The light broke like a fever dream.
Sound returned as a hiss of stale air.
Color followed, slow and raw. Walls, floor, the quiet tick of a distant clock. They were back in the office. The same scattered scrolls and the worn rug with the ink stain near the desk leg.
As if they'd never left.
Cris hit the floor with a grunt, landing flat on his back.
"Holy..." he wheezed, sweat glistening like oil across his temples. He didn't finish the sentence. He settled there, arms out, chest rising and falling like he'd run through a war zone.
Amanda was still standing, frozen mid-breath. Her eyes were wide, unfocused.
Ranna hadn't moved at all. She stood like a statue, arms limp at her sides, the torn edge of her coat fluttering faintly with the cooling ambient mana. The mist was gone, but something clung to her still. A memory. Pressure.
Silence held.
Until...
"So are you convinced now?"
He leaned back on one heel, arms behind his head like someone trying very hard to seem nonchalant after atomizing reality itself.
"I mean, I could tone it down next time, but..."
Whumph.
Amanda's body collided with his. Full hug. No warning.
Leo blinked. Flinched. His arms floated up, confused, like he was catching something mid-fall.
"Uh... Amanda?"
She didn't answer. Didn't move. Just pressed her head into his chest, shoulders trembling, her breath caught and broken.
He stiffened.
"Amanda. What's..."
A sound escaped her throat. Heavy and unfiltered.
Leo froze.
Then, slowly, he let his arms fall around her.
Just enough.
His breath slipped out in a quiet whisper. "...I don't understand."
A shadow loomed. Smack. Ranna's hand landed square on his head. Half a pat, half a slap, the weight of it jarring his spine.
"You idiot…"
"You really don't remember?"
Leo looked up, eyes narrowing. "Remember what?"
"Your parents." Ranna's voice was harder now. Flat. Edged.
"Do you remember what happened to them?"
His lips parted. Then closed.
Amanda's sobbing muffled against his chest.
He swallowed. "Amanda told me. Years after I was born that they went for a routine orc subjugation request."
His voice slowed. Flatlined.
"But during the raid... a Dominion Lord was born. That... changed everything. No way to finish the quest..."
He stopped.
"...No way to escape."
And suddenly the weight of it wasn't just a story anymore. It was real. Visceral. Because now he remembered the way Amanda's voice had cracked when she first told him. The way Samuel always looked off into the distance when asked about his early party days.
His breath hitched. His knees gave a little.
"I..." Leo tried, voice cracking. "I killed it. That thing. The one that..."
His hands trembled as Amanda tightened her grip, her tears now wet against his shirt. Cris sat up slowly, watching. Ranna didn't speak.
Leo's eyes burned, and he didn't know why.
I shouldn't feel anything.
The memories weren't his. He hadn't even known Leo's parents. Not really. But tears still fell. Not sharp, not loud. Steady. Quiet. Like the kind that had been waiting years for permission to come out.
"Blood," he whispered. "It really is thicker than water."
Parn Village
Southeastern Region, Human Kingdom Mainland
The wind howled across the frost line, biting deep into the cliffs of Mount Nyvharra.
Snow traced wide arcs through the thin air, dancing like restless spirits along the icicle-crusted branches of frostwood trees.
In a crooked old hut nestled among sharp rocks and buried roots, Marem stood abruptly from her rocking chair, a crack of old wood echoing through the stillness.
A long breath left her lungs, and in the freezing air, it curled outward in a plume of white mist, spiraling like smoke from an old hearth.
Something had shifted.
She stepped forward, the rune stones beneath her bare feet lighting faintly with each step. Reactive, familiar. Her eyes glittered like starlight drowned in violet ink.
She wore a layered robe of pale ash-gray, flecked with indigo embroidery that shimmered when she moved. A long mantle draped from her shoulders like falling snow, fastened with bone clasps shaped like crescent moons. The hems of her sleeves whispered against the air as she continued.
"So someone can force an end to my Paradise?"
Her voice held no panic. Just curiosity. A low ripple of old, amused awareness.
She lifted her hand.
Runes shimmered into the air. Constellations rearranging. A thin, translucent screen hovered, alive with movement and light.
A face appeared. Ranna.
Marem tilted her head.
"Impressive."
Data scrolled beside the image. Metrics, aura readings, fragments of command chains. And something deeper. Instinct. Resonance.
She let it play for a moment longer, then turned.
"Time to stretch."
Her hand rose behind her back, and a soft hum vibrated through the air. Her staff, long and obsidian-dark with a single spiraled vein of blue, trembled beside her altar before being sucked into her palm like a blade returning to its sheath.
She strode toward the door, body moving with the ease of someone who'd seen far too much to ever be surprised.
But just as her hand reached for the frost-laced handle...
Click.
The door opened.
A figure stood beyond it. Cloaked. Hooded. Shoulders dusted with snow, boots caked in road-mud and frostbite-cracked leaves.
"Where are you off to in such a rush?" the woman asked, voice silk-wrapped iron.
She paused, then exhaled another misty breath and answered calmly:
"To a place hidden even from the stars."
The woman laughed. A low, rich sound. The kind that filled the room without needing to raise its volume. It echoed like smoke.
She stepped inside, uninvited. The door shut behind her with a whisper of finality.
"You're funny," she said. "But we both know you're not going anywhere. Our preparations are nearly complete. And your cooperation is essential."
Though the hood concealed her face, the malice in her presence flared unmistakably. When she tilted her head, the motion was lazy, almost playful. Yet it coiled with the patience of a predator watching its prey.
Marem didn't flinch. Didn't blink. She just clicked her tongue and turned on her heel.
"Very well."
She walked toward another door, deeper within the hut. One carved from polished obsidian, etched with warding glyphs.
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Come with me."
The hooded woman followed.
And outside, far above their heads, the sky trembled slightly. Like something had begun to watch.