Chapter 25 — WISTER WAR
The planet was beautiful.
That was the cruelest part.
It hung beneath the starship like a living jewel—oceans catching starlight in slow, patient arcs, landss veined with green and gold, clouds drifting lazily as if nothing in the universe had ever known violence. From orbit, it looked untouched. Innocent. Almost inviting.
Lucy pressed her hands against the cold glass of the viewing bay, breath shallow.
Below them, the world waited.
Around them, countless Golden Moon vessels hovered in silent formation—sleek, angular ships of pale metal and glowing sigils, arranged like a congregation of watchful gods. Some were massive carriers, others needle-thin deployment craft, all humming with restrained power.
They weren't alone.
Thousands—no, millions—of captured souls stood in other ships just like this one, staring down at the same world, hearts pounding in the same rhythm.
Abbie cracked her knuckles, forcing energy into her limbs to keep them from shaking. Adam stood rigid, eyes scanning the tactical overlays flickering across the glass, already trying to memorize terrain he hadn't set foot on yet. Nark leaned against the far wall, arms folded, expression unreadable as ever.
She had finally made her decision about the war.
Brenn stood apart from them.
Hands clasped behind his back. Eyes fixed on the planet below.
"This is Wister," he said quietly.
The name felt heavier now. No longer an idea. No longer a threat. It was a place.
A low chime echoed through the ship.
Then the lights dimmed.
The stars themselves seemed to bend.
Space in front of the fleet warped, folding inward as a massive hologram bloomed into existence—so vast it dwarfed entire ships. It took the shape of a faceless figure clad in ceremonial robes, its body composed of shifting light and ancient glyphs. A crown—not inverted, but radiant—hovered above where its head should have been.
The voice that followed was not loud.
It did not need to be.
It spoke directly into the mind.
"Participants of the Wister War."
Lucy's chest tightened.
"You stand at the threshold of legality."
The hologram's hands folded slowly.
"For thirteen days, this world will judge you."
Images flared beside it—monsters tearing through forests, mages screaming as ether devoured them from the inside, fractured landscapes bleeding light.
"Those who survive will be recognized as Vell sorcerers under the Golden Moon."
"Those who fail will be remembered only as fuel."
Abbie's jaw clenched.
"The rules are simple."
The planet below magnified, sections glowing in sequence.
"Days One through Three: Survival."
"Acquire resources. Secure sugar. Obtain or steal mana drives."
"The environment is hostile. The fauna is lethal."
Lucy swallowed.
"Days Four through Eleven: Purification."
"Mana madness victims will roam freely."
"You are required to eliminate them."
Adam's fingers curled into fists.
"Days Twelve and Thirteen: Ascension."
"Participants will engage each other directly."
"There are no restrictions."
"Only survivors will be extracted."
The hologram leaned forward slightly.
"Interference from non-participants is forbidden."
"Mercy is not rewarded."
"Cowardice is terminal."
A pause.
Then—
"On behalf of the Golden Moon,"
"we wish you luck."
The hologram vanished.
For half a second, there was silence.
Then the floor dropped out from under them.
Lucy screamed as gravity inverted violently. The ship's bay doors irised open, revealing nothing but atmosphere rushing up to meet them. Wind howled. Ether flared instinctively across her skin.
Abbie laughed—a sharp, feral sound—as the world swallowed them.
Adam reached out, grabbing Lucy's wrist as they fell, mana sparking desperately as he tried to stabilize their descent. Nark twisted midair with impossible grace, already adjusting her trajectory, eyes locked on the terrain below.
Brenn did not fall with them.
He stood at the edge of the bay, coat snapping violently in the wind, watching.
"Survive," he said, not loudly—but with absolute certainty.
Then they were gone.
Lucy's stomach lurched as the planet rushed closer, clouds tearing apart around them. Heat screamed against her skin. The Crown on her head vibrated faintly, reacting to the surge of ether flooding the atmosphere.
The sky burned.
Below, forests stretched endlessly. Rivers coiled like silver serpents. Distant roars echoed—too deep, too large to belong to anything human.
They slammed through the treeline.
Branches shattered. The ground exploded upward. Lucy hit hard, air ripping from her lungs as she rolled across damp earth and broken leaves. Pain flared—but she was alive.
She pushed herself up just in time to see Abbie land nearby, boots carving trenches through the soil, laughing breathlessly. Adam crashed a few meters away, groaning but upright. Nark touched down last, silent as a shadow.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
The forest around them pulsed with sound—clicks, growls, distant howls, the unmistakable presence of things that had already noticed them.
Lucy looked up at the sky.
High above, Golden Moon ships were already pulling back, becoming distant stars.
No rescue.
No pause.
No turning back.
Abbie wiped blood from her lip and grinned. "Well," she said, eyes blazing, "guess it's official."
Adam exhaled shakily. "We're really doing this."
Nark finally spoke. "Welcome to Wister."
The forest answered with a roar.
And the war began.