The roar of the crowd pressed against Kari’s sensitive ears, a storm of voices crashing like surf against her skull. She stood at the crater’s edge where Elder Caelia’s root-woven magic laced broken stone back together, green veins knitting a scar across the wounded arena.

  Her muscles trembled—not from strain but from the ghost of her brother’s body lying shattered beneath her blows. Victory coated her tongue in ash, bitter as smoke and soot.

  Tears still streaked her cheeks, remnants of the ones she had shed in Sora’s arms. She remembered the warmth of that embrace, her tail wrapped tight around her, the steady heartbeat of a friend she didn’t deserve.

  For a moment, the isolation she carried like iron bands had cracked, and sunlight poured through.

  Real friendship—strange, terrifying, holy.

  Sora hadn’t left her side, copper hair catching the glow of Caelia’s regrown roots. Her naive fox friend’s presence pressed close, steadying her—silent now, but her warmth lingered like an anchor.

  Only an idiot would make friends with a wolf…

  I guess Sora is that kind of idiot.

  Dammit…

  Kari could feel her gaze, worried yet proud, as if urging her to look beyond grief toward what came next.

  The air still carried the metallic sting of blood, the dust of pulverized stone, and the root-scent of Caelia’s magic. Above it all, the crowd’s fevered celebration pulsed like a living organism, hungry and deaf to her hollow triumph.

  Kari closed her eyes, breath stuttering. She could almost hear her mother’s lullaby threaded through it all, the phantom melody that had begun to stalk her steps, haunting her at the edges of sound and memory—the one infused into The Darkness itself.

  Her chest rose and fell like a trapped animal’s, torn between relief, grief, and something wilder—an ache older than words.

  Mom…give me strength. Grandpa, help me.

  Her heavy lids opened, catching a glimmer of movement that tugged at the edge of her vision. Wendy’s number glowed above her head as she climbed onto the restored platform, her fluffy tail swishing with nervous energy like a banner trying to mask fear.

  Nilly bounced beside her in teenage form, feigning lightheartedness, while Nerida’s pale face looked ready to collapse.

  It should have anchored Kari’s attention—the next match, the subsequent trial, the following prompt to force her legs to where they needed to go to that underwater kingdom calling her home.

  Not a place.

  To the place where her home rested.

  Her little sister.

  Still, she forced herself to speak, her voice flat, distracted: “Good luck.”

  Her gaze had already shifted away, tail flicking once as if to punctuate the dismissal, but she still smelled Wendy’s defensive surprise in passing.

  The humming was back.

  That same fragile thread of sound rose beneath the roar of the crowd, weaving through roots and stone, threading through the cracks of the repaired arena. It was faint, almost devoured by noise and celebration, but her blood knew it, her marrow recognized it.

  The melody twisted into The Darkness.

  Hold on, Tiri… Your big sister is coming for you.

  “You hear it too.”

  Eric’s voice rasped like gravel ground beneath boots.

  Kari turned to see him staggering upright, his body shrunken, his ravaged clothes slick with blood. His wolf form had collapsed, leaving him smaller, fragile in a way she hadn’t seen since childhood when he fought Tiri.

  Yet still he dragged himself to her side.

  “I heard it when I arrived, but it’s getting louder,” he muttered, rubbing his healing neck. “Tell me you’ve investigated it. You didn’t spend weeks here playing school?”

  Yup. Her bastard brother was back.

  Kari’s ears twitched, straining toward the ground, her senses alive in ways that both thrilled and terrified her. The melody wasn’t coming from a single point—it thrummed through Avalon’s foundations, carried on ley currents and roots, a song conducted by the very bones of the world.

  Her lips parted before thought could catch them. “Shut up. Let’s go…”

  Onstage, Wendy was already preparing for the battle that would no doubt have Sora on the edge of her seat. Kari hardly saw it, though.

  Sora was supporting her sister.

  Kari had her own sister to rescue from whatever ghouls clawed beneath the grass.

  Her bare feet carried her forward over broken stone, each step pulling her away from the arena’s fever, closer to that haunting, insistent melody, and away from her best friend’s firm warmth.

  “Kari, wait—” Sora’s voice chased her, but she didn’t slow.

  Eric followed, breath ragged, determination etched into his every faltering step. The wrongness clung to him—fenris essence gnawing through Germanic blood, their mother’s cursed soul devouring him from the inside out.

  They had to address that detail at some point.

  Kari’s throat tightened at the stench of it.

  Why did you have to carry that burden alone? Mom didn’t want that. That was all you, you stupid—

  “I see your face. Haha. Ugh… As much as I’d love to hear your new bite, save the lecture,” Eric cut in, catching her eyes with raw defiance. “We both know I deserved worse than what you gave me. Let Tiri rip me apart for a few weeks when she’s free.”

  “Weeks? I don’t think you’ll get off that easy…”

  They slipped through the crowd and found the nearest transportation gate, entering without a moment’s hesitation.

  Mist wrapped around them like funeral shrouds as they emerged, the forest gate she’d initially used showing a solemn and ancient glade. Her mother’s melody swelled here, unbroken by cheers or walls, with nature itself singing, resonating with a clarity that struck something primal in Kari’s chest.

  Not memory. Not grief. Instinct.

  Her claws flexed out to paw against damp soil.

  Eric’s lips creased, breathing in deeply. “Mmm. Your nose has gotten better, Sis. Tiri’s scent is further in; I can smell it on the wind with water… Some deep body of water. You were here throughout the night, but you didn’t go in?”

  Kari didn’t dignify a response, simply leading the way, her tail swaying lightly behind her as she entered the haze. Its magic wouldn’t work on her.

  Eric? She wasn’t so sure in his current state.

  “I’m liking this new you?” Eric’s voice sharpened despite the half-healed gashes across his chest. Pride clung to him as stubbornly as his bloodline. “All business. I can get behind it. We aren’t alone, either… Two scents. Diane? Interesting. So that’s where she went. Do you know the other, or would you like to surprise me? Oh, fancy…”

  A shimmer in the mist thankfully cut her brother’s monologue, peeling it back as if pushed aside by invisible hands.

  Two figures awaited them.

  Diane stood first—tablet in hand, spectral screens orbiting her like guardian spirits, each filled with cascading sigils and strings of data.

  Of course, the Foundation witch would be here.

  Her lips curled in cool amusement. Out of everyone, this was not who she thought would be beside the Foundation’s attack dog. Sitting on the same rock he’d rested on the previous night, High King Oberon gazed with pupilless, golden eyes, his expression carved from obsidian calm.

  Kari’s hackles rose immediately.

  “It’s about time.” Diane didn’t look up, fingers dancing over her displays. “I was beginning to think you two brutes would kill each other before I could make use of you. Though, I suppose family drama has its thrills. Are you done wasting my time?” she sighed, voice as dull as a school kid watching the clock tick until break.

  “No, I’m ready to go straight for the throat. Let’s cut to the chase.” Kari’s claws sprang free, aura bleeding silver light—her awakened soul. The humming had grown louder—almost desperate. “What do you know?”

  Oberon spoke with that maddening stillness. “Patience, young wolf. First, you must understand what you face.”

  Diane snorted. “Perfect… If he could just tell you, rather than stringing us along with bread crumbs. Do you know how many minutes I’ve wasted gathering all your clues regarding my mentor? But no—such is the way of the fae. Bound by oaths, riddles, theatrics. I suppose his lovely queen approves of all this wasted time?”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  At that, Oberon’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Titania works her own angle, human. As do you, witch. As do I. Yet in the end, every path converges.” His illuminated gaze flicked to Kari. “On Sora.”

  Kari rolled her eyes, tail lashing. “I’ve heard the line. Of course. Everything’s always about Sora. Can we speed this up? I’m losing my patience. You want Aelion saved—whatever that means. I want my sister back. Diane can choke on your own ratty hair.”

  Diane snickered. “Teenagers are nature’s greatest developmental mistake…”

  Eric straightened, pride forcing strength into his voice though his body was still knitting back together. “Then quit circling us with riddles, King, my sister gave you an order.”

  Now I give the orders, huh? Kari dully sighed to herself as he continued with his typical fearless bravado.

  “If there’s a city, then take us to it. We aren’t waiting for politics.”

  The fae lord inclined his head, unbothered by Eric’s bite. “Bold. Predictable.”

  “And annoying,” Diane muttered, flicking another cascade of data into the mist. “Still, the mutt has a point. Why don’t you stop posturing and just open the way? You’ve already tacked your goals onto the wolves. Unless…there’s a specific event that must converge? Is that what this passage means… Hmm.”

  Oberon ignored her barb, turning to Kari instead. “I am glad to see you have embraced your birthright… You will need it.”

  “Sure…”

  “The waters will not yield easily, Daughter of Alva. They open only to those prepared to bear what waits within… The Darkness welcomes with teeth. Tell me—do you believe yourself ready to face it? You do not understand the depths you will sink.”

  Kari bared her teeth. “Ready or not, I don’t get to choose. Tiri didn’t get a choice. You forced it on her. It’s the only thing I can think of. Mia, the fae Founders, the rest of you—mgmm! Quit stalling. I’ll face it. Talk.”

  Diane finally glanced up from her tablet, eyes sharp with cruel humor. “Well. There’s your answer, Lord King. No ceremony, no grace. Just teeth and temper. Honestly, I prefer it. Chop-chop!”

  Oberon’s glow glimmered faintly as the mist thinned, revealing a stretch of black water ringed by ancient wards. Spires shifted faintly beneath the surface, hinting at the drowned city Kari had glimpsed once before.

  “…There is a far, far kingdom…that calls you home. A river, ever clear, and ever hungry, from the fount of knowledge that flows from the lips of a fool…” Oberon said. “Purpose decides whether darkness corrupts or saves. Do not mistake pride for certainty, or love for strength. A veil hides the storm and sea… Follow. ”

  Eric huffed, muttering under his breath, “Spoken in riddles, like someone who’s never had to fight for family… Fae are pathetic.”

  Diane smirked, tilting her tablet. “There are times you grow on me, Eric. Prideful. Sharp. He’ll get himself killed first, jumping into combat. Such useful tools you wolves are.”

  Kari ignored them both, stepping forward until mist curled around her ankles, silver aura sparking in resonance with the lake’s hum.

  “Shut up,” she growled at them all. “I don’t care about your games. Open the path. I’ll get Tiri back, even if I have to burn your riddles and cities to ash to do it… I will save my family.”

  The lake rippled, dark waters parting faintly as if in answer, Eric grinning with pride he shouldn’t feel. Oberon’s voice rolled over the mist like thunder:

  “Then step forward, wolf. The city awaits.”

  The lake accepted her weight like glass given breath.

  Mist parted.

  Wards whispered.

  A pale path unfurled over black water, leading toward a ring of standing stones where the surface domed up into an air-still chamber. Spires shifted beneath them—shadowed teeth in a drowned jaw. The lullaby was closer here, no longer at the edge of hearing; it pressed the inside of Kari’s skull.

  Oberon walked without a ripple. Eric kept pace, not looking impressed.

  Diane drifted behind, clicking her tongue as screens orbited her like cold moons.

  “He could open several doors if he stopped fencing with oaths. Are they really that restrictive?” Her eyes slid to Oberon. “These journal entries by my mentor paint quite a delicious riddle she hid within each of her manuscripts.”

  They reached the circle. Water arched overhead, holding the world out. The hum vibrated, yet it merely bounced off her skin without effect.

  Oberon lifted a hand, and a leather-bound journal materialized through ripples in space. He did not open it. “Lore-keeper,” he said, turning—not to Kari—to the witch. “It is for this reason I guided Raven to invoke you onto this quest… Tell them.”

  Diane’s mouth flattened. “I don’t like being manipulated, High King. The insinuation that you were the one to point me to Sora, to what would come of her birthday, of Mia’s intervention… I’m not enjoying this puzzle game, but such is the life of a truth-seeker…”

  She flicked her fingers; a lattice of sigils and plain text sprang to life around her; the book flowed into its gravity, the odd writing inside peeling off to join the mess.

  “I’ve been stitching your riddles to my mentor’s passages for weeks. Annoying. Deranged. Typical. Oh, not my all-powerful mistress. No…your constant surveillance and meddling, all pointing to this moment, no doubt. You had to slow my progress before I cracked the code.”

  Windows multiplied. Lunar diagrams. Tide cycles. Bloodline threads. The silhouette of a tower set against a cratered sphere. Kari didn’t follow the symbols; she tasted what they meant—salt, stone, vacuum, cold.

  “Start at the edges,” Diane muttered, half to herself, pulling lines through the fog. “The fold in the lake, the anchor in the—mm.” Her voice skimmed a fracture. She slowed. “No. That…wait.”

  She expanded three panes. Overlaid them. Dozens more coming to life shortly after, her hand signals coming in sharper motions.

  “No. No, this can’t… What? Oberon, you can’t expect me to believe that—mmm…”

  Kari reached out and shoved her forward with a growl. “Quit stalling. Open it.”

  “Damn you—quit rushing me! This is…not right. It’s not! A trick. A redirection.”

  Her hands trembled even as her voice flattened back into analysis. She forced the numbers to obey her, but her body betrayed her—pale lips, shaking fingers, a twitch in her jaw that screamed of cracks widening.

  The glow bled out of her cheeks.

  “It can’t be that neat,” she said softly, as if talking the math into mercy. “It shouldn’t be that neat. It can’t be this…bleak.”

  Another overlay. Runes locked to dates. Dates to a single bright pin on a lunar arc that translated to what could have been French.

  Her tablet slipped. Dripping into the water to slowly ease into the abyss, as if falling through honey. The projections wavered, then steadied, bathing her in cold light that made her look suddenly human—no armor of sarcasm, no clinical sheen.

  Just a woman with the floor gone.

  “No. I can’t be…”

  “Diane, don’t be so melodramatic,” Eric snorted, reaching down to snatch her tablet out of the water before it fell too far to reach. “Spit it out. Not as important as you thought you were?”

  Kari’s brow furrowed, watching the witch fidget and cough, shaking her head before taking a step back. It was as if she saw her own death.

  “If you’re not going to open it, I’ll just break inside—”

  “No!” Diane snapped. “And shut your snouts, wolves! You couldn’t fathom the level of layers—the impossible scope. The implications! This is—”

  She cut off, and Kari’s brow furrowed as a tear slid down her cheek, ignoring Eric’s offered tablet. The witch looked at Oberon, nose turning red before twisting in a way that looked foreign on her—fright, anger…lost purpose.

  “I…thought I was chosen.” The words came raw. “I thought She reached for me.” Her gaze lost focus, chasing something she couldn’t catch. “But the pattern—my pattern—isn’t anchored. It’s…scripted. I am…an illusion.”

  Her jaw worked, as if desperate to spit another barb, but nothing came—just silence, and the wet sound of her tablet dripping in Eric’s grip.

  Silence pressed in as a chill ran through Kari’s spine. It felt real. Vulnerable.

  Kari’s claws ached against her palms. The witch’s crisis wasn’t her problem—but it was the first honest thing Diane had shown.

  “I don’t have time for your existential nightmare. Quit wasting my time.”

  The sting bristled Diane’s frame, yet she swallowed, eyes climbing to the nearest screen as if it might argue back. It didn’t. Her words, hollow.

  “It’s a lie. This lake. The gate. The storm…all of us,” she said, voice thinning to a thread, “Avalon’s age—its history—my history… Our reality is a lie.”

  “What?” Eric snorted, rolling his shoulders and showing a toothy grin. “Is that all? You’re basically nothing more than a scrap of dust to ground beneath our feet to begin with. What’s so scary about that? Founders are eternal. Fundamental. You are a lie. We are truth… Constant, without end.”

  Diane’s head snapped toward him, fury flaring—but she didn’t argue. She couldn’t. The lattice itself betrayed her. “Three years,” she whispered hoarsely, finding Kari’s eyes instead. “Everything before that? Fabricated.”

  Kari’s ears pinned back, breath catching.

  Three years…

  It wasn’t just numbers on a page—it was stolen time. While she’d been clawing for scraps of pride to get out of Eric’s shadow, her baby sister had been locked inside a nightmare, carrying a weight no child should.

  “Artificially woven to stitch the seal back together,” the witch continued, as if reciting a play, “My mentor, my connection to the Founders…none of it was real. This entire realm—no, multiverse—that is the scale of this…containment system.”

  Oberon’s voice carried like stone dropped in still water. “A dream.”

  The word cracked something open. Diane’s denial strangled in her throat.

  And that was when the rest of the pieces fell for the witch as she mumbled, “The Moon. The seal. The breach. Earth itself… Avalon exists in a pocket anchored to the lunar surface. The Moon Wizard’s tower acts as the primary seal. But when the fenris pup crashed into it three years ago—”

  The projection shifted. Kari’s impatient heart split upon seeing her sister’s fall through the revealed pages of The Mórrígan’s journal.

  A young wolf, heartbreakingly small, colliding with crystalline wards. Glass shattering. Something indescribable pouring through. Kari’s mind reeled, but the humming smothered thought. It pulled her forward, toward the lake barely visible through thickening mist.

  “Tiri,” Eric breathed, face drained of color. “What did you do to my little sister?!”

  “Her pure fenris nature hit like a cosmic ram,” Oberon confirmed. “The Mórrígan responded by weaving this false reality, wrapping the wound until a solution could be found.”

  Eric staggered a step, claws half-sprung before he forced them back. His jaw clenched so tight she could hear bone grind. “No…no, that’s… Why didn’t Mia—no, why didn’t Ylva tell me! She must have known. She’s just a pup. It should have been me!” His voice cracked, a fracture of guilt leaking through the pride.

  The humming crescendoed. Not just a lullaby. Not memory. Tiri’s voice—singing to herself in the dark, three years without pause, a child’s voice cracking under the weight of an infinite tide.

  Kari’s teeth ground. “She’s the anchor. You’re using an eight-year-old girl—my sister, as a dam!”

  Diane’s tone attempted to return to its clinical note, but the flicker in her eyes betrayed her. “Her childish certainty—her bloodline’s resilience—made her perfect. She was literally the only thing capable of resisting the…thing. She believes it’s all a game. That belief has kept the entity contained.”

  “The Codex Obscura,” Oberon intoned, lifting a hand for the pool to split, stairs falling into the abyssal city. “Knowledge itself is weaponized. Preservation given hunger. A force that would require a 1st Generation Founder to repel…

  “Now, I must visit an old friend…and meet my wife in the dying light.”

  Yet he didn’t move, the golden glow of his eyes steady on Kari. It wasn’t dismissal—it was a warning, a reminder that even kings had their chains.

  “In the dark, empty time…instincts are guiding me like a beast to blood,” he whispered, vision sliding to them.

  Kari barely heard the rest. Her claws dug bloody crescents into her palms as she lurched forward, diving into the open air, water paring ahead of her.

  Her sister wasn’t just a dam, she was a living sacrifice to some enemy that apparently, no one else could face—her eight-year-old sister.

  “My sister has been alone with it for three years? Screw you!”

  “Kari, stop! You’ll kill the both of you—I won’t let you!” His cry of internal pain, no doubt their mother’s essence clawing within him, cut his scream short. “Ack… Dammit, just a little longer…”

  “Not fighting—playing,” Diane softly corrected, but her words only stoked the fire raging in her chest.

  You can all burn in hell!

  She doesn’t even know what happened to us! To Mom…

  I’m coming, Tiri!

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