Morning in Orlandis was bright, but Castor's world was far from it.
He jolted awake in his hotel bed, drenched in cold sweat. His chest heaved as the echo of last night's dream clawed at his throat—the image of Ethan's burning body flickering behind his eyelids like a cursed film reel. The way the flames licked his friend's skin. The way Ethan had screamed, then gone silent. Castor stumbled to the bathroom and collapsed to his knees, retching into the toilet. He felt empty and sick all at once. The smell of smoke and the phantom sound of Ethan's voice haunted him still.
It wasn't just a dream. It was a memory.
By the time he got dressed and joined the others in the lobby for breakfast, he was pale but trying to hold himself together. Snowflake noticed instantly but didn't say anything right away. She gave him a brief look—quiet concern behind that crimson gaze.
They all sat around a table near the window, sunlight pouring in through gauzy curtains. Misha and Isla were already digging into their food, while Castor picked at a piece of toast.
Snowflake sipped her tea and leaned back in her chair, as casual as ever. "So, the plan today," she said, "is to head to the buyer's place by noon. He lives in a secluded part of Orlandis—bit of a drive."
"What's his deal again?" Isla asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Guy's name is Hayden," Snowflake replied. "A shut-in. Found the Aegis Shield years ago while hiking with friends. Apparently, it was buried under a collapsed part of the mountain."
"Wait—how the hell did he carry something like that down?" Castor asked, frowning.
Snowflake smirked. "No idea. Probably didn't. Might've taken him days. But somehow he did, and now it's on sale for two hundred bucks."
Misha blinked. "Wait. That's it? Just $200?"
Snowflake shrugged. "eBay is wild."
Misha narrowed her eyes. "How do you even have this kind of money just lying around?"
"Please," Snowflake said, flipping her hair with mock pride. "I have over a million dollars sitting pretty in my crypto wallet and offshore accounts. You think all I do is flirt with Castor and hack into school firewalls?"
"She's serious," Castor muttered, raising an eyebrow at Misha. "You should see her when she's doing 'freelance missions.' It's terrifying."
Misha looked like she didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned. Isla, meanwhile, simply sipped her juice in silence, processing.
By noon, they were on the road, riding a rented car through winding coastal trails and up into the more forested edges of Orlandis. The sun was bright, the sky open and peaceful—but Castor couldn't shake the feeling that it was the calm before another storm.
They eventually reached a rusted metal gate and a sloped gravel path that led to a small wooden house nestled against the mountainside. It looked like it hadn't been painted in years. A collection of odd junk was piled up near the porch—old tools, broken TVs, some kind of satellite dish.
Hayden opened the door the moment they knocked. He was in his early thirties, unshaven, wearing a coffee-stained hoodie and pajama pants. His hair was a mess and his eyes had the sunken look of someone who hadn't slept properly in weeks.
"You're here for the shield," he said flatly.
"We are," Snowflake said. "Hayden, right?"
"That's me." He opened the door wider and waved them inside. "Come on in. I don't bite."
The inside of the house was worse. Dusty, cluttered, and poorly lit. Castor's nose wrinkled at the scent of mold and unwashed dishes.
"I found it ten years ago," Hayden said as he walked them to the back room. "Me and my buddies were hiking up Grindle Peak. There was a rockslide, and we found this... thing buried beneath. It shimmered. It hummed when I touched it. They said to leave it. I didn't."
He pulled a sheet off a wooden crate in the corner—and there it was. The Aegis Shield.
It gleamed faintly even in the dim room, a burnished silver-gold disc covered in ancient engravings. The face of Medusa, mouth open in a scream, was etched at its center. The shield was thick, polished, and gave off an unnatural weight just by presence.
"...Whoa," Misha whispered.
"That's it," Hayden said. "Two hundred bucks. That's all I want."
"Why so cheap?" Isla asked.
Hayden shrugged. "Don't need the money. Just wanna get rid of it. It's… weird. Gives me dreams. I don't like having it in the house."
"Dreams?" Castor asked quietly.
"Yeah. Burning snakes. A woman's voice screaming in some dead language. Every time I try to throw it away, it comes back."
The others looked at each other uneasily. Castor stepped forward, his hand hovering above the shield. He gripped the handle and lifted it—
It was heavy. Unnaturally so. The moment his fingers curled around it, something in the air shifted. Everyone felt it.
But Castor… he could hold it. Not with ease, but with purpose.
Hayden watched with wide eyes. "Huh. I couldn't even get it off the floor."
Snowflake handed him a stack of bills, and they turned to leave.
"Thanks for the… creepy artifact," Castor muttered.
As they drove back down to the city, the shield in the trunk, a strange stillness filled the car. Misha kept glancing at the shield, her expression clouded. Isla looked out the window, as if thinking through every possibility. Snowflake, surprisingly, looked quiet. Thoughtful.
Castor kept his hand resting on the edge of the shield, feeling its cold pulse beneath his fingertips.
One step closer to saving Ethan.
The coastal winds whispered against the car windows as the group drove back toward the airport. Orlandis faded behind them—its sun-splashed boardwalks and candy-colored rooftops becoming a memory softened by time and the surreal weight of what they now carried.
The Aegis Shield sat silent in the trunk, wrapped in a blanket Snowflake had stolen from the hotel room. Even muffled, its presence was felt—like a pressure, a pulse, an ancient echo slumbering behind them.
Castor sat in the passenger seat, arms folded, his eyes half-lidded as he watched the ocean blur past. The taste of sea salt clung faintly to the air, but even that couldn't shake off the tightness in his chest. Every few seconds, he'd glance back—at the trunk, at Misha beside him, at Isla and Snowflake talking softly in the back.
He wasn't sure why, but a feeling of dread bloomed in his chest.
"You're being quiet again," Misha said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft. Almost tired.
"Thinking," Castor replied without turning. "That shield's not normal."
"No kidding," she muttered. "It gave Hayden nightmares. The creepy kind."
"Nightmares," Castor repeated under his breath. "That might be a side effect… or maybe a warning."
From the backseat, Isla leaned forward. "We'll figure it out, Castor. We have it now. That's the hard part, right?"
"Having a cursed relic in our possession isn't really the hard part, Isla," Snowflake cut in, smirking. "Try removing a thousand-year-old psychic entity from someone without killing him."
"You're so encouraging," Misha muttered.
"Thanks, I try."
Castor closed his eyes and listened. Despite the banter, they were all tense. Each of them was reacting differently. Isla was calm and rational as always, but her fingers twitched slightly whenever she stopped talking. Misha kept fidgeting with her sleeves, occasionally glancing at Castor, unsure of how to express her concern. And Snowflake, though ever-playful, had gone quieter, her quips more subdued.
"I don't think we're ready," Castor said finally.
The car fell quiet.
Snowflake tilted her head. "For what?"
"To face Medusa. To face Ethan," he replied. "If he really is still alive… if he's still inside that body…"
"You're scared you'll see him again," Isla said, not accusingly. Just fact.
Castor exhaled sharply, then nodded. "I saw him die. I felt it. I smelled it. But now, I'm being told that wasn't the end? That he might still be in there, suffering?"
Misha rested a hand lightly on his arm. "We're going to help him. That's why we're doing all this. Right?"
"Yeah," he murmured. "Right."
Snowflake folded her arms behind her head, staring up at the ceiling of the car. "You're not alone, Castor. You've got three elite women ready to follow you into hell. You think we're doing this for fun?"
He gave a small, reluctant smile. "You're definitely doing it for me."
"Of course," she smirked. "But Ethan too. He was one of us."
"Still is," Misha added quickly.
They reached the Orlandis airport by late afternoon. After a brief security holdup due to the "strange metal artifact" in their luggage (Snowflake smooth-talked their way out of it), they boarded the plane back to Griza.
Onboard, Castor sat by the window, his head resting against the cool pane. Misha took the seat beside him, eyes flickering between the view and his exhausted expression. Across the aisle, Snowflake and Isla were seated together—oddly civil, though the tension still simmered just beneath the surface.
They flew through twilight, the sky melting from tangerine into deep blue. Clouds drifted beneath them like soft specters.
At some point during the flight, Castor dozed off again.
This time, there were no dreams of fire. No screaming. Just silence—and the faint sound of something slithering in the dark.