Something was wrong.
A strange, unsettling air was spreading through the Bright Castle. It hadn't happened quickly, but with each passing day, the quiet tension clinging to the stone walls and drifting through the high corridors was becoming increasingly restless. Harper could feel it in his bones.
After all, he was a coward.
There was no pride in admitting it, but it remained an indisputable truth. Learning how to read a room, how to use his own spiking anxiety as a compass to dodge trouble—these were the survival skills Harper had honed all on his own just to cling to his miserable life in this cursed place.
It was only recently that he had managed to find even a speck of courage. A small, faint smile flitted across his gaunt face as the sudden thought crossed his mind. But as quickly as it came, it vanished. Something was definitely, terribly wrong.
Harper sat at the reception desk of the Bright Castle just as he did every day, focused on managing the Tenants and keeping track of visitors. Surprisingly, there were no Guards keeping watch over him today... a fact that, far from relaxing him, only reinforced the creeping suspicion he had been building for weeks.
When he had first returned to the Castle, it had surprised him that the Host allowed him to keep his old job. But once he realized it was simply easier to keep an eye on him in a high-traffic, visible area, Harper stopped letting his mind wander into wild hopes.
It had been two weeks since he last spoke to Zachary in that ruined hovel alongside Night—two weeks since he received the news that Zachary would be gone for a while, and was handed a carefully folded piece of paper. Instructions with a single, cryptic directive: read when the time is right.
'How would he even know when the time is right?' Harper mused, scratching the back of his neck. 'How am I supposed to know?'
It was a question he had asked himself every single day. Every time he glanced at the envelope, he couldn't help but inwardly curse Zachary. What kind of insane mind hands an already neurotic, anxious guy a vague order like that and expects him not to lose his mind?
But now, feeling the suffocating tension in the corridors cross an invisible threshold, Harper couldn't wait any longer.
With trembling hands, he pulled the crumpled paper from his shirt pocket and stared at it. He still had no idea if this was the exact moment, but the clawing dread in his chest begged for a guiding light, and this letter was the only thing he had. Biting his lip, he unfolded the paper.
"Hello Harper, how have you been?"
Harper blinked, caught off guard by the neat, refined calligraphy. The text was written in charcoal, yet the strokes were surprisingly delicate and clear. He had to briefly remind himself of the wild, chaotic state Zachary had been living before they met.
'He can even do this right...' he thought with a soft, breathy chuckle, settling in to read carefully.
"As I write this, I can't help but remember that sappy letter you wrote me back when I got to the Castle after getting the absolute shit beaten out of me. The one where you went on and on about how I saved you and yada yada... Now that I'm writing one back, I'm getting self-conscious about it, so let me make one thing crystal clear: THIS IS NOT A LETTER! These are instructions, got it?"
Harper let out a quiet laugh at the absurd tone, the heavy dread that had pushed him to open the paper suddenly melting away. Shaking his head with a soft sigh, he continued reading.
"Anyway, if you're reading this, it means something feels off in the Bright Castle. You've got sharp instincts for that kind of stuff. You might call yourself a coward, but you can't deny how useful that paranoia is when shit is about to hit the fan. So, if you've finally opened this, things have probably reached an unbearable breaking point... and well, you can go ahead and thank me for that.
That's because I'm going to do... wait, did? I did something???
It's a little confusing, right? I'm writing this letter (instructions) in the past, detailing something I'm going to do in a couple of days... but by the time you're reading this, that thing has already happened. So my future is your past?
You know, there's this really good movie with a plot just like this—it stars Jake Gyllenhaal, called Source Code. This pilot is inside a train that explodes from a terrorist attack, but he suddenly wakes up in a capsule and gets told he's part of an experiment to relive someone's memories to find the bomb. So he's reliving past events while receiving present instructions.
Anyway, Jake Gyllenh—"
Harper stared at the page with a bewildered frown. The next few lines were aggressively scribbled out in heavy charcoal. Scrolling past the mess, he picked up on the next clean line:
"Sorry about that, almost dropped a massive spoiler. Now don't interrupt me! I'm trying to be serious here. Hmmm... for simplicity's sake, I'm just going to talk about what I'm going to do as if I've already done it, okay?"
Harper smiled at the sheer nonsense packed into the page. He hadn't realized until now just how much he missed Zachary's bizarre, nonsensical ramblings. With his anxiety almost entirely dissipated, he read the next line with a faint, fond smile.
"So, I cut Harus' arm off :)"
Harper froze. He stared at the tiny charcoal smiley face, then at the words right before it. The smile vanished instantly from his face.
He shook his head frantically and re-read the sentence, desperately searching for a different combination of words. But no matter how hard he stared, he was met with the exact same sentence—and the exact same smiley face.
'What?! WHAT?! What the absolute fuck is wrong with him?!'
Harper nearly shrieked out loud, slapping both hands over his mouth just in time. His eyes darted around the reception hall in sheer panic, his heart slamming against his ribs. It took him a long, agonizing second to realize the hall was still empty and no one had heard him.
And yet, the realization that no one was watching him only brought back a fresh wave of suffocating anxiety, now that he had a clue about what was actually happening. Clenching his teeth, Harper resumed reading.
"Now, now, calm your nervous heart and pay attention—I won't repeat myself. (This is written down anyway, so you can just read it over again :p)"
Harper's eye twitched violently, but he forced himself to keep reading.
"So yes, uhmm, that's what happened. I don't know how it went (will go), but Haru should be missing an arm right about now, perhaps something more... (he certainly won't have any dignity left XD)"
The sheer casualness with which Zachary narrated his exploits—his open, violent offense against one of the Bright Lord's lieutenants—made Harper feel as though he were trapped in a fever dream. He knew Zachary wasn't crazy; the way he spoke and expressed himself betrayed a level of sharp lucidity that was abnormal for people their age. And yet, Harper couldn't help but feel that something was deeply, fundamentally wrong with his friend's head.
"So that's why you're probably feeling that things aren't quite right—because they aren't :D. Now, getting serious. If you're feeling that strange tension, it means things have evolved to a dangerous level... You're kind of running late, Harper. You need to act fast."
Harper gulped, his eyes glued to the dark charcoal strokes.
"I won't get into the specifics of why I did what I did. The reasons are irrelevant to you, and knowing them would only put you in direct danger. What you need to worry about is how you're going to act from here on out, and what I need you to do for me.
First: grab the remaining soul shards I left with you. I hope you haven't spent too much after commissioning my request with Cera, because you're going to need them to buy the protection of the Artisans. I told you before, being my friend won't be enough to keep you safe anymore. You need the backing of a powerful faction, and the Artisans fit that role perfectly. Be literal about it: 'Hello, I'm Harper and I need protection yada yada...' (You can add the specific details, I don't really care as long as you're safe).
Second: you need to spread another rumor for me. I should have already told you that I'd be away for a while, and if you're as observant as I know you are, you should also know that Nephis (Changing Star) and her cohort have left as well. Well, I left with them."
'What? Together?' Harper thought, his eyes widening in shock.
"Now, what you need to do is make sure everyone knows that despite me joining their journey, we are NOT TOGETHER. This is crucial: emphasize that I'm acting on my own, that I am not a member of their cohort, and that my actions fall solely on me. This is the most important part, man. Focus on this. You should understand why, right?"
Harper looked away from the paper, biting his thumb as a storm of frantic thoughts flashed through his mind. But before settling on any conclusions, he decided to finish reading the letter to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
"So that's it, good luck! :)"
Harper crumpled the piece of paper in his fist as his eye twitched even harder. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, he muttered weakly, "M-mother... Motherfucker."
He dragged a tired palm over his face as his shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably. Why had he chosen Zachary as his brother? That absolute fool only knew how to drive his already fragile heart into overdrive...
Before he could continue cursing his friend, a wave of paranoid awareness washed over him. Harper quickly brought the crumpled paper to the small candle burning on his desk, watching the flame consume the letter entirely. It would be suicidal to leave even a shred of evidence behind.
Checking once again to ensure the reception area was still empty, Harper opened the bottom drawer by his feet. He reached in and gently picked up a small leather pouch, loosening the drawstring just enough to catch the faint, iridescent gleam from within. The twenty soul shards Zachary had entrusted to him after he placed the custom order with Cera.
Glue Girl had been terrified at first of attempting anything beyond her usual adhesive recipes, but after reading the blueprint and understanding what the recipe was meant to do, the half-blind girl had been working non-stop.
Harper hastily pulled the drawstring tight and shut the drawer, scanning the hall once more. The constant checking was becoming a nervous twitch, but he quickly reminded himself that paranoia was a virtue here.
After all, he was a coward—and that was fine.
'So... Zachary severed Harus' arm...' he repeated internally, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs. 'That's why the Castle feels like a powder keg. That's why he... and by extension, I... are in everyone's crosshairs...'
As the reality of the situation fully settled in his mind, hot tears of sheer panic welled in his eyes. He hastily wiped them away with his sleeve.
This was entirely too much for him.
"Motherfucker," Harper whispered, burying his face in his crossed arms on the desk, his fingers gripping his messy hair tightly enough to sting his scalp.
Gradually, a flicker of composure returned.
'No... calm down, Harper. We can curse him to hell later. Let's think this through properly.' A wave of cold focus washed over his mind as his anxious thoughts aligned. 'At the end of the letter, he said I should understand why he needs those specific rumors spread... So why?'
As Harper asked himself that question, he began piecing together everything he knew into a logical story.
Changing Star had left the Outer Settlement and headed into the Labyrinth alongside her cohort—a piece of news that had spread like wildfire through the Castle corridors. And now he knew Zachary had left with them.
It was common knowledge that Changing Star was becoming a growing thorn in the Bright Lord's side, meaning her departure from her usual entourage would be the absolute ideal moment to eliminate her. Gunlaug had likely dispatched Harus—his hidden blade and most trusted lieutenant—to finish the job out in the wilderness.
And that was when Zachary struck.
'Why did he ask me to spread the rumor that he isn't part of Changing Star's cohort?' Harper asked himself, the answer surfacing almost instantly. 'Simple. He wants to prevent Gunlaug from holding Changing Star or the Outer Settlement accountable for his personal actions...'
'But will that really work?'
Recently, Harper had uncovered a whole new dimension to his Aspect—Maester of Whispers—after following Zachary's advice and refining his approach with the Tenants. Previously, he had blindly asked questions, relying on a vague gut feeling whenever he sensed something crucial to uncover. But after learning how to target his inquiries to pinpoint specific details, he realized his Aspect had a far more analytical side.
By asking himself the right questions, his Aspect actively heightened his own deductive reasoning, drawing connections he otherwise would have missed.
His Flaw completely stripped him of physical strength, but that was because his Aspect had never intended for him to be a front-line fighter. On the contrary, Harper was built to remain weak. He was designed to blend into the background of pivotal events, unnoticed and unassuming, quietly sifting through secrets.
It was a niche that would have been crushed under the brutal weight of the Forgotten Shore, had Zachary not helped him realize its true potential.
So, when Harper questioned whether Zachary's rumored cover story would actually protect anyone, his Aspect delivered a stark answer:
'No. Gunlaug is a tyrant, and the Castle Host is famous for acting without need for proof or permission.'
Which only invited a deeper question: why had Gunlaug waited so long to strike at Changing Star in the first place? He hated competition, and Nephis's influence had been steadily expanding ever since her arrival. Harper was well aware of the rumors regarding the missing Guards—that alone was more than enough pretext for the Bright Lord to crush her growing faction.
'So why wait for a justification at all?'
Gunlaug possessed the power to butcher every single Sleeper in the Bright Castle and the Outer Settlement combined. His Transcendant armor gave him a terrifying, unassailable advantage. But why didn't he? Because he had meticulously crafted the very hierarchy that sustained him. What good was ruling over a graveyard?
'A king without subjects is just a lonely man sitting on a chair...'
Gunlaug was as much a monarch as he was a prisoner of his own machine. He needed the Castle Host and the Tenants to maintain his status; the Host and Tenants needed the squalor of the Outer Settlement as a constant threat to keep them obedient; and the Outer Settlement needed the Castle as a distant beacon of hope to strive toward. Above it all, every faction required an absolute power to enforce the balance.
And Zachary had targeted that exact structural weakness.
Harper mapped out his friend's current standing within the Castle's political landscape: Kido and the Artisans held him in immense regard; Gemma wanted to recruit him to appease Kido and secure a rising powerhouse; and Tessai was keeping a close eye on him to balance out the other two factions. Now, that highly sought-after wild card had demonstrated enough raw power and cunning to slice off the Bright Lord's executioner's arm.
Zachary's value had just skyrocketed through the roof.
'So how are they going to react?' Harper mused, a chilling clarity washing over his mind while his heart hammered relentlessly against his ribs.
Obviously, the aggrieved party would want to cull him immediately. Harsu and Gunlaug himself would naturally seek to punish the blasphemer directly for daring to harm the Bright Lord's primary enforcer. Zachary had instructed him to seek shelter under the Artisans, so they would likely be worried about his safety... but they lacked the raw military might to openly challenge the Castle Host on his behalf.
The Hunters, on the other hand...
If Gemma had previously sought Zachary merely as a favor to Kido, learning what the young man was truly capable of would elevate his recruitment to top priority. Tessai and his Guards, by contrast, remained a dangerous wildcard. Tessai might try to claim Zachary for himself, or he might decide to prevent Gemma from expanding his power—choosing instead to eliminate the wild card before anyone else could weaponize him.
Harper swallowed hard. Simply by severing the arm of a single lieutenant, Zachary had single-handedly driven a wedge into the already fragile politics of the Castle Host.
If Zachary had outright killed Harus, Gunlaug wouldn't have cared whether he belonged to Changing Star's cohort or not; he would have retaliated instantly, wiping out the Outer Settlement to make an example of them. But by merely maiming him, Zachary had denied the tyrant a clean, absolute justification for mass slaughter.
None of the individual lieutenants were powerful enough to defy the Bright Lord and his invincible golden armor, yet the combined weight of their factions constrained Gunlaug's ability to act recklessly. With the sudden surge of political tension focused entirely on Zachary, the immediate pressure on the Outer Settlement would ease...
All of this, accomplished by severing a single limb.
Suddenly, a violent chill ran down Harper's spine, and cold sweat soaked the back of his hair. A terrifying realization struck him—one that completely shifted his perspective on everything he had just deduced.
The letter detailing Zachary's actions had been written before any of this took place. That meant Zachary had anticipated the outcome of the clash and mapped out the political fallout—a full week before it actually occurred.
'How... how far ahead is he seeing?' Harper wondered, a wave of awe and sudden fear washing over him. 'And why? What is he ultimately trying to achieve with all this?'
For once, his Aspect remained dead silent, unable to illuminate the end goal of his brother's grand design.
Harper shook his head vigorously, clearing the uneasy thoughts from his mind. There was no reason to be afraid; this was simply proof that Zachary was capable of delivering on his promises. The path he had laid out was sound; all Harper needed to do was execute his part.
'And to do that, my next move is clear...' Harper thought, rising from his chair. 'I need to visit the Artisans. I can secure their protection and circulate the rumors at the same time...'
As a faint spark of courage flickered in his anxious chest, he glanced around the empty reception hall one last time. He grabbed a small wooden sign that read 'Back in 30 minutes - Bathroom Break', placed it neatly on his desk, snatched the pouch of soul shards, and walked briskly away.
His deductions had made one thing abundantly clear: Zachary's value was immense, while his own worth was virtually non-existent beyond being his friend.
'And yet he still looked out for me, making sure I had a way to stay safe,' Harper mused, a sudden warmth filling his chest.
Distracted by the feeling, he turned a sharp corner down the corridor—and crashed straight into someone.
"Hey, hey! Slow down, speedster," a mocking voice called out as two hands caught his shoulders, holding him in place.
Harper swallowed a startled squeal and looked up frantically. Standing before him was a young man with a short buzzcut and a bright, dim smile that betrayed zero complex thoughts behind it. Behind him stood a man with unkempt, slicked-back hair and deep dark circles hanging beneath his tired brown eyes. At his side stood a third young man with tanned skin and a curious spark dancing in his amber eyes.
A glint of recognition flashed in Harper's eyes—a look matched by the trio as they recognized him in turn.
"L-Lester... A-Arlo and Mauro, right?" Harper stuttered, straightening up and stepping back as Mauro released his shoulders. "You... you gave me that heavy bundle for Zachary a few months ago."
"Yeah, you're Harper, right?" Lester said calmly, stepping past his companions. He cast a brief, warning glance back at the other two before turning his gaze back onto Harper. "Would you look at that? We were actually on our way to find you."
Harper swallowed hard, a sudden wave of panic seizing his chest before being quickly subsumed by a sharp, cold focus deep within his mind.
"O-Oh, really? W-Why— I mean! Can I ask why?" he stumbled over his words, consciously following the intuitive prickle of his Aspect.
Mauro opened his mouth with a wide grin, but Arlo instantly slapped a hand over it, shutting him up. Lester gave the two a stern, lingering look before turning back to Harper, taking a slow beat before speaking vaguely.
"Say... you're pretty close with Zachary, aren't you?" Lester studied Harper's face. "We have records showing you procured a few supplies from us two weeks ago... and there's a trace of you leaving the Castle for a bit right after."
Harper's brain spun, wildly searching for a plausible cover story, but he forced himself to breathe as a faint wave of courage steadied his nerves. The trio standing before him were on good terms with Zachary—they had gone out of their way to supply him when he was in dire straits. More importantly, they were Artisans, and Zachary had explicitly told him they could be trusted.
This was his moment. This was the exact opportunity he needed to carry out Zachary's instructions.
"Y-Yes, I met with Zachary two weeks ago. I brought him a few things I thought might help," Harper said, fighting to keep his voice steady. He didn't miss the sharp, knowing glances the three exchanged at the news. Capitalizing on the opening, he pressed on. "A-And actually... he mentioned something to me back then."
Mauro's eyes went wide, though he remained muffled beneath Arlo's firm palm. Without waiting for them to push, Harper kept talking.
"Zach-Zachary mentioned that he was leaving with Ne—with Changing Star and her cohort on their journey..."
Suddenly, a thought struck Harper. 'Wait... I already spread those rumors about a rift between Zachary and Changing Star back when I first returned to the Bright Castle... I can use that.'
A wave of embarrassment washed over him, and he closed his eyes guiltily, offering a silent apology to Zachary in his head before coughing into his fist.
"Actually—! No, better not... I don't know if it's my place to say anything..." Harper hedged, feigning hesitation as the trio leaned in with sudden, intense interest.
Mauro violently pried himself free from Arlo's grip, stepping forward and throwing an arm over Harper's shoulders. "Come on, man! Don't leave us hanging like that... just spill the tea already!"
Harper turned his head away, playing reluctant, though a faint, nervous smile threatened to break across his lips. "Well... I don't know if you heard a few months back about how Zachary left their cohort in a... rather dramatic fashion."
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to swallow the wave of shame, considering he was the one who had originally manufactured and spread that rumor under Zachary's orders. Completely oblivious to this, Mauro scratched his head in confusion.
"Ohhh, that rumor," Arlo said, his face lighting up with recognition. Mauro quickly caught on.
"Oh! About the—"
"Shhh! Don't say it out loud, shithead! For the Spell's sake, we aren't gossip girls," Lester snapped, his expression stern, though he took a subtle step closer to catch every word.
"Oh, come on, Mo! You were the most excited one when you heard that Zach—"
"Shut it!" Lester hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a faint flush creeped onto his cheeks.
"Mo?" Harper asked absentmindedly, catching the odd nickname.
Mauro whipped his head toward Lester, opening his mouth with a wide grin that was immediately smothered by a hand once again—except this time, it belonged to Lester himself.
"Just... just a stupid, completely unfounded nickname that bastard Zachary gave me. Nothing more," Lester said defensively, glaring not at Harper, but at his two snickering friends.
Watching the exchange, Harper let out a genuine, breathless laugh. "I-I get it. Zachary always pulls the most troublesome stunts... and yet he has this weird je ne sais quoi where you can't actually bring yourself to hate him, right?"
Lester looked at him strangely, withdrawing his hand from Mauro's face and wiping it on his trousers. "Did you... did you just try to talk like him?"
Harper coughed violently, looking anywhere but at the three of them. "P-Perhaps... A-Anyway! What I meant to say is that Zachary made it very clear to me that he wasn't joining Changing Star's cohort as a member. He went as... as a contracted party! And from what I last heard, the tension within that cohort is still pretty thick..."
"Oh, because of—"
"Shh! We don't know the specifics yet. Don't make stupid assumptions," Lester cut Arlo off again. Arlo fell back reluctantly beside Mauro, thoroughly chastised.
"Right, I don't know the full details either," Harper said, shrugging while carefully reading their micro-expressions. "What I do know is that he isn't part of Changing Star's group. He joined them purely to pursue his own goals... He even took Kai with him."
"Night?" Arlo mused aloud. "Huh. So that's why I haven't seen him around lately."
Processing the new information, the trio exchanged rapid, serious glances. Harper could practically see the gears turning in their heads as they integrated these pieces into the broader political landscape of the Castle—calculating how it altered the balance between the Artisans and the Host.
Recognizing that the hook was set, Harper decided it was time to make his move.
"Ermmm... guys..." he began nervously, drawing their attention back to him. "I-I don't really know how to ask this... but lately, I've felt this terrifying tension creeping through the Castle. And I... I was wondering how I could secure my own safety..."
With trembling hands, he pulled out the leather pouch, loosening the top just enough to reveal the gleaming soul shards inside. The Artisans' eyes lit up, reflecting the brilliant light of the shards.
Harper pressed his advantage immediately. "I-I was wondering if you would consider letting me join the Artisans..."
Lester and Arlo exchanged a heavy, contemplative look. Mauro, however, simply reached into the pouch and plucked out a shard with a grin. "A friend of Zach's is a friend of the Artisans!"
Arlo instantly slapped his hand, forcing Mauro to drop the shard back into the pouch. Surprisingly, though, no one rejected the idea. Lester looked at Harper for a long second, then down at the pouch, and finally at his companions.
After a moment of heavy consideration, Lester let out a long, tired sigh. "It should probably be fine..."
Harper's heart skipped a beat, but he forced his face to remain carefully neutral as Lester continued.
"I don't think there'll be an issue..." Lester said, glancing down the quiet hallway. "We'll just need to clear it with our boss first—she has to give the final approval. Tell you what: we'll drop by your desk later and invite you properly over to the Garden, sound good?"
After giving their confirmation, the Artisans quickly departed, eager to inform Kido of the new developments and plan their next strategic move. Harper watched their retreating backs with a faint, weary smile. A sudden wave of relief washed over him, and a long breath escaped his lips—the most crucial task was complete.
Now, all that remained was to continue quietly circulating the rumor while maintaining his subtle efforts to make the Sleepers dream of the Waking World once more.
'Zach... I don't know why you asked me to do all this,' Harper thought, closing his eyes. 'But when you return, I'll make sure everything is prepared for your next move.'
Seeing how seamlessly the initial steps had unfolded, Harper was now entirely convinced that following Zachary was his only real path forward—his only way out of this hellscape, back to his father and sister. His duty was to help his friend build that bridge, no matter how small his role might seem.
"You must be Harper, right?"
A sweet, melodic voice called from behind him, shattering his quiet resolve. Harper shuddered as a cold surge of dread instantly replaced the warmth in his chest.
He spun around, his face draining of color, cold sweat soaking through his shirt. Standing a few paces away was a young girl with short black hair, wearing an elegant set of clothes accented by a crimson armband. She was smiling at him with charming composure.
A Handmaiden.
The dread in his stomach twisted violently—not simply because he had failed to hear her silent approach, but because a terrifying oversight suddenly struck him, dismantling his earlier confidence.
In all his careful political deductions, Harper had completely failed to account for the Handmaidens' role in this newly brewing storm. More importantly, he hadn't considered how their beautiful, deadly leader—Song Seishan—would react to Zachary's elevated standing.
His stomach churned as he recalled the strict boundary Zachary had set in his letter, emphasizing that knowing why he had maimed Haru would only place Harper in lethal danger. He also remembered the sole, explicit warning his friend had given him when he returned to the Castle looking like a living corpse: 'Be wary of the Handmaidens...'
Noticing his deathly pale expression, the Handmaiden, Madi, only smiled wider. "Lady Seishan is expecting you, Harper... I'm sure she would love to hear whatever you have to say about Zachary."
Harper swallowed hard, but no matter how many times he tried, his throat remained bone-dry. A violent shiver ran down his spine, leaving him looking like a fragile reed in the wind.
And yet, a second later, the trembling stopped.
A strange, quiet stillness settled over him—not derived from his Aspect, but born from a sudden, stubborn spark of bravado taking root in his pounding heart. A small, nervous smile twitched on his lips.
"O-Of course. L-Lead the way," Harper stammered, trying and failing to sound composed. Yet the conviction in his chest only burned brighter.
'Brother... I don't know how I'm going to pull this off, but if I want to help you get us out of this place, I have to step up too... I'm sure wherever you are, you're dealing with things a hundred times worse than this—and still staying in total control.'
As Harper followed Madi through the grand, quiet corridors of the Bright Castle, dozens of kilometers away—far beyond the shadow of the Castle walls and the ruined streets of the Dark City—a small cohort stood among towering pillars of crimson coral.
They were surrounded by a land of absolute darkness, corruption, and ancient madness. Dark, icy water was rising rapidly around their ankles, flooding the lightless expanse. The oppressive gloom was pierced only by the brilliant, blinding white flame roaring from a solitary longsword.
"What the absolute hell am I doing here?!" Zachary yelled through gritted teeth, glancing at the tense, pale faces of the cohort around him.
His heart hammered violently against his ribcage as a colossal, terrifying shadow parted the rising black waters, marching steadily in their direction.
'I really, really shouldn't have come here...'