Vard realm
The wind was the only sound in the polished, quiet halls of the heavenly palace.
It slipped through the glassless windows like a whisper, carrying the faintest echo of distant footsteps from patrolling guards and quiet attendants. Sunlight spilled into the arched corridors in long, golden bands, bathing the white marble walls in a gentle glow.
Siren moved slowly toward the towering door at the end of the hall — a door that seemed to hold grief behind it. His fingers twitched against his side as he reached it, breathing deep like he was about to walk into a storm. A thousand thoughts darted through his mind before he lifted his knuckles and knocked, each tap sounding heavier than it should.
A pause. Then —
"You can come in."
Her voice was soft, but there was a weight beneath it, as if every word carried a stone.
He turned the polished knob carefully and stepped inside.
"Mom?" he said, voice breaking the silence.
Christina sat on the edge of her bed, clutching a folded set of Blue's garments like they were her last breath. She hadn't left her chambers since Blue was taken from them — no, since he was sent away. The thought of Areane's hand in it made the air around her colder.
Siren's chest tightened. His mother had always been radiant, her joy like a warm hearth, but now she was all shadows and stillness. The sight hurt more than any blade could.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, turning her head toward him. Even her voice had dulled.
"Well… Winter and I are heading to Olime's Realm."
Concern threaded through his words, but she only gave him a curt nod, turning her back once more.
He hesitated. His lips pressed into a thin line before he stepped out, the door closing behind him like a sigh.
---
Liendman's Home
"I promise we'll be back by tomorrow," Siren said, the plea clear in his voice.
His magic smile — the one that could charm even the most stubborn — flickered in place, but here, it did nothing.
Liendman's eyes narrowed, and the air seemed to thicken. His gaze was sharp enough to slice through armor, and Siren felt it press into his lungs.
"Come on, honey," Sofia murmured, slipping her hand into her husband's. She gave it a gentle squeeze, her eyes a soft plea. "It's just Olime's Realm."
"I know," Liendman began, his voice a low growl. But when he caught Winter's eyes from across the room — wide, steady, silently asking for his trust — his sigh gave him away.
"Fine," he said at last, though it was less a concession and more a reluctant surrender. "But only because you've already given that prideful boy your whole heart."
Winter's cheeks flushed instantly. Siren's lips twitched, fighting a laugh.
"You're only going to ask Gerald for help, then return," Liendman added, his voice hard enough to freeze fire. The warning sank deep, sending a chill through Siren's bones.
"Yes, Pa," Winter replied quickly.
The next moment, Siren felt his arm seized in a firm grip — and then they were outside, the wind sharp on their faces.
"We better hurry before he changes his mind," Winter said, noticing his frown.
"Oh… okay."
Siren rolled his shoulders, breathing in, and began weaving the magic. He whispered the incantations he'd learned in teleportation classes, his hands moving with precision.
The air thickened, swirling around them. Sparks of violet light danced from his fingertips, weaving into the air like threads of silk. A faint hum built into a deep, resonant thrum. Slowly — painfully slowly — a spiral of purple energy took shape before them, crackling with yellow lightning as it expanded into a dark, whirling hole.
Winter took a step back. "You sure it doesn't lead to the Valley of Death?" she muttered.
Siren arched an eyebrow. "Don't trust me?"
He extended a hand toward her.
Her lips parted in a short, sharp exhale. She placed her hand in his reluctantly, whispering under her breath, "For Blue."
---
Olime's Realm
The portal spat them out onto warm, pale stone.
The sky here was deeper than any blue in Vard — an endless dome streaked with gold clouds that shimmered faintly as they drifted. A sprawling training court stretched before them, ringed by tall pillars carved with runes. In the center, three figures sparred, their magic painting the air in violent colors.
Gerald was unmistakable. His sandy hair caught the light as he parried a blast of water with a casual flick of his wrist, turning it into a ribbon of mist that coiled lazily around his arm before dissolving. His brothers — taller, broader — circled him with grins, trying and failing to land a hit.
Then, the portal's hum made them pause.
The swirling violet ring opened midair above the training ground, the crackle of yellow lightning drawing every eye. When Siren and Winter stumbled out, Gerald's grin widened.
"Well," he said, dusting his hands. "If it isn't Vard's golden troublemaker and… the reason I bother waking up in the morning."
Winter blinked, caught off guard. "Gerald…"
"Miss me?" His voice carried an easy humor, but his eyes lingered on her longer than necessary.
Siren's jaw tightened slightly, but Gerald only chuckled and gestured toward the shade of a nearby pavilion. "Come on, before my brothers decide to eavesdrop."
---
They sat around a low stone table, and Gerald listened as Siren explained — every detail about Blue's disappearance, Areane's suspected hand in it, and the need for help. The lightness in Gerald's face dimmed as he leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"You think I haven't heard?" he said at last. "Half the realms are buzzing with it. The other half are pretending they haven't."
Winter's eyes narrowed. "So you know where he is?"
"I know where we might start." Gerald's fingers tapped against the table. "But it's not somewhere we can just walk into. The Banished Sanctum — a sealed quarter of the heavenly realms. It's where they keep the dangerous ones. Not demons, but… not far from it."
Siren frowned. "Why would we go there?"
"Because," Gerald said, leaning forward with a faint smile, "I have a friend inside. A wizard who owes me more than a few favors. He might have heard whispers — whispers about where your dear brother landed."
Winter's breath caught. "Can we trust him?"
Gerald's gaze softened on her. "With my life. Which means… with yours."
He stood, brushing off his robe. "If you're coming, we leave now. The longer we wait, the more those whispers fade."
---
The three of them stepped out into the courtyard, Gerald leading the way toward a smaller, older set of gates etched with warning sigils. The air beyond shimmered faintly, like heat over sand.
Winter glanced at Siren. "Feels wrong."
"It is," Gerald said, his grin returning faintly. "That's how you know we're in the right place."
The gates groaned open.
And there, beyond the threshold, the world shifted — the colors sharper, the air colder, and shadows moving in ways they shouldn't. Somewhere in that shifting dark, a low, distant laugh echoed.
"Gerald..we shouldn't be here..." Winter's voice trembled with fear as she felt the suffocating stares.
Gerald paused in his tracks, a heavy sigh escaping from him.
"Don't worry princess, we are gods, they can't lay a claw on us...unless you give them the permission"
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