The apartment felt smaller that morning.
Not physically—
but oppressively.
Anthony stood motionless, eyes locked on the wall where scorched words slowly faded from existence.
THE CASTLE CALLS.
The letters dissolved like dying embers, leaving faint burn scars etched into the plaster—ugly, permanent reminders that reality itself had been rewritten.
On the table, the silver amulet from the warehouse lay coiled, its chain twisted like a resting serpent. It still hummed faintly, residual energy echoing from the holographic whisper it had projected the night before.
Their father's voice.
Gravel-rough. Urgent.
A summons from the Dark Castle.
Behind him, Orion paced like a caged animal. His blond hair was a mess, sleep abandoned halfway through the night, blue eyes flashing with emotions he didn't bother hiding.
"Dad?" Orion said at last. "After all this time?" He stopped short, fists clenching. "And you think we should just… go?"
Anthony slipped the amulet into his pocket. The crystal at his thigh responded with a faint warmth—an echo of Midnight's presence, subtle but unmistakable.
"It lines up with Mom's letter," Anthony said quietly. "He knows something. About the lantern bearer. About the disappearances."
About me.
"We don't get to ignore this."
Beneath his calm, Zhang Lu's thoughts spun relentlessly.
Dark Castle arc.
Volume two territory.
Canon fodder characters die here if they push too hard.
His lips twitched faintly.
But canon didn't have artifacts… or a dream-goddess with boundary issues.
Fast travel would be nice, though. No portals in this budget fantasy world.
Orion stopped pacing. His voice dropped, brittle.
"I'm coming. I'm not staying behind again."
The words cracked.
"…Like Mom did."
The admission hit Anthony like a gust of northern wind—cold, piercing. Memories overlapped violently: Orion as a child, sobbing into empty halls after their mother vanished… and Zhang Lu's own former life, spent alone under flickering dorm lights, drowning in textbooks and silence.
Anthony stepped forward and placed a hand on Orion's shoulder.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said firmly. "We go together."
A beat.
"Pack light. Pack warm. The north isn't kind."
They spent the guild payout with ruthless efficiency.
No luxuries. No indulgences.
Thick wool cloaks. Dried rations. Sturdy boots for Orion. Poverty bit hard—no mounts, no enchanted armor—but Anthony tested their artifacts discreetly as they moved through the market.
When he synced the crystal with the lantern, a translucent shimmer snapped into place just long enough to absorb a spark from a malfunctioning rune-lamp.
A barrier.
Minor—but clean.
Won't stop a god, Anthony judged. But it'll block a blade.
As they shouldered their packs and turned north, a whisper brushed Anthony's ear.
Not a dream.
Not imagination.
"The road hides eyes. Trust the light."
He froze.
Midnight.
Orion didn't notice, chatting animatedly about "finally seeing Dad's fancy sergeant quarters." Anthony swallowed, a chill crawling down his spine.
Daytime whispers now?
That was… new.
Useful—but unsettling.
They joined a northbound merchant caravan—ten wagons heavy with furs and spice, guarded by scarred mercenaries who looked like they'd buried more friends than enemies.
The leader, a hard-eyed woman named Kira, sized Anthony up, noting the academy-issued cloak beneath his travel gear.
"Ten coppers each," she said. "Stay useful."
The city fell away behind them.
Aetherport's spires vanished into mist as rolling hills swallowed the road, frost kissing the earth. Fields bled gold into crimson forests, leaves crunching beneath wagon wheels. By dusk, rune-lamps cast ghostly halos, and campfires bloomed against the cold.
Stories followed—god-touched ruins, border wars, vanished patrols.
Anthony kept the lantern dim beneath his cloak. Even so, eyes lingered on him longer than they should have.
Caravan's safe for now, Zhang Lu assessed. But cult tails? Varkis won't forget.
On the second day, the land rose sharply.
Snow crept in.
Then came the blizzard.
Not natural.
The wind screamed as shadows twisted inside the snowfall. Visibility dropped to nothing.
"CONTACT!" Kira shouted, steel ringing free.
Howls echoed—ethereal, hollow.
Shadow wolves burst from the storm.
Anthony's breath fogged painfully. Cold gnawed through his bones, mana sluggish.
"Orion—stay close!"
Orion ripped a wagon spar free, swinging it like a war club.
Anthony flared the lantern.
Light tore through illusion, revealing the alpha—larger, denser, its form stitched from shadow and hunger.
Numbers pressed in.
A tendril grazed Anthony's shoulder.
Warmth vanished.
Not again.
He triggered the crystal—shield flickering under strain. His thoughts snapped sharp.
"Terrain," he gasped. "Kira—ridge! Snow's unstable!"
She understood instantly.
The lantern herded the beasts, light guiding them like prey animals. At the ridge, Anthony hurled a crystal-charged stone.
The world roared.
Snow collapsed.
The pack vanished beneath white fury.
Silence followed.
Anthony sagged against a wagon, lungs burning.
Kira clapped his shoulder. "Sharp head you've got, academy boy."
"Something like that," Anthony muttered.
The cold lingered—different. Familiar.
Midnight, he thought dryly. Thanks for not whispering this time.
That night, sleep claimed him.
Stars bloomed.
Black roses unfolded.
Midnight emerged closer than ever—veil shimmering, one wing folding around her like a cloak. A single tear traced her pale cheek, catching impossible light.
"Bearer," she whispered.
Her presence enveloped him—cool, intimate, inescapable.
"You're getting bold," Anthony said faintly. "Daytime tips weren't enough?"
She smiled—sad, knowing.
"I see the void you crossed," she murmured. "The life you left behind."
Her fingers traced his jaw.
"Let me weave safety into your fate."
Zhang Lu surfaced, irreverent even now.
"So you're saying you've seen my memes? Because this blizzard's peak 'This Is Fine' energy."
Her laugh chimed softly.
"In exchange," she said, lips near his ear, "share a secret of that world."
A pause.
"Guidance first," Anthony bargained weakly.
She obliged.
"The cult follows. Three wagons back. Eastern fork at dawn." Her voice darkened. "But know this—the castle tests the heart."
Then she faded.
Dawn proved her right.
Shadows trailed them.
The eastern fork led to a hidden glen, ancient runes repelling pursuit. Orion stared at Anthony.
"How did you—"
"Lucky guess."
Midnight's tab is growing, Anthony thought grimly.
By the fourth day, the Dark Castle rose from the frozen horizon.
Obsidian walls drank the light. Purple wards burned against eternal twilight. Towers pierced cloud and myth alike.
At the gates—
"State your business."
"Anthony and Orion," he said, raising the amulet. "For Sergeant Elias. Family."
The gates opened.
Elias emerged—scarred, silver-haired, eyes like winter storms.
"Boys."
Orion broke first, hugging him fiercely. "Dad."
Anthony joined more carefully.
Family reunion trope, Zhang Lu observed. Please don't subvert this violently.
Inside, alarms screamed.
A breach.
Shadows poured through a rift.
Anthony raised the lantern—then faltered.
Cold. Weakness.
The fiend struck.
Darkness.
Midnight was already there.
"Reverse it," she whispered. "Absorb."
"Romantic timing," Anthony rasped.
"Survive," she replied.
He woke screaming light.
The crystal drank shadow.
The rift sealed.
Silence fell.
Later, new words burned into stone:
EVERYONE DIES—UNLESS THE BEARER CLAIMS THE VAULT.
Anthony felt her gaze again.
The castle had answered.
And it was hungry.