As Aden plucked the figs from the branches, the unnatural warmth of the tree wrapped around him like a stolen summer. The golden figs radiated heat, the green ones cooled his fingertips like a teasing breeze, and the purples carried the scent of salt and seaweed, a whisper of childhood trips with Poppa and Adora. The white figs were almost weightless, as if they might float away if he exhaled too hard. The fragrance was intoxicating, a dizzying blend of honey and sunlight, despite the frozen bite of winter just beyond the tree’s reach.

  Sammy eyed the red figs with deep suspicion, stepping back each time Aden reached for one. “You sure you want to mess with those? You said they’re poisonous.”

  Aden rolled his eyes. “Rex. I’m not pnning to make a pie.” He plucked a single red fig and dropped it into a beled bag. “It’s for pnting, not snacking.”

  Sammy snorted, flicking his tail. “Still, you could experiment with something that won’t murder you.”

  Aden smirked, plucking another fig and tossing it into a beled bag. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  The bags filled quickly, the figs gleaming like stolen jewels in the dimming afternoon light. A sharp gust of wind howled through the surrounding trees, but under the fig tree’s canopy, everything remained warm, untouched by the creeping cold.

  And yet… something felt off.

  The tree seemed to shift under Aden’s hands, the branches creaking softly, bending just slightly toward him. Not enough to move, but enough to give the unsettling impression of movement.

  He shook it off. 'Just my imagination.'

  A gnce at the sky sent a ripple of urgency through him. The twin suns, Pondora and Quandar, hung dangerously low.

  “We should hurry,” Aden said, tightening the drawstrings on both bags. “I don’t want to find out the hard way where this thing likes to send people.”

  “Smartest thing you’ve said all day,” Sammy agreed, his hooves shifting anxiously. “I really don’t want to wake up in a va pit.”

  Aden ughed, swinging the bags over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s—”

  He stopped.

  His gaze snagged on a single red fig, just slightly out of reach.

  He only had nine. One more would make ten—his lucky number.

  Aden reached for it.

  The fig refused to budge.

  Frowning, he gave it a firmer tug. The branch didn’t just resist—it held the fig, bark curling around it like fingers.

  Aden’s stomach dropped.

  His eyes followed the length of the branch, taking in the unnatural shape, the too-familiar curve of what shouldn’t be there. The yered bark folded in the vague impression of fabric—a tunic, a vest. Higher up, a shoulder. A neck. A face.

  Aden sucked in a breath, stumbling back. “Oh, hell no.”

  The face was frozen in time, lips slightly parted, as if about to speak. The bark had grown around him, consuming him, rather than transforming him outright.

  Not a tree growth. Not a fluke.

  A man—no, an elf—was part of the tree.

  Aden’s voice tore from his throat before he could stop it. “ARRRGH!”

  Sammy jerked his head toward him. “Aden? What—?”

  The unicorn’s gaze followed Aden’s shaking finger. He stiffened.

  “Oh.” Sammy’s voice dropped. “Oh, twiddle-hooves.”

  Aden’s heart pounded in his ears. He forced himself to breathe, to think. The tree wasn’t just some strange winter anomaly.

  This… this was a curse.

  Something else caught his eye, and his stomach turned.

  A sword.

  The bde jutted from the elf’s chest, its hilt wrapped in vine-like tendrils of bark. And beneath the hilt, clutched against the wood, was a massive book—bound to the tree as tightly as the elf himself.

  The elf had been stabbed—and instead of dying, he’d become… this.

  Aden’s breath hitched. His fingers scrambled for his wallet, his mind screaming at him not to look, but he had to. He yanked out a crumpled bill and fttened it against his palm.

  The inked portrait stared back at him.

  The same face. The same pointed ears. The same curling strand of hair over his armored chest.

  Aden’s throat tightened. His voice barely scraped out. “Oh, hell.”

  Sammy half-reared, pnting his front hooves on the trunk before awkwardly climbing his way up, his back legs scrambling behind him. With a final push, he reached the branch where Aden stood and peered over his shoulder. "Oh, hell."

  “King Earlcein,” Aden whispered.

  The bill slipped from his fingers, carried away on the wind.

  Aden barely processed it. His eyes were locked on the dead king, fused with the tree, his expression frozen somewhere between agony and fury.

  Aden gazed at the elf, heart pounding. The irony wasn’t lost on him—known far and wide as Amelia’s Boy, and now he’d stumbled upon the kingdom’s greatest mystery. Oh, the headlines were going to be fantastic. Local farm boy just trying to live a normal life—accidentally unearths long-lost king. The media frenzy alone would tear their quiet life apart. Potlight and their ranch would be swarmed by reporters and officials alike. His current fame would pale in comparison to the storm this discovery could unleash.

  Torn between duty and his desire for normalcy, Aden considered his options. He could walk away, pretend this never happened. It wasn't like anyone expected him to find the king of all people—right? But his conscience gnawed at him. 'How could I leave him like this?' No, he had to do something. Maybe he could handle it quietly. Slip a note under the pace door, 'Hey, found your missing king, you’re welcome. No need for a parade.'

  He reached for the sword.

  The moment his fingers brushed the hilt, everything changed.

  The bark holding the sword twisted and cracked, releasing its grip in a single, violent motion. The book fell first, hitting the ground silently. The king’s body slumped forward, still limp, as if it had only just finished dying. And the sword—

  The sword shuddered.

  A voice, rough with age and something heavier, whispered, "I am Starburner."

  Aden barely registered it before the world tilted beneath him. His vision blurred, the snowy clearing dissolving into streaks of gold and violet. Then—

  Darkness. And silence.

  No, not silence. A steady, rhythmic pulse thrummed beneath him, slow and deliberate, like the heartbeat of something ancient. His feet met solid ground, though it felt weightless, suspended in a void of swirling twilight.

  Before him, a kneeling woman cradled King Earlcein’s body. Her long hair shimmered, a cascade of liquid silver, pooling onto the ground like flowing light. She held him as if afraid to let go, as if releasing him would shatter her world. Time itself felt frozen here.

  Aden’s breath caught. "What—where am I?"

  Starburner’s voice was quieter now, aching with sorrow. "My mindscape. The only pce where I could keep him safe. For twelve years, I have held this moment, unwilling to let him fall to time. But now..."

  The woman lifted her head, her violet eyes locking onto Aden’s. Desperation warred with acceptance in her gaze. "Please… I have to let him go."

  The weight of reality smmed back into Aden’s chest. He gasped, his vision snapping back to the real world. He was in the clearing again, the warm, summer-like air of the tree's climate wrapping around him. The tree stood untouched—but Earlcein’s body had finished dying, limp on the branch. Starburner trembled in his grip.

  Aden swallowed hard. “This… this is insane.”

  “You freed us,” Starburner said quietly. “But not entirely.”

  Aden exhaled sharply. He eyed the book—Alexand—but instead of silence, its pages shifted, ink reshaping itself before his eyes. The words twisted into something legible: "Well, I suppose reading me is better than carrying me. Try to keep up." A faint shimmer crossed its pages before letters began to form, shifting and reshaping into readable words. The text flickered, rearranging itself purposefully: "To be clear, I am incapable of speech. If you wish to know my thoughts, you will have to read them. Do try to keep up."

  Aden ran a hand down his face. "Great. So now I have a dead king, a dramatic sword, and a book that thinks it's my professor. This day just keeps getting better." He looked at Sammy. "Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this is a problem."

  Sammy flicked his tail. “Oh, it’s definitely a problem.”

  Aden groaned. “Fantastic.”

  Aden studied the king’s face, his stomach twisting into knots. Unlike the regal, benevolent figure depicted in every portrait and older currency notes across Spectra, this man looked like he had spent his st moments hating the world. His thin lips curled in disgust, his brow furrowed with a permanent scowl. It was the face of a man who had lost everything and resented every second of it. His thin lips curled in disgust, and a glower deepened the lines across his brow. ‘This isn’t the king I’ve seen in the books,’ Aden thought. He remembered an image of the evil king he’d seen once, and this man bore a startling resembnce.

  "I thought he was supposed to be nice," Aden said, leaning back.

  Starburner choked back a sob. "He was... at one time. But the other king did something to him. I had no choice."

  "So why did you kill him?" Aden asked, his voice quiet.

  "I promised him, long ago, that if he ever became corrupt, I would end his life. It was my duty, Aden."

  "You know my name?" Aden blinked, surprised.

  "Since you touched me, yes," Starburner replied.

  Aden ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching in the tangles he hadn’t realized were there. The warm breeze whispered through the tree’s branches, teasing the edge of his nerves, as if the world itself was waiting to see what he would do next. He looked at King Earlcein’s now sckened face, his eyes still open and staring bnkly. With gentle hands, Aden closed the king’s eyes. "May Alpha Omega accept your soul into heaven," he intoned quietly.

  Sunlight glinted off the blood-soaked chain mail. The twin suns hung low in the sky, signaling that it was time to go.

  Aden exhaled, gripping the branch as he steadied himself. Leaving Starburner and Alexand behind wasn’t an option, but first, he had to get down. Gritting his teeth, he shifted his weight and began climbing, boots scraping against the rough bark as he descended. The warm air of the tree’s enchanted climate embraced him as he finally dropped the st few feet, nding on the soft, dry earth beneath its canopy.

  Sammy, still watching him closely, gave a relieved snort but then tensed as Aden turned back toward the tree. He took a breath, summoning his magic talent. Carefully, he pictured the open space behind him, aiming to pce them there. A flicker of energy pulsed through him—and he botched it.

  Aden barely had time to move before King Earlcein’s body, Starburner, and Alexand materialized directly above where he had been standing. He scrambled out of the way as they crashed into the snow, limbs, metal, and fluttering pages nding in a tangled heap behind him.

  “You okay?” Sammy asked.

  Aden swayed, the world tilting as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. His vision blurred at the edges, his stomach twisting like he’d just spun in circles too fast. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay upright.

  “Just a side effect,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. Using his talent on something that heavy always hit him like a ton of bricks. He reached into his bag, pulled out his freezer bag, and stored the king’s body inside, ignoring the way his fingers trembled slightly.

  “That’s one problem solved,” he muttered. He eyed the sword, then the book. “Now how do I carry you two?”

  The book floated into the air and pressed itself into his arm.

  "I can summon a scabbard," Starburner added, her voice still ced with lingering sorrow. "If that makes this any easier."

  Aden sighed. “Fine. That works.” He adjusted Starburner against his back. “Let’s go.”

  Zanden