A few hours of rest were enough for the fairies.
Lucensia, however, required more.
Her massive body had walked for days without pause, inhaling tremendous amounts of ash and embers. She needed time—real time—to recover.
Clumps of soot flaked from her scales with each heavy breath, drifting down like black snow. It was obvious how far she had been pushed.
Karteira was the first to rise. She made her way toward the wall of water Nia had created.
“…”
She frowned, bringing a hand to her chin.
“I can’t see anything through this. It’s too opaque.”
Her tone was serious.
“That’s good… and bad.”
Murmuring to herself, she slipped naturally into the posture of a commander.
“Not being seen is good.” She pressed her palm against the water and, like drawing back a curtain, parted the magic to create a narrow opening.
“Strategically, it’s ideal. It lets us hide without being observed.”
She stepped outside.
The scorching air pressed against her skin immediately, thicker than before, as though it resisted her breath.
“On the other hand…” Her expression tightened. “We know nothing about what’s happening out here.”
Her eyes darkened as the fifth day in this inferno began.
And as expected, something had changed.
In the distance, at four separate points, four towering ember trees burned bright blue—taller and thicker than the surrounding forest.
“Those weren’t there yesterday.”
She raised her hand, measuring distance with her fingers.
“They’re several kilometers apart… and evenly spaced.” Her gaze narrowed. “Too evenly spaced.”
Karteira paused, drawing in a breath of heated air. Ash clung to her skin before dissolving into the thin veil of moisture behind her.
“…”
She covered her mouth briefly, then turned back toward the chamber.
“They may already know we’re here.”
After tying her long hair into a ponytail, she brushed her fingers lightly against the ornamental flower holding her bangs in place.
“I need to speak with Mother.”
Without another glance at the windless blue flames pulsing in unnatural rhythm, she stepped back inside.
…
Titania and Karteira stood together at the entrance.
“How are they?” Karteira asked quietly.
“They are still exhausted.” Titania lowered her gaze. “I cannot fault them. They have done much to ease our burden.”
They both glanced back.
Mia and Nia slept with their backs pressed against Lucensia’s belly. The younger twin rested her head against her sister’s shoulder.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“We’ve relied on them too much,” Karteira muttered, hands tightening at her sides. “Even in their sleep, they’re working.”
At intervals, a faint green aura pulsed from Mia, quietly oxygenating the chamber.
“Mother…” Karteira exhaled slowly. “What are our odds?”
The question lingered.
Titania’s gaze drifted toward the flowing water sealing the entrance.
“…”
Karteira waited patiently.
She watched her mother—Progenitor of all fairies—open and close her hand as though testing strength she feared had faded.
Titania’s eyes shifted to Karteira, then to the twins, then to Lucensia.
“Fifty percent…” she began.
Her jaw tightened.
“No. Thirty.”
Her reflection trembled in the water, wavering as if it no longer fully belonged to her.
“I have spent too long as Tiohr-nam,” she continued quietly, “forgetting the roots that shaped me into a Warrior Maiden.”
“If I had trained as relentlessly as you did, I might have been more useful. But as I am now…” Regret threaded through her voice.
Karteira stepped forward and gently took Titania’s hand in both of hers.
“Does that truly matter?” she asked, offering a soft smile. “Strength is important, yes. I wouldn’t have survived without mine.”
She nodded, remembering the countless trials she had endured.
“But you’re trying to carry everything alone again.”
“If you can’t stand on the front line, then guide it. Be our strategist. Be our rear guard. There are many ways to protect us.”
Titania fell silent, weighing her daughter’s words.
“The knowledge you gained under the previous Valkyrie hasn’t vanished,” Karteira continued. “You’re giving yourself far too little credit.”
Hearing shuffling behind them, they turned.
“Are we going outside?” Nia asked, rubbing her eyes as she stifled a yawn.
Karteira released her mother’s hand.
“Yes. That was the plan,” she said firmly. Then she looked back at Titania. “Mother, I’d like you to stay here. Could you watch over Lucensia?”
Titania glanced toward the resting dragon before crossing her arms.
“Very well. If you discover anything about those blue flames, return immediately. We’ll decide our next step together.”
Mia, who had remained silent until now, stepped beside Karteira. Her head barely reached the woman’s shoulder.
“Blue trees?” she asked, lifting her gaze to meet Karteira’s cerulean eyes.
“See for yourself.”
Karteira slipped her hand into the water barrier and pulled it aside.
Mia and Nia leaned through the opening, scanning the cavern beyond.
“Hm. Interesting.” Mia straightened first, thoughtful. “If those weren’t there yesterday, we can assume something changed. Perhaps the enemy is aware of us.”
“That was my conclusion as well,” Karteira replied with a nod.
“Sis.” Nia stepped back from the opening. “Didn’t you notice something strange about them?”
She pointed toward the distant blue flames, where ash seemed to spiral around unnaturally.
Mia frowned. “No. What did you see?”
“Don’t they look like towers?”
The word lingered.
Karteira leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at the nearest blue tree. The flames distorted the air around it, obscuring details—but then a brief gap in the heat shimmer revealed something different.
“You may be right,” she murmured, touching a finger to her chin. “The base… it spirals. That isn’t natural.”
“Right?” Nia smiled, pleased she wasn’t dismissed.
The three women stepped back, preparing themselves.
Light condensed along Karteira’s arms, forming armored plates. She drove a punch wrapped in compressed light into the water barrier.
A controlled burst hollowed a wide opening through the curtain.
“Alright. I’m ready.”
Her tail curled behind her as she leaned forward, poised to sprint.
“Wait.”
Titania stepped in front of her.
“If anything feels wrong, you return immediately. I will not argue about this.”
The weight in her voice was unmistakable.
Karteira straightened and met her mother’s gaze without wavering.
“That was always the plan. This is reconnaissance only. We don’t know the terrain.”
She paused, and for the briefest instant, something softened in her eyes.
“Orion taught me better than to rush blindly.”
Titania searched her daughter’s face, then stepped aside.
“Do your best,” she said quietly. “Be careful.”
They exchanged a smile—one born of shared battles and deeper bonds.
With a firm nod, Karteira lunged forward and passed through the water barrier.
It soaked her instantly, coating her in a layer of protective moisture.
“Did she just use Nia’s water as insulation against the heat?” Mia blinked in surprise.
“We should do the same,” Nia replied, her wings beginning to hum. “We don’t know how long we can remain outside.”
“Right—”
Two arms pulled them both into an embrace.
“You will be careful,” Titania whispered, holding them close. “Extremely careful.”
The twins softened in her hold before gently pulling away.
They looked up at her, determination clear in their eyes.
“We’ll survey the area and return,” Mia said, clenching her fist lightly.
“We won’t do anything reckless,” Nia added with a nod.
They moved around Titania and stepped through the water barrier, copying Karteira.
Their silhouettes appeared briefly beyond the curtain before the buzzing of their wings echoed faintly.
The sound of their wings echoed for a few more seconds before fading entirely.
"…"
Silence settled.
Titania remained at the entrance alone.
She opened her left hand. A beautiful sword manifested within her grasp.
She drove the blade into the white floor and rested both hands atop the pommel.
I will guard this place until they return.
Beyond the chamber, heat shimmered.
Within it, stillness.
The group had divided—each carrying their role.
