.”

  He stepped forward to meet the leader of the thieves as Jim ran further and further up the stairs at a rapid pace.

  “Thank you.” Tears welled in her eyes as she dropped to her knees between them. “Of course I came, my Lord.” She choked on her words, struggling to steady her hands as she pressed El Santo’s shirt against Ali Baba’s side and began examining the damage. “You…You’ve been stabbed. Both of you. I—I should have been there.”

  Kassim winced as he shifted against the nearby pillar, his voice softer than his father’s but tinged with a dry humor she’d missed. “I think…I’m more surprised we’re not dead yet. That’s something. Right, Dad?”

  “Don’t say that!” she snapped, her voice breaking but happy to hear him positive and speaking. “I’ll stop the bleeding. I can—”

  Ali gently caught her wrist, halting her frantic movements. His gaze, though pained, was kind. “Morgiana…you’ve always been so loyal. Always putting us first.”

  “Because you put me first,” she whispered, tears spilling freely now. “You and Lord Kassim. Lady Yasmin. You gave me a family when I had nothing but sand to eat. A home. A good home.”

  Kassim’s expression softened, his usual confidence dimmed but not extinguished. “You gave us more, Morgiana. You’ve always been more than a servant. You’re family. My…you’re my—” He faltered, his words caught in his throat as he met her tearful gaze.

  She pressed her lips together, her heart swelling with equal parts love and anguish. “And you’ve always protected and cherished me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Even when I didn’t deserve it or doubted your decisions when it wasn’t my place.”

  Ali exhaled heavily, drawing her attention back to him. His hand trembled as he reached for her necklace, his fingers tracing the intricate designs with deliberate care. “Yasmin… You sly woman. I don’t deserve you. This…all of this, Morgiana…is my fault,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

  “No,” Morgiana whispered, shaking her head. “You—”

  “I tried to change too much,” he gently interrupted. “I stayed here longer than I should have. There is so much I must warn White about… I shouldn’t have dismissed her concerns about staying within the fable… I gave Hassan power, knowledge…more than the Fable could sustain. But my greatest mistake was underestimating and capitulating to Princess Layla’s cunning inquiries. And now…this place, this Pool of Reality…it’s unraveling because of me.”

  “The Pool of Reality?” she echoed, her brows knitting together and glancing toward Kassim, who frowned but respectfully tore off a part of his own shirt to bundle around the knife. He didn’t remove it in case it had nicked an artery, scooting away to give them privacy.

  Ali nodded, his fingers twisting the necklace’s designs into a new configuration. The amulet’s glow shifted, pulsing faintly. “I know Fable is here, but…the hare that is with you is different… Terrifying. But I trust Green and Gray. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my own objective in all of this. Here, come closer…”

  He pressed the altered necklace into her hands, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know what you must do, Morgiana. You feel it.”

  Her breath hitched, heart beating faster as she glanced toward the grand center stage, where the princess was performing some sort of ritual, dropping a goblet into the pool that turned it blood red. She could feel it in the quiver of the chamber itself.

  Reality twisting.

  Fable made reality.

  “You must get to the pool…and you must become real.”

  She shook her head, her tongue heavy and lodged in her throat. “No,” she croaked.

  “It isn’t the treasure within that makes this place sacred. It’s the pool itself. A place where reality bends, where anything can become real…or cease to exist. Twist it once to use it. You must enter the darkness.”

  “I can’t leave you.”

  “You can…for my sake,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers. “And you will. The necklace will take you, Kassim, and my wife out of this realm the moment you enter the dark pool. I deciphered the truth for Layla and she doesn’t know the horrifying abyss this promise is linked to…but there is a loophole. This will resonate within the pool and make both of you real, Morgiana. No longer a part of this breaking fable, but…but real family.”

  Morgiana’s tears spilled over as she clutched the glowing amulet to her chest. “But…what about you? You can use it. You and your wife can escape.”

  Ali’s gaze softened. “Oh, you are smarter than that, my darling girl.”

  A chill ran through Morgiana’s blood as she thought back on Layla’s words. Bring him back to her… She wasn’t talking physically. He grew so obsessed with discovering and unlocking the mysteries of our fictitious realm that…he lost himself.

  Her lord and master cupped her hand like a tender father. “Morgiana, Yasmin had the power to save Kassim and me the moment something went wrong. I made sure she could… But if we did leave, time would advance by years for how long we’ve lived here. And Yasmin refused to leave behind her daughter. To leave you behind?”

  Hand cupping her mouth, she shook her head. “No…”

  “Kassim doesn’t know. But we both know how he feels about you. None of us could leave you. You’re a part of our family, Morgiana, despite your inability to reconcile with our master-slave dynamic. We are family. And families…families don’t abandon each other.”

  Kassim shifted a bit closer, his voice strained but seeing how upset she was becoming. “What did he say? Dad, what’s going on?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

  Morgiana couldn’t bring herself to answer. Her fingers tightened around the amulet, her gaze dropping to the floor as her tears fell silently. The weight of Ali’s orders crushed her, but she couldn’t find the words to argue.

  Her master.

  No.

  Her adopted father squeezed her hand one final time. “You’ve heard my orders, Morgiana. More than a decade I’ve known and loved you. You know what must be done.”

  Her head shook, but she couldn’t speak, her throat too tight to allow words. Her father’s voice softened as he offered her a faint, reassuring smile.

  “Yasmin…she has a letter. Kassim, your mother will give it to you. She’ll know what to do after…but what is to come… I must know that you all are safe.”

  Reality started to set in, Kassim’s strong face turning red as tears began to gather in his eyes. “Dad, no… You can’t mean.” He gave her stained, burning cheeks one glance before his lips became a line and his face hardened. “What do I need to do?”

  How can you… No, that’s just the kind of man you are.

  Morgiana’s tears blurred her vision as she nodded, drawing strength from their resolute eyes, her heart breaking with every word. “I…yes, my Lord.”

  “Good.” His eyes closed briefly before reopening, glinting with a mix of pain and peace before moving to his son. “Stay with me. There’s a lot we need to discuss. Morgiana must start this path alone…but you will be there to support her once it is started.”

  He nodded, holding back his emotion and giving her a smile that she could see past. Yet, his words were without hesitation as his hand brushed against hers. “Go. I’ll stay with him. Do not hesitate. We’ll face it together as a family.”

  She met his gaze, her tears falling harder as she whispered, “I know.”

  With the amulet glowing faintly in her grip, Morgiana stood, her legs trembling beneath her. She cast one last glance at the man who had given her a home, a family, and now a chance to be something more.

  And then, with her heart heavy and her resolve unsteady, she turned toward the path leading to the Pool of Reality. El Santo was already engaged with Hassan, the masked man holding his own but showing some signs of cuts and damage for the first time.

  Hassan threw an object that detonated against El Santo, throwing him back. Yet, the muscular man summoned a rope midair against his back; it went taut against his pressure and launched him back, a golden radiance emanating from his skin as his arms formed into a cross at his front.

  Only, just as the masked man was about to strike, the pool converted into a cosmic galaxy, and a sharp crack rang out, followed by the ricochet of a bullet. Morgiana flinched, her head snapping to the princess as the projectile ricocheted wildly through the chamber before striking its target!

  El Santo?

  The massive man, now bound in glowing ropes conjured by the bullet’s enchantment, blinked in confusion. Grace’s triumphant cheer echoed above.

  “More misfortune points, Santo!” she hollered, somehow now perched atop Jim with her rifle out; it wasn’t aimed at the Legend but the confused princess. “And without turning me into a stripper! FYI, I’m glad you’re not dead!”

  El Santo burst into laughter despite the chaos, his booming voice filling the chamber as he easily snapped the ropes. “Se?orita Grace, you truly are a legendary calamity!”

  Morgiana barely registered the exchange, her focus locking onto the real villainess as she put one foot into the pool, rubbing her wrist. Yet, she paused when a flash of sapphire light brought the titanic, mythical hero of their land to stand between Hassan and his daughter.

  The Sultan.

  “Layla! Ack…” He winced, falling to a knee as the djinn attached to him bowed as he faded into oblivion. “Rorezij…”

  “It has been my honor to serve you, My Lord…”

  In the stillness that followed, Layla turned in the pool, a small, disappointed smile playing at the edges of her tone as she appraised her panting and drained father.

  “You see, Sultan… You hold all power within our world. Bowed to no one… Yet, you were content with being a fable…nothing. You guarded the one thing that could set everyone free due to arbitrary rules and superstition. But I am not afraid to face reality… To become real.”

  “You don’t understand… Listen to me,” he pleaded as Morgiana moved up the stairs, walking around them with everyone’s attention on the powerful figure. “Without someone who is real sharing their anchor, you leave yourself open to the price. Let me explain—”

  Layla’s nose twisted, the princess’ voice burning with cold fire. “As you explained to my mother, her crimes prohibited you from curing her? You hold the power to fix all wrongs within our kingdom. Any sin I did, I did to pave the way for our people. I took steps you didn’t. I knew you would save everyone…and I can lead them to salvation. You’re too late, Father.”

  Turning, she dove into the cosmic pool.

  “No, Layla…” Collapsing to his knees as Hassan engaged El Santo and Grace provided support, the Sultan slammed his fist against the ground, splitting his knuckles. “This wasn’t the deal, Rachel!”

  Whispers called out from the pool, the Legends’ taunts and banter drowned out by the whispers in her mind.

  “Step forward, dream child…and be made whole within The Tide.”

  Her resolve hardened and she followed the voice, ignoring the calamity. Fingers closed tightly around the necklace, she put her faith in her lord…her father.

  I don’t know what will happen when we leave… When I’m made whole. When I gain everything I’ve ever dreamed and longed for… But I will follow your last order, Master.

  I love you, father. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I can never repay your kindness but to accept your grace.

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