Azalor arrived at the abandoned fortress beneath Silva's storm-wracked sky. Snow fell in thick sheets, driven by a wind so cold it seemed to bite through stone.

  The fortress stood beside the outer walls of Aurik, half-buried in ice and silence. Azalor walked slowly, his staff tapping against the frozen stone, echoing through the hollow halls. Black Order sentinels stood motionless at the gates-giant knights in obsidian armor, unmoving, unblinking.

  Inside, the throne was shattered. Batalos sat upon its broken remains, hunched and tense. A child lay nearby, asleep-still bound by a seal that pulsed faintly with dark magic.

  Azalor raised an eyebrow.

  "Batalos?"

  Batalos stood abruptly.

  "Azalor! You've finally come.

  This feral child-he's uncontrollable.

  He nearly killed me."

  Azalor approached the child, studying the seal.

  "That's Dais's mark.

  He placed it himself."

  "Yes," Batalos muttered.

  "The boy nearly escaped."

  Azalor's gaze lingered.

  Then-a portal shimmered open.

  Dais stepped through.

  "Azalor.

  You wished to see me?"

  Azalor nodded.

  "Yes.

  There's been a development.

  Macferdin has reached Leona ahead of us.

  He's uncovered the secret of the lake...

  And he carries the corrupted gemstone."

  Dais's eyes narrowed.

  "What?

  What does he intend?"

  Azalor's voice dropped.

  "He's targeting the boy who resisted us in the Luminous Tree villages.

  The one tied to the Green Comet."

  Dais turned toward the storm outside.

  "Then he's found the source.

  He wants the boy's power."

  Azalor opened an ancient tome. His staff hovered beside him, wreathed in black specters and a pulsing aura.

  "Leave Macferdin to me.

  I'll deal with him.

  He's not alone-Valon is with him."

  Dais stiffened.

  "Valon?

  The Soul Harvester?

  What's he doing here?"

  Azalor walked to a crumbling wall, gazing out at Aurik's towers-lit by quiet fires beneath the falling snow.

  "He's here to assist Macferdin.

  We must be cautious.

  Especially now that the Red Mist has returned.

  They want this world."

  Dais gestured to Batalos.

  "Watch the child.

  He's volatile.

  If Azalor fails, he may be our last key."

  Batalos moved swiftly to obey.

  Dais turned back.

  "After Daecir's fall...

  Everyone sees this as a chance to claim glory.

  To succeed where the great Daecir failed."

  Azalor's voice was quiet.

  "True.

  But that's not all."

  A massive portal opened behind him.

  Azalor stepped toward it.

  "We must tighten our grip on Aurik.

  We face three factions now, Dais.

  I'm going to deal with Velina.

  I may need you soon."

  Dais nodded.

  "Very well.

  It's yours."

  Azalor vanished into the portal.

  Dais lingered, then turned to Batalos.

  "Ensure the child remains secure.

  You command this fortress now.

  If anything happens...

  Inform me immediately."

  Batalos bowed.

  "Of course."

  Then the this pathetic world shall known this great castle ... the supreme castle of great Batalos

  Dais look at Batalos faded into shadow.

  And the snow kept falling.

  The Siege of Leona — When Shadows Crossed the Snow

  In the heart of Leona, Prince Lucas sat inside a canvas tent, surrounded by the bitter wind and falling snow. His men stood guard outside, some resting, others sharpening blades. Advisors waited in their own tents, watching the horizon, awaiting the assassin's return.

  Lucas stepped out, his cloak billowing, eyes fixed on the kingdom's crumbling walls.

  —

  Inside the city...

  Fouad crouched in the shadows, watching as Macferdin strode away.

  Valon spoke calmly.

  "Great Macferdin... go ahead.

  I'll follow shortly.

  I want to inspect the city."

  "As you wish," Macferdin replied.

  Valon raised his weapon.

  In a blur too fast to see, he struck—splitting a hut in two and slaughtering everyone inside.

  "You... you were listening.

  As if it mattered.

  Do you think hearing our plans will change anything?

  We speak fate.

  Our words are law.

  Our weapons... the hammer of judgment."

  Fouad stared in horror as Valon approached.

  Valon's scythe pulsed with dark energy. A black aura surrounded him, and the air filled with the screams of trapped souls.

  "Judgment today...

  Means death today."

  Fouad leapt back as Valon's strike tore through another hut, releasing a wave of shadow and spectral wails.

  Fouad sprinted through the alleys. Valon followed—slow, deliberate.

  "I see you, little one...

  Where do you think you're going?

  Let me send you somewhere... beautiful."

  Fouad threw dust bombs, but the wind and snow scattered them instantly.

  Valon paused.

  "You're not from here.

  These weapons...

  They don't belong to this climate.

  Are you a spy?

  Sent by the Red Mist?"

  He swung his scythe again—spirits erupted, chasing Fouad.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  One caught his leg.

  He fell.

  Valon advanced.

  Then—a sharp sound echoed.

  Valon turned.

  Leona's guards had arrived.

  Commander Basil stepped forward, sword raised.

  "Who are you?

  Give me one reason not to end you.

  Are you behind this chaos?"

  Fouad scanned the crowd, searching for Valon.

  He exhaled.

  "No...

  I'm here on behalf of Prince Lucas."

  The guards exchanged glances.

  "Lucas sent an assassin?

  We're desperate, but not that desperate."

  "Why would he send you?" Basil asked.

  Fouad met his gaze.

  "You're Basil, aren't you?

  He asked me to find you.

  To deliver a message."

  Basil lowered his sword slightly. The guards remained tense.

  "Where is the prince?

  What does he want?"

  "He's safe.

  He needs intel.

  He may request aid from Aurik.

  The situation here... is dire."

  A voice rang out from behind.

  "I'll go with him."

  The guards turned.

  "High Advisor Arif!"

  Arif stepped forward.

  "I'll go with you, assassin.

  I must see the prince.

  We need solutions.

  The palace is under Lina's control... and the traitor Namq.

  The colder the winter...

  The darker the disease becomes."

  Suddenly, cries erupted.

  Basil turned to his men.

  "Move! Now!"

  He glanced at Fouad.

  "I don't care who you are.

  Watch this man.

  Fouad nodded and moved quickly. Arif followed, breath heavy.

  —

  Elsewhere, in a ruined hut...

  Ledra and Mowj stood before five unmoving figures.

  "An entire family," Mowj whispered.

  "All infected."

  He placed his hands on the ground. Vines erupted, binding their legs.

  Ledra fired a green arrow—its magic knocked them unconscious.

  She exhaled.

  "Wonderful.

  Now we fight monsters."

  "I need to study this disease," Mowj said.

  "It's... strange."

  "Don't worry.

  We'll find someone who can help."

  —

  Inside Leona's royal palace...

  Macferdin entered the throne room, Valon behind him.

  Princess Lina sat on the throne, dressed in light robes.

  Macferdin smiled.

  "Well done."

  "Thank you," Lina replied.

  "So... what now?"

  Macferdin vanished—reappeared before her—and stabbed her.

  "We don't need you anymore, dear.

  Rest now.

  You'll serve... other purposes."

  Blood poured from her mouth and nose.

  She collapsed.

  Valon raised his scythe.

  Her soul emerged—screaming—and was absorbed.

  "Good.

  The spoiled one is gone."

  Macferdin laughed.

  Outside, Black Order soldiers herded the infected into portals.

  "Now...

  I go to the child."

  —

  Outside the city...

  Fouad ran. Arif struggled to keep pace.

  "Slow down...

  I'm old.

  I can't match your speed."

  "Trust me...

  If you saw what I saw...

  You'd fly."

  Arif blinked, then kept moving.

  —

  At Lucas's camp...

  A scout shouted.

  "I see them!"

  Lucas stepped out.

  He saw Fouad and Arif approaching.

  "Well done."

  Rose stepped into the Emerald Inn.

  The room quieted for a moment. Eyes turned toward her—curious, brief—then returned to their drinks and conversations.

  She lowered her voice. "Hello..."

  Uncle Mulham looked up from behind the counter, his smile immediate.

  "Ah, welcome back, Rose!"

  Her eyes widened. "You remember my name? That's... surprising."

  Mulham waved a hand. "Don't exaggerate. Of course I do."

  He leaned forward. "So? What happened?"

  Rose's face lit up.

  She began to speak—fast, animated, her words tumbling over each other. Her hands moved with her story, her eyes gleaming. A few patrons glanced her way, amused by her energy.

  Mulham chuckled, joining in. "You said that to Razan? You're reckless! Hahaha!"

  "I didn't think you had it in you," he added. "You handled her like a seasoned mercenary."

  Rose laughed. "My brother used to talk to me like that. I guess I learned from him. Maybe I should thank him."

  Mulham nodded. "Wait a moment. What do you want to eat and drink? You need to refuel. You'll need strength if you're serious about the Mercenary Guild."

  Rose held up her hand proudly. "I earned three coins!"

  Mulham clapped once. "Not bad for your first day! Well done!"

  "I want something with my money," she said, beaming.

  "Coming right up," he said with a wink. "Orange and carrot juice, and chicken stew with rice."

  Rose's mouth watered instantly.

  Mulham laughed. "Stay seated. You're starving."

  A woman sat beside Rose, silent and composed.

  Mulham turned. "Miss Sylvance, interested?"

  Rose glanced at her.

  Long ears.

  A quiet glow in her eyes.

  She was from the Luminous Tree tribe.

  Rose felt small suddenly. Her stories seemed trivial next to this woman's silence. She looked like a warrior—disciplined, powerful, distant.

  Sylvance spoke, her voice calm. "So... you don't want to tell me what happened?"

  Rose hesitated. "I... well..."

  Mulham returned, placing the tray gently in front of her.

  Rose lowered her gaze. "I earned three coins today. That's all."

  She began eating, sipping the juice slowly.

  Sylvance nodded. "Good. You didn't beg. You didn't wait for someone to hand you coin. You went out and earned it."

  Mulham, mixing another drink behind the counter, smiled. "She's got spirit. That's for sure."

  The Burnt Shore - When Fire Met the Sea

  Across the scattered isles of Silva's dark oceans, the sound of waves crashed against a scorched shoreline. The air reeked of ash and salt. Ships lay broken, their hulls ablaze with gray fire. Pirate corpses littered the sand, twisted and charred.

  Riz stepped forward slowly, his boots crunching over embers. Sydney lay collapsed on the ground, blood trailing from her lips. The remaining pirates retreated in fear. Majd stood frozen, tears streaming down his face.

  Riz raised his blade-wreathed in gray flame.

  "Close your eyes, my lady..."

  The pirates screamed.

  "Captain!!!"

  Suddenly-a flash of blue magic struck from behind.

  Riz spun, deflecting it with his sword, then stepped back, blade raised toward the source.

  "Hmm?

  Who's there?

  Will you face me...

  Or shall I come end you myself?"

  From the darkness, a massive ship emerged.

  Sydney smiled weakly, blood in her mouth.

  "It's him...

  The Falcon Crew..."

  Riz raised an eyebrow.

  "Falcon?"

  A booming laugh echoed across the sea-deep, coarse, and full of mirth.

  Riz's aura flared, gray fire swirling around him.

  The ship halted. Pirates aboard aimed their weapons at Riz.

  Then-a massive figure leapt from the deck, landing hard before him.

  Riz stared.

  An old man, broad-shouldered and scarred, stood tall. His body bore the marks of age and war-one eye, a jagged spine, and skin etched with wounds. His sword was long, curved, and weathered.

  Sydney whispered.

  "Falcon..."

  Riz smirked.

  "An old man...

  In his final years...

  Come to fight me?"

  He pointed his blade.

  "If you think you're here to save this girl and her band of fools...

  I suggest you flee.

  You'll need saving yourself-from your age, and from the mess you've walked into with that pathetic ship of yours."

  Falcon laughed, voice rough as stone.

  "You insult my crew?

  My ship?"

  He lunged.

  A blue aura surged around him-violent, ancient.

  Their blades clashed.

  Riz stepped back, eyes narrowing.

  "His strength...

  It's different.

  Stronger than the girl's..."

  Falcon roared.

  "What's wrong, boy?

  Afraid of an old man?"

  Riz grinned, gray fire erupting from his body.

  "Lucifer's Wrath!"

  He charged.

  Sydney screamed.

  "Falcon! Get back! That strike is lethal!"

  Falcon planted his left foot, smiling.

  "Get back?

  Are you mad?

  If I move...

  He'll burn the entire island!"

  He shouted.

  "Let me show you the world I came from...

  It's far more terrifying than your flames!"

  Riz's eyes widened as he closed the distance.

  Falcon's body ignited with blue aura. His sword shimmered-encased in a translucent shell like a bubble of pure sea-light.

  As their blades collided, Falcon roared.

  "Wrath of the Seas!"

  Gray fire met blue fury.

  Sand whipped into the air. Winds howled. The tide reversed.

  Sydney shielded her face.

  Then-laughter.

  Falcon's voice rang out.

  Sydney opened her eyes.

  "What happened?

  Am I dreaming?"

  Falcon stepped toward her.

  "No, you fool.

  He ran."

  "Ran?"

  Falcon laughed again, blood dripping from his hands.

  Sydney struggled to stand.

  "You're bleeding..."

  Falcon looked at her.

  "It's nothing.

  Tend to her wounds."

  A Bed Beneath the Comet

  Sylvance sipped her drink slowly, her gaze steady.

  "If an interesting mission comes up," she said to Rose, "perhaps you'll invite me."

  Mulham raised an eyebrow. "Miss Sylvance? Are you bored?"

  She smiled faintly, swirling the glass. "Not bored. Just... aware. I need to train. Sharpen my edge. Comfort makes warriors soft."

  Mulham nodded. "That's a fair point."

  Rose watched her from across the table, whispering to herself.

  She calls this training? Who is she? Why is she so confident? And why does Mulham speak to her like she's part of the inn?

  Sylvance stood, placing her empty glass on the counter.

  "Master Mulham, if Jawahir comes looking for me, tell her I've stepped out."

  "Of course," he said.

  Rose finished her meal, licking the last bit of stew from her spoon.

  "That was delicious."

  Mulham smiled warmly.

  Rose leaned in. "Can I ask... who is that woman? She seems like a skilled fighter. Is she your wife?"

  Mulham paused mid-polish, then burst into laughter. "My wife? No, no—I'm far too old for that. She's young, yes. But your instincts are right. She's a formidable warrior. She lives here now."

  Rose watched Sylvance disappear through the inn's doors.

  "So that's who she is..."

  Mulham turned to her. "Do you have a place to sleep?"

  Rose slapped her forehead. "Oh no... I forgot! I only have one coin left. How am I supposed to afford a room?"

  Mulham chuckled. "Don't worry. There's a modest inn nearby—The Daisy Inn. Tell them you came from me."

  He winked.

  Rose smiled. "Thank you, Uncle."

  "Come back soon," he said.

  She left the Emerald Inn and walked through the quieter streets of Aurik.

  The Daisy Inn stood at the edge of the district—smaller, simpler, and packed with soldiers and townsfolk. Its walls were plain stone, its windows fogged with steam.

  Rose stepped inside.

  "Excuse me," she said to the man at the counter. "I'd like a room."

  "Of course," he replied. "Five coins."

  Rose blinked. "Five? I... I came from Mulham."

  The man raised an eyebrow. "Mulham? Then ten coins."

  "What?!"

  He laughed. "I'm joking. One coin."

  Rose sighed in relief and handed it over.

  He gave her a small brass key.

  She climbed the stairs, opened the door, and stepped inside.

  A bed.

  A lamp.

  A small table.

  A writing desk.

  Rose smiled.

  "This isn't worth just one coin. That old man... he's helping me."

  She lay down, pulled the blanket over her shoulders, and closed her eyes.

  Outside, the green comet shimmered in the sky.

  And beside it, the dark blue star pulsed quietly.