The wind over the hills was sharp and moody, carrying the scent of scorched earth and something older—grief. Mai, Tiffany, and Duncan descended from the mountain trail in silence. Since the discovery of Leo's journal, a strange energy had hovered between them. Even Tiffany had stopped with her usual jabs.
They moved toward the southern edge of the island, nearing a forgotten military station now used by Gigel's forces. The sun dipped low behind them, casting long shadows.
Mai finally broke the silence. "We'll make camp before nightfall. The soil here feels too dry for a clean fight."
"Meaning?" Duncan asked.
"It means if we fight here, there will be no balance. The land itself wants blood."
Tiffany smirked. "Poetic. And a little creepy."
They stopped by a crumbled stone arch, where vines covered forgotten markings. A fire was set, and Duncan, silent as always, took charge of gathering wood. Tiffany sat alone, gazing into the forest's edge. Mai began to clean her blade.
Eventually, Duncan returned with dry sticks. In the firelight, he looked different—calmer but distant. Mai noticed.
"You've changed," she said.
"So have you."
Tiffany chuckled from the shadows. "Everyone's so emotionally aware tonight. Should we all cry together?"
Duncan turned to her. "You mock because it's safer than feeling."
Tiffany's eyes narrowed. "You don't know me."
"No. But I recognize the armor. I wore it once, too."
Mai stood, the heat in her chest rising. "Enough. Both of you. We're not here to unearth trauma—we're here to stop Gigel."
The flames crackled.
Then, a sound.
Low. Mechanical.
Mai turned instantly. "Down!"
Three explosive darts hit the trees near their camp. A squad of four—masked and armored—emerged from the brush, weapons humming.
Gigel's scouts.
Mai flared red, her aura blazing like molten glass. Tiffany leapt into the air, aura gold and sharp like sunlight through broken mirrors. Duncan stood his ground, eyes glowing violet.
The fight was tight, brutal.
Mai slammed one agent into the old archway, sending cracks through the stone. Tiffany danced around two attackers, her movements like solar flares, spinning and kicking with reckless grace.
Duncan grabbed the arm of a soldier mid-strike and twisted it until bones snapped—his face unreadable. He didn't enjoy the violence. But he accepted it.
In minutes, it was over.
Bodies on the ground. Blood was soaking the dirt.
Tiffany looked down at one of the masked attackers. She kicked off the helmet—and saw it: the withered marigold symbol on the soldier's neck.
Her breath caught. "Another one."
Mai stepped beside her. "You okay?"
Tiffany hesitated. "It's not fear. It's rage."
Mai nodded. "Good. Let it burn the right way."
The campfire roared higher that night. Duncan sat quietly. He seemed to want to speak, but held it back.
Mai looked at him. "When are you going to tell me?"
"About what?"
"About the village. The night Glob fell."
Tiffany turned to him, too, curious now.
Duncan swallowed. "I was there."
Silence.
"I was part of the outer patrols sent to scout strange energy readings. I didn't know what was happening until it was too late. Gigel's forces struck fast. I... froze."
Mai stood. "You didn't try to fight?"
"I was told to report, not engage. But when I saw the flames, I ran back. I saw your mother."
Mai's hands trembled.
"She was already bleeding. She gave everything to protect you. I saw her release the rose before she fell."
Mai stepped forward and slapped him across the face.
Not from hate.
From heartbreak.
"You could have saved someone."
"I know," Duncan said, not defending himself. "I live with that every day."
Tiffany looked at him, less judgment in her eyes. "So why are you here now?"
"Because I want to stop running. Because I want to use the violet—my gift—to protect, not regret."
Mai walked away from the campfire, standing near the hill's edge.
She spoke without turning.
"Then earn it. With your actions. Not your words."
Later that night, Duncan sat alone with the journal he'd found earlier. He flipped through the last page. Leo's final words burned into his mind:
"Tiffany. You're not meant to be alone. One day, someone will see through the glare."
He looked across the fire, where Tiffany had fallen asleep, arms crossed, mouth slightly open. The glow of her sunflower aura is still faintly visible.
He whispered, "I think someone already has."
The night deepened.
And so did their bonds.
But in the distance, a signal reached Gigel. The scouts hadn't returned.
He smiled in his dark chamber, staring at the map. "So... the children grow teeth."
He turned to a soldier in blue armor.
"Send the storm. Let them feel what real pain tastes like."