The rumble had barely faded when Jack and Beatrice burst through the double doors of the main sala.
Warm candlelight danced across the tall stained-glass windows. Nobles and guards lined the walls, tense and whispering. At the center stood Duke Greysen, his arms crossed, gaze fixed on the newcomer.
She was impossible to miss.
Draped in a robe of midnight silk embroidered with shimmering sigils, the High Mage of Evendale stood with her back straight and her hands clasped behind her. Silver hair curled like smoke down her shoulders. Sparks of mana fizzled gently at her feet, never quite touching the ground.
"Ah," she said suddenly, her head turning sharply toward Jack. "There you are."
Jack froze. Everyone's eyes turned to him.
Duke Greysen gestured. "Jack Craneson. The one you've come to see."
Beatrice leaned in. "Whatever you do, don't insult her. She's unpredictable."
The High Mage stepped forward, studying him like a scholar might a puzzle. "So ordinary... yet not." Her voice echoed, not loud, but unnaturally clear. "You tremble like a man, but your soul—it howls like a gate torn open."
"I don't know what you mean," Jack said quietly.
"Good. That makes you honest."
She gave a small smile—genuine, almost kind, but with an undertone of madness. "I'm Selvarra of the Silver Flame. I felt your presence days ago from across the mountains. You tore through the weave of our world like a falling star. And now here you are. In flesh."
Jack glanced at the Duke, uncertain. "So… what do you want from me?"
"I want to see," Selvarra said, stepping closer. "I want to see what lies beneath your skin, your fear, your hesitation. Because something in you does not belong. And that is dangerous—or miraculous."
Beatrice stepped in front of Jack instinctively. "He's not ready."
Selvarra smiled at her. "Neither was I, child, the day I burned down a city by accident."
A heavy silence fell.
Duke Greysen's voice broke it. "You came here for answers, Selvarra. Not destruction."
"I came here," she replied softly, "to witness the beginning of a prophecy—or the end of a kingdom."
Selvarra's playful grin faded, replaced by a look of quiet urgency.
"Let's stop with the jokes," she said, her voice settling into a more serious tone. "I didn't rush here just to poke fun or marvel at your hair, Jack Craneson."
She looked at the Duke, then at Jack again.
"I came because you're the last one."
Jack frowned. "Last what?"
"The last otherworlder," she replied.
Beatrice blinked. "Wait… there are others?"
Selvarra raised her hand, conjuring a shifting circle of pale light in the air. Inside it, five hazy silhouettes shimmered — each bearing a different elemental aura: one cloaked in fire, another in ice, one surrounded by storm winds, one wrapped in shadows, and the last radiating a soft, golden light.
"They all arrived here — in Eldoria — within days of each other. Just like you. We've already brought them to the capital. Not as prisoners, mind you… but as guests. Watched over. Studied."
Jack's expression hardened. "Why?"
"Because you're dangerous," she said bluntly. "Not by choice. Not yet. But you don't belong here — and the world feels it."
Duke Greysen folded his arms. "The royal family mentioned an urgent development. This is it, then?"
Selvarra nodded. "They're gathering all six. For what exactly, they haven't said. But they made it clear in their message—they're waiting for the last piece of the puzzle."
She looked Jack dead in the eye.
"They're waiting for you."
A brief silence fell over the room. The weight of Selvarra's words settled heavily, but she didn't let it linger.
Her expression shifted again, this time into something more curious — almost mischievous.
"I heard about what happened at the gates," she said, stepping closer to Jack, her eyes gleaming. "The goblins? Pulverized. With… what, exactly? Not a sword. Not a spell."
She tilted her head. "So tell me, Jack Craneson. What can you do?"
Jack looked at her, blinked once, then shrugged.
"Panic. Mostly."
Beatrice stifled a laugh. Howard grinned.
"I'm serious," Selvarra said, though she couldn't help but chuckle. "The other five — each of them awakened with something. Fire. Ice. Storm winds. Shadow. Light. The world gave them gifts."
She narrowed her eyes. "What did it give you?"
Jack folded his arms and leaned slightly back. "Uh… crippling anxiety and a laptop charger."
The room broke into quiet laughter, but Selvarra only smiled, eyes still locked on him.
"Interesting," she murmured. "Because that nothing you used? It shattered goblins like glass. I'd like to see that nothing again sometime."
Jack looked away, the smile fading just a bit. "Yeah… you and me both."
Selvarra's eyes glittered with something between curiosity and challenge.
"Well then," she said, voice low but clear. "What if I told you I could help you figure it out?"
Jack blinked. "Figure what out?"
She stepped closer, her robes whispering against the marble floor. "Whatever it is that's inside you. The world doesn't just give that much mana to someone for no reason."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You saying I'm some kind of chosen one?"
"No," Selvarra replied, smirking. "I'm saying you're a mystery. And I hate mysteries I can't crack."
The duke cleared his throat, watching carefully but not interrupting. No one else in the room spoke.
"So?" Selvarra asked, now standing just a few feet from Jack. "Come to Evendale. Let me run a few tests. A spar or two. Nothing too dangerous."
Jack glanced at Beatrice, who looked worried. He looked back at Selvarra, then gave a dry smile.
"Tests, huh? This doesn't involve poking me with glowing sticks or locking me in some arcane MRI, does it?"
Selvarra grinned. "Only if you resist."
He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Fine. But if I explode or accidentally summon a thunder god, that's on you."
"Deal," she said, her voice dancing with excitement. "We leave at dawn."
Jack stepped into the courtyard, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "What time is it?"
"Too late for you to still look like a drowned cat," Arabella said, smirking from where she sat on a stone bench, a half-eaten apple in hand.
"You wound me," Jack groaned dramatically. "At least let me drink water before the roasting begins."
Beatrice walked past him, adjusting her gloves. "If water could fix your face, I would've dunked you myself."
"Oof," Howard muttered from the side, pretending to take cover. "The ladies strike first today."
Jack pointed between Arabella and Beatrice. "I'm sensing... hostility."
"I'm sensing you should pack better shoes," Beatrice said.
"Those things look like soggy bread," Arabella added, eyeing Jack's shoes. "Did they come with the goblins?"
"I was trying to pack light!" Jack protested. "You know, speed and mobility!"
Harold walked in, sipping a mug of something steaming. "Mobility? I've seen snails outrun you in the forest."
"I had a pulled hamstring!" Jack exclaimed.
"You fell into a ditch," Beatrice said dryly.
Howard slapped Jack on the back. "At least your ego's still intact. That's what counts."
Arabella stood up, brushing off her cloak. "Let's hope it's thick enough to survive Evendale. And speaking of—why exactly are you coming with us, Beatrice?"
Beatrice looked at her with a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "To make sure someone doesn't go running off into danger without thinking. Again."
Jack immediately turned around and stared at a tree. "I'm going to pretend this tree is saying something more peaceful."
"I can run into danger just fine, thank you," Arabella snapped. "Maybe better than you standing around with a book."
"I happen to be useful with that book."
Howard interrupted with a loud whistle. "Alright, alright, lovebirds, no need to burn the courtyard down. Save the sparks for the battlefield."
"We are not—" Arabella and Beatrice said in unison, then glared at each other.
Harold raised an eyebrow at Jack. "You sure you're ready for this?"
"I'm not sure I was ready for breakfast," Jack replied.
An hour later...
The grand wagon waited at the manor gates, sturdy and wide enough to carry a small team of adventurers comfortably. Two black steeds snorted at the front, reins in the hands of Harold and Howard, who sat side by side on the driver's bench, already arguing about who should steer.
"I'm better at turns," Harold insisted.
"You nearly turned us into a river last time," Howard replied.
"Details."
Inside the wagon, cushioned benches lined the interior. Jack sat in the middle, sandwiched between Arabella and Beatrice, who had clearly made an unspoken agreement to claim opposite ends—yet somehow still radiated subtle animosity across him like twin solar flares.
Arabella crossed her legs and rested her elbow on the side rail. "Hope you don't get carriage sick, Jack."
"I'm starting to get sick of something else already," Jack muttered, shifting uncomfortably between the two.
Beatrice glanced at him, feigning innocence. "Need a pillow? Or a shield?"
Jack groaned. "I need divine intervention."
Above them, a gentle hum of arcane energy filled the air. Selvarra hovered gracefully overhead, her long cloak billowing with enchanted wind. She drifted alongside the wagon for a moment, her hands glowing with a soft violet light.
"Try not to break anything—or each other—before reaching Evendale," she said, smiling knowingly.
"Don't worry, they're harmless," Howard called up.
"Mostly," Harold added.
Selvarra chuckled. "I'll be expecting you in the capital. Travel safely." Then, with a flash of light and a ripple of wind, she ascended into the sky, becoming a shimmering dot in the clouds.
Arabella leaned back with a sigh. "Show off."
"Still less dramatic than you," Beatrice murmured.
Jack buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe this is only day one."
As the wagon began to roll down the dirt road toward the capital, the tension inside bumped along with it—thick, awkward, and laced with dry humor.
Howard's voice drifted from the front: "Place your bets now—who cracks first?"
Harold grinned. "My money's on Jack."
Just before the wagon rolled out of the manor gates, the iron doors of the courtyard creaked open once more. Duke Greysen and Liam Aurumnhart stepped out, flanked by two guards. Their presence brought the group to a pause, wheels slowing, reins pulling back.
Arabella's smile faded into something softer as she jumped lightly down from the wagon. She approached her father, who gave her a long, searching look.
"You've always had your mother's fire," he said quietly, placing a hand on her cheek. "But don't forget you also carry my stubbornness. Use both wisely."
Arabella nodded. "I'll be fine, Father."
Liam stepped forward next. "And if she isn't, I'm coming to get her myself," he joked, though his voice carried the sharpness of sincerity. He gave Jack a long, measuring glance. "Just make sure she comes back with all limbs attached."
Jack held up his hands. "I'll do my best not to get her maimed. Or myself."
The Duke stepped forward now, gaze firm as he addressed Jack directly.
"She's precious to me," he said, voice calm but weighty. "Take care of her. And take care of yourself."
Jack blinked, the words hitting deeper than he expected. "I will. I promise."
Arabella returned to the wagon, not looking back as she climbed in. Beatrice raised an eyebrow but said nothing for once. Jack took his seat in silence.
Harold flicked the reins. "And we're off."
As the wagon rolled steadily down the cobbled road, the sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the trees. Inside the spacious carriage, the atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed—until Beatrice jabbed Jack lightly with her elbow.
"So, great hero of the gates," she said with a smirk, "what terrifying power are you hiding today? Will you sneeze lightning this time?"
Jack blinked. "No, but I do bite."
Arabella snorted from her side of the seat. "That would explain your table manners."
Jack held a hand to his heart. "Wow. Betrayed by the one I saved. Tragic."
"You didn't save me," Arabella shot back, teasing in her tone. "I saved you, remember?"
"You two sound like an old married couple," Beatrice muttered, crossing her arms.
Arabella leaned over. "Says the girl who practically growls when I breathe near Jack."
Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "Only because your perfume makes my head spin."
Jack raised both hands. "Alright, alright, no fighting. Peace in the wagon. We can all bully Harold instead."
From outside, Harold shouted, "I heard that!"
Howard chuckled from the front. "Good. Then maybe next time don't snore like a dying troll."
"I do not snore—!"
The group laughed together, the tension from earlier fading into the fresh air and open road. The gentle rocking of the wagon, the crunch of gravel beneath wooden wheels, and the distant cry of birds overhead all added to the peaceful rhythm of their journey.
Above them, Selvarra soared lazily through the sky on a glowing disk of magic, circling once before calling down to them.
"Don't break anything, little ones!" she yelled, grinning from ear to ear. "See you in the capital!"
Jack leaned out the window and cupped his hands. "You sure you don't wanna ride with us? Plenty of drama and sarcasm to go around!"
"No thanks," Selvarra laughed. "I prefer not being trapped in a wagon-shaped pressure cooker of emotions!"
With a playful wink, she vanished into the clouds, a trail of shimmering runes dancing in her wake.
As the trees closed in around the road and the sun dipped just a little lower, Jack leaned back in his seat, exhaling.
"Not gonna lie," he said. "For a deadly quest to the capital, this is actually kinda nice."
Arabella glanced at him, smiling faintly. "Give it a few days. The capital's full of surprises."
Beatrice stretched her arms. "Let's just hope we survive each other first."
And with that, the wagon rolled on—toward Evendale, toward the unknown, and toward whatever fate had in store for the last Otherworlder.