Mer drifted again.

Not into darkness, but into purpose.

---

She and Cecil had been working nonstop for days—scrolls, blueprints, and sketches of arcane circles scattered like fallen leaves in every room they touched.

Mer paced the floor of their shared study, muttering to herself, fingers twitching with invisible equations. Cecil leaned back in his chair, watching her with furrowed brows.

“What’s stuck in your mind?” he asked, finally halting her path with a gentle hand.

“The barrier,” she replied, her tone urgent. “The bigger it is, the weaker it becomes. The output spreads too thin. It’s not viable for long-term city-scale protection.”

Cecil scratched the back of his neck and pulled an old, leather-bound notebook from beneath the pile.

“Let me see… Hmm. Let’s go to the fourth floor.”

Mer blinked. “What’s on the fourth floor?”

“Weaponry,” he said, standing abruptly and grabbing her hand. “We might be thinking too macro. Maybe we need to think modular.”

Through the teleportation circle, the world shimmered—and they arrived at the fourth floor of the Tower.

Weapons were strewn across enchanted worktables. Sparks flew from hovering smithing tools. A dozen witches and wizards tinkered with metal, runes, and stone.

Mer eyed the clutter. “They look… lifeless.”

“Now you know how I feel,” Cecil muttered.

She pinched his arm; he winced, and she grinned.

A familiar witch spotted them. “Hey! What’s the occasion?”

“We need your opinion,” Cecil replied.

“Perfect timing!” the witch—Jane—grabbed Mer by the wrist just as a boom echoed through the floorboards.

They dashed into a back room—chaotic, armor parts everywhere, a faint scorch mark on the wall.

“We tried to integrate your shield circle into the armor sets,” Jane said, exasperated. “But the moment we drew it, the power overwhelmed the vessel. Boom. Just like that.”

Cecil crossed his arms. “The original shield was designed for a city. Of course a single suit of armor can’t contain it.”

“So… we adjust the circle,” Mer said, already moving toward one of the undamaged sets.

“We tried using mana stones to absorb the excess power,” said Roger, one of the wizards, “but the results…” he gestured to the ash and metal shards.

Jane added, “The stones survived, strangely enough. It’s the armor that fails.”

Mer picked up one of the mana stones and let it rest in her palm. “I want to try something. No guarantees. Just… stand back.”

At her signal, most of the room cleared out. Jane stayed. So did Cecil.

Mer began chanting. A glowing shield circle appeared, reduced in size, flickering in and out as her control tried to contain the complexity.

“I’ve weakened the base structure, but I can’t embed it into the stone alone,” she admitted. “Cecil—I need your precision.”

“I’ll handle it.”

He stepped in, threading his fingers through the floating circle, manipulating its structure like threads in a loom. Slowly, carefully, he pushed it into the core of the stone.

Silence.

And then—

Jane whispered, “You did it.”

Mer’s eyes lit up. “Now… let’s test it.”

They chose one of the more stable armor sets.

Cecil chanted again, binding the enchanted stone to its chestplate.

The three of them unconsciously backed toward the door.

They waited.

Nothing exploded.

Jane laughed. “It worked.”

Roger examined the aura field with his divination tools. “Mana’s stable. Flow is consistent. Gods above—you two actually stabilized a mobile barrier node.”

He looked up, stunned.

“You did it.”

---

Mer sat up in bed, breath caught in her throat.

“…Another dream,” she whispered.

But her heart raced not from fear… from possibility.

---

Mer had begun to claim little corners of Ravenrow.

She rearranged the furniture in the west wing, supervised repairs in the greenhouse, and reorganized the knights’ armory with sharper labels and improved shelving.

The Night Tulip pulsed with her touch now—alive in new ways.

Cecil let her.

Unspoken was the fact that she was never truly unattended. Sarah always seemed conveniently nearby. The castle steward passed by her routes a little too often. A hawk-eyed knight lingered at the garden gates longer than necessary.

Cecil never said a word.

---

One morning, Sarah entered with a flutter of excitement.

“Milady, the master is sparring with Sir Callum.”

Mer nearly dropped her teacup.

She stood instantly. “The two strongest men in Ravenrow? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She bolted through the hall, skirts rustling, Sarah chasing after her.

By the time Mer arrived, the training yard was already packed—knights, squires, and servants ringed around the wide dueling circle. Metal clanged loud and fast, the sound of fury honed into skill.

Mer sighed.

Then looked up.

She muttered a spell under her breath.

In a blink, she disappeared.

Pop.

Now perched gracefully on the rooftop, Mer sat cross-legged, propping her chin on her knees with a pleased smirk.

Below, Sarah shrieked softly in panic, spinning in circles.

Mer waved down at her with a teasing smile.

---

The spar was brutal. Swift. Calculated.

Cecil moved like a shadow—calm, surgical. Callum’s brute strength clashed with his duke’s controlled force.

Blades collided, sparks flying.

They moved as if they were enemies, not comrades. As if this duel meant something more than just training.

Mer watched, eyebrows narrowing slightly.

Then Cecil staggered from a heavy blow to the shoulder.

She sat straight.

Callum pressed the advantage—but Cecil shifted. Swift, vicious. A step to the side. A pivot. A kick to the abdomen that knocked Callum down to his knees.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

But not Mer.

She stood quietly and vanished from the rooftop without a word.

---

The Next Day

Mer stepped into Cecil’s office, her eyes focused and shining.

“I’m going to visit Frederick,” she said.

Cecil looked up from his desk. “The lapidary?”

She nodded. “Yes. And… I want your permission to use the west garden.”

“For?”

“A mana stone rehabilitation ground. I want to test Frederick’s theory on natural restoration. Long term.”

Cecil smiled faintly.

“You can do whatever you want.”

Mer beamed.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I love you!”

He tilted his head to kiss her back, but she slipped from his grasp, already halfway to the door.

Just before leaving, she paused.

Then turned back, walked over, and kissed him—deeply, long enough to steal his breath.

When she pulled away, her smile was glowing.

“I’m going now,” she said sweetly, then vanished down the corridor.

Cecil remained still for a moment, stunned.

Then slowly leaned back, staring at the door she'd just passed through.

And smiled.