Aurora didn’t have time to worry about Samantha. Not when screams mingled with the smoke. Kristo didn’t hesitate—he shoved past the rubble, boots skidding, eyes locked on the chaos ahead. Milo watched him go then turned, quietly walking the other way.

“Milo!” But the moment her voice left her lips, it clicked: He wasn’t here to finish what he started. He wasn’t one to lead or save or even to clean up the wreckage he’d left behind. Now that Selus had fallen, she could focus on Cerceras. The dark, ancient god that was eating her home miles away – the Blade Kingdom.

“Cerceras feeds on souls that give into temptation,” Milo had once explained. Aurora had experienced the temptation first hand, escaping only because of her… what? Sarcastic hatred? “The more obedient people are, the easier it is for them to give into him. If we awaken the people, they’re more likely to resist him.” He was simply here to stop Cerceras from devouring this Kingdom too quickly. Now he had done his job so he was moving on.

But Kristo?

Kristo couldn’t leave – not when people needed help. He stumbled out of the smoke, a half-conscious man slung over his shoulder. After setting him down to safety, he vanished back into the fire asking nothing back. Looking back, she should’ve stayed. Should’ve helped him. She knew that. Even then. But staying meant watching people die, while twiddling their thumbs hoping Milo defeated Cerceras. It meant waiting to drown in chaos she couldn’t control – again.

But following Milo proved a path toward power. She breathed in sharply, guilt pressing down on her soul. Kristo emerged again, soot in his hair, a child clinging to his back—arms locked tight around his shoulders like a lifeline.

They locked eyes. Her chest tightened. He knew she planned to leave with Milo, and he wasn’t stopping her. So she turned and ran. Screams cracked the air. Stone crumbled in the distance. Aurora turned, slipping between once beautiful alleyways, weaving past a toppled column and the skeletal remains of a crystal building. The outer edge of the palace district dissolved into courtyards, then side roads, then ruined forest path. She refused to look back as she chased him. Kristo’s silhouette disappeared into the smoke. She stopped looking back. All she needed to do was focus on Milo’s retreating figure.

When they crested the hill, they left the burning kingdom, and ahead, the gleam died. The forest changed. Oaks rose were sparkling rubble used to be. Her feet sank with each step, the earth damp and greedy. The glamour was gone. Milo had done it. The clearing opened without warning, a small dip in the terrain, encircled by towering trees. Milo stood near the edge of it, arms loosely at his sides. Aurora stumbled in behind him, her knees cracking twigs, sinking into the soggy soil.

The air was crisp in the forests, the surroundings more honest than the glitter of the Crystal Kingdom. A log rotted to the side. There were no polished floors, no shine. Just dirt and decay. Just him and her. Or so she thought.

Footsteps smushed nearby. She widened her eyes in surprise as Karl appeared from the east, descending the slope from between two twisting tree trunks. He seemed more than eager to hide away in the Crystal Kingdom, browsing stores, rarely coming out, but he stomped forward like he was on a mission. She tilted her head, trying to decipher the fire in his eyes. It was like he was waiting for Milo to return. She didn’t realize his story was just starting. His breathing was sharp, too fast, his energy hot and brittle.

As he stepped out of the light, he stood like a ghost sketched in the wrong place. His skin was too pale. His ice blue eyes burned with a light that didn’t belong to any kingdom she knew. She ogled at him for the first time. A story whispered in her spine.

Ysalva’s lost bloodline. The Tribe of Light.

She raised her gaze to the clouds, mind reeling. Of course. Earlier, how did she not see?

Karl’s fists trembled. His chest heaved. He faced Milo like a contender. "You promised," he said, his shoulder squared toward Milo. "We’re going to the Fire Kingdom next. To destroy everything they did to me. To my mom. You promised"

Milo studied the clouds like they harbored secret meaning. She watched Karl’s hands, his twitching jaw, the way his whole body coiled like a wire pulled too tight. He was slipping.

“Yes, we’re going there next.” Milo stepped forward as if the tension meant nothing. "The Fire Kingdom."

Karl didn’t move or blink. “How?” he hissed, his voice too menacing for his age.

Milo just looked at him, amused. He put his hands in his coat as if in concession, his motions smooth. Aurora saw the iron red liquid first, behind smooth glass. Between Milo’s fingers were two vials that shimmered in the sunlight. When he pulled it out, it was as if he had pressed a button, sending Karl flying.

"Karl—" Aurora launched forward too.

But he wasn’t listening. Karl lurched forward with a roar, boots slamming into mud as he closed the distance in three uneven strides. "You think this is a game?" he screamed. "You’re going to destroy them with that?"

Milo didn’t flinch. He didn’t flare his magic or step away. Just one precise step forward—then a jab to Karl’s side. Karl’s limbs seized. His momentum vanished. He dropped mid-stride. She barely caught him. She moved with instinct or shame that she still needed someone small enough to save. Her hands moved on their own, easing him upright. Shielding his body from the soggy ground. His breath was shaky.

And then she felt fury. She glared at the man who had hurt him. But he was still holding the two vials like trophies. Her eyes shifted to the two red vials. The glass caught the dying light, casting strange reflections across his fingers like oil on water.

Aurora stared. Karl stirred weakly in her arms.

"What is that?" she hissed.

Milo turned the vials in his hand, watching the liquid shift like it was thinking. “Essence inversion,” He lifted one vial slightly. “It flips the current—fire to silence, silence to flame. In the Fire Kingdom, they pass power down through bloodlines, but only to men. Women are culled when their sparks surface.”

It switches the abilities of fire users and people without magic?

His voice didn’t rise. If anything, it quieted. “This won’t destroy the kingdom the way Karl wants. That would be too loud, too expected.” He looked at Aurora before observing Karl. “The serum only affects fire magic so it won’t affect you.”

Aurora looked down at the boy. It was true. She possessed the powers of the earth. Karl? Water. Milo continued. “The men will lose what they were handed. The women will find what was stolen. That’s all.” He smiled faintly. “Call it correction. Call it symmetry. I just want to see what survives when the current runs the other way.”

"You’re…" she couldn’t believe what he was saying. She didn’t know whether it was brilliant or reckless.

Milo tilted his head. Almost amused. "I don’t want to crush them," he clarified. "I just want to see something interesting."

The forest didn’t breathe. Neither did she.

—-----

They walked until nightfall and camped.

Karl was exhausted. Lucky for her, he slumped, his body aching. The events of the day caused him to sleep immediately, muttering as he slept. She watched him for a moment longer before moving closer to the fire. The events of the day made her want to wash her hands. I’m not a good person. Aurora scoffed. She knew she wasn’t. She glanced at Karl who fell in a fitful sleep. Then, why was she still pretending?

The stars spread across the sky like a mural, as if mocking her with their steadfast serenity. She didn’t look at Milo, didn’t trust herself to. Instead, she curled her knees to her chest, eyes fixed on the fire as its amber light washed over her face. Her skin looked alive. But inside—she felt hollow, like something had already burned through her, and only the outline remained.

Aurora thought about the fires of rebellion in the Crystal Kingdom. Maybe that was enough to hold back the lure of illusion. Maybe they had given people a reason to fight, a reason to choose reality over temptation. People were finally awaking to their own will, exercising their agency—or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

She glanced across the fire at Karl, just another pawn in Milo’s game. Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t about justice anymore. Or being good. Or even winning. It was about surviving Cerceras and people like Milo.

“You’re still angry,” Milo said behind her.

“Further proof of your high I.Q.”

The wind rustled through the trees—dry leaves hissing like ghosts. Her body tensed—still echoing the chaos they had unleashed in the kingdom. She’d already proven she didn’t care enough to stay. But the moral fallout still clung to her like smoke.

She looked away again, back into the fire. The silence mixed with the light buzzing of grasshoppers, fireflies flickering somewhere in the trees ahead. Aurora swallowed. “You’re not afraid of what comes next?”

Milo’s shook his head, laughing. “No, I want to see what comes next.”

Of course. Aurora’s lips tightened. The fire crackled. The night stretched. Milo didn’t speak either, didn’t move. The silence between them felt deliberate.

He sighed. “Do you remember why I found you?”

Aurora turned slightly, “I remember you couldn’t explain.”

“Yes,” he said mildly. “But now I think I can. I think you can understand.”

Oh goodie.

He stepped around the fire, his movements unhurried. The flames caught the edge of his coat, casting slow shadows behind him.

“We’re not here for Cerceras,” he said. “But for a meaningful detour.” He looked at her, his gaze softening. “We’re here for you.”

Aurora’s brow furrowed, lips parting. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Milo said, tone even, “I chose this place not because it needed saving, but because you needed to see it. Because clarity, Aurora, isn’t born in comfort—it emerges in contrast. And I wanted to see what you’d become when no one asked anything of you.”

His eyes flicked to hers, not sharp but exact. He chuckled at her loss of words. “I know this is all so cryptic to you, and that I might be oversharing, but I’ve always had this question,” he said softly. “One that’s lingered for years.” He leaned forward. “What does a person like you become, when no one is watching? When obedience is no longer an option? When choice is the only thing left?”

She bit back a sarcastic spit. He tilted his head, but not with judgment. With genuine curiosity. Like a scientist observing fire. Or a boy who once believed in heroes. It bewildered her.

Then, he extended his hand. It was calm, steady, and lit with a dark flicker of energy. “You asked me back then, why I came for you — nobody else. And now I want to answer your question. Show you everything.”

She hesitated. She looked at his fingers, glowing faintly with that dark, shimmering energy.

“Jin,” he said softly. “My real name is Jin.”

The name snapped her back to somewhere new, yet familiar. Then, for the second time, she reached forward and touched him. Her breath hitched. Her heart raced. Awe tangled with fear. The forest swirled away. She rationed that she lost consciousness. They floated in the darkness.

“What ability is this?” she asked, voice thin in the abyss. She noted the similarities between what happened with Cerceras. But there was no little girl, and…she couldn’t explain it, but the taste was different, more empty than sweet.