Time passed in a haze.

  Before I knew it, dawn’s fog had lifted above the moss-draped rooftops of Night’s Reach, giving way to the pale mid-morning sun. Maybe I’d found some rest, or maybe I’d just lain there in silence—somewhere between sleep and lucid consciousness, a hypnagogic state of liminal restlessness.

  But as I stared up at the blue sky, scattered with thin wisps of cloud, my chest tightened.

  I realized I hadn’t seen blue sky since we’d arrived in Night’s Reach three days prior. Today, of all days, the gray blanket normally smothering the town had finally parted.

  And somehow, it felt cold—a solemn reminder that the world couldn’t see our pain, and wouldn’t bother stopping for it.

  Yet, watching those drifting clouds move through that endless blue brought me a small measure of strength. It reminded me of our insignificance—our fragility. My friend was gone, that much was true, but it almost felt like the sky itself was acknowledging that loss. Maybe even… a final gift from Grahamut. A quiet thanks for his redemption, and a nod to what we had sacrificed.

  I drew in a long breath and pushed myself upright, blinking away fatigue. Around me, the remains of the adventurers’ camp stood as stark reminders of the night before. My companions lay or sat nearby—some resting, some staring blankly.

  I rose slowly.

  Selene noticed first, watching me with a curious, measured look.

  Lyria was still curled beside Bront’s sleeping form.

  I met Selene’s eyes, steadied myself, and spoke.

  “I’m going with them,” I said. “With the Knights of Golden Light—to end this once and for all.”

  Her eyes widened briefly before she let out a soft sigh and nodded.

  “Ay… I suppose I should’ve expected that.”

  She pulled her gear toward herself, tightening straps and checking supplies.

  “...Alone,” I added quietly. “I’m going alone.”

  Kaela also looked over then, lifting her head, her expression unreadable.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Yukon,” Selene said. “If you go, we all go.”

  “No.” I kept my voice calm. “There’s no reason for any of you to put yourselves in more danger.”

  “What danger we put ourselves in is our own choice, hero,” Kaela muttered, brushing her fiery hair behind her ear to give me a stern look.

  I turned to face her. “You’re still injured. You were limping this morning… so just—let me—”

  “Am I not still the leader of this party?” Selene cut in as she stood, brushing dirt from her hands. “If I say we’re going, then we’re going. This isn’t on you.”

  I shook my head. “Please—I know you’re trying to spare me guilt by saying that, but there’s more to it. I’m not dragging you all into that hell if you don’t have to follow me.”

  Lyria sat up then, her lavender eyes still rimmed with red.

  “What does that mean?” she asked quietly. “More to what?”

  I sighed. Sooner or later, I’d have to tell them. Bront woke as well, rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of the tension.

  They all looked at me—waiting.

  I took a breath.

  “Lun and Ten… they told me more about their purpose last night,” I began. “Their reemergence isn’t random. It’s a response to something.”

  “What something?” Selene inquired, leaning in.

  “I still can’t be sure,” I said, looking toward the distant treeline—my gaze flicking briefly to Lyria.

  “I mentioned this before, but we didn’t have time then. I think… the gods within me may have last awakened during the reign of the King of Death. During the Great Catastrophe of the Seven Kingdoms.”

  All three girls gasped, eyes widening.

  Before they could speak, I continued.

  “Last night, they told me something terrible is coming—but they can’t see what.”

  “And you think it’s in those woods?” Lyria asked, her voice tight. “The Fell?”

  I looked at her, considered what I really thought, then nodded slowly.

  She stood abruptly, anger crossing her features.

  “And you’re planning to confront something that dangerous on your own?!” she snapped.

  “If Lun and Ten have been leading me toward this, then—yeah! I’m not getting any of you killed because of my misfortune.”

  “I think you’re confusing misfortune with destiny…” Selene muttered, tightening a bracer.

  Bront rose at the same time, determination settling across his face.

  “And if it is destiny,” he said, voice steady, “then fate brought all of us here for a reason.”

  Kaela crossed her arms. “If you think we’re letting you play the lone hero until the bitter end, you’ve got another thing coming, ranger.”

  Lyria stepped closer. “Yukon… If you’re going, I’m not staying behind. This is your first season adventuring—your first moon cycle, even.”

  Her voice softened, eyes meeting mine, shimmering with emotion.

  “I won’t let you do this alone. You need us… and we need you.”

  I turned away, emotion rising in my chest. “Please… if any of you fall, I—”

  “And you think we feel any different?” Selene cut in, stepping forward.

  Kaela nodded, a small smile beginning to tug at her lips.

  “If you went in there alone and didn’t come out… do you think any of us could live with that? That we just stayed behind and did nothing?” Lyria asked, already tying her silver hair back with one of her blue ribbons.

  “She’s right, lad,” Bront added. “We may not have magical beasts running circles in our chests, but we’re strong enough to watch your back. Don’t deny us that right.”

  I looked at all of them, my chest tightening. I glanced up at the blue sky once more, drew in a deep breath, set my jaw, and met their gazes one by one.

  “Fine then… let’s show those Fell bastards they messed with the wrong damn party,” I said, a smile forming as I looked at my companions—my friends.

  At that moment, I remembered the letter my father had sent me… and I realized I truly had found the people who would stand beside me no matter what. The thought widened my smile, and set ablaze an entirely new fire in my chest.

  We set to work immediately, gathering gear, potions, herbs, and talismans.

  Bront handed me a recovery potion, saying it should loosen the stiffness in my bones. It tasted like poison with an extra kick, but it did ease the soreness.

  Lyria downed a mysterious vial of shimmering blue liquid, and when her eyes briefly glowed, I figured it must’ve been a mana recovery potion.

  Selene, tough as ever, simply finished strapping on her silvery armor and shoved a bundle of herbs into her mouth, chewing as she prepared her pack.

  Kaela took a swig of something I was pretty sure was just alcohol, and cast me a sly wink when she caught me staring.

  Before long, the five of us were ready. We began marching through Night’s Reach toward the cathedral at once. As we walked, I couldn’t help but wonder who we would find waiting there, or if anyone else at all would join what was essentially a suicide mission. I tightened the strap on my belt, checked my gear one last time, and just kept moving.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  * * *

  The cathedral of Night’s Reach rose before us like a scar in the morning light—its once-white stone now stained with smoke and ash from the previous night’s battle. The great doors stood open, not in welcome, but in warning. The air hummed with tension, with purpose.

  As we crossed through the tall oaken doors, Murasa lifted his gaze from the maps spread across the altar. His purple eyes locked with mine. He gave a solemn, acknowledging nod, and the rest of his gold-ranked party followed: Haizen first, then Barton, and finally Celeste.

  It wasn’t much, but their recognition said enough—we pushed well beyond what we owed last night, and they respected that.

  I nodded back and let my eyes wander, scanning the cathedral, curious to see who else had been foolish—or brave—enough to show.

  I half expected us to be the only ones actually, but the group assembled before us was… curious.

  Jango stood at the front, tall and well-built, his unique longsword with its emerald-set hilt resting at his hip. Beside him was the shieldbearer from his party, the stout man whose name I still hadn’t learned, his round shield resting against one leg.

  Across from them stood Darron—the rogue I’d half assumed was an assassin the first time I met him. His dark cloak was drawn tight, the lower half of his face hidden behind a cloth mask, but his eyes burned with something cold and settled. Determination, or maybe vengeance.

  And beside him… Helaine. Leader of a five-man Bronze-ranked party—now reduced to three, the other two of which were likely too injured to stand here today.

  Her armor was scorched, one spaulder still dented from last night’s fight, but she held herself together through sheer will.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking, though deep down, I felt I already knew. She couldn’t let her companions’ deaths mean nothing.

  As for those who didn’t come…

  Helaine’s surviving party members.

  Darron’s teammates.

  Bromdel and the two dwarves who followed him.

  Karne, the exhausted wizard.

  And Margo… still missing.

  Murasa cleared his throat and straightened as we finished our approach, his presence filling the room.

  “Ranger Yukon,” he rumbled, his voice carrying through the vaulted chamber. “And your company. I am grateful to see you here.”

  Selene stepped forward with a curt nod. “Likewise.”

  Murasa’s amethyst gaze swept across our group, pausing on each of us—measured, assessing. Kaela raised a brow, meeting his scrutiny without blinking. Bront offered a respectful nod in return. Lyria barely glanced at Murasa at all; her attention drifted instead to Celeste, curiosity lingering in her eyes at the Archmage’s power that she’d witnessed from afar the night prior.

  Murasa folded his hands before him, his tone deepening.

  “To all gathered here—my sincere thanks. Most of you have already given more than should ever be asked. Yet today, you choose to step into the Fellwood once again.”

  He turned first toward Darron.

  “Rogue Darron. You come alone. Are you certain of this path?”

  Darron swallowed but didn’t look away. “I’m certain.”

  Murasa nodded once—approval without judgment.

  Then he faced Helaine, and his voice softened by a hair’s breadth.

  “Helaine of the Five Lanterns… you have suffered more than most. I would not fault you for withdrawing.”

  Her reply barely made it out—raw, strained.

  “They didn’t get to walk away,” she whispered. “So I won’t either.”

  Even Murasa paused at that, his expression shifting—respect, maybe sorrow.

  Then Jango stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides.

  “Tell us, Paladin. What’s the plan to defeat the Fell?”

  We all turned our eyes toward the Knights of Golden Light, waiting for their answer.

  This time, Celeste stepped forward, brushing back her deep blue hair as she prepared to speak.

  “I have mapped the forest to the best of my ability… It’s taken some time, but we believe the source of the corruption is radiating from the northeastern sector.”

  Jango scoffed. “That’s clear on the other side of the woods. It’ll take hours just to reach it!”

  A murmur of agreement rippled through the adventurers.

  “You really think we could make it there with enough strength left to defeat whatever’s waiting…?” I asked.

  Celeste inhaled, glanced once at Murasa, then locked eyes with me.

  “We… may have a solution for that.”

  Murasa stepped forward again, and for the first time since I’d met him, something like a smile cracked across his normally stone-set, draconic features.

  “That’s right—we’re flying there.”

  A chorus of disbelief erupted—scoffs, mutters, outright confusion—until Lyria’s voice cut through the noise.

  “You intend to use magic to fly over something as dangerous as the Fellwood…?”

  Celeste met her gaze, hesitated… then nodded.

  “I believe I can transport all of us.”

  Murasa took over again as Haizen and Barton turned away to speak with platoon leader Coles, who had just arrived.

  “Her spell can carry everyone. The real issue lies in the fact that it is a one-way trip. We happen to possess a rare magic stone… but only one.”

  He reached into a pouch at his belt and withdrew a large, pure-white crystal. It pulsed with a cold radiance, humming with contained mana.

  Lyria gasped. “That’s… an Ice Wyrm’s mana crystal. How in the world…?”

  Murasa waved his hand. “How is not important. What matters is that Celeste will draw from this to sustain her spell. But due to the scale and mana required… the entire crystal will be consumed. Meaning—”

  “Meaning if we fail once we get there, we’re all dead,” I said.

  Murasa’s amethyst eyes met mine, and he nodded once.

  Silence settled in, heavy as fog. Faces shifted uneasily; I knew we were all thinking the same thing.

  This truly would be a suicide mission…

  “Murasa,” I said quietly. “I have another question—one I won’t let go unanswered.”

  He turned to face me fully.

  “The Witch my party confronted… the townsfolk sacrificing their children. What of them?”

  A ripple of shock spread through the gathered adventurers—many clearly hearing this for the first time. Murasa’s throat worked before he answered.

  “That is… not within the parameters of our quest,” he said, his voice holding a thin thread of uncertainty. “And you reported the Witch was defeated, did you not?”

  “Ay. We did,” I replied. “But defeating her doesn’t resolve the issue, or absolve the townsfolk who were involved—”

  “We cannot afford to meddle in this town’s internal affairs,” he cut in, firm but strained. “I’m sorry.”

  The words slammed a door… but his eyes cracked a window. A subtle flicker—hold this for later.

  I nodded and stepped back. “Very well.”

  Haizen cleared his throat, voice low and gravelly. “Coles reports his men are ready.”

  Murasa lifted his maul onto his shoulder. “Then we leave at once.”

  Before anyone could argue, the Knights of Golden Light filed out of the cathedral. As Celeste passed, she cast a fleeting glance back at me. I raised a brow, but she looked away just as quickly.

  Darron followed next, then Helaine, Jango and his shieldman—and finally our party, lingering only a moment as we exchanged uncertain glances.

  We walked through town toward the northern palisades, passing broken facades, crushed wagons, soot-stained cobbles, and pale-faced citizens clinging to hope by splinters.

  At the gates, thirteen soldiers waited—the few brave enough to join us. The rest would stay behind with the remaining adventurers to defend the town.

  The moment we stepped beyond the northern palisades, the wind changed.

  The world grew quiet—unnaturally so. The Fellwood loomed ahead, black and breathing, its branches swaying with an energy that felt entirely wrong.

  Celeste moved to the center of the clearing.

  Her hands trembled—not with fear, but with the sheer weight of the magic she was about to command.

  Murasa gave her a single nod.

  She lifted the Ice Wyrm’s mana crystal.

  It ignited.

  A burst of white light flared outward, blinding at first, then resolving into swirling rings of light teal and gold that spiraled around her like an unfolding cosmos. Her robes snapped in the sudden pressure, and the earth at her feet rippled like water.

  I felt the mana surge—cold enough to sting, powerful enough to crack bone.

  “What in the gods’ names…” Bront whispered, shield clutched unconsciously as if warding off the divine.

  Selene stepped forward, awe softening her weary face. “Is it really possible to channel that much mana…?”

  Lyria’s breath escaped her in a trembling gasp. “It’s beautiful…”

  And it was.

  Celeste’s eyes glowed with an inner blue fire, gold filaments threading through the air like veins of light. The crystal levitating before her hands glowed more softly, a constant stream of its mana coiling out into her spell's grasp.

  Winds gusted upward, twisting into a towering helix of shimmering color.

  I stepped back, my heart hammering.

  She raised the crystal high.

  A shockwave of teal and gold rippled across the field, and from its epicenter, something began rising—huge, shifting—a luminous silhouette coalescing out of pure arcane energy.

  Lyria grabbed my arm, eyes wide.

  “Yukon… it’s that spell again.”

  I swallowed hard, unable to tear my gaze away, but uncertain what Lyria was referring to.

  Whatever she was summoning would carry us into the heart of the Fellwood.

  And for a moment—just a moment—we all stood together, awed and breathless, staring into the blinding brilliance of Celeste’s impossible magic…

  I looked down as the spell's form began taking shape beneath us, rising out of the ground, lifting us with it. Translucent, teal-tinged, and speckled with golden symbols even my imagination couldn't have created.

  I gasped when I finally saw what was taking shape beneath us, glancing at my companions.

  Each of them met my eyes nervously.

  This is what was taking us over the Fellwoods…?