The field was still crackling with aftershocks, scorched stone, singed grass, and phantom echoes of the battle with Elsha, though the fog had begun to dissipate. Cainan stood beside Lynzelle, her missing arm bloodied and wrapped in crude cloth, her eyes heavy with pain she refused to voice. Then—
"CAINAN!" Zaara's voice cracked through the air like a whip, high and furious and trembling.
She crashed into both of them, arms thrown around their necks with desperate force, dragging them into a tangled embrace that made Cainan stiffen with surprise and Lynzelle blink rapidly, her single hand slowly lifting to rest against Zaara's back. The squad closed in around them all, the ring of faces suddenly warm, familiar, alive.
"You're alive," Zaara breathed, her voice breaking, laughter and tears meshing into one. "I was worried. I couldn't even take a shit properly without thinking you were dead or fighting some freaky witch that could finally end you. Do you have any idea what that's like? Do you?!" She pulled back, grabbed his collar. "Back at the banquet… I told you something deep. Something I never told anyone."
Cainan blinked slowly. His lips parted.
She shoved him, hard in the chest. "If you had died after I told you that—I would've stomped on your grave. You hear me? No one knows that about me. Just you. You can't just die after hearing my deepest and darkest secret, fool!"
Cainan replied, "It's good to see you too. S-Sorry."
Then her gaze darted to Lynzelle's side—and her eyes widened. "Your arm—Oh—Lynzelle, your—"
"I'm fine." Lynzelle cut her off with a small grin, her voice lilting and light despite the pain behind her eyes. "Still the prettiest one here, aren't I?" She held her chin up.
"She's so courageous," Raijin muttered, clanking forward.
Tojin, behind them, shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "I—I came by Thurna earlier. Found out where they were. I tracked their Bloodhunter stones through the capital—Thurna helped me the rest of the way. I—I went to get help."
Cainan turned to him sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Tojin… what happened to you?"
Tojin's knuckles were scraped raw, dried blood on his neck and one sleeve torn to the elbow. He winced but tried to smile. "Some… cultist freak tried to hurt Thurna. I fought them. They were strong, weird magic. But I was fast enough. Fast enough, Cainan."
For a moment, his face faltered. "That's all I wanted. To be fast enough to save someone."
Cainan knew instantly—it was Elsha's cult. He stared for a moment longer, then slowly raised a fist. "You did good."
Tojin blinked, startled, before his lips quivered into a beaming, boyish grin. He held his own fist up in disbelief and bumped it lightly against Cainan's. "He fist bumped me…" he whispered.
"LOOK!" he shrieked, shoving his hand into Foxxen's face. "H-he fist bumped me! Do you see this?!"
Foxxen grabbed his wrist with one clawed hand, expression flat. "Stinky. Bloody. Disgusting." And with a grunt, he launched Tojin like a ragdoll into the sky. "Get that away from me!"
"Young bastards," came a voice.
Lady Selvaria Vance strode up behind them, eyes gleaming like cold metal beneath her hair. She held a match between two fingers, her hand halfway to her mouth—then paused. Her eyes lingered on Cainan and Lynzelle—then on the rest of the battered squad.
She exhaled sharply through her nose and tossed the match to the dirt.
"I almost lit up," she muttered. "Almost. Last time I smoked was when my entire squad was dragged out in pieces. I had lost myself." Her gaze locked on Cainan. "I trusted you'd still be alive next time I found you." She looked him up and down, her tone harder now. "Didn't disappoint me. Thank you."
Behind them, Foxxen and Raijin leaned toward Cainan together, voices in eerie unison.
"You left without waking us up."
Cainan tilted his head. "I was on a mission to find my wife. I wasn't gonna wake you up for that. Figured I'd let you rest."
"Awwwwww," they said together, mockingly, tilting their heads like synchronized wolves.
Then they each grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground.
"AGAIN?!" Cainan exclaimed.
"Don't give a shit," Foxxen snarled. "We're a squad. Don't ever leave us to fight witches that strong alone. Got it?"
"What would I look like waking you both up just to go chase my wife—you know how stupid I'd look? You want me to look soft?! Like a little wimp?!"
"You are soft," Raijin said. "But in a good way, haha."
"You're married!" Foxxen added. "It's allowed!"
Cainan twitched. The word married rang in his skull. He was in a fake marriage.
He cleared his throat, eyes darting, trying not to show how red his ears had gotten.
Aris stepped forward then, placing her hands gently on both their chests, white gown swaying. Her blindfold shifted with her breath.
"Next time you run off without telling us," she said softly, "I will wrap you in my cursed vines until you're pissing blood."
Then she decked Cainan across the jaw.
"Ow—what the hell!?" he shouted.
"You made me stop eating," Aris hissed. "Family custom. When we want something to happen, we don't eat until it does. You were gone too long. My stomach hated me."
"Punch her instead!" he shouted, pointing at Lynzelle.
Aris sniffed. "I will not. She, Zaara, and I are best friends now. She did nothing wrong."
Lynzelle giggled faintly, but her smirk softened.
She remembered it all. The fog. Elsha. The harp. Her arm. The Witch Queen's still face. The madness. The price. Her mother.
A silence threaded through her thoughts.
The Witch Queen had shown her a path. A thread to find her mother—the only other person who'd ever held her with warmth, even in Hell. That thought gripped her now, even as Zaara and Aris walked beside her.
Could she go with the Queen?
Could she leave Cainan again? She knew he would want to go with her.
She looked at the squad—their arguing, their laughter, the clamor of emotion. Bloodhunters and witch-hunters formed clusters around them, healing, resting, talking.
And slowly, her gaze fell back to Cainan.
Her throat tightened.
'Cainan… you're the only thing that's made me feel happy since escaping Hell. You and Mother. You gave me warmth. Held me like I wasn't made of rot and fire. I always felt like I could explode around people. But not with you. Do you actually feel something for me? Do I…? This was supposed to be a fake marriage. It is, though. That's what we agreed on.'
Her mind flipped to the moment when he came to see her at the play, and how she ran from him because she was ashamed for him to even look at her.
'He understood me, we fight together like we've known each other for years and I've only known him for a few days. If he does have feelings for me, should I ask him about it? What if I look desperate? How would he feel if I asked? Maybe I should wait. I don't even know if I feel anything for him, but I do care about him deeply. Love in Hell, was non existent. I don't know how to truly do it the right way. As I see everyone, and hang around people, I watch them, learning what love is slowly and how to do it properly. Maybe eventually I will feel something for him, but right now, I don't even know.'
Lynzelle shook her head as she wanted to think about something else right now.
Lynzelle then turned to Foxxen, and asked, "Can I ask you something?"
Foxxen responded, "Huh? What is it?"
"It's odd the way everyone is casually acting like nothing crazy just happened. They just fought the witch queen, and they're not acting scared or confused."
"Ahhhh. Yeah. That. Cainan must have not told you."
"What?"
"Our mission was a success. We came to get you two, and we did it. We savor the moment of victory any time we can no matter where we are, because we never know when defeat will come. We'll worry about all that other stuff later."
From the side, the Sovereign Council whispered to each other as griffons arrived, majestic beasts casting enormous shadows. Lord Garron crossed his arms. "Sorneth will be put on hold until we sort out what happened here."
Dravok grumbled. "And to figure out why that woman from the dreams was here…"
Camelot said nothing. He leaned against a tree, arms crossed, eyes smoldering. Quiet.
Then Idrathar stepped forward.
"Selvaria," he said firmly. "Get Lynzelle and the simian to the palace. Clerics will handle their wounds. They've earned peace."
"And the others?" Selvaria asked, glancing around.
"Take them too. Except him." He gestured at Cainan. "He stays."
He looked to the others.
"We'll question the girl and the simian when they're ready. No rushing. They've been through enough."
The Bloodhunters nodded, escorting the wounded toward the waiting griffins.
Lynzelle hesitated at the steps. Then turned.
Cainan looked up from where he stood in the field.
Their eyes locked—hers glassy, his burning.
The stare lingered. A world of questions hung between them.
Then she turned away. Raijin, Foxxen, Zaara, Aris, Tojin at her side. Camelot vanished with the rest. Even Zaara looked back at Cainan, before turning back around.
The field emptied.
And now, only Cainan and Idrathar stood in the open field—quiet, solemn.
Far above them, standing tall on the back of a departing griffin, Camelot turned once more.
His teeth clenched, and his fists curled.
His eyes never left Cainan.
The air was thick with silence. No wind. No birds. Just the weight of stillness, crushing and unnatural, like the calm after the executioner's blade has swung.
Cainan stood beside Idrathar, the two of them fixed in place amid the ruined landscape. Ash hung like snow on their shoulders. The sky above—dark and vast—held Idrathar's gaze. He hadn't moved since Elsha's end. His cape fluttered only slightly, but the man himself—unshakable, unnerving, like a statue grieving time itself.
Cainan didn't dare speak.
He watched the old Sovereign, waiting. 'Is he gonna yell?'
He braced. 'Is he gonna attack me?'
He exhaled slow, but the breath didn't ease his nerves. Something about the way Idrathar was looking at the sky unsettled him more than any scream ever could.
A minute passed. Then another. The silence was beginning to warp. It curled around Cainan's ribs like a vice. A part of him wanted to say something, anything—to cut through the eerie stillness. But he didn't. He couldn't. Something told him not to.
Then Idrathar finally spoke.
"When Espen is gone…" he began, voice low, almost hollow. "Every second she is not within reach… I descend further into something I do not recognize."
Cainan swallowed. The words cut colder than he expected.
"I don't mean rage. Not grief. Not even sorrow. No… what I'm talking about is older than that. It's a quiet sort of undoing. A peeling of the self—layer by layer. Like your soul is a parchment and the ink is being slowly scraped off with a rusted blade. You can still read what it once said… but you can feel it's vanishing."
He still didn't look at Cainan. Just the sky.
"People think madness is chaos. Screaming. Wild laughter. Gibbering. No. That's the performance of it. Real madness is order. It's a calm logic that eats you. It makes sense. That's the horror of it."
Idrathar's hand flexed once at his side, knuckles white. His voice remained even, but each word was brittle as glass.
"You begin to reason why letting a kingdom burn is acceptable—if it means your child lives. You start to think… perhaps this one genocide, just this one, will be justified. Maybe if you carve open just enough witches… she'll come back. Maybe the blood will call her."
A gust of wind stirred the ash.
"One day," Idrathar said quietly, "I might become something I do not wish to be. For the sake of my daughter… I will let that thing be born."
Cainan looked away.
"I plan on saving her," he muttered. "I'm gonna force the witches to take themselves out… until they summon Espen back themselves."
Idrathar finally looked at him.
"And who were you fighting… when we arrived?"
Cainan exhaled. "A witch. Name was Elsha. I got a tip she was in the area. Went to apprehend her."
Idrathar's eyes scanned the clearing. "I don't see her body. Did you kill her?"
Cainan gritted his teeth. "No. But…"
His voice stalled. His heart beat heavier.
'I let her die.'
'Didn't wanna trap her soul in the Radiance Chamber. For once… I actually pitied a witch. Fucking crazy.'
He met Idrathar's eyes.
"I messed up," Cainan said, lying. "I killed her. Accidentally."
Idrathar stared through him.
"You would never lie to me, right?"
The words landed like an axe.
'I hate this.'
'I hate lying.'
'He was the only one to give me a chance. I was fourteen when he let me in the empire. He fed me. Sheltered me. Taught me to kill witches and why we kill them.'
'He gave me something to live for. Something to be. Not even my own blood ever gave me that.'
'He always thought of me as his son.'
"No," Cainan said, forcing the words through his throat. "I would never lie to you."
Idrathar nodded slowly.
"What did you find while away from the capital?"
Cainan latched onto the question, grateful for the shift.
"I learned about Witch Mothers," he said. "There's one hiding in a noble estate. Got a tip from an Aurumkin fairy. Said Witch Mothers are… closer to the Witch Queen than anything else."
"And what did you want to use this Witch Mother for?" Idrathar asked.
"To get to the Witch Queen. Use her like a gate. A way in."
Idrathar's eyes narrowed. "That was the Witch Queen… wasn't it? When we arrived?"
Cainan nodded. "Yes. But… I think you already knew that."
He paused. "Everyone in the world saw that dream on the same night. She was in it."
Idrathar's expression didn't change. His silence said more than words.
"What happened before we got there?" he asked. "It seemed she knew Lynzelle."
Cainan's heart thumped. Fuck.
He clenched his fists. "She said… she wanted to take Lynzelle. Saw she could harness curse power. Wanted to make a witch out of her."
Idrathar stared.
He didn't blink. Didn't nod.
Just stared.
Then slowly, finally, he said, "Lynzelle's case has bothered me for days. But I trust you. I know you would never lie to me."
His hand came down on Cainan's shoulder, and Cainan gave a slow nod in return. But the guilt throbbed behind his eyes.
'I hate this.'
'I hate how it makes me feel. Like I'm the bad guy.'
'But if anyone finds out… if they knew how close Lynzelle is to the Witch Queen… who knows what will happen. I can't let that happen.'
"Tell me about these Aurumkin fairies," Idrathar said, voice quieter now.
Cainan blinked. "You've heard of them?"
Idrathar nodded. "Delicate, but deadly. They wield harmonic weaponry. They sing with astral songs—songs of love and grief and binding. They come from Il'Vaemel… a grove of star-trees that floats in the void. Their queen… is Nireth Velasuin. A blind fairy who guards the core of Laevmara."
Cainan's breath hitched. The information was precise, ancient. 'He knows a lot about them. How?'
Idrathar added, "They sing lullabies to god-larvae," Idrathar continued. "To keep them asleep. Their songs prevent the larvae from bleeding out of the tree and ending up in the hands of those who cry for it."
He turned again toward the sky.
"If someone harnesses a god-larvae… they can use it. Mold it. Wield it."
Cainan whispered, "The Witch Queen wants to use the Tree of Ascendance. To make a god themselves."
Idrathar's voice dropped.
"How… interesting. Creating a deity
Then his tone shifted. His shoulders stiffened. He turned slightly, half his face hidden in shadow.
"Yuniper…"
He paused. The name alone hit like a collapsed cathedral.
He said it again, softer. "Yuniper…"
A tension snapped inside his jaw. For a moment, the Sovereign of Kalazeth looked human. Fractured. A father, not a ruler. A man crushed beneath memories he could never kill.
He breathed deep. Willed himself together.
"She had a son."
Cainan's brow furrowed.
'I've… seen that Yuniper had a son, from Elsha's memories!'
The silence returned.
Idrathar stood still for a long while, eyes tracing the dark horizon. Then, finally, he spoke.
"Yuniper had a son."
His voice was low, as if afraid the night itself would listen. "But it wasn't truly hers—not from her womb. She never could bear children before me. But one day… something found her. A larva. Not a beast. Not a spirit. A godling, unformed and forgotten by heaven and hell alike. Drawn to her."
Cainan's brows furrowed. "She just… kept it?"
"She believed it was a blessing. Something sacred. She'd always wanted children. And to her, this… thing was proof she could nurture something divine. She named it Adam."
He let the name hang. Cold. Simple. Primordial.
Cainan's voice dropped. "And you let her keep it?"
"I did worse." Idrathar's fists clenched. "I helped her hide it. We sealed it beneath the pale roots of Alrasen's twisted tree, in the dreaming fault of the mountain that never breathes. We thought we were protecting it… or maybe protecting the world from it."
Cainan stepped forward. "Why?"
"…Because I was a fool in love," Idrathar admitted, pain bleeding into his expression. "I had grown up with nothing. No family. No glory. Just survival. Yuniper… gave me something to live for. Even Camelot, my knight-captain, was less a friend and more a compass. A war-blooded constant. But Yuniper…she gave me purpose. A future."
He turned sharply, his cape swaying. "But the larvae has hatched now. It's growing—feeding. Shaping into what it was meant to be. A god. Of chaos. Of destruction."
Cainan's heart pounded harder. "Where is it?"
Idrathar hesitated.
"…I can't say. Not here. Not under this sky."
A pause. A long one.
Cainan narrowed his eyes. "You've never cared about where we were before. Anytime I asked, you told me. Without pause."
Idrathar looked away. "This is different."
"…I understand," Cainan said softly, even if he didn't. His voice was steady, but something inside him coiled.
"Now that Yuniper's betrayed everyone… what do you plan to do with Adam?" he asked.
"I don't know." Idrathar's voice dropped low. "I haven't figured that out. Part of me…" He trailed off. "It's insane—but I've wondered what it would be like… to use him. Shape him. A weapon unlike anything this world has ever seen."
He turned to Cainan suddenly. "Tell me—do you know where the Aurumkin fairy went?"
"She ran off after the fight with Elsha," Cainan replied. "Had to. She would've died otherwise. Or worse."
Idrathar murmured, "Interesting.."
Cainan said, "The Witch Queen wants to use an Aurumkin fairy…to reach the land of the Aurumkin and the Tree and break it. She spreads curses and darkness to weaken the veil around it, so she will be able to get around it. As that's the only way. Besides forcing an Aurumkin fairy from letting her in."
"That means it's in a land away from this plane of existence. Like a domain."
"Yeah.."
Silence stretched.
Then Idrathar's tone sharpened with military clarity. "I'm raiding the monasteries of the Sorneth Kingdom. Tomorrow."
Cainan blinked. "That'll start a war."
"No," Idrathar said darkly. "War has already started."
He took a step forward, jaw rigid.
"Sorneth's soldiers fought beside summoned witches. I saw them. It isn't corruption. It was collaboration."
He narrowed his eyes. "Their king and queen—King Voren il-Dexura and Queen Thellani Virelth—rule with blood and fire. I've long suspected them of sacrilege, but now I have proof. Voren is said to have bathed in the blood of his own kin to gain the throne, and Thellani..she never speaks publicly, yet every full moon the clouds above their palace part like frightened birds. Sorneth isn't what it once was."
Cainan asked quietly, "What was it?"
"A haven," Idrathar answered. "Once. Before the Crimson Shift Campaign."
He paced slowly. "Fifteen years ago, they launched the Campaign. A holy war they called it. But it was anything but. They turned whole provinces into bleeding altars, sacrificing forests and rivers alike. After they met with Yuniper… something changed. She claimed it was just for magical research. Studying witch remains. But after she returned, she never told me what happened."
He stopped. "All I know is that after that, Sorneth became a kingdom of blood."
Cainan gave a slow nod, absorbing every word.
"I want you with me," Idrathar said then. "Camelot, Selvaria, Savrec, the Painters… and the other council members. We're raiding all four monasteries tomorrow."
"All of them?!" Cainan asked, stunned.
"I've been cautious for years. But Kalazeth is stronger now. We have no equal. Sorneth conquered lesser kingdoms during the Marrowveil Campaign, and they've grown fat on their silence."
Cainan raised an eyebrow. "Wait. Savrec? The fancy dresser guy who gave us our banquet clothes yesterday?"
Cainan remembered him perfectly. Basically acting like a conductor the way he was orchestrating his Dressers to model Cainan and Lynzelle's banquet outfits.
"Yes." Idrathar didn't even smile. "Him. And his Dressers. They insisted on helping. I tried to refuse. They wouldn't hear it."
Cainan shook his head in disbelief. "Of course they did…"
"And the Painters," Idrathar added, glancing to the east. "They're coming too."
Cainan's eyes widened. "They're fighters?"
"They're grateful. You and your squad saved their village. I only went to drop off their payment after the raid—supplies, brushes, oils. I mentioned the monastery strike… jokingly told them to watch over the capital while we were gone."
He turned. "They said no. They wanted to come. Said if war's calling, they'd rather paint their courage in blood than in ink."
'He's lying.' Cainan thought.
Cainan's voice lowered. "What about Lynzelle?"
A pause.
"…She might be a liability," Idrathar said at last. "With one arm…"
"She won't be," Cainan cut in. "Trust me."
Idrathar hesitated. "I'd like to trust you, Cainan. But this is a risk I can't take."
Cainan slowly nodded.
'She needs rest anyway, he thought, his mind tilting inward. These last battles have cracked something in her. Her fire's still there—but beneath it is sorrow, confusion. Let her breathe. Let me handle this one. Shouldn't I be telling myself that as well..?'
The gust of wind snapped their attention upward.
A massive griffin circled once, then landed with a crash of wings and clawed feet. The beast's breath steamed against the cold night, feathers shimmering with oil and starlight.
Idrathar climbed on without a word.
Cainan followed, the saddle creaking under his weight.
As the griffin leapt skyward, rising into the pale light of dawn, the empire below seemed to shrink—its scars, its secrets, its gods-in-hiding.
'What the hell…is going with Idrathar? Is he finally onto me…?'