Far above—
the clicking returned.
Goro smiled.
"Let's remind this colony why monsters learned to fear serpents."
Then he moved.
The abyss convulsed.
Not from a strike.
Not from magic.
From Goro simply deciding to rise.
His colossal body coiled beneath Qaritas, two hundred feet of amethyst-black scales tightening like the muscles of a living world. Ancient gold runes ignited across each plate, their light racing along his length faster than thought.
The darkness beneath them recoiled.
Then—
Goro launched upward.
Qaritas barely managed to wrap both arms around the edge of one enormous scale before the abyss became a violent blur.
Wind tore at his clothes.
The silver cloak snapped behind him.
The stone walls rushed past so quickly they became bands of black and crimson. Distant rivers of lava flashed through the darkness like veins split open inside the mountain.
"Hold on," Eon advised.
"I am!"
Tighter.
"I am currently hugging a scale larger than my entire body!"
You can complain once we stop moving.
"I can complain while falling."
You have demonstrated that extensively.
The cavern above rushed toward them.
The Hive Sovereign waited at the cliff.
Thousands of hunters covered the crystal walls, their fungal blooms spread wide. Their hooked tongues writhed in anticipation. The Sovereign's enormous chest opened, its glowing core expanding for another command.
Then Goro breached the ledge.
He did not leap from the abyss.
He erupted from it.
A tidal wave of amethyst-black scales tore through the cliffside. Stone exploded outward. Crystal trees shattered. The nearest hunters vanished beneath coils thick enough to crush towers.
Goro's twenty molten-gold eyes opened simultaneously.
The Sovereign pulsed.
BOOM.
Every remaining member of the colony lunged.
Goro inhaled.
The runes covering his scales burned white-gold.
Then the serpent opened his jaws.
Lava answered.
It tore free from the molten falls in twisting rivers, curving through the air toward him. Fire gathered between his teeth, compressing until the cavern glowed like the heart of a star.
Goro exhaled.
The chamber became flame.
Molten rock swept through the colony in a roaring wall. Fungal armor blackened instantly. Hunters burst apart mid-leap. Tongues curled into ash before reaching their targets.
The Living Maze screamed.
Not in a voice.
Through everything.
Roots twisted.
Walls ruptured.
Glowing mushrooms collapsed in towers of sparks.
The Hive Sovereign braced all six limbs against the crystal floor, immense fungal plates sealing over its exposed core.
The lava struck.
The mountain shook.
For several seconds, nothing existed but fire.
Qaritas pressed himself against Goro's scales as heat roared around him. The silver cloak fluttered once, causing the molten spray to hesitate whenever it came near him.
Then the river of flame passed.
Smoke filled the sanctuary.
The beautiful chamber was gone.
Crystal pools had become blackened pits. Translucent trees burned from within. Molten rock spread across the floor in glowing channels, swallowing the dead.
Thousands of fungal bodies burned.
The Hive Sovereign still stood.
Barely.
Half its armor had melted away. Its left side had collapsed into burning muscle and cracked bone. Its enormous crown hung at an angle, several sensory petals reduced to dripping ruin.
Yet its core still pulsed.
Slowly.
Stubbornly.
Boom.
The surviving hunters answered.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Goro's enormous head rose.
His jaws curled slightly.
Not quite a smile.
Close enough.
Then he surged forward.
His body coiled around the Sovereign.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Hundreds of feet of ancient muscle wrapped around the fungal king. The Sovereign's bladed tendrils stabbed into Goro's scales, striking sparks against runes older than its colony.
Goro tightened.
The Sovereign's armor cracked.
Its chest compressed.
The core inside flared violently.
BOOM.
Goro tightened again.
The sound that followed was not a roar.
It was an entire structure failing.
Fungal plates shattered.
Limbs bent inward.
The Sovereign's enormous body folded beneath pressure no creature that size should have been able to endure.
Goro lowered his head until one immense golden eye faced the dying king.
"You learned quickly," he said.
The Sovereign's sensory tendrils trembled.
"But you learned from prey."
Goro's pupil narrowed.
"I was never prey."
He tightened one final time.
The Sovereign collapsed.
Its chest caved inward.
The fungal core ruptured in a silent burst of gold-black spores.
Every remaining hunter froze.
Across the cavern, hundreds of creatures stopped mid-crawl.
Mid-leap.
Mid-breath.
The shared mind disappeared.
For the first time in their existence—
they were alone.
Confusion rippled through the colony.
Then fear.
Goro released the ruined body.
The Hive Sovereign struck the ground with enough force to send broken crystal leaping into the air.
Silence followed.
Only the lava continued moving.
Slowly consuming what remained.
Goro lowered his massive head beside Qaritas.
"You may stand now."
Qaritas slowly released the scale.
His fingers had cramped into claws.
"I was standing."
"You were embracing my neck."
"Tactically."
Goro's rumbling amusement shook the blood from nearby roots.
"Of course."
Then his body began to change.
Not abruptly.
Not like ordinary transformation magic.
He unraveled.
The enormous coils surrounding the fallen Sovereign loosened first. Hundreds of feet of amethyst-black scales contracted, each plate sliding beneath the next with a sound like distant blades being sheathed.
The vast body shortened.
Folded.
Compressed.
Ancient runes dimmed one after another as the serpent's impossible mass drew inward, gravity bending around him to accommodate the loss.
His twenty eyes closed in sequence.
One pair.
Then another.
Then another.
Until only two remained.
Pitch-black sclera.
Molten-gold irises.
Vertical pupils reflecting the burning colony.
The colossal jaws narrowed. Ivory fangs receded. The long, armored skull softened into a humanoid shape without ever losing its predatory elegance.
Four of his limbs folded into his torso.
The remaining two lengthened into arms.
Claws sharpened at the tips of careful hands.
His serpentine lower body separated into powerful legs, though a thick scaled tail remained behind him, sweeping once through the ash.
Within moments, the monster large enough to encircle a fortress had become the man Qaritas remembered.
Humanoid.
Serpentine.
Regal.
Amethyst-black scales rippled across Goro's frame like shattered nebulae forged into living armor. He wore a sleeveless black waistcoat trimmed in deep purple, left open over his scaled chest. A black cloth draped from his waist to his knees, secured by a golden leather belt and an oval black buckle. Purple trousers tied below the knee with black ribbons, and black open-toed sandals revealed clawed, deliberate feet.
A thick wristband circled his left arm.
His presence did not shout.
It suffocated gently.
Like a strike that had already chosen its ending.
Goro reached into the ruin of the Sovereign's mouth.
He gripped one of its immense fangs.
Pulled.
The tooth tore free with a wet crack.
In his hands, it changed.
The root contracted into a black-gold handle. The curved fang split along its edges, forming a sword shaped like the open jaws of a serpent. Smaller teeth lined both sides of the blade, hooked inward as if designed to trap anything foolish enough to meet it.
A thick violet liquid dripped from its edge.
One drop struck the crystal floor.
Hiss.
The stone melted.
Not cracked.
Not burned.
Melted into a smoking hole.
Qaritas looked at the weapon.
Then at Goro.
"You made that from its mouth."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It had excellent teeth."
That answer was so perfectly Goro that Qaritas had nothing to say.
The serpent tested the blade's balance once.
Satisfied, he rested it over one shoulder.
He looked calm.
Completely calm.
As though annihilating an ancient hive intelligence had been an ordinary task squeezed between breakfast and an afternoon walk.
Inside Qaritas—
Eon moved.
Not violently.
Not forcing him aside.
He simply stepped forward enough to borrow Qaritas's posture.
His shoulders straightened.
His breathing changed.
When he spoke, the voice belonged to both of them.
But the weight belonged to Eon.
"Was she harmed?"
Goro's expression softened immediately.
"Relax."
Eon did not.
"The little lady is under my protection."
A pause.
Goro's smile became gentler.
"You did well, my King."
Then—
"She does not know it yet…"
His golden gaze drifted toward the distant tunnels.
"…but I owe that child my life."
Everything inside Qaritas stopped.
Eon too.
Not silent.
Frozen.
Qaritas felt it.
The sudden stillness.
The way Eon's presence pulled inward, as if Goro had touched a memory too raw to expose.
Qaritas forced his way closer to the surface.
"…Xheavend?"
Goro looked directly at him now.
"She is safe."
Relief hit so violently Qaritas nearly staggered.
The tightness in his chest released.
Xheavend was alive.
Not trapped.
Not injured beneath some shifting wall.
Not alone in the Living Maze.
Safe.
The word entered him like air after drowning.
Then the rest of Goro's statement returned.
I owe that child my life.
Qaritas frowned.
"How?"
Goro's smile did not change.
"That answer belongs to a time you have not yet reached."
Of course.
Qaritas was beginning to hate sentences like that.
His thoughts began piling over one another.
Why did Goro owe her his life?
Why had Goro called Eon his king?
Why did Eon react to Xheavend as though every injury she suffered happened to him?
Why did the future woman from Hellbound look at Qaritas as if she had known him forever?
What had Yzer done?
What would he do?
And what exactly was Xheavend to these ancient beings?
Before Qaritas could ask—
Click.
Goro's head tilted.
The surviving hunters emerged from the smoke.
Hundreds remained.
Some crawled over the burned body of their Sovereign. Others unfolded from the walls, fungal armor cracked and smoking. Without the shared mind guiding them, their movements had become erratic.
Frantic.
Animal.
Hungry.
Their blooms turned toward Goro and Qaritas.
Then they charged.
Qaritas reached for Rivax's blade.
Goro vanished.
Not blurred.
Not moved quickly.
Gone.
The first row of hunters continued forward.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then their heads slid from their bodies.
Twenty at once.
Black blood sprayed across the molten floor.
A second line collapsed.
Limbs separated.
Torsos opened.
Fungal plates shattered inward as if struck by invisible hammers.
Qaritas turned.
He saw nothing.
Only results.
One creature leapt toward him.
Its chest opened before it reached the ground.
Another raised one long arm.
The arm fell.
Then the shoulder.
Then the rest of it.
Goro appeared briefly amid the colony.
Calm.
Tooth sword resting at his side.
He stepped once.
Disappeared again.
A ring of hunters came apart around the place he had been standing.
The violet liquid coating his blade struck the floor in scattered droplets.
Where each landed, fungus dissolved into steaming pits.
The remaining creatures tried to retreat.
They made it three steps.
Then stopped.
Fine lines appeared across their bodies.
One line.
Ten.
Hundreds.
They collapsed into neatly separated pieces.
Silence returned.
Goro stood at the center of the carnage.
Not breathing harder.
Not wounded.
Not even stained.
The last droplet of corrosive venom slid from his sword, struck the floor, and hissed.
He walked back toward Qaritas, stepping casually through a field of severed limbs.
Qaritas stared.
Goro stopped before him.
"Are you boys hungry?"
Qaritas opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Eon took control long enough to answer.
"Yes."
Qaritas recovered.
"Wait—"
"But first," Eon continued through him, "take us to Xheavend. I want to see that she is safe."
Goro laughed.
Not mocking.
Warm.
Familiar.
"Of course."
He turned and began walking.
"Come. We are going home."
Qaritas reclaimed his voice.
"Your home?"
Goro glanced over his shoulder.
"Yes."
"This is supposed to be a prison."
"For the most part."
"That sentence did not make it better."
"It was not intended to."
Eon sounded pleased.
Qaritas glared inward.
Do not encourage him.
I said nothing.
You were emotionally encouraging him.
That is not a real accusation.
It is now.
Goro's tail swept behind him as he moved through the ruined chamber.
"Yzer built the Labyrinth to break those he feared, punish those who resisted him, and reshape the innocent into obedient weapons."
His tone remained conversational.
"But a prison this large develops cracks."
They entered one of the tunnels opening beyond the sanctuary. The corridor was narrower here, walls layered with pale fungus and red roots.
Goro continued.
"I found those cracks."
A pool of black blood spread across the floor ahead, thick with severed limbs and pieces of fungal armor. Goro walked around it.
Qaritas followed.
The blood soaked slowly into the fungus.
The walls drank.
The smell rose immediately.
Sweet decay.
Rotten mushrooms.
Hot metal.
Qaritas covered his nose.
"That is vile."
"The walls are hungry," Goro replied.
"That does not improve anything."
"I did not expect it to."
They continued.
Goro spoke without looking back.
"I locate those who do not belong in Yzer's cages. Heroes. Warriors. Rebels. Children. Scholars. Mortals whose only crime was refusing to kneel."
His hand rested loosely against the fang-sword's handle.
"I guide them to places his Wardens cannot reach."
"You built settlements down here?"
"Several."
"In the Labyrinth?"
"Yes."
"Under Yzer?"
Goro smiled faintly.
"He dislikes it."
That may have been the greatest understatement Qaritas had ever heard.
"What about his monsters?"
"I kill them."
"His guards?"
"I kill those too."
"His Wardens?"
Goro's smile widened.
"When possible."
They passed beneath an arch built from petrified roots. Symbols had been carved along it—names, perhaps, or promises.
Goro glanced at Rivax's weapon.
"I heard you killed Malzareth and Vaelrith."
Qaritas adjusted the blade against his shoulder.
"Malzareth was both of us."
Inside him, Eon nodded once.
"And Vaelrith?"
"Xheavend."
Goro stopped walking.
Slowly, he looked back.
"The little lady killed Vaelrith?"
"Yes."
A bright, unmistakably proud smile spread across Goro's face.
"Even better."
Qaritas almost smiled too.
"She is nine."
"I know."
"She should not be that good at killing things."
"No," Goro agreed quietly. "She should not have needed to become that good."
The humor disappeared.
They resumed walking.
The corridor ahead opened into a long gallery where broken cells hung from roots like cages caught in a web. Figures watched from inside some of them, but none called out.
Goro's voice lowered.
"I have spent a very long time preparing the mortals trapped here."
"For what?"
"For the future."
A strange heaviness entered the air.
"The day the little lady overthrows Yzer."
Qaritas slowed.
Xheavend?
Nine-year-old Xheavend?
The bleeding child who had laughed while riding a sheet of metal down a lava river?
She would overthrow the Fragment of the Third Universe?
He thought of Hellbound.
The woman who moved like war.
The distortion the Fragments could not properly perceive.
The warrior who jumped into lava and emerged smiling.
He understood the possibility.
He did not understand the cost.
Goro continued forward.
"I teach them to survive."
His gold eyes moved across the broken cells.
"To fight."
"To remember their names."
"To protect one another when Yzer teaches them that loyalty is weakness."
His voice became quieter still.
"And when her hour comes, they will answer."
Qaritas looked at him.
"You already know what happens."
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Enough."
The answer carried no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
Goro stopped beside a cracked opening in the wall. Beyond it, black water flowed through a channel full of glowing bones.
"If what must happen did not affect the future, the present, and the past…"
His claws tightened slightly around the tooth blade.
"…I would never let her leave this Labyrinth."
Sadness entered his expression.
Not vague regret.
Grief.
Deep enough to have survived ages.
Qaritas felt Eon react.
A tremor.
Tiny.
Almost imperceptible.
But there.
The First Evil shook inside him.
Not from fear.
From memory.
Or anticipation.
Qaritas could not tell which was worse.
Then Eon whispered:
"…Neither would I."
No explanation.
No command.
Just those three words.
Qaritas had heard Eon angry.
Cruel.
Amused.
Protective.
Cold enough to frighten ancient beings.
He had never heard him sound helpless.
Qaritas looked toward Goro.
"What happens to her?"
Goro's expression closed.
"You already know enough to fear the answer."
"That is not an answer."
"No."
"It is the only one time permits me to give."
Qaritas almost laughed.
Bitterly.
"You and Eon are going to get along wonderfully."
"We already did."
That silenced him.
Goro resumed walking.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
The tunnels changed around them. Living fungus thinned into ancient stone. Roots gave way to black pillars carved with serpents and stars. The farther they traveled, the cleaner the air became.
Then Goro reached beneath the draped cloth at his waist.
He pulled out a book.
Qaritas stopped.
The stitched cover blinked.
Purple eyes opened along its edges.
Violet gemstones pulsed beneath flesh-bound leather.
It was the Book.
Not similar.
Not another object built in the same style.
The same Book.
Qaritas immediately grabbed the copy beneath his own arm.
Its eyes opened too.
Both Books stared at one another.
For one deeply uncomfortable moment—
neither moved.
Then Goro's copy snapped its cover shut.
Qaritas's Book did the same.
Qaritas looked between them.
"…How?"
Goro held his version in one hand.
"The Book does not move through time as you do."
"That explains absolutely nothing."
"It was not meant to explain everything."
"Then explain something."
Goro regarded the stitched cover.
"This version was given to me by a future version of you."
Qaritas stared.
"Future me gave you that."
"Yes."
"And I have this one."
"Yes."
"Which is also mine."
"For now."
Qaritas's eyes narrowed.
"For now?"
Goro held out his Book.
The eyes along its spine opened again.
"This version is not meant for you."
"Then who is it for?"
"Xheavend."
The name settled between them.
Qaritas looked at the Book beneath his arm.
Then at the one Goro held.
"She gets one?"
"She gets this one."
"But I already have one."
"You possess what the Book becomes after its time with her ends."
Qaritas stared.
Silence.
He slowly raised one finger.
"No."
Goro's mouth twitched.
"No?"
"I reject that sentence."
"You cannot."
"I can reject whatever I want."
"The sentence remains true."
Qaritas rubbed both hands over his face.
"Let me understand this."
"That would be wise."
"I have a future version of the Book."
"Yes."
"You have an earlier version."
"From your perspective."
"And future me gave the earlier version to you so you could eventually give it to Xheavend."
"Yes."
"Then after Xheavend finishes with it, it somehow becomes the version I already have."
"Yes."
"And one day I have to take my current Book into the past, give it to you, so it can eventually reach her and become itself?"
Goro considered that.
"Close enough."
"Close enough?"
"Time is difficult to describe linearly when the object in question has ignored linear time for several billion years."
Qaritas pointed accusingly at both Books.
"I hate both of you."
His copy opened.
Ink crawled across the first page.
FEELING MUTUAL.
Goro's Book remained silent.
Qaritas looked offended.
"That one is better behaved."
"For now," Goro said.
Qaritas glared at him.
"Who created it?"
Goro's amusement faded.
His golden eyes settled on the stitched cover in his hand.
For the first time, he looked uncertain.
"You will spend years asking that question."
A pause.
"I am still asking."
Qaritas looked down at his Book.
Its purple eyes blinked.
Once.
Slowly.
As though it knew the answer.
And had no intention of sharing it.
Qaritas lowered his gaze to the living Book resting beneath one arm.
Its stitched cover had already closed again.
As though the conversation had never happened.
He should have asked more.
Who made it.
Why it chose him.
Why it seemed to know things before anyone else.
Instead...
Another face filled his thoughts.
Soft silver hair.
Gentle eyes.
A smile he had watched disappear beneath corruption.
"...Goro."
The ancient serpent glanced back.
"Yes?"
Qaritas's voice became quieter.
"So..."
He swallowed.
"Can I save Ayla?"
The corridor fell silent.
Even the distant dripping water seemed to stop.
Goro stopped walking.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
He turned around.
For the first time since Qaritas had met him...
The serpent wasn't smiling.
His molten-gold eyes searched Qaritas's face for several long seconds.
Not judging.
Not pitying.
Simply understanding.
"...Your beloved."
Qaritas nodded.
"I failed her."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"You failed to save her then."
Another pause.
"Those are two very different things."
Qaritas blinked.
Hope hurt.
He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
"So..."
His voice cracked slightly.
"There is a way?"
Goro looked toward the Book.
"There is."
The words struck Qaritas harder than any weapon.
Inside him—
Eon remained completely silent.
Not because he disagreed.
Because he already knew.
Qaritas laughed.
Not from happiness.
Relief.
Disbelief.
"You've got to be kidding."
"I rarely joke about life."
"How?"
Goro resumed walking.
"The soul remembers."
"The body remembers."
"The world remembers."
He placed one claw lightly against the black stone wall.
"So long as every memory has not been erased..."
"...nothing is truly impossible."
Qaritas hurried after him.
"What do I need?"
Goro raised one finger.
"Patience."
A second.
"Resolve."
A third.
"And ingredients."
"...Ingredients."
"Yes."
"For restoring an Ascendant whose existence has collapsed beneath corruption."
"...You're making it sound like cooking."
"It is."
Qaritas stared.
"What?"
"The universe is simply a very complicated recipe."
"..."
"..."
"I don't like you."
"So I've been told."
Qaritas rubbed his forehead.
"What ingredients?"
Goro's smile returned.
"The first grows here."
He pointed downward.
"The Third Universe."
Another finger.
"The rest..."
His eyes lifted.
"...are scattered across the mortal worlds."
Then higher still.
"...and throughout the remaining two thousand universes."
Qaritas nearly tripped.
"...Two thousand."
"Approximately."
"Approximately?"
"A few no longer exist."
"...That doesn't make me feel better."
"It was not intended to."
Qaritas sighed.
"Does the Book know where they are?"
"It does."
He looked toward the stitched cover tucked beneath Qaritas's arm.
"It will guide you."
"When?"
"When you're ready."
"I don't feel ready."
"No one ever is."
They walked through another winding corridor.
Ancient murals began appearing upon the walls.
Heroes.
Kings.
Monsters.
Entire civilizations carved into black stone.
Qaritas studied them while speaking.
"So..."
"I gather ingredients."
"I restore Ayla."
"Then everything goes back to normal?"
Goro stopped.
"No."
One word.
Heavy enough to halt every hopeful thought.
"The moment you interfere with destiny..."
"...destiny interferes with you."
Qaritas frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means every choice has weight."
Goro gestured toward one carving.
A lone traveler standing between two roads.
"If you save one kingdom..."
"...another may fall."
"If you rescue one child..."
"...someone else may never be born."
"If you prevent one war..."
"...another may begin centuries earlier."
Qaritas felt cold.
"The future changes."
"So does the present."
"And occasionally..."
Goro smiled faintly.
"...the past."
Qaritas looked horrified.
"The past can change?"
"You've already witnessed it."
The Book.
Future Qaritas.
Chronolock.
Silver Cloak.
Xheavend.
Nothing about his journey had been normal.
"I hate time."
"So does everyone who understands it."
They rounded another bend.
Ahead—
The corridor widened.
Fresh air drifted upward.
Warm.
Humid.
Carrying the scent of flowers.
Water.
Volcanic stone.
Then—
The path ended.
Qaritas stepped onto the ledge.
Below stretched the abyss he'd leapt across earlier.
Only now...
He finally understood its scale.
It wasn't merely deep.
It was a world.
Entire rivers disappeared into darkness.
Waterfalls poured from impossible heights, vanishing into glowing mist far below before reappearing again somewhere else entirely.
Great streams of molten lava descended beside them, flowing like burning waterfalls into unseen caverns.
Black rivers twisted between forests of enormous luminous trees whose leaves shimmered emerald, sapphire, and gold.
Massive crystal formations jutted from cliff faces like frozen lightning.
Farther away—
Volcanoes rose from the underground landscape.
Not mountains.
Giants.
Their peaks vanished into darkness above while crimson fire rolled lazily down their sides, illuminating jungles that somehow flourished beneath eternal stone.
Qaritas whispered,
"...This is inside the Labyrinth?"
"It is."
"It shouldn't fit."
"It doesn't."
"...What?"
"The Labyrinth is larger on the inside."
Qaritas looked at Eon.
Eon sounded amused.
He's telling the truth.
"...I hate this place."
"I know."
Goro stepped toward the edge.
Without warning—
His body expanded.
Amethyst-black scales erupted across his skin.
His spine lengthened.
His arms vanished beneath flowing muscle.
Gold runes blazed awake across each enormous scale.
One pair of molten eyes became two.
Then four.
Then eight.
Then twenty.
His neck stretched skyward.
Fangs longer than spears emerged from widening jaws.
Within moments—
Goraxian stood before him once again.
Two hundred feet of living majesty.
Ancient.
Terrifying.
Beautiful.
The underground rivers reflected across his scales like entire galaxies.
His enormous head lowered until one golden eye rested level with Qaritas.
"Climb on."
Qaritas didn't hesitate.
He climbed onto the broad scales behind Goraxian's neck.
Immediately—
The serpent launched forward.
There was no falling.
Gravity simply...
forgot which direction existed.
Qaritas expected to plunge.
Instead—
He floated.
The abyss rotated around them.
Cliffs became walls.
Walls became ceilings.
Waterfalls flowed sideways before curving upward into rivers suspended in open air.
Lavafalls spiraled around ancient stone pillars without spilling a single drop.
Entire underground rivers crossed above them like glass bridges.
Reality folded.
Not violently.
Gracefully.
As though the Labyrinth itself simply refused to obey ordinary laws.
Goraxian slipped between impossible spaces with effortless precision.
Sometimes they flew.
Sometimes they swam through open air.
Sometimes Qaritas could have sworn they were upside down.
Yet nothing felt wrong.
Only...
different.
Below them spread endless rainforests illuminated by colossal crystal flowers.
Brilliant birds with translucent wings darted between glowing vines.
Towering ferns stretched toward unseen sunlight that did not exist.
Golden temples emerged from the jungle canopy.
Magnificent structures inspired by civilizations long forgotten.
Massive stepped pyramids climbed toward cavern ceilings lost in darkness.
Bridges of polished obsidian connected elegant sanctuaries suspended above waterfalls.
Volcanic fire reflected across domes of hammered gold until the entire underground kingdom shimmered like a second sunrise.
Stone statues taller than castles watched silently over everything.
Some depicted kings.
Others serpents.
Others beings Qaritas had never seen before.
The farther they traveled...
The more signs of civilization appeared.
Fields carved into terraces.
Brilliant orchards glowing with impossible fruit.
Crystal aqueducts carrying luminous water.
Roads winding between temples and forests alike.
Then—
Goraxian slowed.
The jungle opened.
The underground river widened into a vast lake so clear Qaritas could see glowing fish the size of ships swimming beneath its surface.
Beyond it...
A city rose.
Not hidden.
Not ruined.
Alive.
Its towers climbed from the lakeshore in graceful tiers of polished gold and obsidian. Bridges arched over canals glowing with crystalline light, while enormous temples crowned the highest terraces, their intricate carvings reflecting the glow of nearby lavafalls.
Countless crystals embedded throughout the architecture bathed the entire city in soft blues, greens, and warm amber, transforming the cavern into an eternal twilight.
Gardens climbed rooftops.
Waterfalls poured through plazas.
Stone roads wound between magnificent districts filled with homes, marketplaces, shrines, and towering halls.
Life.
Real life.
After everything the Labyrinth had shown him...
Qaritas almost couldn't believe it existed.
Goraxian smiled.
His deep voice rolled through the cavern.
"Welcome..."
"...to Yrtana."
The underground paradise.
His home.
Goraxian glided lower.
Not with the heavy descent of something enormous.
But with the effortless grace of a leaf drifting upon still water.
The vast underground lake reflected every glowing crystal suspended from the cavern ceiling, transforming its surface into a second sky. Ripples spread beneath the ancient serpent as he skimmed across the water without touching it, his scales catching the city's light until he looked less like a beast...
...and more like a constellation come to life.
Qaritas leaned forward.
"I don't..."
He blinked.
"...I don't understand."
"What?" Goro asked, his deep voice vibrating beneath him.
"This place."
His eyes swept across the city.
"I've spent days believing this Labyrinth was nothing but death."
"It mostly is."
"And then..."
Qaritas gestured helplessly toward everything below.
"...this."
Goro chuckled.
"Hope has a habit of surviving where despair believes itself victorious."
The city grew larger.
Larger still.
Now Qaritas could distinguish individual streets weaving through districts of polished obsidian and warm golden stone.
Nothing had been built carelessly.
Every building curved naturally into the next, as though the city had grown rather than been constructed.
Towering temples rose like flowering trees, their stepped terraces draped with vines whose blossoms glowed in shades of sapphire, emerald, and brilliant gold.
Bridges arched gracefully over crystal-fed canals.
Water didn't simply flow.
It shimmered.
Countless luminescent minerals beneath the surface caused every stream to glow from within, turning the waterways into ribbons of liquid starlight.
The city's architecture reminded Qaritas of civilizations he'd only seen inside ancient storybooks.
Massive pyramids crowned the highest districts, each level adorned with carved serpents, feathered suns, flowering vines, and warriors whose faces had long since been worn smooth by time.
Yet nothing felt abandoned.
Every stone breathed with life.
Every plaza overflowed with movement.
As Goraxian descended toward the outer district, the sounds finally reached him.
Laughter.
Music.
Conversation.
Children shouting somewhere nearby.
The rhythmic strike of stone chisels.
The splash of fountains.
The soft ringing of crystal bells hanging beneath carved archways whenever the underground breeze stirred them.
After so many days surrounded by screams...
The ordinary sounds almost hurt.
They felt...
Sacred.
The streets below bustled with life.
Merchants displayed vibrant fabrics woven from shimmering threads that shifted color with every movement.
Others arranged baskets overflowing with strange fruits glowing softly beneath translucent skins.
One stall sold carved crystal instruments that sang gentle notes whenever someone walked past them.
Another displayed jewelry grown rather than forged—living vines braided around polished gemstones that slowly bloomed while customers admired them.
Qaritas stared.
"They're..."
"Trading."
"I can see that."
"I meant..."
He watched two children arguing over brightly colored sweets while their mother laughed nearby.
"They're living."
"Yes."
"They're acting like..."
"...people?"
Goro finished.
Qaritas nodded slowly.
"I expected..."
He looked toward the distant prison walls surrounding the cavern.
"...survivors."
Instead...
This was civilization.
Families crossed stone bridges carrying baskets filled with glowing vegetables.
Friends sat together beneath flowering crystal trees sharing meals.
Artists painted murals directly into polished obsidian walls, somehow making the stone appear soft beneath their brushes.
Musicians gathered near open plazas.
Some played instruments resembling long carved flutes formed from crystal branches.
Others struck enormous hollow drums fashioned from volcanic stone, their deep rhythm echoing gently across the city.
A woman plucked silver strings stretched between the horns of a carved wooden frame, producing notes so pure Qaritas could almost see them drifting through the air.
The music didn't overpower the city.
It belonged to it.
Like another heartbeat.
As Goraxian flew lower, Qaritas noticed the people themselves.
Not one species.
Dozens.
Scaled mortals walked beside feathered ones.
Towering horned giants stooped beneath archways designed for their size while tiny winged children darted laughing between their legs.
Some possessed skin resembling polished bronze.
Others appeared carved from marble.
One elderly man had bark instead of flesh.
Nearby, a family whose skin shimmered like moonlight browsed woven baskets beside enormous reptilian beings covered in crimson scales.
Nobody stared.
Nobody judged.
Nobody seemed unusual.
Because here...
Everyone belonged.
The city had become a sanctuary stitched together from every people Yzer had tried to erase.
Qaritas watched a group of children racing across one of the bridges.
One had antlers decorated with tiny flowers.
Another possessed six fox-like tails.
A third looked almost human...
Except for the glowing stars drifting lazily inside his pupils.
They chased one another with wooden swords, laughing so loudly their voices echoed across the lake.
One child slipped.
Before they could fall—
Another caught them.
They both laughed harder.
Qaritas smiled without realizing it.
Inside him—
Eon noticed.
You smiled.
"I did not."
You did.
"...Don't ruin it."
I wasn't going to.
Good.
Because I wasn't smiling.
You absolutely were.
Qaritas ignored him.
The farther they flew into the city...
The larger everything became.
Great crystal pillars rose hundreds of feet into the cavern ceiling, illuminating entire districts with soft blue light.
Entire waterfalls descended through open temples before disappearing beneath polished streets.
Gardens flourished upon rooftops.
Fruit trees grew from balconies.
Flowering vines climbed towers whose upper levels vanished into shimmering crystal mist.
Nothing felt forced.
Nature and civilization had become impossible to separate.
Then—
Someone looked up.
A little girl.
No older than Xheavend.
She stood outside a bakery carrying a basket nearly half her size.
Her eyes widened.
She dropped the basket.
Fruit rolled across the stone.
She pointed toward the sky.
"...Captain?"
Her tiny voice barely carried.
But someone heard.
An elderly merchant turned.
His weathered face froze.
Then another.
Then another.
Conversations stopped.
The music faltered.
A crystal flute fell silent.
A blacksmith lowered his hammer.
A mother slowly turned while lifting her child into her arms.
Eyes followed Goraxian across the city.
Recognition spread.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The little girl took one cautious step into the street.
"...Captain Goro?"
This time—
People heard.
Heads turned.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
Qaritas watched realization ripple through the city like wind moving through tall grass.
Someone smiled.
Another began crying.
An old woman covered her mouth with shaking hands.
A young man dropped to one knee.
Then—
Tap.
A wooden staff struck stone.
One sound.
Clear.
Simple.
Everyone looked toward the elderly merchant.
He struck the ground again.
Tap.
A woman beside him raised her own walking stick.
Tap.
Another answered.
Then another.
Then another.
The rhythm spread.
Across bridges.
Across plazas.
Across marketplaces.
Across rooftops.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Hundreds of wooden staffs.
Walking sticks.
Training poles.
Spears.
Children with tiny carved branches.
Everyone struck the stone together.
Not perfectly.
Not rehearsed.
Naturally.
Like breathing.
Like remembering.
Deep drums answered.
Slow.
Ancient.
Their rhythm rolled through Yrtana until the entire underground city seemed to breathe in time with them.
Voices rose.
Not singing.
Remembering.
The language drifted through the streets in low, powerful chants that Qaritas couldn't understand.
Yet somehow...
He understood exactly what they meant.
Welcome home.
Thank you.
We're still here.
The city wasn't celebrating.
It was honoring.
Goraxian slowed.
His enormous head lowered slightly.
Almost...
Embarrassed.
Qaritas blinked.
"...You're embarrassed."
The great serpent sighed.
"I am respected."
"You sound embarrassed."
"I am merely..."
A pause.
"...unaccustomed."
Qaritas laughed.
"I don't believe that for a second."
"I've been away."
"For how long?"
"...Some time."
"How much time?"
Goro looked away.
"...Long enough."
The tapping grew louder.
Children ran alongside the streets beneath them.
Some waved.
Others laughed.
A few simply stared in complete awe.
Old soldiers stood with fists pressed over their hearts.
Elders bowed their heads.
Several people openly wept.
Qaritas looked across the countless faces below.
Nobody looked obligated.
Nobody looked afraid.
This wasn't ceremony.
This wasn't politics.
This wasn't respect demanded by rank.
This...
...was love.
A city that genuinely loved the man returning home.
The realization struck Qaritas harder than watching Goro destroy the Hive Sovereign.
He had seen kingdoms kneel before kings.
He had seen armies salute commanders.
He had never seen an entire civilization welcome someone home as though a member of every family had finally returned alive.
"They love you."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Goro remained quiet.
His great golden eyes stayed fixed upon the city below.
"They love what I protected."
"No."
Qaritas shook his head.
"They love you."
Silence.
Inside him—
Eon said nothing.
Not because he disagreed.
Because he couldn't.
Qaritas felt it.
The ancient grief.
The pride.
The memories pressing against Eon's silence until words simply...
failed him.
The procession continued.
The crowds parted naturally as Goraxian descended toward the city's heart.
Thousands of voices continued their ancient rhythm.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Then someone shouted from somewhere ahead.
"First Division!"
Another answered.
"Captain!"
Then—
"Welcome home!"
Dozens repeated it.
"Hail the First Division!"
"Our Captain has returned!"
Qaritas frowned.
He looked toward Goro.
"...First Division?"
The serpent closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
As though he'd hoped nobody would mention it.
"They remembered."
"They remembered what?"
Before Goro could answer—
An elderly veteran standing atop one of the temple staircases struck his spear against the stone.
Hard.
His voice thundered across the plaza.
"MAKE WAY!"
The entire avenue fell silent.
The old soldier stood straighter despite the weight of centuries etched across his face.
Then he shouted with all the strength remaining in his lungs.
"For the Captain of the First Division..."
He lowered his head.
"...our protector."
One by one...
The city bowed.
The avenue remained silent.
Thousands of heads stayed bowed.
Not one voice rose above another.
Not one child laughed.
Even the musicians had lowered their instruments.
The only sound came from the enormous underground lake gently lapping against polished stone.
Goraxian lowered himself onto the great harbor overlooking the water.
The instant his body touched the ground—
Golden runes pulsed across his scales.
His colossal form began to contract.
The ancient serpent unraveled once more.
Towering coils folded inward.
Scales slid over one another like flowing armor.
Twenty molten eyes slowly closed.
One pair.
Another.
Another.
Until only two remained.
The massive jaws softened into the calm smile Qaritas had already begun associating with impossible levels of violence.
Within moments...
Goro stood upon the harbor once more.
Calm.
Graceful.
As though entire civilizations didn't stop breathing when he walked through them.
The crowd remained quiet.
Nobody approached.
Nobody interrupted.
Then—
A familiar voice echoed across the harbor.
"Q!"
Qaritas turned.
His eyes widened.
Far across the docks—
A small figure burst through the gathered crowd.
Blue-gray hair bounced wildly around her shoulders as she sprinted across the polished stone.
She nearly collided with two merchants before darting around them.
People laughed.
Stepping aside without hesitation.
Making room.
"...Omen!"
Xheavend.
She wasn't limping.
She wasn't bleeding.
She wasn't coughing blood.
She looked...
Happy.
The instant she reached him—
She threw herself forward.
Qaritas barely had enough time to open his arms before the small girl collided with him.
"Hmph!"
The impact pushed him back half a step.
Small arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
Far tighter than someone her size should have managed.
"You came..."
Her voice came out muffled against his chest.
"You actually came."
Qaritas laughed.
The sound escaped before he could stop it.
He gently rested one hand atop her head.
"We said we would."
"You were late."
"I got distracted."
"You always get distracted."
"I was being chased by an entire fungal civilization."
"...Reasonable."
Qaritas smiled wider.
"I thought so."
For several seconds—
Neither of them moved.
Neither wanted to.
The tension that had followed them since the Living Maze...
Finally disappeared.
Inside—
Even Eon felt...
Lighter.
Xheavend finally leaned back.
Just enough to look up at him.
Her bright eyes searched his face.
Checking.
Counting.
Looking for injuries.
She frowned.
"...You smell terrible."
Qaritas blinked.
"...Thank you."
"You smell like mushrooms."
"I was fighting mushrooms."
"And blood."
"There was quite a lot of blood."
"And lava."
"...Less intentional."
She nodded seriously.
"Understandable."
Qaritas couldn't help laughing again.
"You too."
"I know."
Then—
She looked past him.
Toward Goro.
Immediately—
Her entire expression softened.
A warm smile spread across her face.
One completely free of fear.
"You kept your promise."
Goro smiled.
"I did."
"You said they'd come."
"I did."
"You were right."
"I usually am."
She giggled.
"You really are."
Then something happened Qaritas never—
not in a thousand years—
would have expected.
Goro stepped forward.
Then...
knelt.
Not halfway.
Not respectfully.
Fully.
One knee touched the stone.
The entire harbor fell silent.
Qaritas looked around.
The crowd had frozen.
Not because they were surprised.
Because they understood the significance.
Goro reached for Xheavend's small hand.
Carefully.
As though it were the most precious thing he'd ever been entrusted with.
He lifted it gently.
Then bowed his head.
His lips brushed her knuckles.
"My promise," he said softly,
"...was the easiest one I have ever kept."
Golden light spread beneath them.
At first—
Qaritas thought sunlight had somehow reached the underground city.
Then he realized...
The light came from the stone itself.
Ancient runes awakened beneath Goro's knee.
They spread outward in enormous circles.
One.
Then another.
Then another.
The harbor trembled.
A hiss echoed through the city.
Then another.
Then hundreds more.
Qaritas looked down.
The cracks between the stones were moving.
No.
Something was emerging.
Snakes.
Tiny ones.
Large ones.
Black.
White.
Gold.
Emerald.
Crimson.
Thousands.
Then hundreds of thousands.
Then...
Millions.
They poured from beneath the streets.
From canals.
From temple walls.
From rooftops.
From beneath the great lake itself.
An endless tide of serpents.
None attacked.
None threatened.
Every single one slithered toward Goro.
Toward Xheavend.
The harbor disappeared beneath living scales.
Children didn't scream.
Adults didn't run.
Instead...
Everyone bowed their heads.
The serpents formed circles around them.
Layer upon layer.
Until neither Goro nor Xheavend stood upon stone anymore.
Only living serpents.
Goro closed his eyes.
Then spoke.
Not loudly.
Yet somehow...
The entire city heard him.
"I..."
"...Goro."
"Captain of the First Division."
"Guardian of Yrtana."
"Warden of the Forgotten."
He tightened his grip upon Xheavend's hand.
"...pledge my life."
"My strength."
"My wisdom."
"My kingdom."
"My people."
"My name."
"My soul."
"To the Little Lady."
"If ever she calls..."
"I shall answer."
"If ever she falls..."
"I shall stand."
"If ever she is alone..."
"She shall be alone no longer."
"My loyalty shall remain."
"Beyond life."
"Beyond death."
"Beyond time itself."
The world answered.
Every serpent raised its head simultaneously.
Millions of tongues flickered.
A deafening hiss rolled across the underground lake.
Then—
Every snake dissolved.
Not into dust.
Into flowing black ink.
The ink surged across the harbor like a tidal wave.
It climbed Xheavend's legs.
Her arms.
Her neck.
Qaritas instinctively reached forward.
"Goro—"
"Do not interfere."
The voice came from Eon.
Calm.
Certain.
The ink gathered along Xheavend's left arm.
Then spread.
Beautiful serpents intertwined across her skin.
Tiny golden scales shimmered beneath the black markings.
The tattoo climbed over her shoulder before disappearing beneath her clothing.
A final golden rune settled above her heart.
Then...
Everything stopped.
The serpents vanished.
The light faded.
The harbor returned to normal.
Only the tattoo remained.
Goro slowly released her hand.
Then stood.
As though nothing unusual had happened.
Qaritas stared.
"...What..."
He looked at Xheavend.
Then Goro.
Then the disappearing snakes.
"...What was that?"
Inside him—
Eon answered.
"A Higher Loyalty Pact."
Qaritas remained staring.
"...A what?"
"The oldest oath among Higher Beings."
Eon's voice carried none of its usual sarcasm.
Only quiet reverence.
"When one who possesses divine authority willingly offers absolute loyalty..."
"...the universe records it."
Qaritas looked at the tattoo.
"So..."
"It isn't ceremonial."
"No."
"It isn't symbolic."
"No."
"It is law."
The words settled heavily inside him.
"If Goro betrays that oath..."
Eon continued,
"...he dies."
Qaritas blinked.
"...Dies?"
"There are no exceptions."
"No loopholes."
"No appeals."
"No resurrection."
"The universe itself executes the sentence."
Qaritas slowly turned toward Goro.
"You..."
"...you just bet your existence."
"I did."
"For her."
"I did."
"...Without hesitation."
Goro smiled.
"There was never a decision to make."
Qaritas looked down at Xheavend.
She simply admired the tattoo.
"Oh."
"It sparkles."
"...That's your response?"
She looked up innocently.
"Should it be something else?"
Qaritas opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"...No."
"...Actually."
"...That's probably healthier."
Silence settled again.
Qaritas glanced inward.
A thought slowly formed.
Then another.
Finally—
He asked it.
"...Eon."
"Yes?"
"...Did you..."
He hesitated.
"...Did you and Goro..."
The question never finished.
It didn't need to.
Inside him—
Eon smiled.
Nothing more.
No explanation.
No denial.
No confirmation.
Just...
A smile.
Warm.
Ancient.
Filled with memories Qaritas wasn't ready to see.
Qaritas sighed.
"...That answers absolutely everything."
Eon's amusement echoed quietly through his mind.
And somehow...
It answered absolutely nothing.
The silence lasted only a heartbeat.
Then—
Someone laughed.
It started somewhere near the harbor.
One old man.
Deep.
Warm.
Full of relief.
Another answered.
Then another.
The tension that had gripped Yrtana for centuries seemed to melt away all at once.
Children began running again.
Merchants smiled.
Musicians lifted their instruments.
Life returned.
Only brighter than before.
Goro looked toward the gathered crowd and sighed dramatically.
"I suppose..."
"...there's no avoiding it."
A woman with emerald horns laughed.
"There never was!"
A broad-shouldered stone giant raised one fist into the air.
"Captain!"
"FEAST!"
Immediately—
Thousands cheered.
The sound rolled through Yrtana like thunder.
"FEAST!"
"FEAST!"
"FEAST!"
Qaritas blinked.
"...They're very enthusiastic."
"They've been waiting."
"For me?"
"For us."
Goro smiled.
"They celebrate every time someone returns alive."
Qaritas looked around.
"...That happens often?"
"No."
The smile remained.
"That is why they celebrate."
...
Several hours later...
The heart of Yrtana had transformed.
The city's largest plaza overlooked the enormous underground lake, its waters glowing beneath floating crystal lanterns that drifted lazily overhead like captured stars.
Long crystal tables stretched across the entire square.
Not dozens.
Hundreds.
Each one carved from a single piece of translucent stone that shimmered softly beneath the lantern light.
Flowers bloomed directly from the tabletop.
Fresh vines curled around serving platters.
Tiny glowing insects drifted between blossoms without disturbing a single guest.
Every seat was occupied.
Families.
Soldiers.
Craftsmen.
Children.
Elders.
Species Qaritas couldn't even begin to identify.
Nobody sat according to rank.
Kings would have shared tables with bakers.
Captains with fishermen.
Children climbed onto the laps of ancient warriors without anyone questioning it.
It felt...
Natural.
Qaritas had never seen anything like it.
A young woman approached carrying a crystal pitcher almost as tall as herself.
She smiled warmly.
"Welcome home."
Qaritas blinked.
"...I don't live here."
"You survived."
She poured shimmering liquid into his cup.
"That's close enough."
Then she walked away before he could answer.
He looked down.
The drink glowed softly.
Gold.
Then emerald.
Then deep violet.
"What is this?"
"Lumisap," Goro answered.
"It won't intoxicate you."
"What does it do?"
"You'll see."
Qaritas took one cautious sip.
Cool silk flowed across his tongue.
Sweet...
Then floral.
Then something impossible to describe.
Like drinking the smell of rain after centuries of drought.
Warmth spread gently through his chest.
The lanterns overhead suddenly seemed brighter.
The music richer.
The conversations clearer.
"...Oh."
Goro smiled knowingly.
"I told you."
"...This is dangerous."
"It is."
"I want another."
"You will."
Servants carried enormous platters through the gathering.
Every few moments another dish appeared.
Every few moments Qaritas became even more confused.
Small translucent fruits rested upon woven golden leaves.
He picked one up.
The skin shimmered between amber, sapphire, and violet.
He bit into it.
The shell shattered like delicate crystal before dissolving into sparkling nectar.
Sweet citrus.
Then vanilla.
Then warm cinnamon.
Then honey.
Each flavor replaced the last before it could become familiar.
"...How?"
"Sunburst Orbs."
Xheavend had already eaten three.
"They're different every bite."
"I noticed."
She reached for another.
"They're my favorite."
"You've had all of these before?"
"Mhm."
Goro nodded.
"The city insisted."
Another platter arrived.
Golden cakes stacked high upon obsidian plates.
Steam drifted upward carrying the scent of roasted sweetness and warm spices.
Qaritas tore off a piece.
The outside crackled.
The inside practically melted.
"What is this made from?"
"Crystal roots."
"...Of course it is."
Xheavend dipped hers into glowing flower butter.
"You have to do this."
Qaritas copied her.
His eyes widened.
"...That's unfair."
"What?"
"Food shouldn't taste this good."
Goro chuckled.
"You've been eating prison rations."
"...Fair point."
Bowls filled with shimmering silver strands followed.
They resembled noodles until Qaritas lifted them.
The strands slowly changed color.
From silver...
To green.
To gold.
To crimson.
He blinked.
"They're moving."
"They're absorbing."
He tasted them.
Creamy herbs.
The next bite—
Bright citrus.
The next—
Cool mint.
"...How?"
"They respond to whatever sauce they're touching."
"I don't understand this civilization."
"You don't have to."
Crystal bowls containing glowing blue broth appeared next.
Tiny blossoms floated gently across the surface.
Every time someone stirred the soup—
The flowers opened.
Fragrant steam curled upward carrying scents of fresh rain, herbs, toasted roots, and blooming forests.
Qaritas closed his eyes while drinking.
For just a moment...
Everything felt warm.
Safe.
Comfortable.
The centerpiece arrived last.
A magnificent spiral roast suspended above heated volcanic stone.
Emerald.
Bronze.
Amber.
The enormous cut slowly rotated without burning.
Liquid light flowed across its surface instead of juices.
Every slice shimmered with rings of impossible colors before dissolving upon the tongue.
Qaritas looked toward Goro.
"...You've been hiding this place."
"I wasn't hiding."
"You absolutely were."
"You never asked."
"...Fair."
Laughter echoed around the table.
Children chased floating nectar pods through the air.
Whenever one burst—
Tiny sparkling droplets exploded into harmless light.
One little boy laughed so hard after eating one that his voice echoed musically for several seconds.
His friends immediately burst into laughter.
An elderly woman pretended to scold them.
Then laughed harder than everyone else.
Nearby—
Musicians gathered beneath flowering crystal trees.
Stone drums echoed through the plaza.
Crystal flutes answered.
Long stringed instruments crafted from polished bone and glowing vines produced melodies unlike anything Qaritas had ever heard.
Not royal.
Not ceremonial.
Comfortable.
Music meant for families.
For stories.
For home.
People danced.
Not elaborate performances.
Simple circles.
Parents danced with children.
Grandparents with grandchildren.
Friends pulled reluctant companions onto the polished stone.
Even warriors joined.
One enormous horned giant carefully danced with a tiny winged girl perched upon his shoulder.
She laughed every time he spun.
Qaritas found himself watching.
Smiling.
Again.
Inside him—
Eon remained quiet.
Not withdrawn.
Peaceful.
Eventually—
Qaritas spoke softly enough only Eon could hear.
"...You miss them."
A long silence followed.
Then—
Yes.
Nothing more.
Just...
Yes.
Qaritas looked around the feast.
Around the laughter.
The music.
The families.
The people who still remembered their king after ages beyond counting.
"...I'm sorry."
You have nothing to apologize for.
"I know."
Another pause.
"...Still."
For the first time since entering the Third Universe...
Qaritas relaxed.
No monsters.
No running.
No blood.
No screaming.
Just...
People.
Living.
The way they deserved to.
Then—
The Book twitched.
Qaritas frowned.
"...Did you see that?"
Nobody answered.
The stitched cover trembled violently.
Its purple eyes snapped open.
One.
Then another.
Then dozens.
The Book suddenly tore itself free from beneath Qaritas's arm.
It floated upward.
Several guests looked over.
The laughter slowly faded.
Pages began flipping.
Not turning.
Whipping.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster still.
The wind they created scattered flower petals across the feast.
The music stopped.
Children pointed upward.
"...Q?"
Xheavend whispered.
The Book froze.
Every page became blank.
Pure white.
Then—
Black ink spread across the first page.
Not written.
Burned.
The letters carved themselves into existence.
TRAINING REQUIRED
Silence.
Another page turned.
More ink spread.
INSTRUCTOR
A pause.
Letters appeared one by one.
GORO
Every eye slowly turned toward the ancient serpent.
Goro blinked once.
"...Interesting."
Another page.
Blank.
Then—
A final heading.
DURATION
Nothing happened.
Five seconds.
Ten.
The Book almost seemed...
Hesitant.
Then black ink slowly bled across the parchment.
One letter.
Then another.
Until the final words stood complete.
TEN YEARS
...
Nobody spoke.
Not Qaritas.
Not Xheavend.
Not the people of Yrtana.
Even Goro had stopped smiling.
Inside Qaritas—
Eon quietly sighed.
"...Well."
Qaritas swallowed.
"...Ten years?"
The Book snapped shut.
As if the matter had already been decided.
The floating lanterns continued drifting overhead.
The feast had gone completely silent.
And somewhere deep within the Labyrinth...
Time itself seemed to hold its breath.