Hidden.
Silent.
Listening.
Several floors above the throne room, the Wolkin agent remained perfectly still.
The meeting had ended.
The Generals had gone.
Even Korvin had finally left.
Only the Queen remained.
The spy glanced toward the small device hidden nearby.
There was little reason to continue.
She had already captured more than she had expected.
Fragments.
Names.
Reactions.
Enough to confirm that the Empire's defeat had been far more significant than its newspapers would ever admit.
She reached for the device.
Then stopped.
The Queen spoke.
"Yes, My God."
The spy froze.
Silence followed.
Long enough that she wondered if someone had entered the room beyond the range of the device.
She listened harder.
Nothing.
Then—
"I understand."
Another pause.
The Wolkin frowned.
There was no second voice.
No footsteps.
No movement.
Nothing.
Only the Queen.
"The Winter Solstice."
Silence.
"Seven months should be sufficient."
The spy slowly lowered her hand.
Who was she talking to?
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
"Yes."
The Queen's voice was quieter.
"When Chaos reaches its peak."
The Wolkin's eyes narrowed.
Chaos?
That made no sense.
The Empire had spent generations condemning Chaos worship.
Hunting it.
Purging it.
Destroying temples and executing cultists.
At least—
That was what everyone had been told.
The spy leaned closer.
The Queen said nothing more.
For nearly a minute, the throne room remained completely silent.
Then—
A bell rang.
A servant appeared shortly afterward.
The Queen's voice returned.
"Bring General Korvin and General Lysandra back."
The servant left.
The spy didn't move.
Whatever she had just heard—
She didn't understand it.
But she knew enough not to stop listening now.
Several minutes passed.
Footsteps.
Two sets.
Then voices.
Korvin first.
"Your Majesty."
Lysandra followed.
"My Queen."
"How long?"
Korvin answered immediately.
"To replace what we lost?"
"To surpass it."
A pause.
"Seven months would be difficult."
"That was not my question."
Another pause.
Then—
"Two hundred fifty thousand."
The Wolkin's breath caught.
Korvin continued.
"Possibly more. But not without drawing heavily from the interior territories."
"Do it."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Queen turned her attention elsewhere.
"And the mage divisions?"
Lysandra answered.
"Damaged."
"That is obvious."
"We lost too many experienced mages. Replacing bodies is simple. Replacing decades of training is not."
"Then don't."
Silence.
Lysandra seemed uncertain.
"My Queen?"
"Find those with potential."
Another pause.
"And I will ensure they have the power necessary."
The Wolkin's fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
She didn't know what that meant.
But something about the way the Queen said it—
Felt wrong.
Deeply wrong.
Lysandra didn't question it.
"Yes, My Queen."
"And the Necromancer?"
"We learned much."
"Did you?"
"His creatures are powerful. But that is not what makes them dangerous."
Korvin spoke this time.
"It's their versatility."
"Exactly," Lysandra said. "He doesn't command them like an army. He places them where they are needed. Reinforces weaknesses. Exploits openings. And when our mages finally established an advantage—"
"The locusts," Korvin said.
"Yes."
Silence.
Then the Queen.
"So solve it."
"We're working on a countermeasure."
"Working?"
"It has shown promise."
"Promise does not win wars."
"No, My Queen."
Another pause.
"But if it performs as expected, his Shadows will not decide the next battle."
The Wolkin stared at the device.
That mattered.
Maybe more than anything else.
The Queen's voice came one final time.
"You have seven months."
Silence.
"Do not waste them."
The spy waited.
Listened.
Memorized.
And when the room finally went quiet—
She transmitted everything.
Unfiltered.
Uncertain.
Seven months.
Winter Solstice.
Two hundred fifty thousand soldiers.
Mage divisions being rebuilt.
Something involving Chaos.
And a weapon—
Or spell—
Or something—
Being designed specifically to counter Jax Darquebane's Shadows.
The war was over.
But whatever came next—
Was already being planned.
Two Days Later
Bunny cried for two days.
Not constantly.
Eventually there simply weren't enough tears left.
She slept.
She woke.
She cried again.
Sometimes quietly.
Sometimes buried against Jax's chest.
Sometimes with one of the others beside her.
Nobody told her to stop.
Nobody told her she needed to move on.
Her sisters simply stayed.
Llandra.
Zee.
Nyxian.
Pixelle.
Lexi.
Sometimes they talked.
Sometimes they didn't.
Jax rarely left her.
When Bunny needed to cry, he held her.
When she needed silence, he gave it to her.
When she needed to be angry—
He let her be angry.
Eventually—
Bunny had enough.
Not of them.
Of despair.
Lisbeth wasn't gone from her mind.
It never would be.
She knew that.
She would remember the screams.
The smoke.
The knowledge that she had been close enough to hear people dying—
And too far away to save them.
But she couldn't live inside that moment forever.
She wouldn't.
Her sisters were her strength.
Her husband was her rock.
When she couldn't stand—
She could lean on him.
But eventually—
Bunny wanted to stand again.
So she did.
She showered.
Got dressed.
Ate far more breakfast than anyone reasonably needed.
And when Pixelle stole a piece of bacon from her plate—
Bunny stole three from hers.
Pixelle gasped.
"Bunny!"
"What?"
"Those were mine!"
"You started it."
"I took one!"
"I needed punitive damages."
Lexi looked up from her coffee.
"That is not how punitive damages work."
Bunny took another piece.
"It is now."
Pixelle protected the remainder of her plate with both arms.
And for the first time in two days—
Bunny laughed.
Jax heard it from across the room.
He didn't say anything.
He just smiled.
Bunny saw him.
And smiled back.
She wasn't okay.
Not completely.
Maybe she never would be.
But she was Bunny again.
And that was enough for today.
The Report
The intelligence arrived later that morning.
Jax read it twice.
Then a third time.
Llandra stood beside him.
Vaelrith sat across the table.
General Soren Nightclaw had already read the report before delivering it.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Finally—
Jax tapped the page.
"Two hundred fifty thousand?"
"Potentially," Soren said.
"That's five times what they just sent."
"Yes."
"And seven months."
"If the report is accurate."
Jax looked toward Vaelrith.
"The Winter Solstice mean anything?"
Vaelrith leaned back.
"Many things. Religiously. Culturally. Magically."
"Chaos?"
That earned a longer pause.
Soren shook his head.
"Not enough information."
"The Empire has spent generations claiming to eradicate Chaos worship," Vaelrith said.
"Which means either our spy misunderstood what she heard—"
"Or the Empire is lying," Jax finished.
Vaelrith gave him a small smile.
"That possibility has recently gained some credibility."
Jax snorted.
He looked down again.
The part that bothered him most wasn't the army.
Two hundred fifty thousand soldiers was horrifying.
But soldiers could be counted.
Tracked.
Prepared for.
The unknown bothered him more.
Something was being developed specifically for his Shadows.
"What do we know about this?"
"Nothing," Soren said.
"Nothing?"
"Which is considerably more concerning than knowing something."
Jax frowned.
Soren continued.
"We have seven months. I intend to use every one of them."
"So do I."
Soren nodded.
They discussed the report for another hour.
Possibilities.
Preparations.
What they knew.
What they didn't.
And eventually—
Soren left.
Llandra left shortly afterward to meet with her father.
Jax remained at the table with Vaelrith.
The Elf didn't move.
Jax noticed.
"Something else?"
Vaelrith smiled.
"As a matter of fact."
He reached into the bag beside his chair.
And removed a book.
Old.
Very old.
The cover was worn.
The pages thick.
Jax stared at it.
"Homework?"
"Something like that."
Jax groaned.
Vaelrith slid it across the table.
"Given what we heard today, I believe there are certain pieces of history you should know."
Jax looked at the cover.
A name had been embossed across it.
Faded with age.
But still readable.
ALEX LIGHTBRINGER
Jax looked up.
"The Summoned Hero."
Vaelrith nodded.
"One of them."
Jax opened the cover.
Then closed it again.
"How long is this?"
"Several hundred pages."
"Nope."
Vaelrith laughed.
Jax stood.
"Come over for dinner."
Vaelrith raised an eyebrow.
"You intend to bribe me into summarizing it?"
"Absolutely."
Vaelrith stood.
"I will never turn down an offer of food from Jax Darquebane."
"Bring Dawn."
"She'll be delighted."
The Compound
By evening—
The book had become a group project.
Jax stood in the kitchen.
A large pan simmered in front of him.
Another pot occupied the burner beside it.
Something baked in the oven.
Fresh bread rested nearby.
And tied around Jax's waist—
Was an apron.
White.
Simple.
With large black letters across the front.
KISS THE COOK
Bunny had given it to him.
Jax had loved it.
Then Merchant Jax had immediately realized other people might love it too.
Within weeks, variations of the apron had appeared in one of his stores.
Bunny still maintained that she deserved royalties.
Jax maintained that marriage constituted a licensing agreement.
Neither had found a lawyer willing to settle the dispute.
Around the large table sat Llandra, Bunny, Zee, Nyxian, Pixelle and Lexi.
Vaelrith sat among them.
His daughter Dawn beside him.
The ancient book rested in front of Llandra.
Jax stirred the pan.
"All right. Teach me."
Llandra opened the book.
"Three hundred years ago, the continent was very different."
"How different?"
"Humans were a minority."
Jax looked over his shoulder.
"Really?"
Vaelrith nodded.
"Very much so."
Llandra continued.
The continent had been fractured.
Not into the nations Jax knew today.
But hundreds of territories.
Tribes.
Kingdoms.
Clans.
Elven communities largely remained separate from Dwarven ones.
Dwarves remained separate from Beastkin.
Wolfkin territories bordered Catkin territories.
Rabbitkin settlements formed their own communities.
Humans existed throughout the continent—
But rarely controlled large territories.
Trade existed.
So did alliances.
But segregation was normal.
And war—
Was common.
Territory.
Resources.
Old grudges.
Race.
Religion.
Sometimes people fought simply because their parents had fought.
And their parents before them.
There had been no United Kingdoms.
No Alexandria.
No great Human Kingdom.
Then—
Llandra stopped.
Jax glanced back.
"Why'd you stop?"
Llandra looked down at the book.
Then toward Jax.
Bunny looked at Jax.
Zee looked at Jax.
Nyxian looked at Jax.
Pixelle looked at Jax.
Lexi looked at Jax.
Dawn looked at Jax.
Jax slowly lowered the spoon.
"What?"
Llandra read.
"Alex Lightbringer seemed to come from nowhere."
Silence.
Jax blinked.
Nyxian smiled.
Jax pointed the spoon at her.
"No."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"I was thinking it."
"That's worse."
Dawn covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Vaelrith made no such effort.
Jax looked at him.
"You knew this was in there."
"I have read the book."
"You're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
Jax shook his head.
"Keep reading."
He turned back toward the stove.
Llandra did.
No reliable record established where Alex Lightbringer had been born.
No village claimed him.
No family lineage could be verified.
He simply appeared during an age when scattered human settlements were struggling to survive between larger powers.
Alex began among them.
At first—
One settlement.
Then another.
He helped organize defenses.
Resolved disputes.
Established trade.
Connected communities that had spent generations isolated from one another.
But that wasn't all.
Bunny took the book.
"My turn."
Llandra slid it toward her.
Bunny found the place.
Then read.
"Accounts from the period repeatedly attribute unfamiliar ideas to Lightbringer. Methods of construction, organization, trade, sanitation, agriculture and governance spread rapidly through territories influenced by him."
Bunny stopped.
Silence.
Jax continued stirring.
Nobody said anything.
Several seconds passed.
Jax sighed.
"You're staring at me again."
Dawn burst out laughing.
Jax turned.
Everyone was staring at him.
Again.
Bunny grinned.
"What?"
"You know what."
"I was just reading."
"Uh-huh."
Lexi leaned forward.
"Construction."
Jax pointed at her.
"Don't."
"Trade," Bunny added.
"Stop."
"Sanitation," Zee said.
"Et tu, Zee?"
Zee smiled sweetly.
Nyxian leaned back in her chair.
"Governance."
Jax stared at her.
Nyxian smiled wider.
"What? I was helping."
"Nobody asked for help."
Pixelle raised her hand.
"What about restaurants?"
Jax turned toward Vaelrith.
"Does the book mention restaurants?"
"Not specifically."
"Good."
Pixelle frowned.
"Then Alex wasn't as good as Jax."
"Thank you, Pixelle."
"You're welcome."
Jax returned to dinner.
"Continue."
The history moved forward.
Alex united human settlements.
But he didn't stop with humans.
He negotiated with Elves.
Dwarves.
Wolfkin.
Rabbitkin.
And other Beastkin civilizations that had grown tired of endless warfare.
Some rejected him.
Others listened.
Alliances formed.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
And as those alliances grew—
So did Alex's reputation.
Nyxian had taken possession of the book now.
She read for several minutes.
Then slowed.
"Oh."
Jax heard the tone.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Nyxian."
She smiled.
"Just an interesting passage."
"Read it."
"Are you sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Every woman at the table looked at Nyxian.
Nyxian cleared her throat dramatically.
"Accounts of Lightbringer's battles vary wildly. Some are undoubtedly exaggerated. Others are supported by multiple surviving sources. What is consistently agreed upon is that Alex Lightbringer was among the most powerful individuals of his age."
Jax tasted the sauce.
"Okay."
Nyxian continued.
"Several surviving accounts describe Lightbringer defeating hundreds of warriors without assistance."
Jax stopped tasting.
Nyxian's smile grew.
"Later stories claim thousands."
Jax slowly set the spoon down.
"And some legends claim entire armies were incapable of stopping him."
Silence.
Jax didn't turn around.
"That's you!" Pixelle yelled.
Dawn laughed again.
"I'm not Alex Lightbringer, I don't think."
He turned.
Eight people stared back at him.
Jax looked down at himself.
Then at them.
Then at the apron.
Nyxian's eyes dropped to the words across his chest.
KISS THE COOK
"The apron really completes the resemblance."
Jax stared at her.
"I'm pretty sure Alex Lightbringer didn't have this apron."
Bunny raised her hand proudly.
"Because you hadn't invented them yet."
Vaelrith was laughing now.
Jax pointed at him.
"No more food for you."
Vaelrith immediately stopped.
"My apologies."
Jax narrowed his eyes.
Vaelrith's mouth twitched.
Jax turned back to the stove.
"Keep reading."
The wars continued.
But they changed.
It was no longer Elves against Dwarves.
Or Beastkin against humans.
Or one tribe against another.
It became those who wanted peace—
Against those who profited from war.
Alex fought beside Elves.
Humans fought beside Wolfkin.
Dwarves supplied weapons to Beastkin warriors.
Old enemies discovered they had more in common than generations of hatred had allowed them to believe.
One by one—
The most aggressive warlords fell.
Territories stabilized.
Trade routes opened.
Borders became safer.
Families moved.
Communities mixed.
And something that had seemed impossible began to happen.
Peace lasted.
Not everywhere.
Not perfectly.
But long enough that children were born who had never known the wars their grandparents considered inevitable.
Zee had the book now.
She read quietly.
Then—
Stopped.
Jax was plating part of dinner.
He noticed immediately.
"No."
Zee looked up.
"I haven't said anything."
"Nobody has."
Jax looked around.
Everyone was staring again.
He closed his eyes.
"What now?"
Zee smiled.
"With the old tribal wars ending, Lightbringer encouraged the allied territories to maintain the bonds they had formed during the conflict."
Jax opened one eye.
"Okay."
"Representatives from human settlements, Elven territories, Dwarven holds and Beastkin nations began meeting regularly."
Jax opened the other eye.
"Okay."
"Those alliances eventually developed into a permanent union."
Jax knew where this was going.
"Don't."
Zee continued.
"The nations remained culturally distinct but increasingly coordinated trade, defense and diplomacy."
Nyxian slowly turned toward Jax.
Jax pointed at her.
"No."
Her smile became wicked.
"Eventually, a permanent capital was established."
Jax sighed.
Zee finished.
"It was named Alexandria."
Silence.
Everyone stared.
Jax stared back.
Nyxian tilted her head.
Then asked—
"Are you Alex Lightbringer, Jax?"
Dawn nearly fell out of her chair laughing.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Because there are some similarities."
"He's been dead for three hundred years."
Vaelrith raised a finger.
"Technically—"
Jax immediately pointed at him.
"Do not help her."
Vaelrith lowered his hand.
Jax looked around the room.
"Also, I'm pretty sure I'd remember being three hundred years old."
Nyxian shrugged.
"You don't remember where you came from."
Jax paused.
Everyone paused.
Nyxian blinked.
"Huh."
Jax pointed toward the book.
"Read."
Nyxian grinned.
"Yes, Lightbringer."
"You're getting dangerously close to eating cold food."
She blew him a kiss.
The history continued.
And eventually—
The wars ended.
Alexandria flourished.
Different races lived together.
Worked together.
Traded together.
Not without disagreements.
Not without prejudice.
Not without conflict.
But compared to what had existed before—
It was extraordinary.
And Alex Lightbringer—
Could have stopped.
He didn't.
Because Alex was more than a warrior.
More than a leader.
He was an adventurer.
An explorer.
A man fascinated by what he didn't know.
He traveled.
Mapped territories.
Investigated ruins.
Studied magical phenomena.
Joined expeditions into places others considered too dangerous.
And eventually—
He discovered something no one knew existed.
A barrier.
Not a wall.
Not a mountain.
Something far larger.
A magical boundary separating their world from another.
Alex studied it.
Tested it.
And eventually—
Broke it.
Beyond the barrier—
Was another land.
Another world.
The Dark Continent.
Nyxian's smile disappeared.
Not from fear.
Recognition.
She leaned closer.
Lexi read now.
Early expeditions found civilizations unlike any known on their continent.
Demonkin.
Not demons.
Not monsters.
People.
Different peoples.
Different cultures.
Different kingdoms.
Vampires.
Succubi.
Incubi.
And others.
At first, contact was limited.
Then trade began.
Travel followed.
Some Demonkin crossed permanently.
Others returned home.
Over generations, communities formed on both sides.
Nyxian stared at the page.
"So that's when..."
Vaelrith nodded.
"The earliest verified Succubus and Incubus settlements on this continent appear within the generations following the opening of the Barrier."
Nyxian sat back.
She looked toward Jax.
"So if Alex hadn't broken it..."
"Your ancestors might never have come here," Zee said.
Nyxian considered that.
Then smiled.
"I like him."
Jax laughed.
"That's all it took?"
"He helped create me."
"I'm pretty sure there were several other people involved in that process."
Nyxian slowly turned toward him.
Her smile changed.
Jax immediately realized his mistake.
"No."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"I was thinking it."
"That's worse."
Bunny laughed.
And this time—
Nobody stopped her.
Whatever Happened To Alex Lightbringer?
Dinner was served.
The book remained open.
Plates filled the table.
Conversation continued between bites.
But eventually—
The history became less certain.
Alex continued exploring.
There were accounts of expeditions.
Journeys.
Occasional appearances in Alexandria.
Then fewer.
And fewer.
Until—
Nothing.
Jax flipped several pages.
"That's it?"
Vaelrith nodded.
"That's where reliable history ends."
"What happened to him?"
"We don't know."
"No death?"
"None verified."
"Grave?"
"No."
"Family?"
"None recorded."
"Children?"
"None."
"Heirs?"
Vaelrith shook his head.
"No known heirs."
Jax leaned back.
"That's weird."
"Three hundred years tends to turn missing information into stories."
"What kind of stories?"
Dawn smiled.
"Oh, there are several."
Vaelrith sighed.
"My daughter enjoys this part."
"Because this is the best part."
Dawn reached for the book.
"The first says Alex Lightbringer was never truly human."
Jax raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't we just spend an hour talking about him being human?"
"Legends aren't required to be consistent."
"Fair."
Dawn continued.
According to one tradition—
Alex had been sent by the gods.
The world was fractured.
Violent.
Lost.
So the gods sent someone to guide it.
Once Alex united the peoples, brought peace and opened the world beyond the Barrier—
His task was complete.
The gods called him home.
Jax nodded.
"That's actually kind of nice."
"Wait," Dawn said.
"There's more?"
"Of course."
The second legend claimed Alex never left.
He still wandered the world.
Three hundred years later.
Not as a king.
Not as a warrior.
But as an ordinary traveler.
Sometimes old.
Sometimes young.
Sometimes wealthy.
Sometimes poor.
Always watching.
The story became especially popular among parents.
Bunny smiled.
"I know this one."
Jax looked at her.
"You do?"
She nodded.
"My mother used to say it."
Vaelrith smiled.
"So did mine."
Bunny recited it.
"Always show kindness to the stranger at your door."
Dawn joined her.
"Because you never know when Alex Lightbringer may be standing there."
Jax smiled.
"Okay. I like that one."
"So do I," Zee said.
Nyxian shrugged.
"I don't."
Everyone looked at her.
"What?"
"Three hundred years of randomly knocking on people's doors sounds exhausting."
Lexi nodded.
"Statistically inefficient."
Jax stared at both of them.
"You're analyzing the logistics of a children's folktale."
"Someone should," Lexi said.
Dawn laughed.
"And then there's the third."
Vaelrith groaned.
Pixelle looked interested.
"Why did you groan?"
"Because the third is particularly absurd."
Dawn grinned.
"Some traditions claim magic has been growing stronger ever since Alex disappeared."
Pixelle frowned.
"It hasn't."
Dawn looked toward her.
"That's the legend."
"It's wrong."
"We haven't gotten to the rest."
"It's already wrong."
Jax laughed.
"Continue."
Dawn did.
According to the legend, Alex eventually understood that protecting individual nations wasn't enough.
He wanted to protect the entire world.
So before surrendering his mortal form—
He created the World Trees.
Pixelle's head snapped around.
"What?"
Jax looked toward her.
"Apparently Alex made the World Trees."
"No, he didn't."
Vaelrith smiled.
"I wouldn't recommend arguing with a Fairy Queen about World Trees."
Jax held up both hands.
"I'm just listening to the book."
"Then tell the book it's wrong."
"It's three hundred years old."
Pixelle folded her arms.
"Then it's been wrong for a very long time."
Silence.
Jax nodded solemnly.
"I'll make a note."
"Good."
Dawn was trying desperately to keep reading without laughing.
The legend claimed the World Trees carried Alex's power throughout the planet.
Their roots spread his magic through the earth.
Their branches released it into the air.
Mana supposedly grew stronger with every passing generation.
And eventually—
Alex no longer needed a physical body at all.
He became the world's guardian.
Then—
Over centuries—
The legend changed again.
He wasn't merely protecting the world.
Alex Lightbringer—
Was the world.
Jax slowly lowered his fork.
"So we're eating on Alex?"
Bunny looked down.
Pixelle rolled her eyes.
"No."
Nyxian tapped one foot against the floor.
"What about dirt?"
"No."
"Mountains?"
"No."
"The ocean?"
"No!"
"World Trees?"
"Especially no!"
Jax laughed.
Pixelle pointed at Dawn.
"Your book is terrible."
"It's not my book!"
Vaelrith leaned back in his chair.
"This is why historians drink."
Eventually—
The laughter faded.
Dinner continued.
Jax looked toward Vaelrith.
"So what do you think?"
"About?"
"Alex."
Vaelrith understood.
He wiped his mouth with a cloth and leaned back.
"I think legends are what people create when history fails to provide an answer."
"Meaning?"
"Alex Lightbringer was human."
Vaelrith shrugged.
"An extraordinary human."
He glanced toward the ancient book.
"Perhaps the most extraordinary human of his age."
"But still human."
"Yes."
Vaelrith took another drink.
"Human lives are finite."
Jax nodded.
"The final reliable accounts describe a man who spent more and more of his time traveling. Exploring. Going farther from Alexandria."
"So..."
Vaelrith shrugged.
"I suspect Alex Lightbringer eventually grew old."
A pause.
"And died."
Jax looked at the book.
"That's considerably less exciting."
"History often is."
Dawn smiled.
"I still like the wandering traveler."
Bunny nodded.
"So do I."
Pixelle crossed her arms.
"As long as we agree he didn't make the World Trees."
Everyone looked at her.
Pixelle narrowed her eyes.
"Say it."
Jax smiled.
"Alex Lightbringer did not make the World Trees."
"Thank you."
And with that—
Three hundred years of history was settled.
At least as far as Pixelle was concerned.