Fatefully Tragic Hero

Chapter 5: The Aftermath

Whisker

Aetheria's twilight bled from soft purples into deep indigo, the colors fluid and mesmerizing, a sharp contrast to the blood-soaked ground at Whisker's feet. For a brief moment, he could focus only on the sky, the fading light seeming distant, untouched by the violence below. His fingers twitched at his side, the hilt of his sword still warm from the heat of battle. It wasn’t the first time he had held a weapon since arriving in this strange world, but something about today felt... different.

It wasn’t just the battle itself—it was the aftermath. The way the air felt heavier, thick with more than just the smell of iron and decay. The refugees huddled in tight clusters, faces etched with disbelief and exhaustion. Some wept openly, while others clung to one another in stunned silence, as if any sound would shatter the fragile peace. Whisker stood apart, his body still trembling from the fight—once a nimble raccoon, now trapped in a human form he still wasn’t sure how to navigate. He had never felt more foreign in his own skin.

Is this what it means to be human?

He glanced down at his hands—too large, too awkward, glowing with faint tattoos. They were no longer the small, nimble paws that had scurried through the streets of Chicago. He had never felt more alien in his own skin. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. His body was stronger, yes, but it felt alien—too big, too capable. And that made him feel smaller somehow, more out of place.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked across the battlefield, his eyes tracing the carnage they had left behind. Bodies, broken and bloodied, littered the ground like discarded toys. Some of them soldiers, their faces twisted in expressions of agony, others refugees, caught in the chaos of it all. The sight made his stomach churn.

None of them had asked for this. Least of all him.

The refugees began to move slowly toward him, their steps hesitant, as if afraid to disturb the uneasy calm that had settled over the battlefield. A Fae Faire woman, gaunt and frail, cradled a small child in her arms. Her eyes, swollen with grief, locked onto his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible over the wind. “Thank you for saving us.”

He hadn’t saved anyone. The sword in his hand felt clumsy, awkward, like an extension of someone else's body. He had only swung it in desperation, a frantic attempt to stay alive. Heroes saved people. He had just... survived.

I didn’t do anything special. Not really.

The words stuck in his throat, lodged there by the weight of his own self-doubt. He looked down at the woman’s face, her hollow cheeks, the way her eyes shimmered with a kind of hope that made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t deserve her gratitude.

“I...” He hesitated, his mouth dry. “I’m glad we could help.”

The woman’s smile was small, but it reached her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, Whisker felt something stir inside him. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was guilt. He couldn’t tell.

She bowed her head in thanks and turned away, leading her child back to the safety of the others. Whisker watched her go, the knot in his chest tightening.

His hands trembled, and he quickly shoved them into his pockets, hoping no one had noticed.

Why does it feel like I’m falling apart?

“Whisker.”

Tanaka’s voice broke through the haze, pulling him back from the swirling thoughts that threatened to drown him. Whisker turned to face the older man, his tall frame clad in heavy, samurai-inspired armor, splattered with blood and grime. Tanaka’s face was as unreadable as ever, his sharp, gray eyes scanning the field as though assessing the damage. His sword hung loosely in his hand, the blade still glowing faintly with the magic that had carried them through the battle.

“You did well,” Hiroshi said, his voice steady. Tanaka said, his voice calm but laced with exhaustion. “We all did. Just remember that it wasn't about glory—it was about keeping them safe.” He shot Lucas a look, and then gestured to the refugees. “And you did that.”

Whisker swallowed hard. “Did I?” His hands trembled, hidden in his pockets. “I don’t feel like I did enough. It’s like you all did more. I just... flailed around, tried to keep from getting killed.”

Whisker swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. He wanted to believe Tanaka’s words, to feel the sense of accomplishment that the others seemed to carry with them. But all he felt was the gnawing emptiness that had taken root in his chest.

Whisker looked around, as the bodies of the soldiers were still being cleaned up by the rest of the guard, being led by Aric.

I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” Whisker whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Each breath felt heavier, as though the weight of the world pressed down on his chest. “I’m not cut out for this. I wasn’t made to fight.”

For a moment, Tanaka said nothing, his gaze lingering on the horizon. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more vulnerable than Whisker had ever heard it before. “None of us were born for this,” he said. “But we learn. We adapt. You’ll adjust over time.”

Whisker nodded, though the words didn’t bring him the comfort he had hoped for. He wanted to believe that he could adapt—that he could become the hero they needed him to be. But deep down, he wasn’t sure he could.

I’m just Whisker. Just a scavenger, trying to survive.

As Tanaka walked away, Whisker remained, rooted to the spot. His hands trembled at his sides. The battlefield was quiet now, but the unease wouldn’t leave him. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to chase away the dread that still clung to him, but it stayed. Always there, lurking in the back of his mind.

"You’re overthinking again, Whisker," Lucas’ voice cut through his fog of thoughts, playful but with an edge of seriousness. "Not every battle is going to give you a sense of closure. You survived. That’s enough for now."

Whisker startled slightly, glancing over. Lucas leaned against a crumbled wall, arms crossed, amber eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and understanding. 'I... yeah, I guess I am,' Whisker admitted, his voice quieter than before. 'I thought it would feel different, you know? Like... like winning would mean something more.' He struggled to put the feeling into words. The emptiness that had settled over him was unexpected. This wasn’t the victory he imagined.

Lucas let out a low snort, shaking his head. 'Winning? That wasn’t winning, kid. That was surviving. Big difference.' His tone softened, but his words carried weight. 'Look, no one’s throwing parades after battles like this. You survived, and so did the people you were trying to protect. I remember the first time I ran into a house on fire. Scary as hell, and when you’re done, you constantly have yourself thinking, is that it? All these people are hurt, so I must have not done enough. But that’s all you can ask for sometimes. And sometimes it’s all you’re gonna get.” He shot Whisker a quick wink, though his voice remained serious. “But don’t go all wide-eyed on me now, kid. We’re just getting started here. If this was hard, what’s next will be worse.” There was a grim certainty in his words, something that made Whisker’s chest tighten.

Whisker swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to believe Lucas, wanted to feel the same sense of purpose that the others carried like armor. But all he felt was a gnawing emptiness, a hollow pit in his chest that seemed to grow deeper with every passing second. As Lucas moved off, leaving him to his thoughts, Whisker’s gaze drifted to the far edge of the battlefield. That’s where Mira hovered, quiet as always, her wings glimmering faintly in the dimming twilight.

Her expression was distant, almost dreamlike, as if she was staring into a world that no one else could see. The unsettling energy that clung to the battlefield seemed to pull her in, like she was attuned to something invisible that the rest of them couldn’t sense. Whisker wondered if she felt the same disconnection from this place, this moment.

Whisker shifted uneasily, his gaze still lingering on Mira as she floated at the battlefield's edge. Maybe they weren’t so different, after all—both outsiders, both struggling to find their place in a world that felt like it wasn’t meant for them. He let out a slow breath, pushing the thought aside for now. There would be time to reflect later.

Mira Inoue

Mira hovered near the edge of the battlefield, her delicate wings shimmering faintly in the dimming light. She looked over the battlefield.

Bodies.

Both human and monstrous, lay strewn across the ground, their blood mixing with the dark, corrupting magic that had seeped into the very soil. Mira’s hands trembled as she clutched her spellbook to her chest, the familiar weight of the tome grounding her amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Why am I here?

The thought had crossed her mind more times than she could count since arriving in Aetheria. This world was beautiful, yes, but it was also dangerous—far more dangerous than the dreamlike visions she had painted in her artwork back on Earth. Here, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred, but the consequences were all too real.

She kept her distance as Mirabelle and the others looked through the destruction and checked on the Refugees. It wasn’t from fear, but from habit—a lifetime of watching from afar, observing instead of acting. But this time felt different.

"Hey," Lucas’ voice reached her, soft but steady. He and Aria approached, their faces weary but still carrying a spark of determination.

"Still keeping your distance?" Lucas asked with a gentle smile.

Mira shrugged. “I like watching from afar.”

Aria nodded, her eyes lingering on the ruined landscape. “Ain’t that the truth. Eh, we all need to step back sometimes. But just know you’ve done more than you think, Mira. I could see it. We couldn’t have gotten through that without your illusions. I certainly wouldn’t have.”

Mira's heart lifted slightly, but she continued to look at the destruction around her. “I just… I don’t know if it was enough.”

Aria’s smile was warm, but tired. “It was more than enough.”

“Mira.”

A familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Ava approaching, her ethereal form gliding across the battlefield like a wraith. There was something in Ava’s eyes—something that mirrored the darkness Mira had been sensing.

“Ava,” Mira greeted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you feel it too?”

Ava’s gaze sharpened, and she nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “The corruption?” she asked, her voice low and clipped. “Yes. I'm not sure why I can. Maybe it's this form." Ava pointed upward at her floating self. "but it feels like it's everywhere. It doesn't make any sense."

Mira shuddered, her wings twitching as the weight of those words settled over her. The corruption... it wasn’t just a force—it was something far more sinister. “I have a confession,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “During the battle with those soldiers... I saw a vision of someone. I think it was who Mirabelle mentioned, Everlight or something like that. I don’t really understand it, but he... he was trying to stop the corruption. But it was all around him, and he seemed so lost.”

Ava’s eyes narrowed as she listened, and for a moment, Mira thought she saw a flicker of something—was it worry? “If that’s true, then he’s in danger,” Ava said, her voice tense. “But we can’t jump to conclusions. There was a lot going on during that battle. We still don’t fully understand this world. We need to be careful.”

Let's not assume or speculate.

Mira had heard those words a thousand times before. From her parents. From her teachers. They had always been said with the same careful neutrality, but here... here it felt like they were dismissing her. She swallowed hard, the familiar sting of self-doubt creeping back in.

She doesn't believe me.

Her wings fluttered slightly as her gaze drifted back to the battlefield. Maybe no one does.

But then she caught the look in Ava’s eyes—focused, calculating. Ava hadn’t dismissed her entirely. She was just trying to protect them, to keep them from rushing into something they didn’t fully understand. It was Ava’s way of trying to maintain control in a world that didn’t seem to follow any rules.

Mira took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She had to trust the others. They had fought beside her, saved her. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to do more, that her visions weren’t just random flashes of magic—they were pieces of a puzzle, a puzzle she was part of, whether she liked it or not.

Maybe it’s time to stop watching from afar.

Ava Singh

As Mira’s voice trailed off, Ava’s mind immediately shifted into analytical mode. Unlike Mira’s instinctive sense of the corruption, Ava saw it as a puzzle, its very existence a disruption to the logical order of things. For her, every problem had a solution, and this corruption—whatever it was—could be solved if she could only understand its origins.

Scanning the broken street, Ava noted the ruins and refugees, but her thoughts remained focused elsewhere. The corruption felt like a living entity, creeping through the air and choking the life out of everything.

What is this force?

Ava had always prided herself on seeing the underlying patterns in chaos. But here, in Aetheria, the normal rules of her old world didn’t seem to apply. Science and logic felt thin against the backdrop of magic and shifting realities, and that gnawed at her more than the corruption itself.

Corruption.

The word itself felt too clinical, too detached from the reality of what she had witnessed. It was how she assessed things, but it was as though the very air they breathed carried it, filling their lungs with something malevolent, something hungry.

What are we even fighting?

Beside her, Captain Aric walked in silence, his gaze scanning the same broken streets, but with an entirely different perspective. "You’ve fought it before," Ava said, her voice low but direct.

Aric nodded, the weight of experience hanging on his every movement. “Too many times. We still don’t understand it. Everlight’s been chasing it for months. But every time we think we’re close…”

His voice trailed off, frustration flickering across his face. Ava nodded slowly. “There has to be a pattern. Everything follows some kind of logic.”

Ava’s reflection flickered in the broken glass of a nearby window—pale and ethereal, her Wraith form haunting even to herself. The energy that coiled around her, like a shadowed aura, was a constant reminder that this body wasn’t fully her own. Power flowed within her, magic intertwined with her essence in ways she hadn’t fully grasped.

I don’t understand it.

I don’t understand it. Her eyes, usually sharp and observant, now flickered with something else—exhaustion, yes, but also a creeping discomfort. The dark energy that clung to her form felt almost like it had a mind of its own, coiling and uncoiling with every step as though it was waiting for something.

She could sense the power it held, something far greater than she had ever controlled. But it wasn’t just magic—it was something far deeper, tied to her very essence, and every time it pulsed, she felt it tugging at her like an unseen tether. Was she the one controlling it? Or was it the other way around?

This magic wasn’t a force she could measure or contain; it had its own will, its own rhythm. And that loss of control, the inability to quantify it, grated at her more than the physical exhaustion she felt.

I hate it.

Ava glanced at him, her mind still half-lost in her own thoughts, but the urgency in his words brought her back. She studied him closely, noting the way his movements had slowed, the way his eyes flickered with fatigue. This once-proud soldier seemed worn thin, his fur matted with blood and grime. Yet, despite it all, his posture remained upright, defiant.

“You said, Everlight has been chasing it for months? How long has this been happening?” Ava asked, her voice steadier than she felt inside.

Aric sighed, his gaze distant as though the answer wasn’t one he enjoyed giving. “It started small, like everything does. Just whispers at first—people disappearing. That wasn’t abnormal. The longer the sieges go on and the longer the Seven Houses attack the barrier around the city, the more people leave or desert. But now…” He paused, his brow furrowing as if searching for the right words. “Now it feels like the city is rotting from the inside out.”

Ava absorbed his words, her analytical mind racing to piece together the fragments of information they had gathered. The Last Bastion, this city was according to Aric a city of art and industry. A marvel to look at and grow up in. Now it’s a shell of crumbling defenses and desperate souls. It was unfamiliar to her—a place she had been thrust into with little warning, with no time to truly understand the weight of what was happening. She had only been here for hours, yet already the undercurrent of tension was palpable.

She glanced around at the remnants of the battle—the blood-slicked streets, the broken bodies, the refugees huddled in fear. This city was on the edge of collapse. Not just physically, but spiritually. She could see it in the eyes of the people around her. There was something festering here, something far deeper than the surface-level symptoms of the corruption they had witnessed.

Rotting from the inside out Aric said.

Her thoughts circled back to those words, gnawing at her as they walked. The idea that a city—no, an entire world—could decay from within was not unfamiliar to her. She had seen it before, in another life. In the boardrooms and laboratories of her past life on Earth, she had watched as corruption seeped into the systems she had once trusted. It was never obvious at first, never dramatic. It was always quiet—whispers behind closed doors, subtle changes that went unnoticed until it was too late.

Here, in the Last Bastion, that quiet corruption had taken on a physical form. It slithered through the streets, infecting everything it touched. Ava could feel it. Its dark energy clinging to the walls, oozing through the cracks of the city’s once-proud foundation.

She wondered if the others felt it too, if they sensed the way the air had grown thick, oppressive, as though the city itself was suffocating under the weight of its own decay.

“Do you know where it’s coming from?” Ava asked, her voice low but sharp.

Aric shook his head, his furred ears twitching slightly in frustration. “No like I said, Everlight has been chasing it, and I haven’t really had great progress either. Not solid progress anyways. We’ve searched every corner of the city, but the source… It is elusive. Everlight, he feeds the heralds and I the information he finds and we gather to track it down. One day we think we’ve got a lead, and the next it’s gone. I don’t understand it.”

Ava’s mind raced, dissecting his words, trying to find patterns where none existed. A moving source of corruption? It didn’t make sense—at least, not in any logical framework she could think of. On Earth, she would have mapped the patterns, tracked the movements, dissected the data until it revealed its secrets. But here, in this world of magic and gods, those rules could or didn’t apply as far as she knew.

“Magic,” she muttered under her breath, the word tasting foreign on her tongue. It still felt strange to her—how everything in this world was a force she didn’t fully understand. Back on Earth, she had spent years mastering the laws of science, bending them to her will, controlling the world around her with logic and reason. But here, the rules were different. Here, magic had its own laws, its own patterns, from what she’s observed. None of it made sense, and she couldn’t grasp them.

There should be some logic to it.

“It’s more than just magic,” Aric said, as if reading her thoughts. “This corruption… It’s deliberate. It spreads with purpose.”

Ava’s gaze sharpened, her mind latching onto the implication. “You think someone’s controlling it?”

Aric didn’t answer right away, his silence heavy with unspoken doubts. “I don’t know. But Everlight… he’s been saying the same thing. He thinks there’s something—someone—behind it. Something is driving it. You know, he’d like you. He keeps saying we need to start looking for signs, patterns.”

Ava’s jaw tightened, her thoughts spiraling as she tried to make sense of the situation. If the corruption was deliberate, if it had an architect, then they were dealing with more than just an environmental threat. They were dealing with an enemy—someone who had slipped in like the agents had in the Grand Hall. And now whatever they did, it had taken root in the heart of this city and was systematically tearing it apart from the inside.

And they don’t even know who or what it was that did this.

Ava's mind raced, dissecting every possible explanation she could logically think of that could cause the corruption Aric spoke of to spread across the city. It couldn't just be chaos.

What if it was controlled? Calculated.

Aric's foots were heavy beside her, the weariness clear in his eyes. "We're missing something," Ava muttered, frustration seeping into her voice. Aric nodded, though his expression remained grim. "What if we're not looking in the right places?" Aric raised an eyebrow. "Hmm what do you mean by that? Do you have something in mind?"

"We're looking at it as if it's one source. One infection if you will. But what if it's more than that. What if it's.....being spread through multiple points?" Her mind raced through more possibilities, thinking back to how pathogens were spread back on Earth. Aric frowned, considering her words. "So.....you're saying it could be intelligent?"

"No, more like it's...…intentional." Ava's voice was clipped, but determined. "We need to expand the search, look for patterns."

Aric glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “You're sound like Everlight. He kept saying that we need to look for patterns. I think you're treating this like is a disease. This feels different.”

Ava met his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “How?”

He sighed again, his weariness more apparent now. “I don’t know where you come from. Mirabelle hasn't been exactly keen on those details. But let's just say here it’s not just decay—it’s... alive. Transformative. Like it latches on their soul. You saw what it did to my soldiers.”

That word—alive—sent a chill down Ava’s spine. She had been approaching the situation like she would on Earth, analyzing the corruption as though it were an infection, something to be cured or purged.

But if it was alive, if it had agency, then this was more than just a disease. And that changed everything.

“How do we fight something like that?” she asked, the frustration seeping into her voice.

Aric’s expression hardened, and for the first time since they had started speaking, Ava saw the flicker of fear in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “But we’re running out of time.”

As they continued to walk through the city, the weight of his words settled heavily on Ava’s shoulders. The streets were eerily quiet now, the chaos of battle having faded into an uneasy silence. Every corner they turned, every alley they passed, seemed to pulse with a hidden threat, as though the city itself was watching them, waiting for the next crack to form.

Ava’s eyes darted to the buildings around them, their crumbling facades a stark reminder of the Last Bastion’s former glory. She had never known this place as anything other than a battlefield, but she could see the traces of its past—a grand city, proud and unyielding, now reduced to rubble.

“How long has it been like this?” Ava asked, her voice softening as she took in the sight of the ruined architecture, the abandoned marketplaces, the homes that stood empty and lifeless.

Aric’s gaze followed hers, his eyes lingering on the broken city. “Too long,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much. “The Last Bastion used to be a place of peace, a refuge for those fleeing the chaos outside. People from all over Aetheria came here to escape the war, the monsters. But now… now it’s the last place standing.”

Ava listened in silence, her mind painting a picture of the city as it must have been—vibrant, bustling with life, its people hopeful that they could outrun the darkness closing in from the outside. But hope was a fragile thing, and it seemed that here, in the Last Bastion, it had all but disappeared.

“How did it come to this?” she asked quietly, more to herself than to Aric.

Aric didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Because we let it. We didn’t see the signs. Or maybe we did, and we chose to ignore them. Either way, it doesn’t matter now. The damage is done.”

Ava’s jaw clenched. She hated that answer. She hated the feeling of helplessness that came with it. But more than that, she hated the idea that this had all been avoidable. That somewhere along the way, someone had made the wrong choice, had allowed the darkness to take root.

“Then we’ll fix it,” she said, her voice hardening. “We’ll find the source, and we’ll stop it.”

Aric gave her a sidelong glance, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You're sounding like Everlight again.”

The mention of Everlight again brought Ava’s thoughts back to the man Aric kept speaking about. A man who had been tirelessly searching to contain this corruption long before she and the others had arrived. She had never met him, only heard his name in passing or from the conversations with Mirabelle and Aric.

But now, as they walked through the broken streets of the Last Bastion, she felt a strange connection to him—a kindred spirit, perhaps. Someone who had taken it upon themselves to fix what was broken. Someone who looked for other means and other avenues than whatever this strange world was trying. Even when the odds were stacked against him.

But where was he now?

Ava's mind was still racing, trying to grasp the full extent of what she and Aric had uncovered, when the others joined them. Lucas was the first to speak, his tone unusually subdued.

"So, what are we up against?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between Ava and Aric.

"It’s not just a disease," Ava responded, her voice curt. "The corruption is... alive. Sentient, maybe. And someone, or something, might be controlling it."

Lucas let out a low whistle. "Great. Corruption with a brain. Just what we needed. Not creepy at all. What's next? Sentient buildings?"

"You're not far off," Felix interjected, his arm whirring as he adjusted it to it's setting.

"More than just a brain," Aria added, folding her arms as she stood beside Mira. "It’s been systematically eating away at this city. This isn’t some random outbreak—it’s deliberate. I believe this isn't a virus. Someone is intentionally placing it around the city. And then it goes from there, almost sentient."

Whisker, who had been silent up until now, shifted uncomfortably. "But how do we fight something like that? I mean... it’s everywhere." His green eyes flickered to the crumbling buildings around them.

"That’s what we need to figure out," Hiroshi said, his voice steady, though his brow was furrowed with concern. "If there’s a source, we need to find it and cut it off. That’s the only way."

Tanaka nodded in agreement, his sword resting against his shoulder. "We can’t just keep fighting blindly. We need information—strategic advantage."

Ava nodded, feeling the weight of their gazes on her. "Everlight has been chasing leads, trying to find the source. Aric and I think it’s moving, adapting to stay hidden."

Mirabelle had been listening closely from the start, but now she stepped forward, her eyes narrowing in concern. “So this is what Everlight has been keeping from me? He told me he was working on it, but not like this. Not… this close to losing everything.”

Her words hung in the air, tinged with frustration and an underlying sadness. She paused, her eyes drifting toward the crumbling buildings. “He always tries to shoulder everything himself, like he’s afraid to burden anyone else. But he’s only hurting himself, and by keeping me in the dark—” She stopped, her voice catching briefly before she steadied herself. “I love him, but... I didn’t even know it was this bad.”

Her gaze flicked to Aric, who stood silently by. Ava could sense the growing tension there, as well. Mirabelle’s frustration wasn’t just with Everlight, but with the entire system that had kept her uninformed. She cared about this city, and knowing that both Everlight and Aric had been holding back hit her deeply.

Her voice was soft, but there was a note of urgency beneath it. "If the corruption keeps spreading at this rate, like it did in the market, the Last Bastion won’t last. These people don’t deserve this."

The group fell into a heavy silence. Even Felix’s usual sarcastic remarks were absent as they absorbed the gravity of the situation. Finally, Lucas spoke again, his voice low.

"So, what’s the plan?"

"We split up," Ava said, her mind already calculating the next steps. "Aric, Mirabelle, and I will head to the Grand Hall. We need to speak to Everlight and gather more information from his last reports. I think with more information I might be able to get us a lead."

Tanaka straightened, his broad shoulders lifting as he adjusted his armor. "And the rest of us?"

"You'll secure the area," Ava replied, her tone decisive. "There are still refugees in danger. Keep them safe while we get answers."

Lucas flashed a half-grin, clearly itching for something to break the tense atmosphere. “Finally, some action. Just point me where you need me.”

Tanaka’s disapproving glance was immediate, sharp enough to cut through Lucas' bravado. “This isn’t about action, Lucas. It’s about keeping the city safe. Don’t start anything we can’t handle.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, the grin fading into a look of thinly veiled irritation. “Oh, here we go again. You always act like you're in charge, Tanaka. I don’t remember signing up to be one of your soldiers.”

Tanaka’s gaze hardened, but his voice remained steady. “I’m not trying to lead you. I’m trying to keep you from getting yourself—and others—killed. There’s a difference.”

Lucas took a step closer, his posture tense. “And I’m saying I don’t need a babysitter. We all know what we’re up against, and I can handle myself.”

Ava watched the two of them stand toe-to-toe, the tension between them unmistakable. Tanaka's expression was firm, while Lucas’ stance screamed defiance. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye, and this was another spark threatening to set off an argument.

Before Lucas could fire back, Mirabelle’s voice cut through the tension, sharper than usual.

“Enough.”

The group turned to her. Mirabelle’s eyes, usually soft and composed, carried an edge that none of them had seen before. She stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Bickering like children won’t help the people here, and it won’t solve the corruption spreading through the city.”

She glanced between Lucas and Tanaka, her gaze lingering on Lucas. “Lucas, no one is trying to control you. But you don’t understand the stakes here. Not fully.”

Her words hit harder than Lucas expected, and for a moment, the fight drained out of him. He looked away, scuffing the ground with his boot.

Before anyone could respond further, Mira stepped in, her wings fluttering nervously as she glanced between the two. “Hey, hey, let’s not do this right now, okay? We’re all on the same side. Lucas, just... try not to turn this into a fight.”

Felix smirked, adjusting his mechanical arm with a soft click. “Yeah, save the drama for later. Looks like we’ve got rescue duty. Isn’t that right, Whisker?”

Whisker blinked, caught in the middle of the tension, before giving a tentative nod. “Yeah... rescue. Got it.”

Tanaka shot one last look at Lucas, his eyes narrowing. “Just don’t let your pride get in the way. People’s lives are on the line.”

Lucas turned away, muttering under his breath, “Maybe if you'd stop barking orders, we'd actually work together for once.”

Ignoring Lucas' jabs, Tanaka's sharp eyes turned and met Ava's for a moment before he nodded. "We’ll hold the line Ava. Then meet back up with you all. Trust in us, we’ll get it done."

Ava felt a flicker of something inside her—hope, maybe, or resolve. They weren’t alone in this fight. The corruption might be growing, but they had each other. They still needed work obviously, but together, they stood a chance.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, to further the plan, a runner appeared, breathless and frantic.

"Lady Mirabelle!" the runner gasped. "It’s Everlight. He’s gone."

The world seemed to still. Ava saw the shift in Mirabelle’s face—the sudden fear, the disbelief.

"What do you mean, gone?" Mirabelle demanded, her voice breaking.

"He... disappeared. No one knows where he is," the runner replied, eyes wide with panic and Ava's heart sank.

Ava’s gaze shifted to Mirabelle, whose face had gone pale. Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles white as she stared into the distance. For the briefest of moments, her guard fell, and the fear that had been buried under layers of resolve came to the surface.

But then, as if she had willed herself to snap back into control, Mirabelle’s posture straightened. The fear was still there, but now it was tightly wrapped beneath a mask of determination.

"We don't have time to fall apart," Mirabelle said, her voice gaining strength despite the tremor in her words. "We need to regroup. If Everlight is missing, then we’re on our own for now."

Ava’s mind spun, piecing together what this meant for their fragile plans. Everlight was supposed to be their next lead—the one working to contain the corruption, to find answers. Without him, they were even more exposed.

Well so much for that plan. What now?