Fatefully Tragic Hero

Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface

Hiroshi Tanaka

The weight of his sword hadn’t lightened since the battle. His grip felt just as burdensome as it had when he swung it through flesh and bone, the last enemy falling in a heap at his feet. Blood had soaked the ground, staining his boots, and even now, walking through the streets of the Last Bastion, it felt like the stench still clung to him. The aftermath of the fight from earlier haunted him, but it wasn’t just the fight that weighed him down.

Tanaka looked up at the others. They were quieter than before, each of them likely processing the aftermath in their own way. Whisker kept darting glances around, his fingers twitching nervously by his side as if ready to mimic another sword stroke at any moment. Felix’s steps were as measured as ever, his mechanical limbs whirring quietly in the background, but there was something sharper in his gaze now, something more calculating.

The battle had shaken them all. The feeling of slicing through flesh, the finality of each swing—Tanaka had thought he would be used to it by now. But it didn’t get easier. And the more lives he took, the more he felt the pull of guilt dragging him down.

Is this really what I’m supposed to be?

He had killed to protect them, to survive. But was survival enough?

“Something’s still bothering you.” The voice pulled him from his thoughts. It was Aria, her serpentine form moving alongside him with a grace that seemed at odds with her tense expression. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, staring ahead, but the question hung in the air between them.

Tanaka hesitated. He wasn’t used to sharing his thoughts, not here, not with them. But something about the exhaustion in her voice made him speak.

“The battle,” he said simply. “It felt... wrong.”

Aria gave a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah. It did. I've never done something like that before. Those poor people.”

For a moment, they walked in silence. Then, she added, “I don’t know if it’s supposed to get easier, you know? I thought... I thought I’d get used to it as the battle continued. But every time I took a life, it feels like I’m losing something. A piece of myself. I know we were doing it to save those people, and in a way we were also trying to survive. But still...”

Tanaka glanced at her, surprised by the raw honesty in her words. He hadn’t expected that from her, the woman who had always seemed to hide behind a shield of quiet confidence since they got here. Well, woke up here.

“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “It reminds me of... well, back in Tokyo. I... I thought if I worked hard enough, if I pushed through the pain, I’d reach some kind of... peace. That just pushing forward a bit more, it would eventually feel easier, resolve itself.” He shook his head. “But there’s always something else. Something you lose along the way. And it never got easier. Just heavier.”

Aria’s tail twitched, coiling slightly beneath her as she frowned. “I don’t know if I have much left to lose. I'm nothing like I was. Just look at me. I played music, and people looked to me. I feel like I lost so much already,” she murmured.

Before Tanaka could respond, Whisker spoke up, his voice cutting through the gloom. “I don’t know how you two deal with it personally.”

He was walking a little ahead of them, his eyes darting nervously toward the shadows. “I... I’ve never killed before, not before here. I never needed to. I just scavenged, you know? But today...” His voice faltered, his grip on the sword he had taken from one of the fallen soldiers tightening. “When I struck them down, it didn’t feel like me. I'm just glad we were able to save those people. Felt like I was able to make a difference. But why? Why did they have to die? Why did it happen? Why are we here? If we didn't show up to that market, would it have made a difference? Would they have not changed? Or would they have done so anyway, and those people would have died regardless?”

The raw honesty in Whisker’s voice struck Tanaka. He wasn’t alone in this, and hearing the others struggle with the same guilt made it feel... lighter. They had all been thrust into this new world with no warning, no explanation, and now they were expected to survive. But at what cost?

Whisker’s next words, spoken quietly, pulled him out of his thoughts again. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

Is this what I signed up for?

The weight of his sword felt heavier than it had any right to be. Not physically—he had been in Aetheria long enough to grow accustomed to the weapons of this strange world. No, it was the memories that made the blade feel like lead in his hand. Tanaka’s steps were slow, deliberate, as though the fragile composure he clung to might crack with each footfall.

They had survived the battle, but for Tanaka, victory felt like nothing more than a thin veil covering the guilt that still consumed him. Each swing of his sword, each body that had fallen before him, was another reminder. His grip tightened on the hilt. Ryota’s face flashed in his mind, the memory of his son haunting him as persistently as the ghosts of the lives he had taken here.

Was this what I signed up for?

The thought continued to echo in his mind, a bitter question for a man who had once lived for nothing but duty. But that duty had cost him his family. Cost him everything. Even here, in a world that demanded survival and sacrifice, Tanaka still wasn’t sure what he was willing to pay.

His heart gave a dull thud, a phantom ache of the pain that had killed him back on Earth. It had been a phone call—one that haunted him more than any sword strike or battle ever could. The office had been quiet, the hum of the city below nothing but a distant reminder of the life he was neglecting. Another late night. Another missed chance.

Ryota’s name had lit up the screen. I almost didn’t answer. He’d been on the verge of letting it go to voicemail, like all the other calls, but something made him pause. Something made him press that button.

“Dad, are you coming home tonight?”

His son’s voice had been so small, so fragile, like a thread about to break.

“I’ll try, Ryota. I’ll try... but you know how work always is.”

Always an excuse. Always something more important than him.

There had been silence on the other end, the kind that spoke more than words ever could. Tanaka had wanted to explain, to tell Ryota that he was doing this for their future, for their security. But the words had never come. Instead, he had offered his son the same hollow promise as always.

I’ll try.

But trying had never been enough. Ryota had hung up, and Tanaka hadn’t made it home that night. Or the next. His heart had given out first, right there on the train platform. He remembered the way the world had gone blurry, his body crumpling under the weight of years spent running himself into the ground. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

Missed call: Son.

Tanaka blinked, forcing the memory back into the dark corners of his mind. No use lingering on what can’t be undone. But that didn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at him, the weight of it pressing down like the sword at his side.

Now, here in Aetheria, the sword was his burden instead of a briefcase, but the feeling was the same—failing. Failing his son. Failing his companions. Failing himself.

His eyes drifted to the others walking ahead—Whisker, with that quiet unease, Aria, and Felix, all of them with their own demons chasing them. And yet, they looked to him for guidance, for leadership. Why? What made them think he had answers? Lucas, on the other hand, didn’t expect much from him. That made things easier.

How can I lead them when I couldn’t even lead my own life?

The doubt clung to him like a shadow, unshakable, growing heavier with each step. In Tokyo, he had been able to bury his guilt under work, to drown it out with meetings, deadlines, and the ever-persistent grind of a corporate life. But here, there was no such escape. Here, he was forced to confront everything he had been running from.

“I’m not the man you think I am,” Tanaka muttered under his breath, the words barely more than a whisper lost to the wind. He glanced around to make sure the others hadn’t heard. Thankfully, they hadn’t. They didn’t need to know the full extent of his failure.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the narrow streets, carrying with it the faint scent of decay, remnants of the battle. It made the hairs on his arms rise. The Last Bastion loomed ahead of them—its towering structure intact, but the city around it was breaking, like him, from within. Tanaka knew he wasn’t part of this world, just as this city wasn’t meant to last. His heart ached again, an echo of both his death and his guilt.

“What are we walking into, really?” Tanaka finally asked, his voice low, directing the question at no one in particular. The mystery of Everlight gnawed at him. They had heard so little, just whispers of his disappearance, yet the weight of it pressed on them all.

Aric, walking alongside him, responded without looking over. “We’re not sure. Everlight was supposed to report back. He didn’t.”

Tanaka frowned, feeling the frustration bubble up. “But you must know something. He just disappeared?”

“That’s why we’re heading to the Grand Hall,” Aric’s voice was tight. “Mirabelle will explain more when we get there.”

The silence that followed only thickened the tension. Tanaka looked around, studying the faces of his companions. They were still so new to this world, none of them fully understanding the depths of the dangers around them, just as he didn’t. The mysteries of Aetheria swirled like a storm cloud overhead, each of them caught in it, just trying to survive.

His hand tightened on his sword again as they neared the Grand Hall. It towered above them like a monument, not of hope, but of crumbling promises. Tanaka couldn’t help but see himself in it—a structure barely holding itself together.

As they ascended the steps, the doubt that gnawed at him since the beginning of their journey here resurfaced.

Maybe I wasn’t meant to lead at all.

But, as he glanced at the others again, a new thought crept in, small and fragile, but there nonetheless.

Maybe we can survive this together.

He was jolted back to the present when Lucas spoke up. “Anything to add, oh faithful leader?” His voice was snarky, layered with that usual sarcasm, but there was something underneath—maybe fear or uncertainty.

Tanaka looked over, seeing the conflict in Whisker’s expression. The younger man—well, formerly raccoon—was struggling as much as he was, though for different reasons.

“None of us did,” Tanaka said, his voice low, almost reassuring. “But we’re here now.”

“Great pep talk,” Felix added dryly from behind, his mechanical joints clinking softly as he walked. “Really uplifting. But if we’re done with the soul-searching, I think we should focus on what’s ahead. The Grand Hall’s not going to give us answers if we’re too busy looking over our shoulders.”

Felix’s pragmatism was expected, but Tanaka could feel the same uncertainty in his words. The man spoke like he had everything figured out, but his tight grip on control betrayed him. Tanaka didn’t need to be perceptive to know that Felix was as lost as the rest of them, no matter how sharp his mind was.

Aric, overhearing, turned his head slightly toward Felix. “He’s right. We need to focus. Whatever happened to Everlight is still out there, and if this corruption is spreading...” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

The corruption. The very mention of it made Tanaka’s stomach churn. That messenger said that Everlight had vanished. And Aric and Ava had told them he was investigating this creeping darkness that seemed to threaten the city’s core. And yet none of them knew exactly what they were walking into, only that the stakes were rising higher by the second.

The Grand Hall was still a distance away, but it was closer. Its towering structure cast long shadows over the quiet streets. Tanaka could feel the tension among the group, each of them thinking the same thing—this world didn’t make sense, and none of them truly understood the rules. They were just trying to survive.

Aria spoke again, more to herself than anyone. “I don’t even know what we’re supposed to find returning there.”

Tanaka’s chest tightened, the uncertainty pulling at him again. “Answers,” he said. “We have to find answers.”

The silence returned, but it was different now. They were all on edge, waiting for whatever came next.

Aria Knight

The weight of uncertainty hung in the air after Tanaka’s quiet reassurance to Whisker, but the tension between them remained palpable. Aria could feel it too, creeping into her bones like a cold wind, chilling her more than the gathering shadows around them.

"Answers," Tanaka said, his voice low but firm. "We have to find answers."

But what answers? Aria thought, glancing toward the darkening sky as they moved forward. The Grand Hall loomed ahead, its towering, steampunk architecture casting long shadows over the cobbled streets. The massive gears and faintly glowing runes etched into the stone reminded her how alien this world was. How far she was from the life she once knew.

Lucas broke the silence again, his tone as sharp as ever. “I still don’t get why we’re walking into this blind. What makes this ‘Everlight’ guy so important that we’re risking our necks over him?”

Captain Aric’s patience frayed at the edges as he answered, his clipped voice carrying an undercurrent of frustration. “Because he’s the key to holding this city together. Without him, the barrier that keeps the corruption at bay will collapse.”

Lucas’s ears twitched, his tail flicking once in annoyance. “So we’re doing this for a guy we don’t know, based on a system we barely understand, all because some council says so? Great.”

Aria had to admit—Lucas wasn’t wrong.

We barely know anything about this world. Hell, I barely know why we’re really here at all.

The confrontation in the market had left her with more questions than answers, and the strange, pulsing energy from her sigils—something none of the others seemed to experience—kept pulling her forward, like a compass pointing her toward an unseen destination. It had happened before, guiding her through the city without Captain Aric or Mirabelle’s help.

None of it made sense.

Tanaka’s voice cut through her thoughts, cool and controlled. “You want to wait here and let the corruption find you instead?” He gestured toward the shadowed alleys. “We don’t have to understand everything to know that if we don’t act, we’re done.”

Lucas scoffed but offered no response, the tension thickening around the group.

Ugh, There they go bickering again,

Aria thought. It had been like this ever since they woke up in Aetheria. Tanaka, from her perspective, seemed to shoulder everything. He reminded her of her father—quiet, burdened by responsibilities he never fully shared, always carrying the weight of the world on his back without asking for help. She could almost see the same lines of exhaustion on Tanaka’s face that she’d seen on her father during those long stretches when she was on tour.

And Lucas... Lucas carried the same reckless energy that Daniel had. Her lead guitarist—her ex—was always willing to take risks, push boundaries, never trust anyone in charge. Daniel had been wild, untamed, the driving force behind their band’s edge. It was why they had worked so well on stage, but off it? An endless cycle of arguments and passion that led nowhere.

Why did I date him for so long?

She shook her head, as if to physically dispel the memory.

Her tail coiled and uncoiled beneath her as they continued walking. She glanced down at the long, serpent’s tail that now made up the lower half of her body. It still didn’t feel like hers. Each movement felt deliberate, like she was trying to control something that didn’t truly belong to her.

I don’t belong here.

The thought gnawed at her.

She’d always been an outsider—on Earth, she never quite fit in with the mainstream. Even in the indie rock scene, where rebellion and nonconformity were celebrated, she had felt adrift. Music had been her escape, a way to create meaning in a life that often felt directionless. Her band had been everything to her—the one place where she could lose herself, where her voice was heard.

But even then, doubt had lingered beneath the surface.

What if I’m not good enough?

She tried to focus on the present, but the question followed her. No matter how many gigs they played, no matter how many crowds they wowed, Aria had always waited for the other shoe to drop—for the moment everyone would realize she wasn’t as talented as they thought.

And now, in Aetheria, that doubt had only grown louder.

What if I’m not strong enough to survive here?

Her fingers twitched, instinctively wanting to strum the familiar chords of her guitar. But there was no music here—just the cold, hard reality of survival. The weight of this unfamiliar burden—responsibility, this fight—felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else. She had never been the one to lead.

Even in her band, where she had a voice, she had always given up power to someone else. Letting others take the reins had been easier, less frightening. But now... there was no one else to pass that weight to. Not even Tanaka, who had chosen to carry the burden of leadership on his own.

Lucas’s voice cut through her reverie, pulling her back into the moment. “This better be worth it,” he muttered, his usual defiance creeping into his tone. “We don’t even know why he’s gone... or what kind of mess we’re walking into. Sounds like a great idea, right?” His laugh was bitter, but when Aria glanced at him, there was something else in his expression. Beneath the snark and frustration, there was a flicker of concern—maybe even fear.

Aria shot him a sideways glance, her lips cracking into a smirk despite herself.

He always has to be the rebel.

She thought, remembering the arguments she used to have with Daniel.

Always challenging, always questioning.

Before she could respond, Lucas’s tone softened. “I just hope this city’s not as broken as the rest of us,” he said, almost too quietly.

Aria blinked, caught off guard. Lucas, always the first to throw out some snark, always questioning authority—now, for the first time, he sounded unsure, even a little lost. It reminded her of Daniel, how he’d put on that same front, deflecting with bravado until his guard slipped, just enough for her to catch glimpses of the doubt underneath.

“You’re not wrong,” she murmured, though her words were too quiet for him to hear. She turned her gaze back to the path ahead, the tension in her chest tightening as they neared their destination.

The Grand Hall loomed like a giant, casting long shadows over them. Aria’s thoughts flickered to her old life—the nights playing gigs in dingy clubs, the smell of beer and cigarette smoke, the way her guitar had felt solid in her hands. She could lose herself in those moments. Drown out her doubts with the music, with the roar of the crowd.

But here, there was no crowd. No music to quiet the uncertainty gnawing at her. Here, there was only survival.

The silence stretched between them until Felix’s voice broke through, steady and calm. “Everything alright?” His mechanical limbs moved with the same precise calculation as always, each step a carefully measured rhythm.

Aria hesitated, her mind racing with a hundred answers, none of which felt right. How could she explain the turmoil in her head, the overwhelming sense of inadequacy gnawing at her?

“I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a small smile.

Felix glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “We’re all thinking,” he said, his voice too calm, too logical. After a pause, he added, “Hard not to, after everything that’s happened. Makes you wonder if any of this is even fixable.” His gaze slid forward, avoiding hers, as though he’d said too much.

Aria blinked, surprised at the comment.

What did he see?

Felix had always seemed composed, methodical, but that offhand remark—those few words—had revealed the cracks in his armor, the uncertainty lurking beneath his calm demeanor.

He’s doubting too, just like the rest of us.

“We’ll figure it out,” Felix added, though his words lacked conviction.

Will we?

Aria wanted to ask, but she kept the question to herself. Instead, she focused on the path ahead, the Grand Hall now towering over them.

There was no time for doubt. No time for second-guessing herself. Not now.

I’ll survive this.

Aria told herself, though the words rang hollow.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to push the doubts aside. This world didn’t care about her insecurities. It was about survival now, and they needed answers.

Focus. You’ll figure it out later.

But as she tried to harden her resolve, the weight of uncertainty clung to her like a shadow.

Felix Morales

The weight of uncertainty that had settled over Aria lingered in the air, and as the group pressed on, Felix couldn’t help but feel it too. He had always been able to tune out distractions, to compartmentalize, but the tension was palpable, like the hum of machinery beneath the surface. This world’s instability—it got to everyone eventually, even if no one would admit it out loud.

His mechanical joints clicked in rhythm as they moved through the city streets, his body operating with the precision of a finely-tuned machine. Felix barely noticed the sounds anymore—each step, each gear perfectly synchronized. Efficiency. Control. It had once been the hallmark of everything he strove for. Now, though, it felt hollow.

We’ve been here before.

Felix glanced up at the looming structure of the Grand Hall, its steampunk architecture glowing faintly in the dimming light.

This is where it all started.

Where they had awoken, confused, disoriented, and thrown into a world that made no sense.

How far have we come?

The Grand Hall was a marvel of design, but now, Felix couldn’t shake the feeling that, like everything else in Aetheria, it was barely holding together. His mind, ever the architect, began assessing the structure with cold, methodical scrutiny.

Cracks. Stress points. One bad hit and it could collapse.

“Seems like a lifetime ago we woke up in that place,” Felix muttered, more to himself than anyone, but his voice carried.

Captain Aric, walking a few steps ahead, glanced over his shoulder. “It wasn’t that long ago. And a lot has happened for you all since then. A lot of change.”

Felix met his gaze for a moment, noting the weariness in the Fox captain’s eyes. “Yes,” he agreed. “Certainly a lot has.” He wondered what toll this city had taken on Aric. Being a leader in a crumbling world—he knew how heavy that responsibility could weigh on someone.

He glanced to his right, where Mirabelle walked silently, her brow furrowed in thought. She hadn’t said much since they’d left the market, but Felix could see the strain in her posture. She was always so composed, always carrying the weight of others’ expectations.

“She’s worried about Everlight,” he thought.

Everlight—another piece holding this place together. What happens if he doesn’t return?

“So do you know what happened to him?” Felix asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Mirabelle’s eyes flicked to him, a flash of uncertainty crossing her face before she quickly masked it. “No, I don’t. If anything happens to him...” Her voice trailed off, but the implication was clear.

Felix didn’t push for more. She’s scared too. She hides it well, but it’s there. He felt a twinge of something unfamiliar.

Sympathy?

Maybe. In a way, they all were playing roles they didn’t ask for.

As they walked, Felix’s thoughts drifted back to the task at hand. His body, more machine than man now, moved with perfect efficiency, yet his thoughts were anything but orderly.

I died for my ambition.

The collapse of the structure he had designed, the miscalculation that had ended everything.

I thought I could control everything.

control had slipped through his fingers, and now, in Aetheria, that feeling of helplessness was creeping in again. His body might be mechanical, but his mind was still human. Still prone to doubt. Still haunted by failure.

“You see those stress fractures?” he said, pointing out the subtle cracks in a nearby building as they passed. “It’s a patchwork. They’re holding it together, but if the corruption spreads, it’s all going to fall apart.”

Mirabelle glanced at the building, her expression tightening. “Then we stop it before that happens.”

Felix gave a humorless laugh. “Easier said than done.”

“You always this optimistic?” Whisker’s voice piped up from behind, his usual nervous energy tinged with a bit of sarcasm. But there was something else. Confidence.

Felix turned to look at him, the younger man’s eyes wide, but his grip on the sword he managed to scavenge was steadier than before.

He seems different.

Was that resolve beginning to show in the way Whisker carried himself?

Maybe he’s starting to believe in himself, even if just a little.

“I’m just calling it like I see it,” Felix said, shrugging. “We’ve got a lot riding on things we barely understand.”

Whisker nodded, though his eyes still darted around as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows. “Yeah, well, none of us signed up for this.”

Felix’s gaze drifted over to Ava, who had been walking in silence beside them. Her sharp features were set in a thoughtful frown, and she hadn’t spoken much since they’d left the marketplace.

Probably calculating ten different outcomes as we speak.

He couldn’t help but admire her intellect, though he suspected her mind was much like his—always running, always searching for answers.

“Ava,” he called out softly, breaking the quiet. “You’ve been quiet. What’s your take on all this?”

She glanced at him, her eyes glowing faintly with the residual energy from the runes she had been studying earlier. “It’s all interconnected,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “The city, the barrier, the corruption. It’s like a web, and if one part breaks, the whole thing could unravel.”

Felix nodded, her assessment aligning with his own thoughts.

She gets it.

“So what do we do?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“We hold it together,” she replied simply. “For as long as we can.”

Ahead of them, Tanaka’s steady presence loomed, his broad shoulders tense beneath the weight of the leadership he had assumed.

He didn’t ask for it, but he took it anyway.

Felix wasn’t sure if he admired the man’s resolve or pitied him for the burden he carried.

“You know what your problem is, Felix?” Lucas’s voice cut through the gloom, sharp and pointed as ever.

Felix arched an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Enlighten me.”

“You overthink everything,” Lucas said, his ears twitching in agitation. “Not everything’s a math problem you can solve. Sometimes, you just have to go with your gut.”

Felix stared at him for a moment, processing the words.

Go with my gut?

It was such a simplistic view, but there was a part of him that envied Lucas’s ability to trust instinct over logic.

I’ve never been good at that.

“And your problem,” Felix countered, his tone calm, “is that you don’t think enough.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, though there was no real malice in his expression. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember, all the calculations in the world won’t mean jack if this place collapses on us.”

Felix didn’t respond, his gaze drifting back to the Grand Hall looming ahead of them. He’s not wrong. There was something unnervingly fragile about the entire city. It was like balancing a house of cards on shifting ground.

It’ll collapse. It’s just a matter of when.

As they neared their destination, Felix’s mechanical limbs moved without hesitation, but his mind remained a storm of conflicting thoughts. His body might have been perfected—each joint moving with the precision of a machine—but his mind was still human. Still prone to doubt. Still haunted by the mistakes he had made in his previous life.

What if I can’t fix this?

The Grand Hall cast long shadows over them as they approached the final stretch. Felix’s mechanical hand flexed, the servos whirring softly as he glanced at the others.

We’re all dealing with something, but none of us knows how this ends.

But even as he thought it, Felix knew it wasn’t enough for him. He needed answers. He needed to know if this city could be saved, if there was something—anything—that he could fix.

I won’t let it collapse. Not again.

Whisker

The weight of the sword felt wrong in his hand—too heavy, too cold. Whisker’s grip tightened around the hilt, clinging to it like it anchored him to something real, something that wasn’t this strange, terrifying world. The crumbling streets blurred around him, fading into the shadows of his thoughts.

His feet moved quickly, keeping pace with the others as they rushed forward, but Whisker’s mind lagged behind, stuck in the aftermath of the battle.

The blood. The bodies. He had never been close to that kind of violence, not when he was his old self. He never had to face it head-on, never had to take a life. His instincts were sharp enough to keep him out of danger, not plunge him into it. But now? Now, he couldn’t just slip away. Now, he had to fight. And it felt...wrong.

His mind replayed the moment, the feel of the sword in his hand as it sliced through flesh. It was a shock—like he had crossed a line he hadn’t realized existed. Yet somehow, when the refugees had thanked him, it hadn’t felt so wrong anymore. He wasn’t proud of what he had done, but for the first time, he had done something that mattered.

I never had to kill before.

The thought gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Back on Earth, it had been about survival—dodging humans, stealing food, escaping traps. Life had been simpler, quieter. But here, in Aetheria, there was no hiding. Here, he was wielding a sword, not scurrying along rooftops.

Whisker’s eyes flitted between his companions, picking up on the quiet details they weren’t sharing. Tanaka, as steady as ever, had his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his gaze sweeping the streets for danger like usual. But the subtle tap of his fingers against the blade hinted at a tension beneath his calm surface. Whisker recognized it—he had mimicked Tanaka’s precise movements during the fight, his magic guiding him through the same rhythm. He’d felt a brief surge of strength then, but now, he could sense the strain.

Aria moved with her usual grace, her serpent tail curling and uncoiling smoothly, but her eyes kept darting toward the shadows, a flicker of unease breaking through her composed exterior. Lucas, usually full of quick remarks, was uncharacteristically quiet, his hands flexing at his sides. He carried himself like a fighter, but there was a subtle hesitation in his step, an unease just beneath the surface. Even Mira, who floated silently beside them, seemed distant, her eyes unfocused, lost in thought.

Whisker had spent most of his life unnoticed, watching people from the edges. He’d learned to read the signs they didn’t know they were giving. Now, in this unfamiliar world, he could see it again—each of them holding back something, just like he was.

“Whisker, you okay back there?” Lucas’s voice cut through the haze, more subdued than usual. His sharp gaze flicked toward Whisker.

Whisker nodded quickly, not trusting himself to speak. He didn’t need Lucas’ usual sarcasm poking at his nerves right now.

Captain Aric led them with his usual sharp focus, his eyes scanning the streets as if expecting danger to leap from every shadow, and his nose smelling for anything out of sorts. Whisker respected the Fox Captain’s, or beastkin, as Aric had called them, unwavering calm he seemed to hold. But right now, Aric seemed tense, his steps less sure than usual.

“How long until we get there?” Ava’s voice broke the quiet as she hovered beside them. She maintained her usual composed expression, but Whisker could see the unease flickering in her eyes.

“We’re close,” Aric replied, his voice carrying a hint of strain. “The Grand Hall’s just ahead.”

The Grand Hall. It was where they had awoken, disoriented and confused, thrust into this world with no understanding of how or why. Whisker could still feel the echo of that moment—the strange hum of magic in the air, the overwhelming sense that nothing made sense. And now they were heading back there, armed with questions but few answers.

“We’ve been here before,” Felix said, his mechanical limbs moving with perfect rhythm. “But it feels different this time.”

Whisker nodded. It did feel different. The first time, they had been waking up to a new reality. Now, they were walking toward it fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead. The corruption, Everlight missing, the sigils that pulsed faintly around them—it all hung over them like a dark cloud.

“What do you think happened to Everlight?” Whisker asked, his voice softer than he intended.

“I don’t know,” Aric replied, his tone clipped. “But we’re about to find out.”

Whisker’s grip on the sword tightened. Everlight—the man who was supposed to keep the city from falling apart. They needed him, didn’t they? Whisker wasn’t sure what they would find, but uncertainty gnawed at him, and his thoughts drifted back to the refugees they had saved.

Humans with glowing sigils, strange fae creatures, even those others that had strange wings and scales. All of them had clung to each other in the shadows, eyes wide with fear as the battle commenced. But after, when the dust cleared, they thanked him. They had looked at him like he was some kind of savior.

But I’m not. I didn’t do anything special.

His arm could still feel the jarring shock of that rippled through the sword as cut through flesh of the corrupted soldiers, and the feeling of the blood on his hands. There had been no triumph, no satisfaction. Only fear.

And yet, when those refugees had thanked him, something had shifted. It wasn’t pride, but it was close to it.

Back then, no one had ever looked at him like that. No one had seen him, really seen him, for anything more than a nuisance or a shadow. But here, in this world, for the first time, he was something else. Someone else. And that scared him more than anything. But maybe, just maybe, it also meant something.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Whisker,” Lucas’s voice was quieter this time, lacking its usual edge. His paw-like hands softly landed on Whisker’s shoulders. “None of us signed up for this. We’re all just... figuring it out.”

Whisker’s grip tightened on the sword. “Yeah, we are,” he muttered, his voice low. “But I hate it, Lucas. I never wanted to kill.” He hesitated and shook his head before continuing, “And I didn’t sign up to kill either. That’s never been me. I’ve always been the one helping. You know? Running around the edges, staying out of sight, helping when I could.”

His voice faltered for a moment, the weight of what he had done pressing on him again. “But now... I’m not sure. What else could I do? I want to help others, not hurt them.”

Lucas was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. “Yeah, maybe it wasn’t your first instinct. But in that fight? You did what had to be done. Sometimes, that’s all there is.”

Whisker looked down at the sword again. “I know. But I don’t want it to be the only way to survive.”

Lucas then gave him a longer look, his usual snark softened. “I get it. I don’t like it either. But in that fight, you did what you had to do. We all did. None of us are killers, not by choice.”

Whisker looked down at the sword, feeling its weight in his hand. “But what if this is what we’re becoming? I don’t want that.”

Lucas shrugged, but his voice held a note of understanding. “Neither do I. But out here? In this mess? Sometimes surviving means doing things we hate. Doesn’t mean we stop trying to be better. We’re all just... figuring it out, one messed-up step at a time.”

Whisker blinked in surprise. Lucas, usually quick with a sarcastic jab, sounded almost genuine. He shot him a quick glance, unsure how to respond. Lucas just shrugged, as if to say, “It is what it is.”

Something inside Whisker shifted. It was small, barely noticeable. Whisker didn’t say anything, but Lucas’s words lingered. Maybe they weren’t killers by nature, but in that moment, they had saved lives. And as much as it unsettled him, maybe that was enough.

Ahead, the Grand Hall came into view, its massive doors looming large as the steam hissed from hidden vents. The runes etched into its walls glowed faintly, casting long shadows. Whisker felt his chest tighten, but not with fear this time.

“I hope someone has answers,” Mira muttered, her wings fluttering nervously as they neared the steps.

“They better,” Aric responded. “Or this city might not last much longer.”

The cathedral-like structure of the Grand Hall loomed above them, an imposing reminder of how small and uncertain their place was in this world. Steam hissed from hidden vents, and the runes along the walls pulsed faintly in the dim light. The air felt heavier the closer they got. Whisker could feel it—an unspoken pressure pressing down on them, making every step harder.

Alright, it’s now or never. Let’s find out what this is all about.

AEven Captain Aric, who had led them so confidently, seemed to slow. His tail twitched nervously, his eyes narrowing as they neared the steps. Something wasn’t right.

Whisker’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the sword suddenly feeling even heavier. The silence between the group was thick, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to break. He glanced at the others, noticing how tense they all seemed.

The weight of unasked questions hung in the air, and Whisker felt the gnawing uncertainty spread through him.

As they reached the massive doors, they creaked as they opened. The soft glow of the runes washed over them as the quiet tension finally snapped. Before anyone could move, Mirabelle shot forward, her arms swinging in frustration. Her expression was hard, set with determination, as she strode toward the doors.

“Where is Everlight?” she demanded, her voice ringing through the hall like a sharp bell. “Somebody needs to tell me what’s going on.”

Mirabelle

Damn him.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay composed. She couldn’t afford to let the others see her fear, her desperation.

Not here. Not now.

Mirabelle’s heart was racing as they stood in the Grand Hall, the urgency of the runner’s message lingering in the air. The hall’s grandeur, despite the chaos outside, was undeniable. Tall, arched ceilings carved with runes glowed faintly, bathing the room in a soft, magical light. The large tapestries that hung along the walls depicted the Last Bastion’s history, a city that once stood tall and untouchable.

Now, the very soul of this place felt fragile, the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders.

She tightened her grip on the staff in her hand, the familiar hum of magic coursing through it. But there was something else beneath the surface—something darker. A presence, an influence that always stayed with her ever since that day.

It whispered to her, like a distant echo in her mind, promising power, control... and destruction. She pushed it aside, as she always did, burying it deep beneath layers of calm and reason. She couldn’t let it consume her. Not now.

Her thoughts drifted to Everlight. He was out there—missing. It wasn’t like him to vanish without a word. He was the Last Bastion’s protector, the one the people looked to for strength and hope. But he wasn’t invincible. She knew that better than anyone.

He’s just a man, Mirabelle. No matter how much he tries to pretend otherwise.

Mirabelle glanced at the others—Lucas, Whisker, Tanaka, Ava, and the rest—their faces still etched with the remnants of battle. There was exhaustion in their eyes, but there was something else too. Resolve, perhaps, or confusion about their place in this strange world.

They didn’t belong here. Not yet. But they would. They had to.

They will learn, in time. But will they survive long enough to do so?

They had all come from a different world, she had learned as they walked, yet here they were, thrust into the chaos of Aetheria with little understanding of its complexities.

They don’t know what’s coming, she thought, and I can’t shield them all from it.

Aric, ever the stoic captain, walked beside her, his usual charm replaced with a rare tension that even he couldn't fully disguise. She had known him for years, had watched him rise through the ranks with Everlight, and yet in moments like these, she saw the cracks in his façade—the vulnerability that mirrored her own.

Aric caught her glance and gave a slight nod, his face unreadable but his eyes speaking volumes. He had grown up with Everlight, and so she knew this bothered him just as much. But there was something else there.

What am I missing?

As they passed the guards and stepped into the grand atrium of the hall, Mirabelle felt a chill run through her. The last time she had been here with Everlight, the city had still seemed salvageable. Now, everything felt on the verge of collapse, the corruption seeping deeper into every corner of the Bastion. The refugees had whispered about it, and the market—the battle—was still fresh in her mind.

The market...

She couldn’t shake the image of the soldiers falling, of the dark energy that had tainted the air, wrapping itself around the battle like a shroud. Her heart had ached as the refugees cried out, clutching the wounded, trying to make sense of the chaos. She had been able to offer only fleeting words of comfort before the situation spiraled further.

And then there was the power.

The presence inside her stirred faintly, a presence that had never truly gone dormant. Its whispers were subtle now, barely noticeable, but always there. It will consume you, it would say. They will see you for what you are.

No. She would not let it win.

The others were oblivious to this part of her, even Everlight, who she was engaged to. He thought he knew her, understood the weight of her responsibility, but even he was unaware. The dark truth that constantly fought for control within her. If it ever consumed her fully, she doubted even he could bring her back.

Everlight...

Her thoughts flickered back to one of their last nights together. They had sat on the balcony overlooking the city, his arm around her as the moonlight danced across the rooftops.

“Someday,” Everlight had whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the city’s expectations, “I’ll fix all of this. Not just this city. And unlike him, I won’t fall.”

Mirabelle had turned to him, placing a hand on his cheek. “You’re not your father,” she had said softly. “You don’t have to carry his mistakes. You are your own man.”

But even then, she had seen it in his eyes—the relentless drive to prove himself, to live up to the impossible legacy that had been left behind. And now...

Now he was missing.

Mirabelle closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing herself to stay calm. She could feel the tension rising in the room as they neared the council chambers. The Heralds would be waiting for them. Elyndra, ever watchful, ever judgmental, would undoubtedly have words to say. Words that would pierce through Mirabelle’s already fragile composure if she let them.

"Mirabelle," Aric’s voice was a quiet rumble beside her, pulling her back from her thoughts. "You don’t have to do this alone, you know."

She glanced at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. His gaze was fixed ahead, but she could sense the concern behind his words.

"I know," she replied quietly, forcing a small smile. But they both knew it wasn’t that simple.

The grand double doors to the council chambers swung open with a resounding thud as Mirabelle forcefully pushed them, her frustration driving her movements. The hall was as imposing as ever, its high arched ceilings illuminated by the soft glow of runes etched into the walls. The Heralds were already gathered inside, their presence filling the room with an air of rigid authority.

Head Herald Elyndra stood at the forefront, her gaze like a hawk’s from the elevated dais, locking onto Mirabelle the moment she entered. The others—aides, scholars, soldiers—whispered amongst themselves, their murmurs barely audible but heavy with the weight of uncertainty that gripped the city. Every hushed conversation carried a question, and each glance was filled with doubt.

Mirabelle didn’t care for their whispering. Her patience was already frayed, and now, standing here surrounded by their quiet judgments, it snapped.

“Where is Everlight?” she demanded, her voice slicing through the hall like a blade. “Somebody needs to tell me what’s going on.”

There was no time for pleasantries or decorum. Everlight was missing, and with every second that passed, the city was slipping closer to ruin. She didn’t have time for Elyndra’s posturing.

“Lady Mirabelle,” Elyndra’s voice boomed as her hands traced shimmering sigils in the air, amplifying her tone with the ease of someone long accustomed to control. Her words, as always, were clipped and precise, but there was something darker beneath them today. “You’ve brought our... guests.”

Mirabelle bristled at the pointed way Elyndra emphasized the word. Guests. That’s all they were to these people—a failed experiment, something they had hoped would solve their problems but hadn’t. The Heralds didn’t know what to make of them. To some, they were potential allies, weapons to be wielded. To others, they were outsiders, a risk that could just as easily spell disaster for the Bastion. In truth, the ritual that had brought them here was supposed to bring salvation with Everlight’s Father. Instead, it had left the Heralds with uncertainty.

But Mirabelle wouldn’t let them be dismissed so easily. They had proven themselves, fought with everything they had in the Market, risking their lives for people they didn’t even know. She couldn’t afford to let Elyndra undermine them, not here, not now.

“They’ve proven themselves in battle,” Mirabelle replied, her voice steady but laced with iron. She stepped further into the room, unflinching as Elyndra’s cold gaze met hers. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. They can be trusted.”

There was no question in her tone, no room for doubt. She had fought alongside them, watched as they stood their ground against overwhelming odds. Whatever the Heralds thought, she knew what these people were capable of.

Elyndra’s gaze flicked over to the others—Lucas, Tanaka, Whisker, and the rest—her lips thinning into a disapproving line. It was clear she wasn’t convinced, but there was little she could say to outright oppose Mirabelle’s statement. The tension between them was palpable, the silent power struggle that had long defined their relationship simmering just beneath the surface.

“We shall see,” Elyndra finally said, her voice measured but laced with quiet challenge. She folded her hands together, her eyes narrowing slightly. “If you would like to discuss this further, you may meet me upstairs. There, we can go over the details of Everlight’s disappearance in private.” Her gaze flicked dismissively toward the others. “You may bring them if you wish.”

Mirabelle’s jaw tightened. She didn’t appreciate the dismissive tone, the implication that the others were irrelevant to the conversation. They had every right to know what was happening. But for now, she held her tongue. There was no sense in provoking Elyndra further—at least not yet.

“I’ll be right there,” Mirabelle replied, her tone as controlled as she could manage. “But I want answers.”

Mirabelle led the others upstairs, her footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone as they ascended the spiraling staircase at the back of the Grand Hall. The air thickened with each step, dense with a magic that clung to her skin, pulling her deeper into Elyndra’s domain. She knew what was coming—the familiar pull of Elyndra’s magic—but the others wouldn’t be as prepared.

As they reached the middle step, Mirabelle felt the shift she had been anticipating. The air around them seemed to ripple, and the invisible force gripped them with a sudden, sharp tug, yanking them out of the world they knew and into another. She barely blinked at the sensation; after so many years of service to the Bastion, she had long since grown used to this disorienting pull into Elyndra’s pocket space.

This place had been Elyndra’s sanctuary ever since she had come to the Bastion from the capital, days before it fell. She had arrived just before the storm, just before Everlight’s father had fallen at Xavier’s hand. The memory flickered in Mirabelle’s mind, but she pushed it aside for now. There would be time to reflect on those losses later.

The others, however, weren’t faring so well.

Aria and Ava’s faces were pale, their usually composed expressions strained from the transition. Mira, meanwhile, was bent forward, clutching her stomach, clearly fighting to hold down the nausea. Lucas, ever the resilient one, looked uncomfortable but composed, though his ears twitched involuntarily and his fur stood on end. Felix’s mechanical limbs whirred and adjusted, compensating for the pressure change. Hiroshi, his giant sword acting as a counterbalance, remained steady, while Whisker had already collapsed onto the floor by the time they fully materialized.

“It happens the first time,” Mirabelle murmured, offering Mira a small, understanding nod. “You get used to it.”

Mira managed a pale but appreciative smile, though the disorientation still clung to her. Mirabelle knew the feeling well. It wasn’t just the jarring physical shift; it was the uncanny sense that they had stepped out of reality itself, into a place where Elyndra’s power bent the very laws of existence to her will.

Once the group seemed steady enough, Mirabelle turned and led them forward. They moved down a narrow corridor, its walls glowing with faint, ethereal runes that pulsed with ancient magic. The corridor seemed to twist in ways that defied logic, stretching out ahead of them in spirals that disoriented the senses.

At last, they reached the center room—a vast circular chamber with impossibly high ceilings. The walls were lined with shelves holding ancient texts and artifacts that hummed with untold power. The air here was thick with concentrated magic, buzzing like static against their skin. It felt alive, as though the room itself were an extension of Elyndra’s presence.

And there she stood, waiting for them in the center. Elyndra, ever composed, radiated a sharp and imposing authority, her piercing gaze falling immediately on Mirabelle.

Mirabelle drew in a steadying breath, her heart tightening with a mix of unease and simmering frustration. This was Elyndra’s domain, a place where her authority was unquestioned, where the rules were hers to dictate. But today, Mirabelle wasn’t here to submit. She had questions—questions that needed answers.

And she wasn’t leaving until she got them.

As Mirabelle led the others into the room, the tension hit her like a wall. The air was thick with an unspoken anxiety, and at the center of it all stood Elyndra, her fiery red hair a vivid contrast to the cold stone chamber. She was in the middle of an argument with a Gorgon soldier, her voice sharp, her every word biting.

“So, still no word on him?” Elyndra asked, leaning down to meet the soldier’s serpentine eyes. “How many did you send this time? And no one else is willing to go down there?”

The Gorgon shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, the tension palpable.

Elyndra’s voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “Let it be known that if they aren’t willing to lift a finger, and they happen to disappear due to the corruption, it won’t be my concern.”

Her words were as sharp as blades, slicing through the already fraught air. The Gorgon soldier bowed his head slightly, but it was clear the situation was wearing on everyone.

Mirabelle’s entrance didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ah, Mirabelle.” Elyndra straightened, turning toward her with a cold smile. “A pleasure for you to join us. I see you decided to bring them.” She motioned toward Lucas, Tanaka, Whisker, and the others. “Well, get comfortable. This may not be great news for you to hear.”

Her words hung ominously in the air, and the tension ratcheted up a notch.

“As you may have heard from our runner. Everlight has gone missing,” Elyndra said, her voice steady but carrying the weight of the words. The air in the room seemed to shift, a subtle tightening that mirrored the knot forming in Mirabelle’s stomach.

She had feared this moment. She had felt it coming, creeping closer with every second since she heard it from the runner.

It had already been days since she heard from him, as he had yet to come home. She knew from Aric that he was investigating the corruption, but to what extent she did not know. Although the most she knew was that the heralds had been keeping communication with him.

Now he’s just missing?

“With that in mind, we need you to lead a team into the sewers,” Elyndra continued. “ It seems our previous teams have also gone missing, and no one else is willing to go down there.” Elyndra shot daggers at the Gorgon Captain who she had been conversing with.

Elyndra continued, her tone brisk, almost clinical. “We believe he went missing in the sewers. He received a tip about the source of the corruption, so he went below. We maintained contact with him through our teams, but a few days ago, that communication ceased. He has yet to resurface.”

Days?

Mirabelle felt her pulse quicken. The corruption. It had been creeping through the city like a disease, seeping into every corner, twisting everything it touched. And now, it might claim Everlight.

“We need you to lead a team into the sewers,” Elyndra said, her words clipped. “It seems our previous teams have also gone missing, and no one else is willing to go down there.”

Mirabelle barely registered the sharp look Elyndra shot at the Gorgon Captain, who averted their gaze. The weight of what was being asked fell heavily on her. Everlight had been gone for days, and the corruption was getting worse.

“Now with the recent arrival of the houses, and with these…..guests. We need him back,” Elyndra said, her eyes locking onto Mirabelle’s. “You know why. His connection to the barrier. Without him the city will undoubtfully fall.”

Mirabelle nodded, though her mind was already racing through the possibilities. Everlight was strong—stronger than most—but he wasn’t infallible. The corruption had claimed many before him. It twisted the body, warped the mind. If it had gotten to him...

No. She couldn’t think like that.

Mirabelle’s breath hitched. The barrier. Of course. It wasn’t just about saving Everlight—it was about saving the city. He wasn’t just a man; he was the key to their survival. The barrier that kept the Houses at bay was tied to him, and without him, it would crumble. The Bastion would fall, and with it, their last hope.

The others, especially Lucas, Whisker, and Felix, exchanged glances, their faces etched with growing concern.

Her mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together the fragments of what she knew. Everlight was strong—stronger than most—but he wasn’t invincible. She had always known that. He had always known that. But he had pushed himself, time and again, to live up to the expectations placed on him.

She remembered his voice, soft in the quiet of their late-night conversations. “I’m not strong enough, Mirabelle,” he had said once, his vulnerability exposed only in those moments of intimacy. “I’m not my father.”

And she had reassured him, even as her own doubts gnawed at her. “Your strength is enough.”

But was it?

Mirabelle felt the cold tendrils of fear coil around her heart. What if he wasn’t enough this time?

The silence was thick, suffocating. Lucas broke it with his usual sharpness, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Wait—why does it fall if he dies?” Lucas’s voice was sharp, the challenge clear in his tone. “You’re telling us this whole city relies on one guy?”

Elyndra’s eyes narrowed. “He is the last connection to the magic that holds the barrier. Without him, the defenses will crumble.”

Ava snorted, crossing her arms. “Sounds like a pretty flimsy system to me. Why him?”

Mirabelle interjected before Elyndra could snap back, trying to control the tension. “Everlight inherited the connection from his father. His father set the barrier in place before he left. And when his father fell, it was transferred to him. I believe it was something set in place by his father. But he isn’t his father. He’s... different.”

Her voice faltered as memories surged forward—Everlight standing by her side, looking up at the stars, the weight of the city on his shoulders. “I’m not my father,” he had said, his voice thick with doubt. “I don’t have the same power.”

“You don’t need it,” she had told him, though a part of her had always feared he was right.

“Ahem,” Elyndra’s voice snapped Mirabelle back to the present, pulling the conversation back to the grim reality at hand. “We’ve received word that grotesque creatures are emerging from the sewers,” she continued, her voice cold. “The corruption is accelerating, and without Everlight’s presence, the city’s defenses are weakening. We need him back.”

The room was steeped in silence again, the weight of Elyndra’s words hanging heavily in the air.

Grotesque creatures. The corruption is spreading faster than we thought.

Mirabelle’s heart raced, fear gnawing at her resolve.

The silence in the room was suffocating, the weight of her words sinking into the air like a stone. Mirabelle could feel the eyes of the Heralds on her, their expectation hanging heavily over her. They wanted a solution. They wanted hope.

But how could she give them that when her own hope was dwindling by the second?

“What do we do if we can’t find him?” It was Aric who broke the silence, his voice low but carrying a weight of its own.

Elyndra’s gaze turned cold. “Then we pray that the city doesn’t collapse before we do.”

The room fell silent again, the tension palpable. Mirabelle’s heart hammered in her chest as her mind raced for a solution. They needed to find Everlight. There was no other option.

Mirabelle clenched her fists, the weight of her responsibility pressing down on her like a stone.

Everlight—her Everlight—was missing.

And without him, everything she had fought for, everything she had sacrificed, would be for nothing.

The room was still tense after Elyndra’s proclamation.

But what ate at her more, deeper than the surface tension, was the truth that she knew him better than anyone else in the city. Everlight had always worn his pride like armor, determined to fulfill his father’s legacy. He threw himself into danger again and again, thinking he could shoulder it all.

Damn him. Damn him for thinking he could do this alone.

Mirabelle stood straighter, ignoring the pounding of her heart. She had no room for doubt, not here, not in front of Elyndra and the Heralds. If they sensed weakness in her, they’d lose confidence, and the others—Whisker, Tanaka, Aria, and the rest—would surely be more cautious. She needed them to act, to help.

But as she scanned the faces around her—both the Heralds and these strangers from another world—she could sense their own turmoil bubbling beneath the surface.

Whisker was quiet, as always, standing near Tanaka. His eyes darted around the room, his shoulders tense, almost like he was ready to bolt. He wasn’t used to these kinds of confrontations, and she could tell by the way he shifted his weight that he felt out of place here.

He’s like a mouse in a room full of predators.

His body language spoke volumes, even though he said nothing.

Lucas’s voice broke the tension again, his skepticism clear. “You expect us to go into the sewers to save a guy we’ve never met? For all we know, he’s already dead. Why don’t you send more of your soldiers?”

Mirabelle’s patience snapped. “Everlight isn’t dead.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You don’t know that. We’re supposed to trust we’re not walking into a deathtrap?”

“I trust him,” Mirabelle shot back, her voice sharp, but steady. “And if you trust me, you’ll help us find him. Because if we don’t, this city won’t last.”

The room fell silent again, Lucas staring at her for a long moment before averting his gaze.

Mirabelle glanced at Elyndra, who remained impassive, but she could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Elyndra, ever composed, cut through the tension. “Captain Aric’s forces are stretched thin,” she said smoothly. “And most aren’t willing to venture into the sewers anymore. It seems most people beyond Aric aren’t willing to go down there at all.” Elyndra responded, her tone icy. “So yes, you. So why don’t you put those with unique abilities to work, and handle this task.”

Lucas scoffed, his tail flicking behind him in irritation. “Right. Of course. The ‘chosen ones’ or whatever.” He wasn’t taking it seriously.

Mirabelle already knew what kind of man Lucas was—flippant, distrustful of authority—but the way his eyes narrowed now suggested something else. Behind the sarcasm and casual defiance, there was a glimmer of someone who wouldn’t shy away from getting his hands dirty. But Lucas needed to understand why. He needed to know that the risk was worth it.

Whisker shifted uncomfortably, his gaze drifting to Tanaka, as if seeking reassurance. Tanaka, as always, was stoic, his calm presence grounding the room. Though he remained silent, his steady demeanor seemed to soothe the tension in the air.

Tanaka takes responsibility like he takes up space—quietly, without asking for it.

He didn’t have to speak for Mirabelle to sense his internal conflict. Tanaka carried the weight of leadership much like Everlight had—always willing to bear the burden alone. Would that be his downfall too? Mirabelle couldn’t help but wonder.

Sensing the rising tension, Mirabelle interjected, her voice measured but laced with urgency. “I understand if this is overwhelming,” she began, her eyes sweeping over the group. “None of you know this city like I do. But trust me—if we don’t stop the corruption now, it will consume everything. Everlight went down into the sewers to find the source. If he doesn’t return… if we don’t find him… then the Bastion may already be lost. I’m asking a lot, I know. But if nothing else, do it for me. Please.”

A pause hung in the air, thick and uneasy.

Felix, who had been standing in silence, finally broke it, his mechanical limbs whirring softly as he crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed in thought, his voice analytical. “You keep talking about this corruption, but what exactly is it? Magic? Disease?” He was frustrated, Mirabelle could tell. Felix didn’t like making decisions without clear data. He was a man of logic, and there was little about this situation that could be quantified.

Mirabelle met his gaze. “It’s more than that,” she said softly, the weight of her words hanging heavy. “The corruption… it twists things. People. Creatures. The very fabric of the city itself. It’s not just an infection—it’s an invasion.”

“A living invasion,” Aria murmured thoughtfully. Mirabelle glanced at her and noticed that her serpentine tail had coiled tightly beneath her, a clear sign of her anxiety. Aria had been quiet, perhaps too quiet, but Mirabelle could sense the fear bubbling just beneath the surface. She was absorbing everything, processing it silently.

Ava was the next to speak, her tone sharp and direct. “You want us to go down into the sewers to find your fiancé. But what do we get in return?” Ava leaned back, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly as she surveyed the room. There was an edge to her voice, the confidence of someone who wasn’t used to taking orders without question.

Her breath caught slightly at the word fiancé. Even here, in the midst of a crisis, the word carried a weight that tugged at her heart. Their relationship had always been complicated, built on expectations and shared responsibilities. But beneath that was something deeper, something real. She thought of their quiet moments under the stars, telling stories late into the night. She remembered his proposal—how hesitant yet hopeful he had been, how he had looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

I can’t lose him. I love him.

“If you help, we’ll make sure you’re rewarded,” Mirabelle replied, though even to her, the words felt hollow. “But more importantly, you’ll survive. We’re the only free city left. Everyone else has fallen or fled. If the Bastion falls, there’s nowhere else to go.”

They have no reason to trust me—or Everlight. They don’t even know who he really is or how much he means to me.

The room grew still, the gravity of the situation settling over them like a heavy blanket. Lucas’s face was twisted into a frown, Felix’s expression was analytical, and Aria’s tail coiled even tighter beneath her. Mirabelle could see the uncertainty etched on each of their faces. And who could blame them? They had been thrust into a world they didn’t understand, and now they were being asked to descend into its darkest depths.

To her surprise, it was Whisker who spoke next, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll do it.”

To her surprise, it was Whisker who spoke next, his voice soft but carrying a firmness Mirabelle hadn’t expected. “We’ll do it.”

His quiet resolve took her off guard. A moment ago, he had seemed uncertain, almost ready to bolt. But now, something had changed. There was a flicker of determination in his eyes—a resolve she hadn’t seen in him before.

What Changed?

Whisker stepped forward, standing a little taller as if he was finding his balance for the first time. “He matters to you, right?” His voice wavered with a mix of hesitation and sincerity. “I don’t really know what a fiancé is, or a lot of these human things you talk about… but I can see it. I can see how much he means to you. And if that’s the case… I want to help.”

He took a breath, pacing slowly as his brow furrowed in thought. “Look… I’m scared. I’m small. And yeah, in a lot of ways, I feel like I don’t matter. But… I can tell you care about these people—about this city—and that’s enough for me. If we have the power to help, to change things, then we should. If we don’t… what are we even doing here?”

He paused, his eyes scanning the room, looking at each of them in turn. “I have a lot of questions—just like all of you. Like why were we brought here? What are we supposed to do? I don’t have those answers… not yet. But what I do know, what I believe, is that we have power. You’ve seen it, right? You’ve felt it, same as me. Especially when we fought those soldiers. And yeah, I’m scared. We all are.”

His voice grew stronger, steadier, as he continued. “But if using that power—if doing what we can—makes even the smallest difference, then I’ll do it. I’ll stand with you, I’ll fight with you, because it matters. So I’m going to help. And I think… I think you all should too.”

The room was silent for a long moment. Lucas snorted but didn’t object. Tanaka, ever the quiet leader, nodded slightly in agreement. The others followed suit, their expressions a mix of hesitation, fear, and curiosity.

Mirabelle exhaled quietly, feeling a weight lift from her chest. They would help. They were scared, but they would help.

The decision had been made.

“Well, that’s all very inspiring, but if you’re done deciding, let’s move on, shall we?” Elyndra’s voice cut through the room like a blade, clinical and detached, as though the choice had been made long before anyone spoke. “You’ll leave at first light,” she said, her tone final, each word carrying the weight of the city’s looming fate. “The city’s future rests in your hands now.”

The words hung in the air like an omen, heavy and undeniable. Mirabelle could feel the gravity of them settling on her shoulders, pressing against the fear she had been keeping at bay. The dark power inside her stirred, a whisper at the edges of her consciousness, reminding her of its presence. The magic that thrummed beneath her skin—it was potent, it was hers, but it was dangerous. And she knew that if she let it out, it could consume her just as easily as it could protect her.

The others began filing out of the chamber, their voices low as they discussed the plan, some of them murmuring in hesitant agreement while others still wore the weight of doubt. Their unease matched the tension in her chest. Whisker’s resolve had been surprising, but even his quiet determination couldn’t silence the uncertainty gnawing at the back of her mind.

“Mirabelle.” Elyndra’s voice cut through her thoughts like a sharp breeze. Mirabelle turned back, catching the herald’s cold, piercing gaze. There was no sympathy there, only pragmatism. “If you don’t find him… if he’s already gone…”

“I’ll bring him back.” Mirabelle’s voice was firm, unwavering, but the words felt like a shield against her growing fear. She forced herself to stand straighter, to push away the doubt that had been building since Everlight’s disappearance. But even as she spoke, her chest tightened.

What if Everlight was already beyond saving?

Elyndra said nothing more, simply turning away as if the matter had already been decided. The other heralds followed her lead, their silent exit as dispassionate as their leader’s. For them, this wasn’t personal. It was simply another task in their endless quest to maintain the city’s fragile defenses. But for Mirabelle, it was everything.

She lingered for a moment longer, watching their retreating forms. A flicker of doubt passed through her—quick, but undeniable. It whispered to her, that same gnawing fear she had tried to suppress for days. Doubt. Fear. Uncertainty. It all clawed at her insides, but she shoved it down, like she always did. She had no choice. Not now. Not when the city’s survival was at stake.

But as she turned to leave, her thoughts drifted back to Everlight, and the memories she had kept tucked away, too painful to confront. The man who had captured her heart with his strength, his unwavering resolve, his impossible hope. The man she had promised to stand by, no matter the cost. He was the city’s champion, their protector, their beacon of hope.

But beneath it all, Everlight was just a man.

And men could fall.