"Are we close?" Winter asked, eyes narrowing as he pointed Weeping Phantom forward.
"Yes. We are," she replied, her voice flat. The shame of her current state was something she'd mostly shed by now—mostly.
Dae scanned the dense brush ahead, his fingers twitching by his side. "I don't see or hear anything unusual," he muttered. The jungle looked the same in every direction—tangled vines, humid air, thick trees that blotted out most of the sky. Nothing set this place apart.
"Are you lying to us?" he asked, suspicion sharpening his tone as he glared at Weeping Phantom.
A hollow chuckle slipped from her mouth. "You think we'd leave the portal just sitting out in the open?" she scoffed, flicking her gaze toward the treeline. "Just keep walking. I'll take you there."
Winter didn't need her reassurance. He could feel it.
There were no sights to confirm it, no sounds or smells to betray the hidden path—but every instinct told him they were close. Something subtle hummed through his bones, like a faint vibration buried under the soil.
"Stay close," he said to the elven kids without turning. His voice was steady, firm. The group moved behind him, careful not to step too far from his shadow.
"But... how are we meant to defend ourselves?" Vee asked, her voice hushed.
Without a word, Winter reached over his shoulder and unhooked the spear. The porcelain-white metal shimmered faintly in the filtered light as he held it out.
Jae, Lai and Vee all grabbed it at once—and immediately staggered.
Their eyes widened in alarm. Even together, they could barely lift it. The spear's weight was absurd—like they were trying to hoist a pillar of stone.
"How is one of us supposed to use this?" Jae asked through clenched teeth, arms trembling from the effort. The longer they held it, the heavier it seemed to get—like the weapon itself was testing them.
"You can let them use you," Winter said calmly.
The moment he spoke, the weight vanished.
The spear lightened in their grasp, becoming as natural to hold as a walking stick. Perfect balance, perfect weight—as if it had chosen to accept them.
"It's alive?!" Lai blurted out, her voice pitching high with disbelief.
Winter gave a faint shake of his head. "She's sentient. But I wouldn't go as far as to call her alive."
The kids stared at the weapon in awe.
"Now… whichever of you is best with a spear should use her. As amusing as it'd be to watch the three of you try to wield her like some oversized staff… this is serious."
Dae took a breath and reached out. The others let go.
He gripped the weapon—and it fit. It felt right. No resistance. No weight shift. Just there.
"She, huh?" he murmured, unsure whether to hold it firm or relaxed.
"Hold her however you like. She won't mind," Winter replied.
Dae nodded slowly, tightening his grip around the shaft.
...Which sounded horribly wrong, but he did it anyway.
"Okay," Weeping Phantom said, stepping just ahead. She raised her chin toward a patch of trees that looked no different than the rest. "We're here. One more step past those trees—and you'll step through the illusion."
Winter exhaled once, slow and controlled, before stepping forward.
The jungle pressed close around them, but he moved without pause, boots brushing over the undergrowth as he approached the tree line. The elven children followed close behind, silent and tense, their steps just a breath behind his. Then, without hesitation, they crossed through.
The world shifted.
For a moment, everything blurred—like a lens falling out of focus. The colors smeared, edges smeared and light warped. Then, clarity snapped back into place.
They stood in a clearing choked with ash and corruption. The air here felt heavier, wrong. In the center of the clearing loomed a portal—similar to the ones scattered across Aetheria, but larger, its swirling surface darker, more distorted. Its edges shimmered with red-violet light, and faint whispers crawled at the edge of hearing.
Surrounding it were demons.
Six imps crouched low to the ground.
Seven drakoraths loomed behind them.
Five others stood upright with unsettling poise. They resembled serpents twisted into human form—tall and lean, their limbs elongated just enough to seem off. Gleaming black scales covered their bodies, broken only by the occasional ripple of muscle beneath or the slick gleam of moisture. Their faces were narrow, framed by ridged brows and split jaws that hinted at unhinging. Slitted red eyes stared without blinking, and their presence gave off an uncanny valley effect—as though something inside them wanted to mimic humanity but got it horribly wrong.
Winter recognized them as Sharaykthun—rare, dangerous, and grotesquely intelligent. He hadn't fought many. He hadn't needed to know they weren't to be underestimated.
Winter spotted a sixth.
Larger than the rest.
This one bore heterochromatic eyes—one a pale gold, the other a deep crimson—and streaks of white marked his otherwise black-scaled body in asymmetrical patches. His leather armor was pieced together from some hulking beast, stitched with sinew and reinforced with bone. Brutish gauntlets encased his forearms, and long claw-like blades jutted out from the knuckles. Horns curled from his head—thick, dark, and jagged like splintered stone.
Winter's eyes narrowed.
"What'ssss thisss?" the larger Sharaykthun hissed, his voice like oiled chains sliding over gravel. "Hassss the Demon Lord'ssss daughter brought ussss… guestssss?"
Winter's gaze flicked to Weeping Phantom.
"Demon Lord's daughter, huh?" he remarked before dropping her unceremoniously to the dirt at his feet.
"Stay there, princess," he muttered coldly before stepping forward.
The children hovered back, tense beside the fallen Weeping Phantom. The demons snarled and hissed as Winter advanced, their roars scraping against the still air like knives. But he didn't glance at them.
His eyes were locked on the horned one.
"State your name, demon," he said as he unhooked his axe from his back in one smooth motion. "I'll make this quick."
The demon let out a slow, wheezing laugh—rattling and thick.
"Itssss Yillhowyen," he rasped. "And I sssshould be telling you that."
Winter's grip on the axe tightened.
"Yeah," he said flatly. "That's the expected answer."
Then he moved.