In the quiet of the castle’s ruined hall, Marvell worked alone.

  Piece by piece, he repaired the shattered walls, each stone glowing faintly as his magic realigned them.

  His three draconic tails assisted him, weaving between fallen pillars, lifting debris, and fusing cracked stone with chilled precision.

  Yet despite the help, Marvell’s face betrayed no joy.

  His once-sharp eyes now shimmered like hollow sockets, empty of emotion, staring with haunted vacancy at the stones he mended.

  He looked more like a corpse cursed to labor than a hero who had just claimed victory.

  "I swear..." he muttered quietly to himself, "if I ever see another chunk of rubble again, I’ll—"

  He didn’t even finish the thought.

  He just sighed and kept working, dragging his feet like a chained spirit.

  Far above, in another part of the kingdom, Princess Selen watched from a scrying crystal — a clear orb hovering gently beside her.

  The image of Marvell, bitterly laboring in silence, shimmered within.

  She sat comfortably in a private, quiet bar tucked away within a secluded manor.

  The lighting was soft, the atmosphere warm — a complete contrast to the cold ruins Marvell was trapped repairing.

  Around her were three familiar adventurers — Dex, the crossbow-wielding tactician, the young assassin drinking milk with quiet innocence, and their mage companion sitting in silence.

  Nearby, the recently shackled heroes, now free of the magical bindings that once chained them, laughed and spoke with one another, celebrating their freedom with honest joy.

  The princess, however, remained seated in her corner, drink in hand, her half-lidded eyes still watching Marvell’s misery unfold.

  She took a slow sip, and then — as if a thought had just struck her — turned her head toward Dex.

  "You know..." she began casually, "now that I think about it...

  what’s the story between you three and how you ended up here in Caeloria?"

  Her words were relaxed, but her eyes were sharp with curiosity.

  Dex chuckled and leaned back, resting his boot on the leg of the table.

  "Just coincidence, honestly," he said with a shrug.

  "We heard about Marvell’s... complicated history with the Caeloria Kingdom.

  So I asked if we could meet the princess — figured we might need to speak with you directly."

  The princess raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.

  "And why exactly did you want to meet me?" she asked, tone curious but edged.

  Dex blinked, slightly surprised by the question.

  "Wait... didn’t you read the message we were supposed to deliver?"

  Selen’s brows furrowed slightly.

  "...What message?" she asked.

  Dex slowly turned his head toward the young assassin beside him.

  The boy was still calmly drinking his milk, completely unfazed.

  Dex’s patience slipped.

  "Oy...

  Did you already deliver the scroll the Guild Master gave us?"

  The assassin blinked slowly.

  Then a sudden realization hit him like lightning.

  "OH—right!" he gasped, nearly spilling his milk.

  He scrambled into his backpack, rustling through it before pulling out a small, rolled-up scroll sealed with the Guild’s mark.

  Dex planted a hand on his forehead and groaned.

  "You’ve got to be kidding me..."

  The assassin handed the scroll to the princess, who took it with quiet grace, breaking the seal and unrolling it.

  Her eyes scanned the parchment quickly, her expression focused.

  Then her gaze paused.

  "A request, huh...?" she murmured aloud, her voice trailing into thought.

  She looked up slowly, her eyes distant with memory.

  "It’s been a while since I heard that name...

  The Phantom Organization."

  She closed the scroll slowly and exhaled.

  "I’m surprised they’re making moves again so soon..."

  The young assassin leaned forward, his voice low, his face serious.

  "They strike like a serpent in silence.

  That’s why the Guild Master entrusted us to deliver this directly to you.

  We’ll need reinforcements.

  Even a squad of elites wouldn’t survive alone against them."

  Selen looked at him for a long moment, then slowly turned her gaze back to her glass.

  She took a long sip.

  Then, setting it down with a sigh, she said plainly,

  "I’m going to say yes for two reasons." She look at Dex.

  She lifted one finger.

  "First — because my head hurts after the nonstop chaos of this week."

  Then a second finger.

  "And second... because I know how dangerous the Phantom is.

  They spread their influence like a sickness — not by war, but by seducing hearts with power."

  Her eyes darkened slightly as she pictured them — those corrupted by ambition, smiling while they poisoned the world.

  Back in the present, Princess Selen leaned back in her seat, exhaling softly as if trying to forget everything.

  “For now... just relax,” she murmured, her voice calm and tired. “Hopefully there's nothing eventful this morning.”

  She lifted her drink and took a slow sip, then gently placed it on the table. A faint breath escaped her lips, her expression refreshed.

  Dex, seated nearby, mirrored her motion — lifting his own drink and taking a slow sip in silence, settling into the relaxed air of the bar.

  But just then, a guard stepped behind the Princess and spoke with respectful urgency,

  “Forgive me for interrupting, Princess Selen. The scouts have returned… and someone helped them.”

  Selen slowly turned her head toward him, curiosity flickering in her half-lidded eyes.

  “Someone?” she asked, puzzled.

  The knight hesitated, carefully choosing his words.

  “Well... two people, I suppose. They assisted the scouts in locating surviving dwarves and escorted them here.”

  Selen tilted her head slightly, her tone sharpening with intrigue.

  “And… who are they?”

  The knight continued,

  “One introduced himself as… the Dark Lord. The other, a woman — she called herself Nurhayati.”

  He paused briefly, unsure how to phrase the rest.

  “He said, ‘Princess Selen will figure out who I am.’”

  Selen’s gaze darkened slightly, her lips tightening.

  “Dark Lord… again,” she muttered, barely audible.

  Then she blinked at the unfamiliar name.

  “Nurhayati...? That’s… a strange name. I’ve never heard of her.”

  She sighed and glanced down at her half-empty drink.

  “Just when I thought I could finally relax…”

  With a resigned breath, she drained the rest of her glass and gently placed it back on the table.

  “Let’s just get this over with.”

  She pushed her chair back and rose to her feet, glancing at Dex.

  “Forgive me — I’ll have to leave you. Please, enjoy your time here.”

  Dex nodded respectfully.

  “Understood.”

  The young assassin gave a small, nervous smile.

  “Tha… thank you.”

  Selen turned to the knight.

  “Lead the way, please.”

  The knight nodded and began guiding her out.

  As they departed, Dex turned to look over his shoulder — and spotted the party’s mage fast asleep in a chair, snoring softly.

  Dex placed a hand on his forehead, rubbing it slowly in quiet exasperation.

  The assassin tried to hold in a laugh, covering his mouth to stifle it.

  As the Princess and her escort passed by, they moved through the group of six heroes nearby.

  Difo, Damiel, and Angel were still wrapped in warm cloaks, recovering from the freezing magic that had nearly claimed them.

  Xahra, Dwi, and Lita sat close together, chatting and laughing, their joy filling the air with the light of freedom.

  Selen caught their laughter as she passed and, for a brief moment, smiled — then continued walking forward, leaving the bar behind.

  On the other hand, the group of heroes gathered around a sturdy round table carved from deep oak. Faint trails of smoke curled up from plates still carrying the warmth of roasted meats and spiced stews. Cups clinked softly as they were set down between bites and bursts of laughter.

  Angel leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped together near her chest, eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “Jadi ginilah rasanya bebas setelah dipaksa melakukan kehendak dia,” she said, her voice light and filled with happiness, her shoulders relaxed for perhaps the first time in days.

  Damiel, seated beside her, leaned back with a scoff, resting one arm along the top of his chair. A grin tugged at his lips, though his voice carried a rough undercurrent.

  “Kalau ada kesempatan untuk mukul dia di wajah sekeras yang kubisa, hmp... memang taik orangnya.”

  Across the table, Difo tore into his portion of meat, chewing thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he laid down his fork and spoon on the plate with a soft clatter, wiping his mouth.

  “Samalah, malahan aku pengen cekik dia,” he added, matter-of-factly.

  Damiel laughed, extending his hand across the table toward Difo.

  “Ngerilah lek.”

  Without hesitation, Difo mirrored the gesture. Their hands clasped mid-air in a strong, silent shake of shared understanding. A bond reinforced not by battle — but by mutual agreement, frustration and vengeance.

  Lita, seated to the side, was calmly chewing on a piece of bread, her demeanor quiet but watchful. Her eyes shifted to the others before she spoke softly,

  “Jadi apa yang Marvell rencanakan selanjutnya?”

  Her tone was casual, but the question left a ripple in the air.

  Damiel's brows furrowed slightly. Suspicion surfaced behind his calm exterior as he glanced toward Angel, the unease growing more visible in his posture.

  “Betulnya itu bukan Marvell yang kita kenal? Jujur ngak masuk akal rasanya cuman kita doang yang teleport kesini dan dia... yahhh diam disana.”

  He tapped two fingers against the table absently, recalling the strange gap — the absence of the friend he once knew in the college.

  Angel, who had just taken a sip from her cup, gently placed it back onto the wooden surface. Her gaze lowered, thoughtful, as she replied,

  “Jujur aku juga penasaran apa yang terjadi waktu itu, Tapi kalaupun itu Marvell sifatnya lebih berbeda dari pada Marvell yang kita kenal ditambah penampilannya aja berbeda.”

  As she spoke, her mind wandered — the image of the Marvell she remembered: bright, human, energetic. Compared to the one they met now — eerily calm, distant, smiling without warmth.

  Lita nodded slowly, her voice breaking through the pause,

  “Jujur saat aku mendengar nama dia Marvell aku aja langsung kaget ngedengarnya.”

  Her expression was serious, remembering the exact moment — the clinking of chains falling to the floor, and the cold realization as Marvell had spoken his name aloud in that dim, shackled chamber.

  Damiel nodded in agreement, his voice firm,

  “Itulah..., Lita aja percaya, Makanya aku mau memastikan aja.”

  Angel, now visibly annoyed, sat up straighter and faced Damiel directly.

  “Udah ku cek loh Damiel, Sana kau gunakan sihir penghilang penyamaran ngak ada efeknya Damiel... percuma... suatu kebetulan aja kita ketemu orang yang bernama Marvell.”

  Her tone was sharp — not of hostility, but frustration. Annoyed by the question that was already answer but ask again second times.

  Across from them, Dwi, who had remained mostly quiet until now, finally found her voice.

  “Jadi.... sekarang kita ngapain?”

  Her words hung in the air, hesitant, unsure.

  Angel’s fingers drummed lightly against the table as she gathered her thoughts, eyes fixed on the surface in front of her.

  “Yah... well, antara kita dibawa berenam pergi ke kastil es yang ada digunung jauh dari sini atau menunggu instruksi dari Marvell, soalnya untuk sekarang aja kita ngak bisa bergerak sesuka hati kita loh, selama dia aja masih hidup, kebebasan belum ada ditangan kita” as her words send a fact to the group spreading causing them to think about it seriously.

  The words settled like mist. the group grew quiet — each of them retreating inward to their thoughts. The sound of the fire crackling in the nearby hearth filled the silence, along with the occasional clink of utensils or the shifting of chairs.

  Xahra sat quietly, hunched slightly over her bowl of soup, the steam curling up toward her face. Her spoon moved slowly, lazily stirring the contents without urgency. Around her, the air had shifted — once filled with chatter and the warmth of freedom, now weighed down by the serious tone left hanging after Angel's words.

  She glanced around at her companions.

  Their expressions had all grown distant, thoughtful, even grim.

  Brows furrowed, hands still, gazes drifting toward nothing.

  The change in atmosphere made her brow twitch with irritation.

  With a sudden clack of wood, she brought her hand down against the table — not hard enough to threaten anything, but firm enough to jolt everyone from their daze.

  All eyes turned to her instantly.

  "Serius kali muka kalian semua," she said bluntly, frowning.

  The sudden break of tension left a strange silence in its wake.

  Her eyes swept across them as she added with visible annoyance,

  "Santai dulu kenapa... serius serius banget muka kalian ku tengok."

  For a moment, no one replied.

  But then, Lita — who had also been unusually quiet — let out a soft breath and nodded slowly.

  "Mungkin lebih baik kita habiskan dulu waktu kita untuk tenang yah kan?" she said, her voice gentle, as if testing the mood in the room.

  Difo, however, sat up straighter, eyes narrowing with a more serious glint.

  "Misi penyelamatan ini Xahra," he said, his voice calm but purposeful.

  "Jujur kalau ada yang bisa kubantu, akan kubantunya si Marvell, Lagian ngak enak juga rasanya mengingat aku sama Damiel membuat dia terluka parah malam ituh."

  As his words sank in, Angel’s mind drifted.

  Her eyes lowered.

  She remembered it too — the moment she struck Marvell with her magic.

  The moment she lost control.

  A vivid memory surfaced:

  the flickering light of fire burning his tails,

  Marvell’s expression half hidden behind shadow, shock and pain,

  and the horrific sound of flesh being severed by force —

  his own tail, sacrificed to contain the flames she had unleashed in anger.

  The charred remains of his draconic tail had smoldered at their feet —

  a grim symbol of a fight that should never have happened.

  The laughter that once filled the room had long since vanished.

  The group of heroes now sat in uneasy silence, each gripped by their own thoughts, their own guilt, and uncertainty.

  None of them truly knew what to do next.

  Meanwhile, elsewhere within the castle grounds —

  The once-ruined walls now stood tall again. Stone by stone, they had been reforged with care and magic.

  Marvell stood before them, arms crossed, his draconic tails waving proudly behind him.

  The smooth lines of repaired stone gleamed in the late afternoon sun, still faintly glowing with the last remnants of arcane energy.

  A rare, faint smile formed on Marvell’s tired face —

  part satisfaction, part exhaustion.

  His tails wiggled in unison, radiating joy as they admired the work alongside him.

  Then —

  A sudden shout broke the calm.

  "Brother Marvell!"

  The voice rang through the courtyard like a clear bell — youthful, excited, and unmistakably familiar.

  Marvell froze.

  His smile vanished.

  His body tensed instantly, and he spun around in alarm —

  Just as a blur of energy came crashing into him.

  A young girl, tail wagging like a flag in a storm, threw her arms around him, embracing him with fierce joy.

  Her hug was warm — deeply warm — the kind that carries years of longing and affection.

  Marvell stood there, stunned, his mind blank and body stiff, unable to process it.

  The girl looked no older than a teenager, her long dark hair flowing down her back.

  White skin, black eyes full of sparkles, and soft beast ears twitching with delight —

  She was beastfolk.

  Human-like in form, yet clearly marked by her animal traits.

  Behind Marvell, his three draconic tails hovered mid-air — wide-eyed, confused.

  Even they could sense something was... different.

  Marvell blinked slowly.

  That presence—

  He raised his head just slightly, his breath catching.

  At the far end of the corridor, Sorvyna stood watching.

  Her eyes were sharp, not with suspicion — but curiosity.

  Her gaze said one thing:

  Who is this?

  Marvell swallowed hard, his expression stiffening.

  He tried to smooth his tone, tried to act natural.

  "Hey Sorvy... how are you?"

  His voice trembled slightly despite his effort to sound calm.

  The girl in his arms, still full of energy, turned her head and saw Sorvy.

  Her smile widened instantly.

  "Hello!" she chirped happily, tail still wagging.

  Marvell gently pushed her away, prying her off his chest with careful hands.

  Turning her toward Sorvy, he cleared his throat and tried to speak with some formality.

  "Well... I never introduced her," he said awkwardly.

  The girl stood proudly now, her posture straight, her energy undimmed.

  She bounced on her heels slightly, clearly excited.

  "Meet my adopted sister... her name..."

  Marvell glanced at her, hesitant.

  But she beat him to it, bright and confident.

  "Hi, my name is Nurhayati. Nice to meet you!"

  Marvell blinked and followed, still clearly off balance.

  "Yes... her name is Nurhayati. My younger sister... beside Sirius."

  Sorvy listened carefully.

  Her gaze softened as her mind pieced together the strange reunion.

  Then, with a gentle smile, she stepped forward and extended a hand.

  "Hi Nurhayati. Name Sorvyna — your brother usually calls me Sorvy. It was nice to meet you."

  Her voice was warm, sincere.

  Nurhayati smiled back, her face lighting up even more.

  She extended her hand and shook Sorvy’s.

  "Nice to meet you too," she replied, her voice pure and simple.

  Footsteps echoed heavily along the inner corridor of Caeloria Castle — fast, ragged, uneven.

  A knight came barreling into the hall, armor clanking with each desperate stride. His breath was ragged, his helmet pushed slightly back as sweat soaked through the fabric beneath it.

  He spotted Nurhayati near the reconstructed wall — and stopped so suddenly he nearly collapsed.

  “You…” he wheezed, struggling for air. His chest heaved as he doubled forward slightly, clutching his side.

  “So fast…”

  The knight, clearly assigned to guide her, had instead been forced into a chase across the castle halls — and it showed.

  Nurhayati turned to him casually, her tail swishing behind her, her face calm and utterly unbothered by the commotion she’d left in her wake.

  Marvell, standing nearby with arms folded and his draconic tails now half-limp from the earlier exertion, raised an eyebrow.

  “Well,” he muttered, watching the scene unfold, “that was unexpected.”

  His gaze shifted to Nurhayati.

  She turned to face him fully, a bright smile spreading across her face, her black eyes gleaming with excitement.

  “Well… well, I sensed your magic,” she said, tail wagging cheerfully, “so I figured you were nearby. That’s why I was running around looking for you. It’s been, like, more than a month since me and Brother Sirius last saw you.”

  Marvell exhaled slowly through his nose, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and dread. He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of mild irritation.

  He looked at her again, this time more seriously.

  “So… what are you doing here? Where’s your brother, then?” he asked, his tone more careful, even cautious.

  Nurhayati nodded and responded without hesitation.

  “Well, we happened to want to visit Caeloria Kingdom,” she began, her voice still light, though her tail slowed its motion slightly as she remembered,

  “until… a sudden explosion hit the Dwarven Kingdom.”

  Her words lingered for a moment.

  “Seeing that, me and Brother Sirius decided to go there, to find out what was going on. When we got there, we ran into scouts sent by Caeloria. There were so many dwarves still alive… shaken, scared…”

  She looked up at the stone ceiling, the torchlight reflecting softly in her dark pupils.

  “So, Brother Sirius and I helped. The scouts instructed us to keep searching for survivors. Only once that was done, we agreed to come to the Caeloria Kingdom with them.”

  She turned back to Marvell, her tone softening.

  “As for Brother Sirius… he’s waiting outside. He figured people here might be scared of him, so he didn’t want to cause trouble. He’s just staying by the castle gate, waiting for me.”

  Marvell nodded slowly, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes didn’t leave her, but something quiet and weighty hung in his stare.

  Another problem added to the pile. Another name the nobles might not want near their walls.

  Sorvyna, who had been quietly listening from beside him, stepped forward, her tone gentle but curious.

  “Did you ask the dwarves what happened in there?”

  Nurhayati blinked, thinking, her ears twitching as she searched her memory.

  “Ah—right!” she said after a moment.

  “They said there was a battle. Between a dwarf… and someone they didn’t recognize. They didn’t know what it was all about. All they knew was that they were given strict orders to hide in the bunker and not interfere.”

  Her voice dipped slightly as she finished.

  A sense of unease crept back into the space between them.

  Sorvy’s brows lowered slightly, her expression unreadable — but thoughtful.

  Marvell remained silent, his arms now crossed again, one hand tapping lightly against his opposite elbow.

  Then —

  A sudden rush of robes and footsteps interrupted the quiet.

  A mage clad in royal violet swept past, his cloak flaring behind him as he strode with urgency toward the throne room doors.

  The magical sigils embroidered into his fabric shimmered faintly as he passed.

  Nurhayati blinked.

  She gasped softly.

  “Oh right! I’m supposed to meet the Princess!” she said quickly, spinning toward Marvell and Sorvy with a flustered smile.

  “I have to go! Bye!”

  Marvell raised his hand slightly.

  “Okay. Be careful in there,” he said — his voice calm, but with a faint thread of protective instinct behind it.

  Nurhayati gave a small, eager nod, then turned toward the knight who had finally caught his breath.

  “So, where is the throne room?” she asked, voice slightly rushed but still light-hearted.

  The knight pointed ahead.

  “It’s right in front of us,” he said, gesturing toward the same door the mage had just entered.

  Nurhayati nodded again.

  “Please lead the way. I’m nervous,” she said with a little laugh.

  The knight straightened fully and bowed his head slightly.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “No problem. Please... Follow me.”

  He turned and began walking, his posture more formal now.

  Nurhayati followed closely behind.

  She lifted one hand, waving cheerfully over her shoulder as she disappeared toward the throne room corridor.

  “Bye-bye!”

  And just like that, she was gone —

  leaving Marvell and Sorvy in the hall, the echo of her voice and the whisper of magic still lingering in the cold air.

  Marvell stood just outside the throne room, his boots silent against the cold stone floor. The heavy twin doors that marked the royal chamber had just sealed shut before him — the echo of their closing lingering faintly in the air.

  His eyes narrowed slightly, golden irises reflecting the flickering torchlight as he stared at the door in silence.

  A stillness came over him.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, long lashes casting shadows down his pale cheeks.

  And when he opened them again, it was with a calm breath and quiet resolve.

  He stepped forward.

  His soft footfalls caught Sorvyna’s attention.

  She turned her head slightly, noticing the sudden motion.

  Her voice followed him, low and curious.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, watching his approach.

  Marvell glanced back over his shoulder, expression unreadable.

  His ears twitched faintly atop his head, catching even the slightest reverberation in the marble hall.

  "As a good brother," he said softly, "shouldn’t I be there to at least accompany her?"

  Sorvyna didn’t respond immediately.

  The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard.

  She stood in place, the soft folds of her cloak rustling as her posture shifted ever so slightly.

  But Marvell continued walking, his tone quieter now, almost thoughtful.

  "But I guess it’s too late to do that..." he murmured.

  "I just want to hear what she wants to say to Selen."

  That sentence lingered in the air.

  Sorvy glanced around cautiously.

  The corridor was surprisingly empty — no knights on patrol, no officials bustling past. Just stone, torchlight, and shadows.

  After a short pause, she moved.

  Her steps were gentle, deliberately light.

  She followed Marvell, just a few paces behind, her long hair trailing behind her like liquid silk, catching the glow of passing flames.

  Now before the towering doors, Marvell leaned forward slightly, his expression sharpening with quiet focus.

  He brought his head close to the solid wood, the tips of his lupine ears shifting upward — alert, adjusting, tuning in.

  The subtle magic woven into his beast-born senses allowed him to pick up even faint murmurs through the thick barrier.

  His tails, usually alive with quiet movement, stilled — coiled neatly, as if holding their breath.

  Beyond the doors —

  Inside the throne room, the air was calm and solemn. The flickering of enchanted torches lit the grand chamber with golden flame.

  Princess Selen sat high upon her throne, her figure elegant yet weary.

  In her hands, an ancient scroll lay open — the aged parchment curled slightly at the corners, as if resisting being read again.

  The royal mage knelt before her, her robes pooling at her feet like waves of violet silk. Nurhayati stood by the great entrance door, hands clasped in front of her, face filled with curiosity.

  Two guards flanked her quietly, weapons sheathed but eyes alert.

  Princess Selen’s eyes scanned the scroll in silence.

  A breath slipped from her lips as she finally rolled it closed with a slow, practiced motion.

  "It’s just like in the story, old man…" she whispered, her voice quiet but steady, her gaze still fixed on the sealed scroll in her hand.

  She looked to the mage before her, half-lidding her eyes in thought.

  "Did you know the story of the fountain that gives people power?" she asked calmly.

  The royal mage looked up slowly, surprised.

  She shook her head gently, unsure.

  "No… actually, I’ve never heard of such a story," she replied, her voice tinged with curiosity.

  Princess Selen smiled faintly, a melancholy smile drawn from distant memory.

  "I knew that story would fade from the minds of Caeloria’s people," she said softly.

  "Even after three hundred years of life. But for me — who lived through it — it is terrifying to remember."

  Her gaze lifted to the high, vaulted ceiling.

  Light filtered down through tall stained-glass windows, casting shapes across her face — not soft, but cold.

  Haunted.

  "It was a terrible gift..." she continued.

  "The Fountain of Life gave youth and alos gave life for the death. It made Caeloria into what others called the Eternal Kingdom."

  Her voice hardened.

  "But there was another fountain... one buried deeper. It rose from the earth and gave something else entirely — strength… raw mana… the kind no mortal was meant to hold."

  She paused.

  Her next words were laced with fear.

  "In exchange, they lost themselves. They became beasts, a killing machine, Soulless creatures that dragged corpses back into the fountain… to make more monsters."

  Her breath caught briefly as another memory surged —

  a blazing sky, a roar that split the heavens.

  The great red dragon.

  Fire like divine judgment.

  "Sorvy’s mother… she burned it," Selen said slowly.

  "Her fire — it looked like spears from heaven. A rain of flames. The fountain’s ground cracked beneath her fury. The structure collapsed into itself. Buried under molten rubble and stone."

  She lowered her eyes again.

  The scroll remained in her lap.

  "He suspects," Selen whispered, "that the black liquid the heroes brought back is the same substance the old fountain once produced."

  She exhaled.

  "It’s sad. I wasn’t even there when it happened. I never saw the fountain for myself."

  The silence grew deep.

  The mage still bowed her head, taking in every word, now bound to this ancient truth.

  Selen lifted her gaze once more, expression composed, though the fatigue in her voice remained.

  "The fact that the old man is requesting samples tied to the liquid for research… it’s unexpected. "

  Then she drew in a breath, folded her arms across her chest, and nodded gently toward the mage.

  "You may stand. Get some rest."

  The royal mage slowly rose, bowing again.

  "Thank you, Princess. I shall take my leave."

  Magic swirled beneath her feet — glowing runes forming a perfect ring around her heels.

  Light surged upward in a spiral, and in an instant, the mage vanished from sight — carried away by teleportation.

  The room was quiet again.

  Only Nurhayati, the guards, and the scroll remained.

  Princess Selen sat tall upon her throne, her posture dignified, though weariness clung faintly to the corners of her expression. The scroll now rested on the ornate armrest beside her, its ribbon loosely tied again.

  Her gaze turned slowly toward Nurhayati, who stood quietly near the grand entrance doors, her posture tense and uncertain.

  The room was hushed.

  Selen narrowed her eyes ever so slightly — not in suspicion, but wondering. Her voice was smooth and dry as she finally spoke.

  “Next?”

  The single word echoed lightly through the vast chamber, and the torchlight flickered as if reacting to the shift in focus.

  Nurhayati blinked, momentarily frozen.

  A twitch of the tail, a subtle shift in her stance — she wasn’t ready.

  Before she could force herself to move, the knight standing beside her leaned in slightly and said in a calm, prompting tone,

  “Isn’t there something you want to say?”

  Nurha looked up at him quickly, the realization sparking in her eyes.

  “Oh—it's my turn. Sorry…” she said, flustered.

  With small, careful steps, she began walking toward the center of the throne room. The sound of her light boots echoed on the polished stone, each footfall amplified by the silence around her. Her hands were folded in front of her, gripping each other gently as nerves still clung to her shoulders.

  Selen watched her, then sighed, her voice softening just slightly.

  “Please relax. Take a deep breath… and let it out.”

  Her words were not commanding, but rather gentle — the voice of someone who had led courts and councils, yet still remembered what it meant to calm a trembling heart.

  Nurhayati nodded gratefully.

  “As you wish, Princess,” she replied with a respectful tone.

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Her shoulders rose… and then fell. Again. Once more.

  By the third breath, the tension in her shoulders had eased, and her ears were less rigid. The stiffness drained slowly from her spine.

  Selen gave her a moment, watching with composed patience.

  Then, after a pause, the Princess spoke again.

  “Nurhayati… if I am correct?”

  “Yes, Princess. I am Nurhayati,” she answered politely, her tone more steady now.

  Selen shifted slightly on the throne, resting one elbow against the curved wood of the armrest.

  “When I heard about a Dark Lord coming into this place,” she began, her voice thoughtful, “I figured Sirius was the Dark Lord himself, since he thought it was a cool name...”

  Her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

  “As for you… mind if you introduce yourself?”

  Nurhayati bowed deeply.

  “My name is Nurhayati. I am Sirius and Marvell’s younger sister.”

  The name ‘Marvell’ struck a chord. Selen’s brow lifted, and her mind stirred with the name echoing inside it.

  “What…” she murmured under her breath. Then, lifting her chin slightly, she asked aloud,

  “Marvell has a brother and a sister?”

  Nurhayati raised her head gently, still respectful.

  “Well, adopted. Since Father is… a bit weird for him,” she said, her voice light but sincere.

  “Brother Sirius and Brother Marvell decided that I should call them ‘brother’ since its more comfortable for them to hear but also, that was the reason they adopting me”

  Selen leaned slightly forward, one hand raised to her chin.

  ‘Such a weird family…’ she mused internally, her mind running through memories and assumptions.

  Still, she returned to the present.

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “I never knew Marvell’s brother was Sirius himself.”

  Her tone carried surprise, but also the calm of one who had learned to expect the unexpected in her line of rule.

  Her gaze returned to Nurhayati, sharper now.

  “Okay… I heard from the knight that you and your brother have something to say to me. Am I right?”

  Her eyes met Nurhayati’s — no longer half-closed, but attentive.

  “Yes,” Nurhayati replied at once. She bowed again and continued,

  “Well, on our way here, we encountered a huge crack in the ground… not far from this kingdom.”

  As she spoke, her voice remained calm, though her hands trembled faintly at her sides. Her mind reached back to the memory.

  “From the crack, a monster appeared in the night. It was dragging dead bodies into the fissure.”

  Her breath slowed as she pictured it again — the gleam of blood, the sound of claws on stone.

  “When we got closer… it noticed us. And started attacking.”

  Her tone dropped slightly, controlled.

  “Brother Sirius managed to throw all the monsters into the crack — and then buried it by collapsing the ground.”

  She looked up now, steady.

  “He said we needed to report this. Since it might hurt innocent people. That’s what I have to say…”

  Her words trailed off. The echo of her memory lingered in the chamber.

  Selen exhaled slowly, her face turning toward the side.

  A hand rose to her head.

  “I think I need another drink after this,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for herself.

  Her fingers left her head, and her eyes lifted to the dark ceiling overhead — vaulted and distant, veined with centuries of old stone.

  An idea sparked.

  A light behind her eyes.

  She looked back at Nurhayati with a new expression — thoughtful, edged with intent.

  “Can you tell me where Sirius is right now?” she asked, her voice low but clear.

  “I have something I’d like to ask him to do.”

  Nurhayati, without hesitation, replied promptly,

  “He is outside of the kingdom gate.”

  Selen nodded once, then rose from the throne with practiced grace. Her cloak shimmered with each step, catching the light of the torches.

  “Please, lead me to him,” she said.

  Nurhayati straightened, stepping aside to give the Princess space to pass.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” she said firmly, raising her chin.

  “This way.”

  And together Princess Selen and Nurhayati stepped forward through the great doors of the throne room.

  Outside the sealed doors of the throne room, the corridor remained quiet —

  until the muffled sound of footsteps echoed from within, growing louder with each passing second.

  Sorvyna’s ears twitched.

  Her expression shifted suddenly, eyes widening as her instincts flared.

  The cadence of those steps wasn’t lingering — it was approaching.

  Fast.

  Direct.

  Her gaze snapped to her side — to where Marvell had just been standing only moments ago, ear pressed to the door like a fox caught snooping.

  But now?

  Gone.

  Her brow furrowed sharply. She turned her head in both directions, trying to track him.

  And then — she spotted him.

  Behind her.

  A few meters away.

  There was Marvell…

  Back at the damaged section of the wall, crouched low, tapping his staff against loose stone with one hand while his other adjusted a rune-etched seal into place. His three tails floated calmly behind him, mimicking the rhythm of his movements, staring at the broken wall of brick.

  It was as if nothing had happened.

  Sorvy blinked, caught between shock and disbelief.

  Before she could speak, a presence loomed behind her.

  “What are you doing?”

  The voice cut in with smooth clarity — regal, uninterested, and unmistakably familiar.

  Sorvyna froze.

  Her entire frame stiffened for just a breath before she turned slowly, eyes wide — meeting the poised figure of Princess Selen standing directly behind her.

  The Princess's arms were loosely folded behind her back, her expression unreadable save for the slight tilt of her brow and the faintest crease of curiosity in her eyes.

  Sorvyna cleared her throat softly and offered a half-smile, raising her hand slightly.

  “Just… hearing the conversation,” she admitted honestly.

  “Just got a little curious, you know?”

  Selen stared at her for a second longer, then shrugged lightly — no scolding, no tension. Just the air of a woman used to unexpected things in her court.

  “Okay. I understand that,” she said, brushing the moment aside.

  Without another glance, she walked past Sorvy — her footsteps calm and unhurried, echoing with the confidence of her station.

  Nurhayati followed beside her, light on her feet and bright with innocent energy, her hands swinging softly by her sides.

  As the pair walked the length of the corridor, they passed Marvell mid-repair.

  He didn’t raise his head at first, continuing his work, the tip of his staff etching fine glacial script into a mending seam along the wall.

  But then, his eyes shifted sideways — golden pupils narrowing.

  He could feel them approaching.

  As they passed, he lifted his gaze without moving his head.

  Nurhayati, ever cheerful, looked directly at him with a bright grin.

  She waved casually.

  “Bye-bye,” she whispered with a small smile — a gesture so simple, it softened the hallway for a breath.

  Then came Selen.

  Her gaze didn’t meet Marvell’s directly, but as she walked past him, her head turned ever so slightly —

  and on her lips curled a grin.

  Not warm.

  Not cruel.

  But sharp.

  Evil.

  A grin that belonged to someone who revenge too much.

  Marvell’s eyes dulled at once.

  The soft golden glow faded, replaced by a hollow glint — as though his pupils became mirrors of emptiness.

  He watched them until they turned the corridor.

  Only once they were out of sight did he shift again.

  His shoulders tensed.

  His hands paused.

  He stared at the seam of the wall he had just finished repairing.

  The magic circle beneath it flickered — briefly unstable from his sudden loss of focus.

  A heavy breath left his chest.

  He closed his eyes.

  he sigh “Nasib... nasib…” he muttered under his breath, the words resigned, filled with a mixture of irritation and fate-worn exhaustion.

  Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised his hand —

  and went back to work.

  Just beyond the colossal gates of Caeloria Kingdom, in the quiet buffer between stone walls and rolling plains, a massive creature lay sprawled across the earth.

  A beast shaped like a wolf — but no mere wolf by any natural standard.

  Its body was massive, blanketed entirely in dark, obsidian-like fur. A darkness so deep it seemed to drink the light around it.

  Its snout rested gently on the ground, nostrils flaring softly with each breath like smoke from a resting forge.

  From its monstrous face, five eyes gleamed.

  The center eye glowed with a brilliant yellow, alert and curious.

  Flanking it were two red eyes, intense and sharp.

  And beneath those, two more yellow — watching, twitching, observing.

  Its jaw — when it shifted — revealed the faint illumination of golden light from inside its mouth. A warm, unnatural glow that pulsed softly with every quiet breath.

  Resting before him on the earth…

  was a small, weathered burger doll.

  Its stitched-on eyes looked up with permanent neutrality, arms sprawled, patty and bun slightly flattened by travel and time.

  The enormous beast’s five eyes focused on the toy with absolute intensity — as if this fabric doll were an equal participant in conversation.

  “I mean it,” the creature grumbled, deep voice rumbling like shifting mountain stone.

  “To be honest, I wish I could eat something delicious... rather than grilled meat again.”

  The doll, of course, said nothing. But wolf face twisted with surprise.

  His eyes blinked — one after another in sequence.

  “W–well, I did eat a lot of noodles in the past, and yeah…” he muttered, ears twitching slightly.

  “Slowly got boring. But I kinda miss it now.”

  He paused.

  Waiting.

  “…What…?”

  His expression shifted — now fully engaged, as if the doll had just offered a controversial opinion.

  He rose slowly from his lying position, towering into a seated crouch, his massive shadow stretching across the ground. His ears perked forward, sharp like blades.

  “Now hold on a minute,” he said with narrowed eyes.

  “I do know how to BOIL a noodle. That’s A different STORY, its different because its about knowing the entire recipe to make it taste better, WHICH i do not have that skilled to do that.”

  He lowered his head, staring directly into the doll’s vacant button eyes.

  A beat.

  “It’s a different story,” he mumbled, voice dropping.

  “I used to eat noodle… noodle…”

  His speech slowed.

  A grimace appeared on his face as he scratched at the top of his beastly head with a clawed paw.

  “Ugh, how do I pronounce mie bungkusan in English?” he grunted in defeat, looking up at the vast sky overhead, as if the stars themselves could help.

  Silence.

  Then—

  His ears twitched again.

  His face darkened in confusion.

  “Plastic noodle doesn’t make any sense,” he snapped suddenly, glaring at the burger doll again.

  “Plastic plus noodle equals what I eat everyday? Aren’t you basically comparing me with the fish in the ocean?”

  He stared harder — as if the doll was smirking now.

  His voice cracked slightly with bafflement.

  “Well… I mean, fish do get confused when they try to compare food with trash in the ocean…”

  His words drifted.

  His eyes fogged with the thought.

  “Like that accident… when fish think a plastic bag’s a jellyfish but… it’s just a plastic…”

  A long, painful pause.

  “UHG, FORGET IT,” he suddenly roared, slamming one paw onto the dirt beside the doll.

  “IT WAS NONSENSE — RANDOM THINGS COMING OUT FROM MY IDIOTIC BRAIN.”

  He collapsed slightly — eyes dull, chest heaving lightly in dramatic defeat.

  “No matter,” he mumbled, tone hollow.

  And then, without warning — he rose with intense posture, voice booming as he struck a pose against the horizon.

  “Because I, the Great Dark Lord, the unstoppable Great Sirius HIMSELF HAS DECIDED—”

  His voice cracked again.

  His energy dropped like a sack of bricks.

  “…Okay forget it. I’m hungry.”

  He flopped sideways with an earth-shaking thud, his enormous frame now laying completely on the ground again, limbs lazily stretched. His tail — tipped with a monstrous, claw-like appendage — curled once, then went still.

  He sighed and turned his glowing eyes back to the burger doll.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled in a flat voice, half-lidded and resigned.

  “Chicken’s Man... No argument about that, Crabby.”

  a gentle breeze moved through the open field beyond the walls. The grass swayed softly, each blade dancing in rhythm with the wind like ripples across a great green sea.

  The skies overhead were overcast but calm, clouds drifting lazily, casting shifting patterns of shadow across the earth.

  His body rested comfortably against the soft soil, ears twitching now and then as the wind kissed past him. His glowing yellow eyes were half-lidded with calm patience, and a faint, crooked smile touched the edges of his long jaw.

  A rare moment of peace.

  Then—

  “SUPRISE!?”

  The shout came from behind him like a thunderbolt, slicing through the serenity.

  “AHG!” Sirius yelped, springing up from the grass like a cat startled from slumber. His limbs flailed in wild reflex before he landed upright, eyes wide with panic.

  For a split second, his fur bristled — but then his eyes locked on the source of the voice.

  Nurhayati.

  His little sister stood behind him, grinning from ear to ear.

  Relief washed over him instantly, followed by joy that bubbled up without restraint.

  “AY, SIS…!” he exclaimed, the smile spreading wildly across his face.

  His enormous body twisted playfully, his massive head now turning upside down to face her, like a child flipping over a couch for fun.

  “So how is it going?”

  Nurha crossed her arms in mock pride and answered with a chirp of energy.

  “Everything seems fine to me! INFAACCCTTTT... Princess Selen herself wanted to meet you personally!”

  Sirius froze.

  The words hit him like a thunder spell.

  His glowing eyes blinked.

  “Wait, what?” he muttered, and slowly turned his head toward the entrance of the kingdom.

  And there — emerging from between the gates with deliberate grace — came Princess Selen, flanked by a pair of armored knights. Her posture was tall, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable as always.

  Sirius instantly bowed, lowering his massive frame in an elegant, respectful gesture. His head dipped low, ears folded back, eyes half-closed in deference.

  “Rise your head, Sirius,” Princess Selen spoke coolly, her voice cutting through the wind.

  “There’s something I want you to do…”

  Sirius obeyed, slowly lifting his gaze, his voice gentle with formality.

  “Yes, Princess Selen. What can I help you with?”

  His tone was layered in respect — not just for royalty, but for someone he clearly feared disappointing.

  Princess Selen stood firm, her gaze fixed on him.

  “Actually, I want you to go to the location where you and your sister saw the monster — the crack you buried.

  Bring back anything related to that creature. Anything useful for research.

  Can you do that for me?”

  Sirius nodded quickly, lowering his head again in another small bow.

  “Sure. I’m always happy to help,” he said with a wide smile, sincerity in every word.

  But Selen wasn’t finished.

  “I’ll send some knights to help you with the task.”

  The moment the words reached his ears, Sirius’s smile faded slightly. His tone dropped, hesitant.

  “Uhm… I don’t think you have to. I can do this on my own... so... Please don’t bother others for the sake of me.”

  He lowered his head once more — not from submission, but out of unease.

  Selen let out a tired sigh, clearly annoyed. Her voice sharpened as she cut him off.

  “I insist…”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, giving him a look that said stop being difficult.

  Sirius tensed, his large paws pressing nervously into the grass beneath him.

  Then Selen continued — not with scolding, but something almost vulnerable.

  “Can you please see me as a friend?” she asked, her voice quieter.

  “Rather than a royal or important person?

  You basically look pressured by my words… taking everything too seriously.

  I told you this multiple times.”

  Her words pierced straight through him.

  And Sirius, no matter how large, looked… small.

  “I’m sorry… I… I’ll try my best,” he replied, guilt heavy in his voice.

  Selen sighed again, this time not annoyed — but disappointed, already can tell it wont happening.

  She turned, her cloak shifting behind her.

  “Wait here,” she said as she passed. “Until a knight gives you instructions about the task. That’s the clue.”

  And with that, she walked through the gate — vanishing into the stone passageways of the kingdom once more, leaving Sirius and Nurha alone in the gentle breeze.

  Sirius exhaled loudly, a puff of heat rising from his glowing maw.

  “That was intense…” he muttered, collapsing once again into the grass like a man shedding armor.

  Nurhayati looked at him, her eyes half-lidded, an amused smile growing on her face.

  “Did you know…” she said playfully.

  Sirius turned his head, eyes flicking toward her with curiosity.

  “…What?”

  Nurha stretched her arms behind her head, laid back against his enormous paw like a pillow, and said with a smirk:

  “I met Brother Marvell in the castle.

  Fixing a broken wall.”

  Sirius froze.

  His five glowing eyes blinked — one after another.

  And then—

  “WAIT… AIN’T NO FREAKING WAY!”

  His voice exploded with joy.

  “IT’S BEEN MONTHS! How’s he doing? Is he alright? Did he— is he doing fine?!”

  The questions poured out like magic bursting from an overcharged staff.

  He was grinning wildly — his eyes bright, his tail swaying slightly behind him like an excited pup.

  But then, a weight returned to his voice.

  “Ugh… dammit… I wish I could meet him…”

  His energy drained slowly as he lowered his head, realizing something.

  “It’s been… so… long…” he murmured with sorrow.

  Nurha blinked, a little stunned by the sudden emotional shift.

  She rested her back more firmly against him, speaking with quiet warmth.

  “Yeah… he looked pretty much fine when I saw him.

  And I was the first one to hug him this month.”

  Sirius made a noise — somewhere between a groan and a defeated whimper.

  “Awgh…”

  Nurha giggled and added, “He’s still fixing that broken wall in the castle right now…”

  That did it.

  Sirius’s pupils widened with realization.

  “Marvell finally has a job,” he whispered, stunned.

  He looked down at the grass. Then at the sky.

  Then back at the grass.

  “…And I remain unemployed.”

  He flopped sideways again with a heavy, dramatic thud, his head resting against the earth in utter defeat.

  “Dammit.”

  his gaze moved to look at Nurha.

  " Thats evil " with a low voice.

  while Nurha smiled proudly in sirius eyes.

  Meanwhile, Princess Selen sat quietly inside a finely crafted royal carriage, its exterior adorned with Caeloria’s silver crest — a sigil of ancient authority and burning history. The wheels creaked softly beneath her as they rolled over the cobbled road, escorted on both sides by a small honor guard in polished armor.

  The carriage interior was modest for royalty — no more than smooth velvet cushions and carved mahogany trim — but she didn’t notice any of it.

  Her gloved hand rested against the frame of the open window, and her chin leaned lazily into her fingers as she gazed outside in quiet detachment.

  Through the narrow window, she watched the streets of her kingdom pass by.

  Vendors arranged fruit in careful pyramids.

  Children laughed, running past linen stalls.

  Knights from lesser ranks stood at attention on corners, idle chatter echoing behind alleyways.

  It was a normal day.

  Too normal.

  And then, something caught her eye.

  Down the main street — ahead, and slowly approaching — a group of figures moved together in a loose formation.

  It was them.

  The heroes.

  The so-called shackled saviors… now unbound.

  She narrowed her gaze slightly as her carriage slowed for a turn, allowing her a perfect view.

  There they were: Difo, walking confidently with folded arms while chatting at Damiel, who smiled and laugh a little bit while Angel, arms crossed and eyes rolling but clearly amused by the conversation with a smile, Lita, Xahra, and Dwi on the other hand, spread around them like satellites, laughing and chatting to each other behind Difo, Angel and Damiel who walk infront of them.

  They didn’t notice the carriage.

  Didn’t notice her.

  They walked as if they belonged — not as survivors of an ancient ritual, but as people.

  Just… people.

  Alive.

  Smiling.

  Free.

  Princess Selen said nothing. Her face didn’t move.

  But her eyes lingered.

  Even as they passed — even as the carriage pulled away — she watched until the last flicker of their movement disappeared behind trailing dust.

  And then, she turned her head forward again.

  Her face returned to neutral — lips flat, eyes sharp but unreadable.

  If there was envy… or regret… or indifference…

  none of it showed.

  The royal carriage continued forward, rolling along the familiar path toward the castle gates, vanishing behind stone walls and tall banners.

  Elsewhere in the quiet corridors of the castle, the clangs of earlier chaos had long since faded.

  Now, silence reigned — broken only by the soft crack and hiss of magic still settling in stone.

  Marvell stood before a tall, patched-up section of wall. The surface glowed faintly from recently applied spellwork, still pulsing with the slow rhythm of arcane cooling.

  He gazed at his handiwork, arms relaxed at his sides. His expression was calm — eyes half-lidded, calculating — taking in every seam, every detail.

  Behind him, his three tails hovered, each tipped with a draconic head made of sculpted ice, their glowing eyes blinking and twitching in thought.

  Their gaze wasn’t on the wall.

  It was on the window.

  A large, empty arch where glass had once been — now nothing more than a hollow frame staring out at the courtyard beyond. The wind flowed through it freely, ruffling nearby banners and making the dust stir along the floor.

  The tails tilted left. Then right. Then leaned in.

  They blinked at it with confusion — how do you fix a window... without glass?

  Their eyes narrowed in unison, clearly puzzled.

  And then—

  Marvell turned.

  He bowed with theatrical grace, head dipping down beside the trio of tails, who turned their glowing heads to face him in surprise.

  “Oh please,” Marvell said, a sly smile playing at his lips. “Don’t think too hard on that.”

  He rose, brushing his coat back with a flick, then raised a single gloved hand.

  “I’ve got a simple solution.”

  He pointed toward the empty frame.

  At first, nothing. Then—

  A soft crackling hum as frost began to gather at the edges of the window.

  The air chilled slightly. Particles of moisture condensed and crystallized, swirling together like dancers in slow motion.

  The magic grew, and the frost blossomed — carefully, deliberately — forming a solid sheet across the open space.

  Not ordinary ice.

  This was smooth, transparent, flawless.

  Like glass.

  But breathing.

  The wind, once rushing through the hall, was cut off. The air inside calmed.

  Sunlight filtered through the magical pane, casting crystalline light across the floor.

  The three tails blinked.

  Then brightened.

  Then spun in joyful loops, letting out strange, giddy sounds that could only be described as ice-dragon squeals.

  Marvell crossed his arms, proud.

  “Iceglass,” he said casually.

  “Works every time.”

  The tails nodded — satisfied. Their mouths curled in gleeful little grins.

  Marvell, now resting against the newly stabilized wall, glanced down at them.

  “Now…”

  He raised a brow.

  “Anyone want to eat?”

  All three tails turned toward him at once — tongues lolling out like excited dogs, eyes glowing with hunger.

  He chuckled.

  “Okay, I think that’s four votes for food, then,” he said with a shrug.

  He looked around at the aftermath — piles of dust, shattered brick, charred wood, lingering ash.

  A battlefield turned repair site.

  “You guys know what to do.”

  The tails nodded enthusiastically. And then, without further command, they got to work.

  Like living, magical vacuums, they surged across the space, slurping up broken stones, inhaling dust clouds, chewing through burnt timber with practiced efficiency.

  The mess vanished rapidly as they kept swallowing each of the trash they see.

  Marvell stayed where he was, hands tucked into the folds of his jacket, his back resting coolly against the wall.

  His eyes half-lidded again, drifting up toward the clean, glimmering window.

  As the moon rose above Caeloria, its silver light poured through the newly restored castle hall.

  Princess Selen stood still.

  Her eyes locked on the large window in front of her — the very one Marvell had fixed.

  It looked flawless at first glance. But now, under moonlight, its secret shimmered.

  The glass wasn’t glass. It was ice.

  Frost traced faint lines along the edges, and the way the moonlight scattered off it gave the truth away in a heartbeat.

  Selen’s brow twitched. Her expression tightened.

  She didn’t move. Just stared.

  Then, quietly she muttered:

  “Fucking piece of shit thinking I can’t see this was made of ice.”

  Her voice echoed lightly through the quiet corridor.

  The night air slipped through the seams.

  And Selen, standing in moonlight and irritation, didn’t take her eyes off that window.

  As night deepened and the moon climbed higher into the sky, the roads of Caeloria remained lively — torches flickered along the winding stone streets, casting orange glows across ancient walls. Voices rose and fell like waves, merchants calling, children laughing, and footsteps clattering. Despite the hour, life pulsed through the kingdom veins like a restless current.

  And just beyond that vibrant cityscape, at the edge of it all, the castle gate stood silent under the stars. Stone towers watched from above, cold and unmoving. Guards stood posted in quiet formations, their armor catching the moonlight in dull glints.

  At its front stood Marvell.

  He stood alone, arms folded, his black coat lightly swaying in the breeze. Shadows pooled beneath him as if drawn there by his presence. His three draconic tails hovered just behind — their icy skulls glowing faintly, eyes unblinking as they scanned the night.

  “We play the waiting game,” he said plainly to the group of heroes gathered near him.

  Difo, confused by the statement, tilted his head slightly, arms relaxed at his sides. His brow lowered.

  “Why?” he asked, voice direct, honest, curious.

  Marvell looked at him with calm, level eyes, and a smile “Simple,” he said.

  His voice remained steady, cold but not cruel.

  “I could go help my friend out there… but I also need to make sure you all stay safe.”

  A slight shift in his stance. His gaze didn’t waver.

  “Doing both at once? Not possible.

  And if I bring you with me, the chance the king finds out? It either risen up or by miracle and luck we avoiding that”

  Damiel, standing a pace behind Difo, squinted, skeptical. His arms crossed tightly, fingers tapping his sleeve.

  “We can take care of ourselves,” he said, not aggressive — just unconvinced.

  “Besides… Angel said there’s an ice castle. One you own.”

  Marvell turned his head, slowly, his expression unreadable.

  His eyes, once faintly lit, now seemed empty — hollowed like the sockets of a frozen skull.

  “Sure,” he replied coldly. “I could leave you there.

  But what happens if something unexpected shows up?

  If something goes wrong… not only would your safety be in danger—”

  He paused.

  A subtle shift in tone. The wind around him seemed to hush.

  “—but my death would be guaranteed.”

  Difo’s brow furrowed. A slight movement of his hand at his side. His stance grew more rigid.

  “Guaranteed death?”

  He looked at Marvell, with confuse face.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  At that moment, Angel froze in realization about what Marvell just said earlier.

  She already knew.

  Marvell didn’t answer directly. He simply turned — slowly — and so did his three tails.

  Their heads aligned with his, eyes glowing brighter now, looking at Angel.

  His voice calm, deliberate:

  “Why don’t you ask Miss Angel? About the deal we made.”

  The others turned in sync —

  Difo. Damiel. Xahra. Lita. Dwi.

  Five sets of eyes, focused fully now on Angel.

  The pressure in the air thickened. The energy shifted — not hostile, but expectant.

  Angel, cornered by silence, lifted her hands slightly in surrender.

  “Ok, ok, ok, ok — hear me out,” she said quickly.

  Her voice cracked slightly under the tension.

  “It was a deal.

  A deal Marvell made with me to guarantee our safety.

  I didn’t expect him to go through with it like this.

  We made a contract.

  I already submitted my requirements. But his requirement… hasn’t been fulfilled yet.”

  A stillness settled between them.

  The flames of the nearby torches bent slightly with the rising wind.

  Angel glanced briefly toward Marvell, who stood unmoving, arms still folded, face unreadable. The shadows around his boots pulsed faintly like breath, until he realize everyone gaze now on him with curious face.

  with a smile he tell them “I had my reasons,” his tone low.

  “My intentions were good.

  And I have my own reasons for doing it this way.”

  Angel looked away.

  Her fingers curled slightly as her mind wandered — back to a conversation with the sword hero, a truth she wasn’t ready to share.

  Difo stepped forward, quietly. The night pressed in closer.

  “…Why are you helping us?”

  The question pierced the air like a blade sliding into silence.

  Marvell’s expression shifted.

  His smile — faint but ever present — slowly faded.

  His head lowered slightly.

  A single breath left him, long and slow.

  “…I’m doing what I believe my brother would do right now.”

  His eyes lost their glow — now simple, normal eyes. Human.

  Sorrow filled them. A deep, silent weight.

  Even his tails — normally restless — were still.

  But just as the moment reached its lowest note, he blinked it away. A shift. A grin forced its way back onto his lips.

  “Well! That’s all I wanted to say.”

  His posture straightened. His voice lightened.

  “I’ll keep you informed about the progress.

  But for now… you all should get some rest.”

  He bowed, short and precise.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  And without a sound — he vanished.

  Not a puff, not a flash — just gone, like the breath of a ghost into the wind.

  The heroes stood still and shock with the sudden act.

  From the sky, the view cast downward revealed the group still gathered near the castle gate — their figures clustered together beneath torchlight as night wrapped around the kingdom.

  They lingered for a few more moments, quiet words shared between them, subtle movements — a nod, a glance, a soft laugh, the tension of the earlier conversation fading gently.

  And then, one by one, their steps turned toward the looming gate. Slow, steady, unified.

  They crossed beneath the stone arch.

  The gate swallowed them into shadow.

  And so, the night ended — with silence, with breath, and with the well-earned promise of rest.