“Oh, Mister Gatei, I think I do,” I said with a knowing smile, folding my arms. “You know I’m not from this world, right?”

  Gatei flicked a single sharp glance at me from the corner of his eye, but his hands never stopped moving, carefully inspecting the lenses like they were the most precious things he had ever held.

  “Of course,” he murmured, not looking up. “It’s an interesting phenomenon.”

  I watched as he placed the lenses—so delicate—into a weirdly shaped casket on his workbench. The way he handled them was almost reverent, like a priest laying down a holy relic.

  “We’re united now,” I continued, pacing slightly, “but it wasn’t that long ago that we had a unification war.” I cast a glance at the prince, who, in true royalty who’s seen too much fashion, looked completely disinterested.

  Figures.

  “But before all that,” I continued, “before we reached that unity, we developed a way to remove any place from existence. Entire cities, gone with one decision.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis. “Erased. Just like that.”

  Gatei hummed under his breath, turning one of the lenses this way and that under the dim glow of the cavern. The way the light refracted off the cracks sent shivers down my spine. “I see where you’re going,” he muttered, not quite listening but also completely hearing me at the same time. “Yes. Similar.”

  His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted a dial on his bench.

  A pulse of soft blue light flickered across the casket, illuminating the lenses inside. Gatei’s face—already lined with years of wisdom and, let’s be honest, probably some chaotic decisions—lit up with a wild, almost childlike glee.

  “This is genuine, girl,” he whispered, his voice almost shaking. Then, louder, he laughed—a manic, utterly unhinged sound that echoed off the cavern walls. “This one is genuine!”

  I stopped pacing, letting a wave of relief wash over me. “Okay, good to hear,” I said, standing in front of him, hands on my hips. “So, can it get me a vault?”

  Gatei let out a sharp, amused laugh. “Vault?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Just vault, she says!”

  And then the guards—yes, the fully armored, supposedly no-nonsense guards—also started laughing.

  Wait, what?

  I shot them a look, only to be met with knowing nods, as if I had just told the funniest joke in Twir history. Oh. They weren’t nearly as serious as I thought. Just a little wary of me.

  Good to know.

  Gatei wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, grinning widely. “Girl… Well, Princess, this just bought you the eternal friendship of the council!”

  Before I could fully process that, he abruptly sealed the lenses inside the casket, then kicked the entire table down as if he were afraid I’d reach for them again. The moment the table hit the ground, it sank into the floor, disappearing into the stone as if it had never existed.

  I blinked. “I mean… thank you?”

  I tried to keep my expression neutral, but internally, my brain was scrambling. Eternal friendship of the council? That was… a bit more than I’d hoped for.

  I had assumed the old forum story was just that—some nonsense exaggerated by nerds who thought they’d gamed the system. But apparently? That mountain of gold had been a lowball offer. That noob could’ve asked for far more.

  I was still deep in thought when I spoke. “I’m in a bit of a hurry,” I said, shaking off my daze. “I need to store my things and be on my way because—”

  “—Because your mother is tearing the very fabric of our world apart!” Gatei practically leaped with joy, clapping his hands like a child witnessing fireworks for the first time. “What a family!”

  My glare could have shaved steel. “How do you know?” I demanded.

  Gatei’s grin widened, but instead of answering, he just stood there, smugly silent. I sucked in a breath, my patience fraying. “I’ll get you the best vault for your baubles,” he said, kicking the ground as if ordering another one of his damn magic tables to appear.

  Fine. Instead, I turned to Relando, who looked up at the mention of his name like a criminal caught red-handed. He was way too still. “Tell me!” I snapped.

  “Tell… what?” His voice was cautious, his body already shifting like he was debating whether to run.

  “How everyone and their mother know that Irwen is ripping reality apart!” My glare locked onto him with the precision of a siege weapon. “Nobody told me how they know!”

  The prince hesitated, then his brows furrowed. “Wait… you don’t know?” His voice carried genuine disbelief. “You can’t feel it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have spatial magic.” I paused, considering. “Or maybe it’s because I’m not from this world?”

  Gatei, meanwhile, had retrieved a hammer—a massive, ridiculously oversized thing that seemed hilariously out of place in his small hands. I had no idea where he had pulled it from.

  The guards immediately took several cautious steps back.

  “What are you—?” I started, but before I could finish, Gatei swung the hammer with the kind of force that should have splintered his tiny bones into dust. The head of the hammer collided with the massive stone gate, and instead of just cracking or breaking, the entire thing crumbled.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Woah!

  I barely managed to jump back as chunks of stone crashed down, dust billowing up in thick clouds. When the rumble finally settled, I stood there, staring at the gaping ruin of what had once been the entrance.

  My mouth hung open.

  Gatei, for his part, looked incredibly pleased with himself. I turned to Relando, still wide-eyed. “Did that just happen?”

  The prince sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “Pretender,” he said telepathically. Then he resumed normally, “you really need to expect things like this.”

  “Follow me,” Gatei said, waving us forward as he hopped over the wreckage with the nimbleness of someone far too familiar with demolishing doorways. “I secured you an inner vault.”

  He moved at an energetic pace, weaving through the rubble as if it weren’t even there. I paused and cast a glance at the guards, half-expecting them to protest, maybe raise an eyebrow, something.

  Nothing.

  They stood as still as statues, completely unfazed, as if this were just another Tuesday. Maybe it was?

  With a sigh, I followed Gatei inside, carefully picking my way over the broken stones. The deeper we went, the cooler the air became. The damp scent of earth mixed with something older, something metallic, like the forgotten depths of an ancient forge.

  The tunnel beyond was a strange blend of raw nature and deliberate craftsmanship—the rough walls curved with the unmistakable hand of the elements, but interwoven through it were precise carvings, smooth stone walkways, and glowing magical torches embedded in sconces, their blue-white flames flickering without heat.

  If I had the time, I might’ve stopped to actually look at them, maybe piece together whatever history was scrawled there.

  I didn’t have that time.

  Because behind us—the gate rumbled. I turned back, eyes widening as the destruction we had just caused reversed itself like the world had suddenly hit rewind.

  Stone by stone, piece by piece, it flew—hovering for the briefest of moments before snapping into place with a precision. It wasn’t like an avalanche tumbling back up a mountain—no. This was deliberate. Guided. Like unseen hands were methodically stitching reality back together, sealing the damage we had caused without a trace.

  And the sound—

  It was grating, a deep, unnatural grinding that set my teeth on edge, a hundred stones scraping against each other, shifting and clicking into their rightful places with mechanical efficiency.

  Within seconds, the gate was whole again. Untouched. Like it had never been broken at all. I stood there, gawking, my brain desperately trying to process what I had just seen.

  Gatei, of course, just chuckled. “No one gets in without permission. No one gets out without permission.”

  I let out a slow breath and turned back toward the tunnel. “Well, that’s comforting.”

  We eventually stepped into a cozy chamber, the shift in atmosphere almost jarring compared to the raw, ancient tunnels we had just passed through.

  Soft blue light cascaded from an expensive-looking chandelier—a delicate structure of intertwining crystal and shimmering metal, suspended like a frozen constellation above our heads. The gentle glow bathed the room in a cool, calming hue, illuminating every polished surface with an almost ethereal sheen.

  Against the back wall stretched a long counter, its surface wrapped in white cloth that sparkled under the light.

  Not just clean—this was the kind of pristine that made me wonder if the cloth itself was enchanted. Maybe it was woven from something absurd like moon spider silk, or infused with divine dust, or, knowing the Twir, just really, really well-made linen.

  Lining the chamber were rows of chests, each one carved from wood that looked so exquisite it could probably pay off the debt of an entire kingdom. Every single one of them was wrapped in the same white cloth, giving the space a uniform, almost ceremonial elegance.

  “Your vault!” Gatei declared with a wide grin, gesturing grandly toward the space as if he had just unveiled a priceless treasure.

  I squinted at him. “We just… walked forward?” I asked, glancing at Relando, who nodded, equally perplexed. “Is this, like, a common vault?”

  Gatei shook his head, his expression the very picture of smugness. “No, it’s yours. I’ll bring others somewhere else—into their own vaults. Don’t worry.”

  I shrugged and reached for my first bag, pulling out a particularly heavy idol and setting it on the spotless counter.

  Across from me, Relando sank into a chair that looked like it probably cost more than whole village number seventeen. He looked back into the entrance, brow furrowing slightly as if he were trying to wrap his mind around how we got here.

  “Your magic is impressive,” he muttered, his tone almost grudgingly admiring.

  “Oh, it’s divine magic,” I said, nonchalantly flicking a gold-trimmed goblet onto the counter. “Twir are kinda gods.”

  That got his attention.

  He froze, his head snapping toward me so fast I thought he might strain his neck. “Wait. Gods?“ His voice held the disbelief usually reserved for finding out your childhood hero was actually a drunk.

  Gatei, for his part, remained completely unbothered. He simply kicked the wall beside him—because apparently, doors and chairs were for boring people—and, in response, a smooth stone seat rose from the ground like it had just been summoned into existence.

  Then, as if this was the most natural thing in the world, he reached into his pocket, pulled out something that suspiciously looked like dried meat, and started eating with the casual air of a man completely unphased by reality itself.

  “How are we doing this?” I asked, eyeing the absurdly expensive chests before glancing back at him.

  Gatei grinned, amused, chewing thoughtfully before gesturing lazily at the vault. “It’s yours. Store anything you want, anywhere.”

  Relando, however, was still not over the god thing. He turned back to Gatei, his expression caught somewhere between horrified realization and complete existential crisis.

  “You’re a god?“ he demanded, as if just now realizing the full weight of the situation.

  Gatei finished his bite, thought for a moment, then flashed another mischievous grin. “In a sense, you could say that,” he admitted, voice thick with delight.

  Relando looked like someone had just kicked over his entire world-view.

  Gatei, unbothered as ever, leaned back against his summoned chair and waved a dismissive hand. “Our ancestor was a veritable god, so we all carry divinity. But it’s not like every one of us can just be gods.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Sure seems like it,” I muttered, gesturing toward the literal stone seat he had just casually manifested from the ground.

  Gatei’s gaze flicked to the nearly overflowing table, his grin widening like a man who had just stumbled onto the juiciest piece of gossip in years. “Party tricks,” he mused, waving a hand dismissively, as if divine magic was nothing more than a casual hobby. His ball of foot tapped idly on the ground before he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “But I’m more interested in your masquerade mask.”

  I blinked. My what now?

  His gaze lowered meaningfully to my face, and before I could even process what he meant, my own hand shot up, patting my cheeks frantically until my fingers brushed against—oh.

  The mask.

  Still strapped over my damn eyes.

  A wave of heat crawled up my neck as realization dawned, and I froze, my fingers curling against the edge of the mask. Oh no. I had completely forgotten about it. In my defense, a lot had happened between robbing a temple and now. But still.

  Gatei’s grin turned amused as he leaned forward, watching my delayed reaction with a kind of smug delight.

  “Are you the noble thief who was brazen enough to rob a mourning home?” His voice was thick with mock reverence, as if I was some legendary figure in a heroic ballad instead of a very confused, very flustered... thief.

  I could hear the prince’s giggle. I cleared my throat, attempting to regain even a sliver of dignity. “They… already gave me a name?” I asked, hesitantly.

  Gatei outright cackled, throwing his head back, his laughter echoing in the enclosed chamber like a damn bell. “Oh, Princess, you underestimate just how fast a scandal travels when you piss off the gods!”