I wake to warmth that doesn't belong to me.
A blanket is tucked around my chest—soft, unfamiliar. My fingers curl around the fabric instinctively as I blink against the daylight leaking through the cracked stone walls.
When did I fall asleep?
And more importantly—who did this?
The answer arrives before I even have to ask.
Scarlette.
The thought settles like a stone in my chest. I rub my eyes and sit up. She stands a few feet away, already awake, her attention fixed on the orb floating above her hand like a second sun.
Did she even sleep?
"Good. The spell is working," she murmurs to herself, tone light, almost amused.
Red mist curls from her palm, entwining with the golden magic surrounding the orb. The colors spiral like smoke—thick, vivid, alive. They pulse in tandem, as if breathing.
I can't look away.
Then her voice sharpens. "Alright, Veravos. I'll need your dark magic later."
I stiffen. "No."
She blinks. "What?"
"You told me this was a spell for blind loyalty—before we came here. So tell me again. What are you actually doing?"
She sighs, her lips quirking into a guilty smile. "I told the truth. Just… the easy part."
My gut tightens.
"The mists," I say, voice tense. "They're growing thicker. Why?"
She rolls her shoulders, brushing off the weight of consequence. "I'm binding loyalty—not from a person, but from the emerald. If we can't trust people, maybe we can make the gem trust us instead."
My pulse kicks. "You're trying to dominate an ancient object that bends reality."
Scarlette doesn't even flinch. "The mists absorbed light magic overnight. It's everywhere here. I only took a little."
I don't think. I react.
A surge of dark mist bursts from my hand, ripping toward the orb.
It shatters on impact—dispersing into nothing with a hollow crack and a burst of cold air.
Scarlette flinches. "Veravos! It's too soon for dark magic!" Her voice cracks with anger and disbelief. "You ruined it. I have to start over now."
I say nothing.
That's the point.
This kind of spell—ancient, volatile—requires precision. One wrong step, and it unravels. If my magic is the final ingredient, I'm not offering it.
Still, she tries again.
A new orb forms—glowing red, coiled in yellow mist. It floats beside the emerald, which rotates slowly inside the haze, like it's watching us.
I rise slowly, dread settling in my chest.
"Scarlette, stop. You don't know what you're toying with. The emerald isn't some trinket you can bind to your will."
She scowls. "What if the Light Guardian's already dead? What if there's no scroll left to decode? This could be the only way. The emerald's nothing but costume jewelry"
"It's not worth the risk. You don't force reality into loyalty."
Her eyes flick to mine. For a moment, I think I reach her.
Then she looks away.
I'd heard of this spell once, in whispers and forbidden pages. Magic so old it had been buried on purpose.
And now she's using it like it was just another shortcut.
"Veravos, this is our failsafe," she says. "It's faster."
"But at what cost? All your powers?"
She hesitates. A flicker of doubt—then gone.
She reached out, maybe for me. Maybe for the orb.
I turn and walk out.
I'm not doing this. Not again.
In the kitchen, the scent of soup hits me—rich, earthy, familiar. For a moment, my anger wavers.
Real soup.
A pot still bubbles on the stove.
"Oh, Lumera… you really didn't have to…" I mutter.
But the pot is unattended. The windows stand open. The house is too quiet.
A chill spreads down my spine.
I turn off the flame and listen.
Nothing but the hush of wind.
Then I see it—glitter, hanging in the air like fractured stardust. A faint, musty scent clings to the walls, creeping into my lungs.
"Lumera?" I call.
Silence.
I turn toward the hallway. "Scarlette? Did you see her?"
She steps out of the bedroom, brows furrowed. "No. I thought she was cooking."
Not good.
She crosses to Lumera's door and knocks. Nothing.
Then golden mist begins to curl from beneath it—dense and unnatural.
I kick the door open.
My stomach drops.
Lumera lies on the ground.
Or… what's left of her.
Her body dissolves before our eyes, crumbling into yellow dust.
Scarlette stumbles back, horrified. "Ver… Lumera… let's save her," she whispers, voice breaking.
She reaches for the emerald.
I block her.
"She's gone."
The words fall like stones.
Scarlette turns to me, wide-eyed. "What happened?"
I can't answer.
The room isn't just empty—it's wrong. Shadows twist unnaturally. Claw marks scar the walls, burned deep with ancient, brutal magic.
Whoever did this didn't just kill her.
They erased her.
Scarlette's voice trembles. "I can use the emerald—I can bring her back—"
She stands.
Reaches again.
But the yellow mist is already moving.
It slips past us, drifting down the hallway, drawn toward the bedroom.
Toward the new red orb.
Of course she restarted it.
Of course.
Something cold knots in my gut.
The words slip out before I can stop them—sharp, cruel.
"Your spell… you did this."
The moment they leave my mouth, I know they're wrong.
This isn't Scarlette's work. Too sharp. Too precise. Too familiar.
Dark Fairy magic.
But the damage is done.
Her expression fractures—shock, pain, anger.
"Your trust in me is underwhelming," she says, voice like frost.
"I didn't mean that," I say quickly, stepping closer.
She doesn't reply.
Doesn't even look at me.
I stand frozen as she walks past me in silence.
Back into Lumera's room.
The dust clings to the air, glowing faintly. I kneel and touch it. It sticks to my skin—weightless and eerie, like dream pollen.
I look up at the walls again.
Deep claw marks. Deliberate. Too exact.
Dark Fairy work.
"No," I whisper. "This wasn't you. This was one of us."
Silence.
I turn.
She's gone.
"Scarlette?" I call.
Nothing.
"Scarlette!"
Still nothing.
The red orb—gone.
She took it.
She left.
The silence sharpens around me. Bitter.
Well done, Veravos.
I accused her.
Drove her away.
Now Lumera is dead, and I'm alone.
The emerald sits heavy in my palm—cold, indifferent.
She'll come back. I believe that.
But the belief doesn't comfort me.
Alone has always felt like a punishment I deserved.
But now?
Now it just feels hollow.
I need answers.
Who did this?
Which Dark Fairy can reduce a body to dust, carve claw marks into stone, and vanish without a trace?
Judorah? Is she really that powerful?
And why Lumera?
Why now?
Golden mist still lingers in the hallway, pulsing faintly, like it remembers everything.
My chest tightens.
I've lost something I didn't realize I was afraid to lose.
And I don't know how to get it back.