The sensation hit Astra with an unsettling familiarity. He had been through this kind of disorienting shift before. The world twisted, crunched in on itself, and then snapped back into place, leaving behind a lingering wave of nausea that churned in his stomach. Blinking to steady himself, Astra took in his surroundings. They were in what looked like a ritual chamber, the atmosphere thick with heat and an oppressive stillness.

  At the center of the room stood a massive, weathered altar, its surface darkened with age and blood. Surrounding it was a circle drawn in crimson, the lines sharp and precise, glowing faintly in the flickering light of dozens of candles. Xavier lay motionless atop the altar, his small form dwarfed by the ominous setup. The heavy scent of iron mingled with the acrid tang of burning wax, clawing at Astra’s senses and making his pulse quicken.

  “Ugh, Bootstrap, does he have it? You know, the other piece?” Astra asked. A bit of familiar nausea showed on his face.

  “Yes, he has the other half. There’s no other explanation,” Bootstrap said, his voice low and steady, though the sharpness in his tone betrayed his unease. His eyes stayed locked on Xaden, analyzing every move. “The sigil on the ground back there. It wasn’t random. He must’ve used it to direct the jump here by linking it to this room somehow. That’s how he pulled it off.”

  Bootstrap stepped slightly in front of Astra, his protective instincts kicking in. “He’s dangerous, Astra. Don’t let your guard down.”

  “Wow! Everything worked out so easily,” Xaden’s grin carved deep into his face, sharp and smug as ever. “I gotta admit, I didn’t think you’d fall for it like that. There was a moment when I was nervous, but hey, thanks to Astra here, it all came together perfectly. You really made it too easy for me… Wanderer.”

  Xaden’s eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction as he spread his arms wide. “And now, you get a front-row seat to the show. Sit back, Wanderer, and watch helplessly while I change this world.”

  “What does Shadow Garden want with Xavier?” Bootstrap demanded, his voice a low growl laced with urgency. “I thought they wanted his abilities, not to sacrifice him like this!” Without waiting for an answer, Bootstrap shot a glance at Astra, and the two lunged toward Xaden in unison.

  Once again, the world glitched out for a split second, and Xaden appeared behind them. Too fast for them to react, he struck Astra in the back and threw flames on Bootstrap knocking both of them down. With another cruel flick of his hands, he threw more flames on Bootstrap igniting Bootstrap’s shirt.

  Astra’s voice carried a sharp edge, tinged with Bootstrap’s influence. “He wasn’t just fast,” he said, his breath catching. “He didn’t even look like he moved. One second he was there, and the next… he just appeared behind me.”

  As Bootstrap threw his burning shirt off, Xaden said, “Sorry I had to do that. I’m glad you don’t have all your equipment especially your cloak right now. Nothing personal, I promise I just need to finish this ritual real quickly.”

  Xaden's eyes briefly flickered with something Astra couldn't place. It looked like hesitation to Astra, but then, it disappeared replaced by smugness as he turned towards Bootstrap. “But now, I am reminded of a story of a famous hero who once tried to save the world. Tell me if you know this story. He was tasked with defeating a demon who roamed the world sucking the joy out of the world everywhere he went. Everyone needed him to pull the legendary sword out from a stone and claim the one weapon needed to beat the demon. I seem to remember that the demon is still out there too, you know. Not only did this ‘hero’ not pull the sword free from the stone, in his desperate attempt he broke the sword so that there can never be another hero who can be chosen by the sword.” Xaden gestured at Bootstrap’s half broken sword. “How tragic. I guess some heroes have greatness forced upon them while others try to force greatness.”

  Astra watched Bootstrap tense, the words hitting harder than any spell. He could see Xaden was baiting him, trying to distract him from the ritual. Astra knew he had to act before Xaden twisted Bootstrap’s resolve any further. “He’s stalling. He has to be,” Astra said, his words tumbling out quickly. “This feels like a timed ritual or something. I mean, he’s dragging on his speeches. Also, like, I’ve been watching, and right before the world distorts, he glows for a second. That glow. It’s like he’s pulling mana from himself. It’s got to be some kind of spell he has to keep casting.”

  Shaking off the creeping self-doubt, Bootstrap snapped back into focus. He couldn’t let his mind wander now. Astra needed him sharp, steady, and dependable. Turning to Astra, Bootstrap spoke with calm encouragement, his voice steady despite the chaos.

  “Sorry about that, kid. You’re catching on. You see the mana flow too. Good. Really good. That’s not something just anyone can pick up on, especially against someone as skilled as Xaden. I’m proud of you. That kind of concentration takes real talent.” He paused, his weary eyes narrowing on Xaden, then added, “But look closer. There’s a trick hidden in his movements, subtle, but it’s there. Focus on the details.”

  Bootstrap straightened his stance, adjusting his grip on his blade. “Without my cloak, my defenses are limited. You’ll need to act fast and figure this out. You’re ready for this, Astra. I trust you. You’ve got what it takes.”

  With that, Astra extended his mana outward and concentrated on feeling everything around him in the small room. Xaden with graceful movements of his arms pulled some fires from the ever bright candles, and threw them towards Bootstrap like missiles. Astra could feel the heat in the air as the flames flew across the room. He can hear his heartbeat thumping faster and faster as the flickering flames got closer to Bootstrap. The flames zipped through the air heading straight for Bootstrap’s head. Bootstrap side stepped the flames with ease then took that chance to take a quick step towards Xavier.

  The flames… Thought Astra.

  The cool calmness of Bootstrap’s heart contrasted with Astra’s own heart as Astra tried to take in all the action in the room at once. Once again, Xaden activated his magic and stepped in front of Bootstrap to punch him in the gut. Using the momentum from Bootstrap’s steps and his own forward strike, he landed a solid punch that felt like a ten ton truck hitting Bootstrap’s stomach.

  Bootstrap doubled over onto his hands and knees. A low rumble of a strained laugh started, then he let it all out with a full laugh. “Did you catch that, Astra? Straightforward enough, don’t you think?”

  Astra’s voice cut through the tense air, catching Xaden off guard. “Yep, I figured it out.” His tone carried a mix of triumph and curiosity. “So, if I’m right about this, and I think I am, you’re not really stopping time or teleporting, are you? You’re just messing with how we perceive it. Our perception of time. See, every time you pull your trick, the candles flicker weirdly. If you look at all the flickering candles, they flicker unnaturally into a different orientation when he does his magic. Time still flowed for the fire, but we don’t see it until the magic stops, then we see it in the current state a couple of second later. like they’re jumping into a different state. Time keeps flowing for the fire, but we don’t see it happen until the effect wears off. Oh, and I’ve also noticed something else, the time stop is getting shorter every time you use it.”

  Astra’s grin stretched wide, lighting up his face with genuine excitement. For once, he’d pieced together something magical on his own, and he couldn’t help but beam a smug, almost playful smile at Xaden. “How’s that for figuring you out?”

  Wait, I totally sounded like Bootstrap right there. That gave me chills. Astra thought.

  Bootstrap nodded, his expression serious but tinged with approval. “Exactly, Astra. That’s his weakness. He’s burning through his mana faster than he realizes, and he can’t keep this up forever. But,” he paused, his tone shifting to one of caution, “it also means he’s not planning to win by fighting us directly. He’s stalling, running the clock until that ritual completes. We need to act fast and disrupt whatever he’s trying to finish.” Bootstrap’s gaze hardened as he tightened his fist. “Stay sharp. This isn’t just a fight. It’s a race against time.”

  Xaden began clapping slowly, the sound echoing in the ritual chamber like a mocking metronome. “Well done, young prodigy,” he said with a sly grin, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “You figured out my power, but here’s the kicker. You still won’t win.”

  He paced casually, gesturing as he spoke, his voice tinged with frustration and zeal. “Let me clear the air. This? This isn’t about Shadow Garden. The Father? Please. He’s just another old fool chasing a childish dream of creating a so-called ‘new world.’ Like that’ll fix anything.” He scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. “He’s so short-sighted, always talking about gods and rebirth like it’s some grand solution. But he doesn’t get it. Creating a new world? That’s just escapism wrapped in a shiny package. The same problems will creep back. The rot in humanity? It doesn’t go away with a fresh coat of paint. No, I’m tired of running from it all.”

  Xaden stopped, looking at Astra and Bootstrap with something almost akin to sincerity. “When I was little, I read a book. A book that opened my eyes to the truth about people. Ever hear of it? In the story, a group of kids get stranded on an island after a plane crash. At first, they try to stay civilized, try to keep order. They come up with a system, a conch shell. The kid holding the conch gets to speak, gets to be heard. It worked, for a while. The conch kept things together. Unity. Democracy. Respect. Simple, right?”

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his tone darkening. “But nothing’s ever that simple, is it? That same fire that keeps humanity striving forward. It’s also the spark that burns everything down. Eventually, the leader gets killed, and the conch? Shattered into pieces. And with it, the illusion of order. Once it broke, the kids realized something. That unity, that respect, it was all make-believe. It only worked because they let it work. And when they didn’t? It was just another useless hunk of junk.”

  Xaden paused, his expression hardening. “The conch in this world? It shattered a long time ago. Behind the glitz and glamour of the elites lies the truth, the disease-ridden underbelly of society. I’ve seen it, felt it. My family starved to death while some rich bastard blew away a fortune on a single bet, laughing like it was pocket change. How do you fix that?” He looked at them, his voice quiet but sharp. “You can’t force people to respect what they’ve been taught to despise their whole lives. You can’t undo that conditioning. But… you can give them something to unite under.”

  Xaden’s gaze drifted to Xavier, lingering there a heartbeat too long. Was that guilt flashing across his face? Astra couldn’t be sure, but whatever it was, Xaden quickly buried it beneath a new twisted confidence. “The world needs a new conch. And I’m going to make it happen.”

  Xaden spread his arms wide, a dramatic flourish punctuating his words. “What we need,” he began, his voice growing louder with each syllable, “is what we had a thousand years ago, back when true gods ruled this world. You’ve heard of it, right? The Age of Blood? Despite the name, it was the most well-governed era in history. Everyone was on the same level, ruled by a supreme being. United under one.”

  His tone turned reverent, almost dreamy. “That’s real equality. None of this fractured nonsense, none of this ‘every man for himself’ garbage. Just one ruler. One vision. That’s how we can finally bring peace.”

  Xaden’s gaze snapped back to Astra and Bootstrap, and his grin twisted into something more sinister. “And lucky for you two, you get to play a special role in this glorious rebirth. You should be proud, really. The honor of being the nourishment for the new god? That’s not something just anyone gets.”

  He gestured toward them grandly, as if unveiling a masterpiece. “You’ve got way more magic than most people. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. You’re special, and the new god is going to appreciate that. Your magic, your lives… they’ll be the foundation for a new era of peace. You should feel privileged to help birth the new world order.” Xaden’s smile widened, filled with cruel satisfaction. “Take pride, you two. You’re about to be part of something… divine.”

  Bootstrap’s voice was tight with restrained anger, his words cutting like a blade. “So that’s your grand plan?” he hissed, his tone deceptively calm but laced with fury. “To bring back some long-dead god and expect it to rule this world? Do you honestly think that a being like that would care about fairness or equality?”

  He took a step forward, his eyes blazing with barely-contained outrage. “What do you even know about the age of the gods? Do you think it was all harmony and balance? It wasn’t! It was chaos, bloodshed, and control. Everyone was groveling in fear under beings who saw them as nothing more than tools. What makes you think this time would be any different?”

  Bootstrap’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping lower but carrying even more weight. “This world doesn’t need another tyrant, no matter how you dress it up as ‘unity.’ Don’t pretend you’re doing this for the greater good. You’re playing with forces you don’t understand, and it’s going to end in ruin for everyone.”

  Bootstrap lunged at Xaden with his sword, and Xaden activated the time stop again. However this time, the time stop flickered, but then broke as a rock struck Xaden’s head. While Xaden wasn’t looking Astra got some rocks on the side of the room and threw it as bootstrap started to attack Xaden. The time stop didn’t actually stop time so an object in motion already does not stop and stays in motion. In this case, stayed in motion until it hit Xaden and stopped his concentration. Bootstrap narrowly grazed Xaden’s chest causing some blood to drip from his chest.

  “You can’t keep this up anymore Xaden.” Bootstrap commented. “Your mana is almost empty.”

  Xaden’s movements were starting to be sluggish as he got more tired with each attempt of his time stop. The constant interruptions when he used time stop had reduced his mana pool to mere drops so he started to switch to more physical hand to hand combat. He resorted to using reinforcement magic to change the carbon structure of his suit before the moment of impact which will allow him to reserve more mana in case of an emergency.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Bootstrap’s tone was sharp, almost scolding, but it carried an edge of frustration that cut deeper than his words. “Do you really believe this world is beyond saving?” he pressed, his voice steady but laced with incredulity. “Is it truly so far gone that the only solution is to wipe it clean and start over? Or…” He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing as he leaned forward slightly. “Is it just because you’ve realized you’re too weak to make any real change yourself, and now you’re looking for someone else, a god, to do all the heavy lifting for you?”

  His words hung in the air like a challenge, daring Xaden to face the truth. But the younger man didn’t respond, his focus locked elsewhere, his eyes clouded with desperation. Bootstrap sighed heavily, the weight of disappointment settling over him. “You’re so lost in your own despair that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. This world doesn’t need a god to save it. It needs people who refuse to give up, who’ll fight for change even when it seems impossible.”

  But it was clear Xaden wasn’t listening, his desperation drowning out any sense of reason. Bootstrap shook his head, his voice dropping to a murmur, almost as if speaking to himself. “You’re so consumed by your own hopelessness that you’ve forgotten what it means to believe in something real.”

  Xaden found himself utterly outmatched by the relentless assault from Bootstrap and Astra. Desperation flashed in his eyes as he struggled to defend against their coordinated strikes. Bootstrap, with the precision of a seasoned tactician, seamlessly directed their attacks, creating openings for Astra to exploit. Astra would dart in, landing a swift blow before trapping Xaden’s arm, leaving him exposed to Bootstrap’s calculated strikes. When Bootstrap moved in, he would restrict Xaden’s movements just enough for Astra to circle around, targeting a blind spot and launching into another unrelenting combo.

  Their teamwork was seamless, a dance of strategy and ferocity. Bootstrap’s experience shone in every calculated step, while Astra’s youthful energy kept the pressure unrelenting. Xaden fought back with a wild, almost feral determination, his movements driven by something deeper than self-preservation. It was something or someone he seemed to be fighting for with every ounce of his being. Yet, despite his raw resolve, he was no match for the duo. The sheer force of Bootstrap’s expertise and Astra’s relentless spirit overwhelmed him, slowly chipping away at his defenses until he was left battered and cornered.

  “So, we’ve cracked your little trick. How your time stop actually works. No point pretending otherwise now,” Bootstrap growled, his voice sharp with both anger and curiosity. His grip tightened on the back of Xaden’s neck, pinning him firmly to the ground. “What I want to know is how you were using it on us. Perception magic of this level doesn’t come cheap, nor is it common. I’ve never heard of anyone wielding such a spell without shattering through mana barriers like paper. So, tell me. Where did you learn it? Who taught you to manipulate reality this way?” Bootstrap’s eyes bore into Xaden, the scholar in him still hungry for answers even amidst the chaos.

  Almost as if on cue, the candles around the alter started to blaze wildly getting brighter and larger. The bloody sigil under Xavier started to glow, and a scream tore out from Xavier. It seemed as though the spell was trying to rip Xavier’s soul right from out of his frail body. The ritual spell had begun as the mana around him started to go into the alter. Only now, as they had the time to examine it more closely did Astra and Bootstrap realized that the alter was actually a big coffin most likely for the ancient god.

  Xaden’s face flickered with concern, his gaze briefly darting toward Xavier, as if wrestling with some relentless inner turmoil. But with a deep breath, the look vanished, replaced by his usual smug demeanor. Turning to face Bootstrap and Astra, he finally spoke, his voice carrying an unsettling calmness.

  “Not that it matters anymore,” he started, his tone laced with bitterness, “but there’s a reason the folks on this planet don’t use runes like you off-worlders do. You see, I had a little fun with your trust.” His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he gestured toward Astra. “I slipped some of my magic into those fancy runes you so proudly carved into his body, Bootstrap. You basically handed me a key to your apprentice.”

  He shifted his gaze to Bootstrap, a sly grin forming as he added, “And you? That slap wasn’t just to mess with you, old man. I laced a bit of my magic right into your neck. You didn’t even notice, did you? All that experience, and you missed it. Sorry, but I couldn’t let all this planning go to waste.”

  Xaden’s voice took on an edge as he continued, his hands gesturing theatrically. “It wasn’t easy, you know. Breaking into that lab wasn’t just tough. It was damn near impossible. Took months of planning, months of pretending, months of keeping all the players in the dark. You really can’t trust anyone around here, not even the so-called researchers.” His grin faltered briefly before snapping back into place. “But hey, thanks for making this a little easier.”

  “Xavier!” Astra shouted as he ran up to the coffin and started to smear away the blood sigil. Nothing worked. It seems like the magic has already taken a lot from Xavier, and has become self contained.

  It won’t break easily now. Thought Astra

  Xaden’s bravado shattered like glass under a hammer as Xavier’s anguished cries filled the room. He stumbled back, pressing himself against the cold wall, his confident mask slipping away. His face twisted with horror. His eyes darted, wild and desperate, like someone watching their worst nightmare unfold. His gaze darted between Xavier’s writhing form and the fading light of his magic, panic consuming him.

  “This… this isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice shaking, barely audible over Xavier’s cries. His hands trembled as he reached out, then pulled back, unsure of what to do. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

  From where Astra stood, Xaden’s expression crumpled. He stared at his younger brother like someone watching a nightmare they couldn’t wake from. Xavier’s body barely holding on as the curse magic drained away. “Wait… no. It wasn’t supposed to be this harsh!” Xaden’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I didn’t-it wasn’t supposed to take his soul! Only the cursed mana!”

  His legs gave out, and he slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook as if the weight of the room had finally crushed him. “What have I done?” he whispered. The weight of his actions bore down on him, and for the first time in years, Xaden looked utterly broken. “Xavier… I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this. I just… I wanted to save you.”

  Bootstrap gripped his sword tightly, attempting to channel its power to cut through the raging storm of mana. The blade sparked briefly, but the swirling energies consumed the attempt effortlessly, swallowing the mana as if it were fuel for its chaos. The storm began to grow more insidious, tendrils of energy creeping through the air to siphon mana from everyone present. Even the very essence of the rocky chamber seemed to weaken as the spell drained its surroundings, pulling strength from the walls, the floor, and the people trapped within.

  “No, this wasn’t part of the deal!” Xaden’s voice cracked, trembling with despair as he slumped to his knees. His eyes locked on Xavier, now frail and writhing in agony. “He lied to me. I didn’t want this… I just wanted us to be a family again. My brothers… together…” His words faded into a feeble cry, the weight of his decision crushing him as he clutched his head in his hands.

  Just then a new voice broke through the chaos. A familiar voice that sounded confidently enough to both send chills down Astra’s spine and reassure him.

  “Wait guys, I think I can help.” Spoke a familiar face in a maroon robe breaking the heavy aura in the room. Trailing behind him gasping for breath was Xander.

  “Finally made it,” Xander panted, doubling over to catch his breath. “I brought Eadrich with me once I pieced together what was going on with the sigil magic. Followed the tracker and the mana trail straight down here.” He straightened, glancing at the chaos around him. “Trust me, he can help. The guy knows way more about ritual spells and these so-called lesser gods than I ever could.” His voice carried urgency, but there was a glimmer of hope in his tone.

  “Eadrich!” Astra and Bootstrap called out in unison, relief mingling with surprise in their voices. Astra’s eyes widened as he took in the monk’s appearance. It was unmistakably Eadrich, but something about him was different. His monk robes, once simple and reserved, now carried a practical and combative edge.

  The fabric looked reinforced, sturdier, with a larger sash wrapped around his midsection, lined with an array of pouches that hinted at concealed tools or potions. The top of his robe was looser, designed not just for movement but also for carrying supplies. Eadrich’s entire presence seemed altered, less of the scholarly monk Astra remembered and more a seasoned warrior stepping into the fray. Even his expression carried a sharper focus, a readiness Astra hadn’t seen before.

  “Oh, do not be so surprised it is me. In moments like these, what you need is someone with a clear head to do the thinking,” he said, tapping the side of his temple as if to emphasize his point.

  Adjusting the pouches on his sash, he added with a self-satisfied grin, “Besides, Shadow Garden always takes care of their own. And if, by chance, I get the opportunity to kill a lesser god in the process? Well, that’s just icing on the cake. So many pluses for me, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone was both calculating and smug, a man fully aware of the gravity of the situation but enjoying the moment nonetheless.

  “How did you manage to get here so fast, Eadrich? And why should we trust you after what happened to your last partner?” Bootstrap asked Eadrich, caution laced his words.

  Eadrich stood with his arms crossed, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the group. “Let me be clear,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of exasperation. “I had my own affairs to tend to in my hometown. It is pure coincidence that our paths have crossed here, so do not let your ego convince you that everything revolves around you. I am a wanderer as well, Bootstrap. It should not come as a shock if I appear unexpectedly or vanish just as abruptly, much like yourself.”

  He adjusted the sash around his waist, the pouches jingling softly. “As for my previous partner, well, let us just say he was far from an ideal companion. You could see it in his actions. He was more inclined to wreak havoc than to adhere to any semblance of strategy. A reckless force, better suited to chaos than cooperation.”

  Eadrich’s tone grew sharper, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of understanding. “You do not have to trust me, Bootstrap. Trust is a luxury we cannot afford to weigh too heavily on right now. What you can trust is this.”

  “Whatever is happening here must be rectified. That much is undeniable, whether you like it or not.” Eadrich said waving at the surrounding hellscape. “Also, you have trusted me before in the forest, and that turned out just fine.

  Astra tilted his head, confusion written all over his face. “Uhh, what’s a Wanderer? I thought it was just, like, a cool nickname or something. But the way he said it, it sounded like Wanderers are some kind of… special people or something. What gives?” Astra whispered to Bootstrap.

  “I will have to explain after this ordeal. Time is of the essences right now.” Bootstrap whispered back quickly.

  Bootstrap adjusted his stance, his tone sharp but steady as he addressed Eadrich. “So, tell me, monk, how do we save Xavier and while we’re at it, all of us? Because if this mana storm keeps pulling at our life force, I doubt we’ll have the luxury of debating much longer.” His eyes flicked to Xavier, then back to Eadrich. “I assume you’ve got more than just a dramatic entrance planned?”

  The winds in the room picked up and whirled around as the magic became more fierce.

  Eadrich surveyed the scene with a sharp, calculating gaze, his voice calm but imbued with a sense of urgency. “This is unmistakably a blood ritual of significant complexity. The sigil functions as a vessel to anchor a soul within that corpse resting in the coffin. It is designed to draw upon all available mana sources to reanimate the lifeless body. Once re-energized, it will attempt to extract Xavier’s soul, binding it to the flesh as a conduit. By superimposing its own essence atop his, the god intends to revive itself in full form.”

  Xaden’s voice cracked as he slumped against the wall, his hands trembling as they covered his face. “This is all my fault,” he choked out, his words heavy with despair. “I can’t believe I am going to lose my family all over again.” His shoulders shook as he struggled to contain the flood of emotions.

  Eadrich’s voice carried a measured calm as he stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the swirling ritual at the room’s center. “It is not beyond hope,” he began, his tone steady and reassuring. “The spell is designed only to verify the presence of a soul within the vessel. Once that condition is met, the reanimation process will cease. To prevent the god from fully reviving with his full power, I will use arcane magic to seal the surrounding mana, severing its connection to the environment. This will starve the spell of its additional energy.”

  He gestured toward the coffin, his expression somber yet determined. “We can then conduct our own ritual to implant a soul temporarily into that body. The condition will be that the soul returns to its origin once the body of the god is destroyed. It is an intricate and precarious spell, and success is far from guaranteed, given the lack of preparation; however, it is our best option under these dire circumstances. By doing this, the god will be revived prematurely, severely weakened, and susceptible to defeat.”

  Eadrich paused, his sharp eyes sweeping the room. “Now, a soul must be volunteered for this task. I cannot offer my own, as I will be performing the ritual and containing the siphoning magic simultaneously.” His gaze lingered, waiting for someone to step forward, his voice firm yet filled with unspoken gratitude. “Who here will rise to this challenge?”

  “I will!” Shouted Xaden. “I have to save Xavier no matter what, even if I don’t get my soul back.”

  Xander’s voice was firm, sharp with conviction. “No! You’ve done enough, Xaden,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing as he scolded Xaden like he was the older one. “You don’t get to play the hero after all the crap you’ve pulled. Sit your ass down.”

  He stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll do it. I’ve got better mana control than you ever will, and you know it. Plus, my soul’s already busted up. That might even work to our advantage, make it harder for this so-called god to reach his full strength. I can take the hit.”

  Xander straightened his posture, his voice steady but charged with emotion. “I’ve always been the one patching us back together, right? That’s my job, my thing. I promised to keep us whole, and I don’t go breaking promises, no matter how ugly it gets. Just watch, alright? Trust me.”

  “Are you sure about this, kid?” Asked Bootstrap concerned about the flimsy plan.

  Xander crossed his arms, his voice steady but tinged with raw determination. “I gotta save my brother, no matter what. I trust Eadrich on this, even if you don’t. Look, people like us in Shadow Garden. We’ve lost more than you could even dream of. We’re stitched together by the scars we carry and the honor we hold onto, ‘cause it’s the only thing that keeps us standing.” His eyes burned with confidence, unshaken despite the chaos around them.

  Astra exchanged glances at Bootstrap. He nodded and Bootstrap sighed. “Okay, Let’s do this.” Astra realized that he had become the rash one out of the two of them, and seeing the look on Bootstrap’s face he could tell Bootstrap felt the same way.

  Eadrich’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade, firm and commanding. “There is no more time to waste. We have but one opportunity to succeed. Everyone, position yourselves in a circle around the coffin. Focus your mana into forming a barrier around the five of us. We must enclose our ritual within theirs to gain control.”

  His eyes scanned each of them with a mix of urgency and determination. “I will forgo drawing the sigil and instead perform the incantation verbally. This will require complete concentration. Whatever happens, do not allow our circle to break.” He clasped his hands together, already summoning the energy he would need. “Stay strong, stay focused, and let us bring this to an end.”

  Astra and Bootstrap took a deep breath and got into position.

  Eadrich’s gaze locked onto Xander, his tone steady and resolute. “Prepare yourself,” he instructed, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. “When the spell aligns, you must force Xavier’s soul aside and take his place. Timing will be everything. Hesitate, and we risk losing him and the chance to weaken the god. Steady your resolve, Xander. This is your moment.”

  Xander nodded, his determination etched into his features as Eadrich began to chant in an ancient tongue. His voice carried a commanding rhythm like a conductor orchestrating a symphony of power. The air around them vibrated with energy, and Eadrich’s arms moved in fluid, purposeful arcs, carving glowing runes into the air. The room seemed to respond, the flickering candles calming to a steady burn, their flames now unwavering. Xavier’s pained screams ceased, leaving a heavy, expectant silence.

  With a final sweeping motion, Eadrich sent the runes toward Xander. They shimmered like falling stars before colliding with him in a burst of light. The force knocked Xander to the ground as a gale of wind erupted, swirling through the room. The energy was so intense it seemed to condense the air itself, thickening it like water. Everyone clung to the circle, bracing against the unrelenting force that threatened to tear them apart.