The pond had been the threshold. Clearer than any they’d seen before, reflecting sky and trees like a perfect mirror. No enchantments, no strange glow—just water. When they’d dipped their legs into it, they’d discovered fish. When they dove in, they found themselves surrounded by a thriving freshwater ecosystem. And when they emerged, the wind was different, the forest was different, the world was different.
Drawn forward, they followed the subtle path through waving grass until it opened into a small, modest village nestled in a valley—cozy houses of clay and timber, laughter ringing from the square. Women sang as they hung laundry. Children raced each other down dirt paths, kicking up dust. Traders shouted across wooden stalls laden with fruit, cheese, and handmade goods.
Liz laughed softly. Her eyes sparkled. “We’re out… we really got out.”
Kael smiled, heart swelling. “Let’s tell the others. They’ll—”
But a thunder of hooves shattered the illusion.
Down the path, a regiment of soldiers galloped in. Their armor was stamped with the red crest of the Imperial Flame—a burning sword surrounded by thorns. There were no warnings. No words. Just a brutal cry from the commander:
“Gather the devils!”
What followed was carnage.
Screams tore through the valley as soldiers dismounted and stormed through the village, dragging young women—barely more than girls—out from homes, stalls, and even children’s arms. Mothers were beaten. Fathers stabbed for resisting. A girl who clung to her crying sibling had her head split open by a boot. Two children trying to shield their sister were crushed against the side of a cart.
Blood sprayed in arcs. Bodies dropped. The cobbled joy of the village was stained red within minutes.
Kael lunged forward—but passed through the nearest soldier like smoke. “What the—?!” He turned to Liz. “We can’t touch them. Liz—!”
Liz stood frozen. Her hands clenched into fists. Her legs trembled. Blood had splashed onto her cheek.
The chaos. The senseless slaughter. The screams of the innocent…
Her breathing became ragged. Her knees buckled, and she dropped. “Make it stop…” she whispered, voice trembling. “Why…? They’re just—just people…”
Kael dropped to his knees beside her. “Liz. Hey—look at me. I know this is—gods, it’s wrong, but we can’t help them. We’re not really here.”
But Liz wasn’t listening anymore.
Her black hair shimmered with a sheen of silver at the roots. Her shoulders shook violently. Tears streamed down her face—but her eyes burned gold. The same haunting, divine hue Kael had once seen when she awakened in the forest.
Energy warped around her like heat rising off stone. The air cracked. Trees groaned.
Kael acted on instinct. He pulled her into his arms, embracing her tightly. “Liz, you have to calm down—please. I’m here. You’re not alone. Whatever this is… the forest is showing us something. Let it pass, okay?”
His voice was gentle. A rare thing from him.
And somehow—just barely—Liz steadied. Her body still glowed faintly, but the shaking lessened. She buried her face into his shoulder.
Then the villagers were gathered at the square.
The soldiers had tied nearly a dozen young women to high wooden stakes. Beneath them, kindling and dry leaves were piled. One soldier—the same man who’d given the order—raised a torch.
“They hide among you!” he shouted to the stunned villagers. “The cursed ones, the devil-women! They take the form of daughters and sisters—but they are lies!”
Liz clutched Kael’s tunic. “No. No, please, don’t…”
Kael cursed beneath his breath. “They’re going to burn them alive.”
And they did.
Flames roared as the torch fell. Screams of terror and agony erupted, mixing with the crackle of fire and sobbing of villagers forced to watch. The smell of burning flesh hit them like a punch. Liz screamed—Kael held her tighter.
Then came thunder.
A crash of water, like a dam breaking. Wind howled, and a wall of water surged into the square, extinguishing the flames in one instant.
The soldiers drew swords. A second faction had arrived.
Their armor bore a silver crest of a water lily pierced by a spear.
And at their front, on a tall black horse, sat a man wrapped in the polished steel of a general. He was striking—long silver hair braided back, his face cold and expressionless, eyes sharp like a blade drawn too many times.
He raised one gloved hand. “Arrest them all.”
Soldiers swept in, overtaking the Flame Crest men with surgical precision.
The commander from earlier was shoved to his knees. Bloodied, bruised, but not yet broken, he spat at the silver-haired general.
“You’ll regret this, Yuan!”
Yuan’s expression didn’t change. “It’s my choice.”
Then, without pause, he lifted his hand—and water coalesced into a blade in the air beside him. It hovered, then shot forward like a lightning strike, beheading the man in a single, clean motion.
Blood painted the dirt red.
Liz and Kael stood in stunned silence.
Kael whispered, “Ezryn…?”
But it wasn’t.
This was not the Ezryn they knew.
This man—Yuan—was not a gentle scholar. He was a storm wrapped in steel. No kindness lingered in his eyes. No hesitation when he ended life.
As the village was secured, Yuan dismounted. He walked past the bodies, the burning wood, the ruined square—and paused.
His voice was low, almost lost to the wind.
“Where are you…?”
Liz gasped softly. Her knees threatened to give out again. Kael caught her arm.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Let us follow this man, Yuan to find out more.”
As Liz and Kael trailed behind the cold-eyed general, the shattered village faded from their sight. The scream of fire, the scent of blood—all swallowed into a dull silence, until only the rhythmic echo of Yuan’s boots remained.
Then the space around them shifted—marble underfoot, vaulted ceilings arching above, and gold-trimmed banners swaying gently in the hush. A palace. Not a grand one by imperial standards, but solemn, regal, built from gray stone with wide corridors lit by crystal sconces. A place where politics and power were woven as tightly as its tapestries.
Yuan passed through the ornate double doors like a shadow reborn into flesh.
Inside, a study stretched wide—a dome-shaped room filled with hanging scrolls and aged celestial maps, shelves of books inked with forgotten languages, and astrolabes tracking the dance of stars. At its center, seated beneath a half-circle of arched windows, was a man.
He was aged, but not weak. His silver-streaked hair was tied at the nape, and his fingers moved with calm precision over a parchment of constellations. Eyes like clouded glass scanned the stars without truly reading them—as though waiting for them to whisper the answers he already feared.
Yuan stopped a few paces away. His voice rang out, low and sharp.
“Another massacre happened today.”
The man didn’t look up. He merely turned the page of the chart, slow and measured. “The world bleeds. Why does that surprise you?”
Yuan’s hands clenched into fists. His jaw tightened, but he pressed forward.
“How long will you keep ignoring it?” His voice cut like steel. “I’m leaving the Order. I need to find her. She’s in danger.”
Finally, the old man paused. Still seated, he let out a tired breath and then said softly,
“She’s safe. The stars say so.”
Yuan stepped closer. “The stars?” he spat. “Even without your divination, we both know—no one is capable of harming her.”
Then he whispered, more bitterly:
“Except you.”
The old man’s shoulders tensed.
“For so many years,” Yuan continued, the fury in his voice now barely holding back grief, “you’ve caged her in silence. You erased her. You kept her in the shadows like a threat. And now, when war looms and politics rot the throne, you send her to face it?”
He stepped to the side, pacing with the heat of words that had long burned behind locked lips.
“She wants no part in this. No crown. No power. All she’s ever wanted… was her family.”
He turned sharply, glaring.
“But you—” Yuan’s voice cracked, “you couldn’t even give her love.”
At last, the old man—whose eyes had not left the sky—spoke again.
“What can we do?” His voice was quiet. Not cold, but resigned. “It is her fate. Her burden. She was born to bear it.”
Then he added, as if reciting prophecy more than choice:
“Do not concern yourself. You know the one you should care for… is Kaeyla. Not Aelira.”
Yuan flinched at the name.
He stood motionless, staring at the man he once called master, the heat in his chest now buried under the weight of disappointment.
Then without a word, he turned and left.
⸻
Yuan flinched, fury in his eyes—but he said nothing. He turned on his heel and left the hall, his cloak flaring behind him.
In the shadows near the pillars, Liz stood frozen.
Her breath hitched.
A tremble in her limbs.
She didn’t know why, but something inside her twisted in fear. That old man—she didn’t recognize him, but her soul did. And it recoiled.
Kael moved to her side. “Liz—?”
But she was already wavering. Her vision distorted—the walls melted to haze, colors turning fluid like water. The weight of magic curled around her like a wave.
“Kael—I can’t—”
Then the floor gave way.
The palace vanished.
They fell—plunging through light, air, silence.
It was like drowning in starlight.
Then—
—earth.
Rough, cold soil.
Liz landed hard against it, gasping, lungs heaving as she choked on breath. The sky above them was pale and lifeless.
They were back.
The same forest. Still. Empty.
As if nothing had happened at all.
Except it had.
Pain throbbed in Liz’s chest. Her limbs were heavy, drained. She tried to lift her arm, tried to focus her magic—but her energy was gone.
“Don’t—” Kael’s voice rasped.
He was beside her, bleeding from his temple, shoulders rising with effort. But she was already reaching for him, trying to heal.
“Don’t waste it,” he said. “Heal yourself.”
“You’re hurt,” she whispered.
“So are you,” he snapped, catching her before she slumped over. He stared at her for a moment, jaw clenched, then muttered something under his breath and pulled her onto his back.
Her arms hung around his shoulders. Her breath was faint against his neck.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said, almost to himself. “You burn yourself out for me and now I have to drag your half-conscious self through god-knows-where.”
A pause.
His grip tightened. His voice softened.
“Don’t do that again. Don’t… don’t hurt yourself for me.”
His steps didn’t falter, but his voice held a quiet urgency now. “I can’t stand it. Seeing you like this. You don’t get to just break for me. That’s not how this works.”
Liz didn’t speak. She only buried her face against his back.
He carried her through the still forest.
Neither spoke of what they saw.
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