Scene 1 – Old Texts and Older Wounds (Crystal POV)
"So you've finally deciphered that old text Odin left behind?"
I looked up from my desk where several notebooks and books were spread out, trying to decipher which language Odin even wrote it in.
"Yes. I swear the only reason I changed my divine name is because that bastard told me it'd be beneficial. Then he left me with a bunch of useless books instead of telling me outright."
I almost pulled my hair out as I leaned back in the chair.
"That's why I told you, Crystal, to see if Lily can help out. She might be useless in everything else, but her research ability is still the real deal. Plus the only payment she likes is to mooch off us."
My little brother Simon brought up that brat whose very presence irritates me for some unknown reason.
"No, she's good. Yes," I said, rubbing my face. "But I've been in the Sea and traveled with Odin. Even if I wasn't his first love in the Sea, he still gave me knowledge and the artifacts he could leave… while giving our sister Nicole that damned diary of his to try and appease her grieving heart."
Simon frowned, and I caught myself too late.
"Didn't mean it like that," I muttered. "The diary is in the hands of Crow, and if I even try to ask about it, Huginn will show up at my door.
"I do understand the titles were a key to us reaching Explorer level, but I can't help thinking that's only half the key. Even if we send you to the Sea via Baldur's key, unless you're willing to get lost by yourself, it's pointless."
I shook my head, knowing I'd practically crushed the goal he came here with.
"Just give me some of the books and I'll go bug Lily," he said. "I don't mind feeding her if she's being useful."
The flash in his eyes told me I'd really offended him with that slip about the diary. I handed him the books to get started anyway, even including my notes to try and appease his anger, even if just slightly.
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Scene 2 – Culling the Future
I watched as guild members left my office, the door closing behind the last of them just as my husband walked in with a report—most likely from the Academy under our jurisdiction.
Although neither of us were worried for our daughter or our nephew, the implication of having to cull half the students is never a good thing.
Yet letting the rot of the government continue to seep in, while they're expected to pick up their weight, is unrealistic. They want to push Travelers to join the military and "take up responsibilities," trying to dress up self-sacrifice as heroism…
While aiming to use the children like weapons, similar to third world nations.
Every attempt so far has been met with calm ruthlessness by all the school directors. There are only five schools across the nation, so a lot of the smaller guilds in remote areas handle training themselves or work with the Society to relocate young Travelers to areas near bigger guilds.
Nowhere close to perfect, but it's proven to be the only method that can even begin to curb the brainwashing in media.
I pressed my fingertips into my temples, massaging lightly as he handed me the report.
"Seriously? He went through with cutting out seventy percent of the students?" I let out a low whistle. "I wonder why they keep calling us all elites."
I could already imagine the public outcry when they realized civilian students were the majority of the ones who flunked out. A grin still crept onto my mouth.
"Yeah, even I was surprised Chiron was that ruthless," my husband said. "I always took him for the kind-hearted mentor, but I guess the government pushed harder than they thought."
We both laughed at the idea of civilians and politicians trying to force the hand of the director of the Traveler school system.
"I guess no one told them that Chiron is the same person who hunted down Odin over him bullying his students," I said, smirking at the memory of the bushy-bearded man chasing Odin for a couple of years, only stopping because Nicole and Tyr showed up with the rescue teams.
A dangerous but truly memorable time that felt like hundreds of years.
Going from experiencing what could only be described as divinity as we all gathered in what we called the center of the Sea—littered with numerous worlds for astral-energy-using teenagers like us. All the followers and ego-worship we could imagine.
"Do you ever miss it?" I finally asked.
He knew exactly what I meant. Quiet acceptance flashed through his eyes.
"Yes," he said, "but it's mainly the memories. Even if we went back today, we'd have to accept that it's a goodbye trip.
"To go back to even a tenth of the level we all unknowingly submerged ourselves in would still remove us out of Earth's timeline. It might've felt like we were going forward in time, but I can't trust that assessment the more I think about it."
I followed his tired gaze toward the footlocker where I kept Odin's diaries.
"I wish I could explain it myself," I said softly. "No one knows how deep he actually went. Probably the only one who does is Tyr, the one he went after. Even Oceanus only barely touched a thousand years' worth of knowledge."
I shook my head at the idea of diving back in. With a kid now, we can't make such reckless decisions.
"Once she grows up, we can always pawn the guild off to her," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Her, Crow, and Thomas can take over while we retire to the Sea. After all, she'll eventually want to follow us."
He took a seat beside me, and for a moment, all that war, politics, and timelines shrank down to just the three kids we were pushing toward a world we barely understood ourselves.
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Scene 3 – Huginn: Blood, Keys, and Ghost (Huginn POV)
"So, Huginn, will you accept our deal to work to get Baldur's keys, or are you also one of Baldur's lackeys like Tasey and his little gremlins?"
That annoying smile stretched across this demon's face as he put the least amount of effort into his disguise. Even his skin felt like a cheap mask over something rotten.
"That depends," I said. "If you're aiming to bully Baldur, then no, I'm not a lackey of his."
I let my restraint go.
Lightning crawled over my skin in thin, irritated lines. The wards under the floor woke up, tasting my intent. There's been a strange habit forming around me lately—every idiot who smells a secret thinks my bar is a suggestion box.
All these different people keep showing up in my territory, sniffing for answers that aren't here. My brother is one thing, but involving the government crosses a line no publicly operating Traveler should blur.
"Did I strike a nerve?" he asked.
His grin widened as his own chaotic mana began to distort the air. The walls warped in my vision, edges bending, colors bleeding at the corners.
Cute.
That one habit of his gives away his usual opponents—people who think chaos is impressive just because it's loud.
"No," I said, voice dropping. "You crossed a line I recently established."
The ceiling lights flickered. The glassware behind the bar hummed like it wanted to shatter.
"You see, I run a business," I continued. "There are channels to reach me if you're truly qualified to even talk to me.
"First it was that lightning brat using his personal team to track my brother and bug the staff here to arrange that meeting. I guess Zeu—wait, Charles, I mean—has never qualified to be in the same room with me.
"But now here you come, reeking of Astral filth. Should I take this as a declaration of war, or did you come from the puppet?"
Lightning flared properly this time.
The whole second floor vanished into a storm only we could see—air thick with static, thunder rolling under the floorboards, my aura cracking out in sharp bursts. Every strike marked a point in space where I was willing to erase him.
His chaos surged to meet it, thick and oily. Space twisted, tables groaning as if they were being dragged sideways through water.
If I pushed a little more, the inner seal would trigger. I'd already chosen where his body would fall, which three boards I'd have to replace, how much blood I'd let soak before I burned the rest out of the grain.
He tried to force his chaos deeper into my storm, to disperse it, to claim the center.
I let him—for exactly one breath.
Then I lifted my cup, took a slow sip of tea, and watched him from over the rim.
"So you still serve that bastard?" I asked quietly. "Even after he's been killed, you'd sacrifice yourself for what? Acknowledgment from a soul who's already been ground to pieces by his own actions?
"You only have less than five years," I said. "Starting two months from now. January.
"If you and the rest can't make a decision by then, I can't make any pleas to save you from oblivion."
The word hung there, heavier than the thunder.
His chaos flared once—raw, offended pride—then snapped back. His body blurred, dissolving into mist that hissed as it fled the storm. The air calmed, the bar snapping back into its proper shape like a rubber band let go.
The seal under the wood fully armed—one heartbeat too late.
"Fast," I muttered. "Faster than I gave you credit for."
Lightning bled off my skin, sinking into the runes.
"We probably don't have much reason to fight for this god-forsaken world," I said to the empty space where he'd been, setting my cup down. "Yet if we let scum like that run rampant under the name of divine compassion, we'd be no better than butchers preparing our own young as the grand feast."
The storm vanished completely. Only the bar remained—scuffed tables, worn wood, the muted hum of the first floor below.
A plate slid into view between my elbows and the edge of the table.
Bread rolls. Still steaming.
Fingers—calloused, familiar—hooked under my chin and tilted my face up.
Ghost of the Zodiacs stood over me, leaning one hip against the table as if she'd been there the whole time, watching the storm from inside its eye. Her mask shadowed her eyes; the rest of her expression was unreadable.
She leaned in—
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Scene 4 – The Goblin Who Dreamed of Histories (Goblin POV)
"TO WAR!!!"
Leading the charge into the ogre ranks with the blessings of this new God, I couldn't help the surge of vigor and justice that roared through me at the sight of my goblin kin slowly building up in this world.
We might be a minor faction right now, but with the blessing reinforcing us—turning myth into reality as we, piece by piece, walk the path he's creating for us—that won't last.
From goblin to hobgoblin.
From hobgoblin to orc, or stranger variant types.
My personal aim is to sit at the top as his avatar of ?????. I can't quite grasp it yet, but with each monster we take down, the stronger we get. As more groups submit to me through ?????, we become more diverse, more layered, more real.
My mind has slowly re-pieced my past selves, but it's scattered in dreams I can't fully hold. Still, every night as we close our eyes in darkness, each of us is taught more than any human could've taught us.
We don't hate humans. To think that I would swear to serve one isn't such a far thought anymore.
He doesn't demand anything, or insist that we must live a certain way. Only that we abide by the natural rules of the world and his compass.
That's all that's needed
So I close my eyes again after plunging into battle beside the leader of our kind, who's already become an orc, and I embrace any hope of catching those divine histories that ????? says can teach us.
Because if we're going to climb from monsters to something more, we'll need every piece of those stolen memories.