The fog continued to engulf the village of Envale. That jagged laugh faded into the mist, but the echo stuck to their skin like static. Robert's blade angled downward. Silvia's fingers twitched on her hilt. Lucy, who never let her guard dip, shifted her stance a hair.
Eleanor felt it first: a tiny pressure in the air, like someone plucking a string right beside her ear.
Peter muttered, "Sound distortion. She's close."
Lucy raised a hand. The fog rippled, not from wind, but as if something moved through it deliberately.
Then the air clicked.
One sharp, clean note. Ping.
Robert's eyes widened. "Incoming!"
A streak of pitch-black sound ripped past them, slicing a nearby building like paper. The wall split clean down the middle, sliding apart without crumbling.
Silvia stumbled back. "That thing didn't even have form!"
"It was a minion," Lucy said, voice low. "A scout."
As if on cue, more shapes slithered through the fog. Thin silhouettes with jagged halos of writhing sound. Their bodies twitched like broken metronomes, limbs moving to beats only they heard.
Peter stepped forward. "Silvia, Rob, Allen. Take left flank. Eleanor, you're with me."
Eleanor nodded, tightening her grip on her axe. A buzz started under her skin, a heat that felt too bright. She shook it off. Focus.
One of the minions lunged. It was silent, flickering in and out of the fog, vibrating through the air before reappearing right in front of Allen.
"Whoa!"
Robert shoved him aside and swung wide, his blade catching the creature mid-charge. The impact sent a burst of soundwaves cracking through the ground.
Silvia dashed past them. "Eyes up! They're fast but predictable! Watch for the pulse!"
Allen raised his gauntlets. "Why can't they ever be normal monsters?!"
Another minion shrieked, its voice a warped, metallic violin screech, and dove toward Eleanor.
Peter blocked it in a flash, dual blades dragging sparks across the cobblestone. "El! Open!"
Eleanor slid under Peter's guard, her axe glowing faintly. She swung upward, clean, sharp, decisive.
The minion's head didn't cut; it exploded into vibrating dust.
Eleanor blinked. "Did I hit it too hard?"
Peter stared, stunned. "That wasn't normal. Something flared."
Eleanor's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
His eyes weren't on her axe. They were on her wings. For a split second, when she swung, something had flickered across them. Not white. Something warmer. Something gold.
But before either of them could process it, the mist shivered—like it was nervous.
In the Silent Canyon, Katya stood before the Void Portal, its surface churning with inky blackness. General Vorlag emerged, his form tall, gaunt, and wrapped in clinging shadow. He carried no weapon, only an air of bone-deep cold.
"The fusion is complete," Katya stated, her voice flat, the cold violet light around her hands confirming the new power.
Vorlag tilted his head, his face a sharp, pale mask. "Your detour was lengthy, Disciple. The Zenith are already crumbling. Time is not a resource we afford lightly."
"The foundation must be sound," Katya countered, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I needed full control of the sound field. The power is now mine. Melody's domain is neutralized."
Vorlag's mouth curved into a shadow of a smile, a gesture of rare approval. "Good. The Zenith Commanders are converging on Envale. The Sun Angel is there. You know what comes next."
"I do," Katya confirmed.
"Then go. Ensure the music stops for good." Vorlag's shadows seemed to deepen, his presence a black hole of silence. He lifted a hand, and a ripple of soundless corruption passed over her. "And remind them of the true power of the Void."
Katya nodded once and vanished, leaving only the cold echo of the void behind her.
Back in Envale, Eleanor's boot crunched over a shattered wing fragment.
Then, that laugh.
Soft at first, like someone plucking a single harp string, except the note didn't end. It stretched. Warped. Twisted the air until it felt too tight to breathe.
A figure stepped through the haze. Melody's silhouette was tall and elegant, a massive harp balanced against her shoulder. Her smile was sweet, but unsettling.
"Finally," she said, voice ringing like glass. "I thought you'd never make it. I've been dying to perform."
Lucy muttered, "No one asked for a damn concert."
Melody's eyes flicked toward her with a little too much interest. "Oh, but you will."
The ground trembled as her minions crawled out from the cracks. Twisted angels with strings embedded in their bodies, moving in jittering rhythm with invisible music.
Eleanor raised her axe, bracing. But for a split second, something pulsed behind her ribs. Heat, heavy and bright, like a second heartbeat. It flared gold beneath her skin.
She froze. Not again.
Silvia noticed. "Eleanor, are you good?"
"Yeah," Eleanor lied. "Just adrenaline."
But the glow lingered a fraction too long, and Melody's smile sharpened.
"Oh, how interesting," Melody whispered. "A little golden spark."
Eleanor's stomach dropped. Lucy whispered, "Uh, why does that sound like a setup to something we're not ready for?"
"Because it probably is," Silvia Replied. "Stay sharp."
Melody lifted her harp. The strings vibrated without her touching them, and the air thickened until it hummed. The minions jerked to life.
"Let's start with a warm up."
She strummed once.
The shockwave ripped through the village like someone sliced reality sideways. Eleanor barely managed to brace as debris flew, wings shattered, and the minions launched forward in perfect tempo.
Silvia swore as she ducked an attack. "She plays the damn harp like she's farming combo points!"
Lucy sighed. "Man, this is some Final Boss Part One energy and we JUST got here."
Eleanor sliced through two minions, sparks kicking off her blade, her movements syncing with instinct she didn't understand. Too smooth, too fast, too golden. The power surged again, hotter this time.
She choked on a gasp.
Melody's gaze locked onto her mid-spin. "Oh yes, you're going to be so much fun."
Eleanor's heart pounded in her ears. That warmth wasn't fading. It was growing. And deep down, she felt it. If she let it keep rising, if she unleashed it all, something inside her would break.
But she didn't have time to think. Melody raised the harp again.
"Now then," she cooed, "let the real performance begin."