Man, with her characteristic efficy, opened a dimensional portal straight back to Wilderwood’s capital mansion. It was a cut between realms, the kind of thing that could only be aplished by someoh absolute trol over Vision—and a lot oe.
She had made sure, of course, that the civilians nearby weren’t left too implicated in what had just unfolded.
A soothing spell was already at work, bing the area with a subtle calm and blurring the memories of those who had waoo close to the chaos.
It wasn’t mind trol—ly. Just a gentle o ehat nobody woke up screaming about eldritch horrors and gods bsting each other above their roofs.
The district itself wasn’t a slum, though its humble charm wouldn’t win it any noble visitors. It acked with poorer oners, families scraping by but still maintaining a quiet sense of dignity.
These were people who knew how to endure life’s hardships, but this? This wasn’t your usual tough day of fetg water gling over stale bread.
Initially, for Tristan and Yvolt, the operation had been straightforward: sneak in, grab some seemingly insignifit information, and sneak out. A simple job. But, uedly, things spiraled out of trol, nding them i another near-apocalyptic showdown.
The oners had, of course, realized something was wrong. They’d left their homes, stepping cautiously into the streets to iigate. But the a had taken p the rooftops, well out of view for most of them. All they’d likely seen were fshes of light and strange sounds—enough to send their imaginations running wild.
And while it felt like a lifetime for those involved, the entire ordeal hadn’t stretched for more than an hour. Just long enough to almost destroy the neighborhood’s roof and leave Man ing up the mess, as usual.
Yvaied the returning group with a sigh that couldn’t decide whether it was from relief or exhaustion, his smile stretched thin but genuine. Beside him, Finn looked like he’d just narrowly avoided a heart attack, his shoulders shaking as he tried to pull himself together.
“Sir, with this, we don’t eveo report further,” Tristan said, his voice heavy with fatigue as he handed over the dots he and Yvolt had risked their lives to protect.
Yvain took the papers with a solemn nod. “Then go recover. Thank you for your service.”
Man wasted no time, opening another dimensional portal with a graceful flick of her hand. “This one leads to the World Tree,” she said calmly. “There’s a team of purification specialists waiting there. You two should head over and recover.”
Tristan and Yvolt exged a weary gheir expressions mirr the helplesshey felt.
“We’re sorry we could only be used this far, Your Majesties,” Yvolt said, her voice tinged with regret.
Burn didn’t even pause as he brushed past them, his tone as cold and cutting as ever. “What are you talking about? Recover quickly so I use you again ter.” He didn’t spare them a sed griding further into the mansion without so much as a backward look.
Man, however, offered the pair a warm smile. “Excellent work,” she said gently.
Tristan and Yvolt straightened, holding their smiles with every ounce of strength they had left. They were ants, they khat—tiny, insignifit pared to the legendary figures standing before them. Yet, to witness even a fra of the apocalyptic stakes these two Majesties shouldered was enough to make their hearts swell with pride.
The world spun because of Burn and Man. The abyss was held back because of their strength. And to serve them—even as tools, even as small pyers in the grand scheme—felt like the highest honor Tristan and Yvolt could ever hope to achieve.
Heroes against the darkness, defenders of the world’s fragile bance. If history remembered them for even a single moment in this grand battle, then perhaps it was all worth it.
Still, both Tristan and Yvolt khat if word of this spread, the aftermath would be catastrophic. The air felt heavy with the shadow of history repeating itself, something akin to the camity five hundred years ago looming closer by the sed.
“So… it is… the demon lord…?” Tristan’s voice was shaky, his legs barely holding him upright as he reeled from the weight of the revetion.
Man nodded, her expression calm but grave. “We’ve beeing how best to hahis situation. The mythical unity has already beeed, and we have united in preparation for the Sed Holy War.”
The words hit like a hammer, and the two knights visibly shuddered.
The Sed Holy War.
Their minds spun with the implications. Just as Apostle Romeuf had led the heroes on a crusade to vanquish the darkness five turies ago, it was now their time. History was calling again, and they would bear wito its making.
Unsciously, their eyes drifted to the back of the man striding deeper into the mansion. Burn—their Emperor. Steadfast, reliable, and ued. His presence was unshakable, his very steps a promise of battle. The man who would lead this crusade, the one whose back would carry the weight of aire world.
“We will find a good time to annouhis matter to the Round Table soon,” Man said softly, her voice ge firm. “For now, focus on your recovery.”
Tristan and Yvolt were not Gahad, but in that moment, it took everything they had not to drop to their knees and pledge their lives eo their Majesties.
The sheer magnitude of the task ahead left them breathless, but seeing Yvain’s worried expression and the still-open portal waiting for them, they forced themselves to bow instead. Without another word, they stepped through to the Great Forest.
Man watched them leave, her serene expression giving way to something sharper, something heavier. She turo Yvain aured for him to follow. “e. We o catch up with your Papa.”
This was going to be a long night. One of many to e.
***
Bir’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitg as she jolted awake from yet anhtmare. Or was it a memory? At this point, it hardly mattered. The sharp pain in her wrists, ankles, and neck pulled her attention back to reality—a reality that wasn’t much kinder.
The red thread binding her body wasn’t just metaphorical. It tugged at her from the darkness, trolling her like some grotesque mario reminded her of the so-called red thread of fate, except there was nothing romantic about being yanked around like a puppet in someone else’s grand i.
urpose did she even serve in all of this? Who held the other end of the string? And, more importantly, why was she the oangled in this mess?
Bir leaned back against the bedframe, staring bnkly toward the bedroom window. The giant cra the sky loomed outside, a jagged scar splitting the heavens. It shimmered faintly, like it was mog her with its ominous beauty.
The world was breaking apart, and she was over here w if she was fate’s favorite chew toy.
She closed her eyes, slowly, with the kind of painstaking effort one reserves for things like holding in a sneeze or pretending everything’s fine when it clearly isn’t. Sleep didn’t e easily—of course, it never did—but tonight she forced it. Tomorrow, after all, was a big day.
Tomorrow marked the weekend, the muticipated reprieve from the grind, and with it, a visit to the Wilderwood Capital Mansion. Not just any visit, though—she’d be going with her friends. Her friends. The word still felt strange, like wearing a new pair of boots that hadn’t quite been broken i.
A small smile crept onto her face, a rare warmth melting the usual cold reserve. Evan… and her very first friends. It was almost enough to feel normal. Almost.
The thought ed around her like a soft b, soothing her into a hesitant, fragile sleep. She didn’t notice the shadowed ers of the room or the glint of something watg—unblinking, unwavering—from the darkness.
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Aaaaand this will be my st overshadowing!
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