Karteira glanced at her mother’s face.

  Where she had expected shock or disbelief, she found only a stern, mournful gaze—one that mirrored the desolate landscape before them.

  “Is that… a sun?” Nia’s voice pulled everyone back to the moment as the bright sphere floating in the distance pulsed unevenly.

  “It can’t be,” Mia said, shaking her head sharply, memories of old conversations with Orion resurfacing. “There is no reality where a sun appears on a planet’s surface.”

  She frowned.

  “And certainly not one of that size.”

  Silence followed, broken only by the crackle of distant fire, until Titania released a long, measured sigh.

  All eyes turned to her.

  “You are correct,” she said at last. “This is not a replica of the sun.”

  There was strain in her voice, as though she were holding something back—something heavy.

  “How—” Karteira began, then stopped herself.

  “How can I be certain?” Titania answered for her, forcing a faint smile as she met her daughter’s eyes. “Because I know what this is. And I know who is responsible for its creation.”

  The three fairies inhaled sharply.

  All reacted differently, but their thoughts were the same.

  “Fate is a strange mistress,” Titania continued, lifting her gaze to the blinding light. “Even Henrietta could never fully grasp the extent of her influence.”

  The radiance reflected in Titania’s eyes, yet she did not flinch.

  “To think our paths would cross once more…”

  Her hands clenched, heartbeats thumping out of control in her chest.

  The name escaped her lips, heavy with history.

  “Viknod.”

  “Mother! Wait!”

  An adult woman with chestnut-colored hair pushed through the crowd, weaving past startled passersby.

  A woman with deep brown hair halted at the familiar voice and turned around.

  “Titania?” Her arms crossed as a faint, knowing smile tugged slightly to one side. “I thought you were meant to rest today.”

  “I just wanted to accompany you,” Titania replied, lowering her gaze as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I can return if you wish.”

  “Hm.” Her mother studied her for a moment. “Are you certain you’re well? You trained the soldiers all morning, did you not?”

  Titania nodded, her expression sharpening.

  “I did. And I still fail to understand how you entrust this city’s safety to such incompetence.” Her irritation was evident, drawing uneasy glances from nearby onlookers.

  “Well,” her mother said calmly, stepping forward, “don’t judge them so harshly. They act within the limits of their ability.”

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  She glanced sideways at Titania, her expression firm.

  “Just because I trained you myself does not mean everyone can endure the same trials.”

  Her voice hardened.

  “They still fight for this city’s peace.”

  “Don’t belittle their efforts.”

  Titania’s jaw tightened.

  “I know you didn’t mean it cruelly,” her mother continued more softly. “If you truly despised their weakness, you wouldn’t train them every day.”

  She lifted her gaze to the clear sky above, her voice carrying quiet authority.

  “Strength is not all brilliance and triumph. It brings duty. Obligation.”

  “There are burdens only we can understand.”

  She paused.

  “And who, besides ourselves, could truly understand them?”

  Titania walked in silence beside her.

  She agreed.

  As they made their way through the crowded streets, something strange reached their ears.

  “What’s happening to the flames?” a man’s confused voice rose above the noise.

  He was a familiar stall vendor, his counter lined with goods and three scented candles burning to draw customers.

  Except today, the flames were wrong.

  They twisted unnaturally, coiling upward like living things, stretching toward the sky as if summoned.

  “Eh?! What’s happening?!” a woman screamed from inside her restaurant as the fire beneath her cooking pots tore free, slipping out through the open windows in violent streaks.

  Titania and her mother halted at once.

  Around them, panic spread.

  More and more flames abandoned their sources, peeling away from torches, hearths, candles—rising like ribbons caught in an unseen current.

  Above the castle, the fires gathered, spiraling together into a growing sphere of blinding light.

  “Mother…” Titania’s voice trembled as she turned to her.

  “We have a situation. I don’t understand what’s happening, but we have to act.”

  She drew a sword from thin air, the blade ringing softly as it caught the light. Her eyes flared a powerful caramel hue.

  The silk of her refined red dress tightened at her waist as she moved, metal pieces at her shoulders clattering softly. The knightly garment, elegant and long, did nothing to hinder her stance.

  Titania watched the fleur-de-lis crest on her mother’s chest reflect along the pristine edge of the blade.

  Her long hair flowed behind her like threads of velvet as she stepped forward, every movement carrying absolute authority.

  “I, Artheia, will see this matter resolved,” she declared, her voice carried by the wind.

  Gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd as the city’s Valkyrie marched toward the castle.

  “Titania,” Artheia said without turning back, “go to the barracks. I may require the soldiers.”

  Titania searched for words, finding none.

  “I will,” she managed to gather them before separating. “Please… do not be reckless.”

  Artheia glanced over her shoulder and gave a faint nod before breaking into a run, sword in hand.

  Titania turned and ran.

  —

  Minutes later, she reached the barracks, breath ragged, sweat pouring down her face.

  “Why is it so hot?” she muttered, bracing her hands on her knees. “I don’t remember this hill being so exhausting…”

  Beads of sweat fell from her chin, striking the stone.

  That was when she noticed.

  “Was the sun always this bright…?”

  Straightening slowly, she turned.

  The words died in her throat.

  Above the city hung a colossal sphere of fire, drawing flames from every direction. Beneath it, the castle melted—stone sagging, towers collapsing into formless ruin.

  From her vantage point, Titania could see the entire city burning.

  As the sphere expanded, everything within its reach ignited. Buildings. Streets. People.

  She watched citizens run through the streets, bodies engulfed in fire. Some rolled desperately on the ground. Others staggered toward water that would never reach them.

  One by one, they collapsed.

  Charred remains crumbled into ash.

  “…What…” Her voice failed her. “What is this…?”

  And still, it worsened.

  Ash from the dead rose skyward, swirling around the sphere—not merging with it, but shaping something else.

  A figure began to form.

  Tall.

  Thin.

  Faceless.

  Eerie.

  Screams erupted around her.

  “Help me!”

  “What’s happening?!”

  “Why?!”

  She turned—and saw the soldiers she was meant to gather ignite in white flame, bodies consumed in seconds.

  Her gaze dropped to her own hand.

  A violent sizzle filled her ears.

  Her skin burned.

  Smoke surged upward, blinding her as pain tore through every nerve.

  Flames swallowed her body.

  She had no strength left to scream.

  And then...

  The final nail was hammered.

  Something streaked past her at impossible speed.

  CRASH

  The barracks exploded, stone and timber collapsing inward.

  Through burning vision, Titania saw her mother.

  Artheia was embedded in the wall.

  Where her heart had been was only a dark, hollow void.

  Titania tried to scream.

  No sound came.

  Her throat was gone. Even her tears would not fall.

  As her consciousness began to fail, two spine-like fingers, endless and unnatural, reached toward her mother.

  The last thing Titania saw was those fingers closing around Artheia.

  Then everything went dark.