Fay's hands balled into fists. Her chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, but there was fury creeping into her eyes now, boiling away the fear.
Rue quietly shifted. His face was ghostly pale, his bloodied and bandaged hand cradled to his chest. He grunted faintly as he inched backward toward the counter, careful not to draw attention, his good hand reaching for something tucked behind a jar of Dried Chokeleaf.
Lugene, meanwhile, was watching Fay unravel.
She leaned in with a sneer. "Would you like to know what became of dear little Silvestia?" Her tone turned mocking and cruel. "We sold her. High-value merchandise like that? The slavers practically fought each other for her.
I imagine she's already being passed around like some exotic pet, one noble hand to another. First the slavers, now aristocrats with… refined tastes. Soon, there'll be nothing left of the girl you tried so hard to save."
"No…" Fay whispered, her voice wavering. "You're lying."
Lugene smirked. "Am I? You should've seen her—screaming and kicking as she was dragged away. You thought you saved her, didn't you? But you only made it worse. Her body's being ruined right now, and you can't stop it."
Fay's face twisted in horror. "Stop it… stop…"
Rue's fingers finally found the smooth, familiar edge of the magic stone. He grasped it, then his eyes flicked toward the ever-watchful wolf, measuring the distance.
Lugene's smile widened. "They'll strip away what's left of her dignity, piece by piece. And if she's lucky, she'll die before the nobles get bored of her."
Fay shook her head violently. "Stop it…"
"But the best part," Lugene continued with a twisted kind of pride, "was watching Zurrel and Lefahne's final moments. Oh, how they fought. Like cornered beasts. Even bleeding out, they still tried to protect their precious little girl. They died for her… and yet she's suffering anyway. All for nothing."
"Stop it!" Fay screamed, hands clamped over her ears, tears spilling from her eyes. "Stop talking!"
Lugene ignored her, eyes alight with victory. "You didn't save her. You doomed her. "And you—you're next."
Fay screamed.
In that exact instant, Rue thrust the magic stone forward in an attempt to summon a barrage of ice shards. But Fay moved first. Instinct took over. Her body radiated a violent light as a single, colossal spear of condensed mana exploded outward, ripping through the air like a bullet forged by the gods.
BOOOOOM!
The projectile struck both Rue and Lugene dead-on, impaling them against the wall with a thunderous crash. Their agonized screams filled the room, blood pouring from their mouths as they convulsed, pinned like insects beneath a dagger.
They didn't even have time to recover. Before the echoes faded, before they could beg for their lives—
FWOOOOOSH!
Zephyr leapt forward, opened his maw, and unleashed a sweeping torrent of fire. The flames roared across the room, swallowing the wall, the shelves, the screams. Rue and Lugene flailed as the fire consumed them, their skin blistering, blackening, peeling from their bones under the heat of divine retribution.
The smell of burning flesh permeated the air.
They screeched until their voices and their cruel sins were no more. Fay stood trembling, chest heaving, eyes full of tears and fury as the light from the flames danced across her face.
She didn't flinch when the bones collapsed to the floor. Her crimson eyes remained locked on the charred remains—the remnants of the people who'd masqueraded as friends, as neighbors, as kind old apothecaries.
Her heart swelled, but not with triumph—instead, she felt heartbreak. Betrayal. Guilt. "I killed them…" she whimpered. "Even if they were monsters… I killed them…"
For a long moment, she just stood there. Breathing. Shaking. Then her gaze dropped to her hands. They shook in front of her as though they belonged to someone else entirely.
And yet they were the same hands that had once held Silvestia's, that had gently poured herbal tea for Lefahne and Zurrel… that had just unleashed a power strong enough to destroy two people in a single burst.
Her stomach twisted.
What am I?
The guilt pressed harder.
A sob slipped out. Then another. And then, all at once, her legs gave out. She collapsed to the floor, crumpling like a doll abandoned by its maker. Her breath caught as tears fell freely down her cheeks, splashing onto the dusty wood beneath her.
"It's my fault…" she whispered, her voice breaking.
Zephyr's ears sagged, his eyes stirring with sorrow.
"I said it was them, but… it was me, wasn't it?" She choked. "If I hadn't healed her… if I had just let Silvie die like they wanted… would Zurrel and Lefahne still be alive? Would the grief really have forced them to leave the city like Rue and Lugene thought?"
Zephyr whined.
"This is all my fault," she cried. "I thought I was helping… but I just made everything worse. They're dead because of me. And Silvie… Silvie's gone…"
Zephyr let out a low whimper as he took a cautious step forward, then gently pressed his snout against her cheek and licked her tear-streaked face.
Fay flinched at the touch, then blinked at him through watery eyes. "Rai…?"
He whined again and nudged her shoulder. Then he stepped back, eyes alert, ears high. His nose twitched once, twice—then he let out a soft growl as his body tensed.
Midnight narrowed his eyes and followed the canine's gaze. The wolf's fur bristled as he sniffed again, then looked toward the open door with a stern bark.
Fay sniffled and slowly lifted her head, her voice hoarse and childlike. "Is… is something out there?"
Zephyr barked once, then wagged his tail urgently.
"You found a scent?" She asked, wiping her cheeks. "I-Is it Silvie's?"
Another bark answered her.
She looked toward the doorway, then slowly got to her feet. "Okay… okay. I'm coming."
As she moved toward the door, Midnight's attention shifted to the cluttered worktable near the back of the room. Ignoring the still sizzling bones, the Djinn silently leapt onto the tabletop and sifted through the remnants of Lugene's experiments.
Amid shattered glass, scorched flora, and partially melted metal, two intact vials shimmered with a curious pink glow. His gaze narrowed. Then he spotted something else—an old work journal, its edges singed but largely preserved. Its most recent entry was a formula scrawled in hurried, uneven writing.
Midnight blinked once, his tail flicking. In an instant, both vials and the journal vanished into the shadows beneath his fur, spoils safely stored for his master. He gave one final glance to the ruined room, then slinked after the others.
Outside, Zephyr's nose hovered above the ground, then jerked to the side. He sniffed again—then stopped, fangs bared, ears pinned back. The scent trail had ended. But it was undeniable. It belonged to no other than Adrian Lysander Percival. That same bitter, floral musk he remembered from the day Daisuke walked into that trap.
Adrian was the bastard who kidnapped Brek and the others. The one who smiled as he threatened to slaughter them like cattle. The one who never left anything to chance.
Zephyr growled deep in his throat at the man's infuriatingly shrewd nature. It was evident the clever bastard had taken every precaution to ensure he wouldn't be found. But one thing was certain, he was somewhere in Lunarel and he was up to no good. Again.
The canine let out a frustrated snort, then redirected his attention to a new trail—fainter, but distinct. It was Silvestia, and unlike Adrian, the Kaelmonts were careless. Their scent lingered like rot.
But when they traveled southeast—somewhere between the shopping district and the poorer residential area—and came across a fortified building teeming with guards, they wondered if the Kaelmonts ever needed to cover their tracks at all.
Fay slumped to the ground.
***
When the blinding light faded, one by one, people lowered their hands from their eyes. A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd as they took in their surroundings.
The grand ballroom was gone. In its place, they now stood on a thin, transparent screen nestled within the bed of an enormous music box. Before them, a cylindrical drum studded with pins rotated slowly, plucking the comb's teeth. It played the instrumental version of the very song Lumielle had performed moments before.
"What manner of sorcery is this?" one man cried out.
Leopold and Hynes gripped the hilts of their swords, eyes scanning the surroundings in alarm. A ball of fire flared to life in Stynx's palm. Meanwhile, Cassius and Vaerythos surveyed the area with cold calculation, loathing the thought of losing control over their domain.
As the rest of the crowd stood in stunned silence, feeling like toys caught in a child's overactive imagination, a familiar voice greeted their ears. All heads turned to see Princess Lumielle standing gracefully atop one of the comb's locking screws behind them.
"Hello, everyone," she greeted with a small smile. "There's no need for alarm; this is a safe space."