Not a Damsel in Distress!

The light faded the second they stepped through the portal.

There was no swirling vortex, no flash of divine light—just a single blink, and suddenly…

They were standing in a field.

A very normal field.

With grass. Dirt. A suspiciously average sky.

"Wait," Ron said, squinting at a passing bird. "This is the 'other world'? I've seen weirder things in my backyard. This place looks like a retirement commercial."

J chuckled as she stepped out behind them, sheathing her blades. "It's protected by illusion magic. Keeps it looking forgettable to outsiders. Works like a charm."

"Well, it's working, alright. I feel aggressively underwhelmed."

The path ahead was faint but winding, leading toward something massive rising just over a hill.

Samantha's steps were slow. She couldn't decide if she felt relief… or dread. Maybe both. The air smelled cleaner here, less metallic. Her lungs expanded easier. But the pendant hadn't stopped pulsing, even now.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

M walked a little ahead, cloak brushing through the grass. "The temple. It's where we gather. Where our energy is strongest."

Ron squinted. "Temple. Right. Just casually heading to an ancient magic temple like it's brunch."

He fell into step beside Samantha, his voice dropping slightly. "You doing okay?"

She hesitated. "I think… I think I will be."

"Good. 'Cause if another fog monster shows up, I vote we just fake dead."

"Ron."

"Too soon?"

"Way too soon."

The temple came into view suddenly—like it had been waiting for them to look.

It rose from the ground like a forgotten cathedral, but unlike anything from their world. Spires of stone, covered in glowing veins of silver. The front doors stood wide open, carved with symbols Samantha's eyes almost recognized. Light spilled from the cracks in the walls, soft and warm, like the building itself was breathing.

Waiting.

Watching.

At the threshold stood someone she hadn't seen in what felt like lifetimes.

Alaric.

He was taller than she remembered. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself now—calm, grounded, like the chaos had shaped him into something heavier. The same sharp gaze, the same hands clasped behind his back.

"Samantha," he said, voice low but steady. "Ron."

Ron raised a brow. "Y'know, for a guy who gives me the creeps half the time, I gotta say—I owe you my life right now. So. You're not all bad."

Alaric almost smiled. "Praise I never expected. But I'll take it."

J smirked behind them. "Told you he'd warm up."

"We sensed the shift," Alaric continued. "I knew they'd move soon. I'm glad J and M got to you in time."

"Yeah, about that…" Ron gestured vaguely toward the sky. "Any idea what that thing was? The fog creature?"

"A fragment," Alaric said. "A mindless shadow sent to test the boundaries. It shouldn't have been able to manifest that strongly." He paused, looking at Samantha. "Unless someone… anchored it."

Her stomach turned.

"I should've been more prepared," Alaric murmured. "Come. You both need rest."

He led them inside.

The temple was cooler than the air outside. Quieter, too, like sound itself was being filtered through velvet. The walls curved upward into an endless dome, where stars shimmered faintly across an enchanted ceiling. A faint hum vibrated beneath their feet—power, old and rooted.

Two rooms had been prepared—simple but clean, with soft bedding and wide windows that looked out on the hills.

Ron collapsed on the bed like a ragdoll. "If this is a cult, at least it's one with decent thread count."

Samantha stood by the window, watching the way the wind shifted through the grass outside. It felt wrong to rest. Wrong to let her guard down.

But her body was shaking, and her mind was frayed.

"I'll be nearby," Alaric said gently. "You're safe here."

She turned to him. "For how long?"

His silence answered that question.

Then he left, soft footsteps echoing down the stone corridor.

---

Far away…

In the tower with no windows.

The air crackled.

The orb floated, pulsing violet and silver, its edges trembling like it was under strain.

Ramiel stood before it, unmoving.

Silent.

His eyes glowed faintly, reflecting fractured images.

But Samantha's face was gone.

Distorted.

The orb showed nothing but static where she should have been.

He raised a hand—touched the surface.

It hissed back.

He didn't flinch.

Behind him, one of the hooded figures knelt.

"My lord… we lost them. The girl was extracted."

Ramiel said nothing.

The silence stretched.

Broke.

Snap.

The orb cracked in the middle.

The kneeling follower flinched.

Still, Ramiel didn't raise his voice. His fury wasn't loud. It didn't scream.

It just was—and that was enough to make the walls shiver.

Then, slowly… a smile.

It twisted across his face, sharp and chilling. Eyes narrowing like a blade being drawn.

"Of course," he whispered.

A bitter laugh, low and humorless, curled from his throat.

"Alaric."

He stepped back from the orb, hand lowering to his side.

"They've returned her to the temple. How poetic."

"My lord, should we—"

"No." Ramiel's voice was a knife dipped in frost. "We wait."

The orb sparked again—this time showing the faint silhouette of the temple's spire.

He stared.

"Let them rest. Let them believe they've found shelter."

He tilted his head, mock-gentle. "The higher the illusion of peace… the sweeter it is when it crumbles."

He turned, cloak sweeping across the floor, eyes blazing like dying stars.

"Soon," he said.