Fionn stepped outside the inn to take a much needed walk to calm his nerves. The panic attack he had earlier wasn’t pretty in the slightest

  “That’s pathetic,” he muttered to himself, pulling the hood of his coat over his face with a mean scowl. “Ann was super excited to sleep next to me, and I bailed on her like a bitch.”

  He shook his head, stopping at the wall of a mini shop and pressed his forehead against the cold stone wall. “I should apologize when I get back. She’ll probably cry her heart out once she finds me again,” he thought, tilting his head up to gaze at the twinkling stars in the sky. “Whatever… she might understand–maybe.” He continued to walk down the street, passing by the few late-night citizens still wandering the empty dark streets. He stopped by a passing river surrounded by trees, crouching down to sit as the river carried along its endless flow. “I should maybe paint something for an apology,” he thought. “This river looks nice.”

  The river continued to move like a professional passageway. It was crystal clear, letting Fionn see the bottom of it. The trees were bushy enough to let small streams on moonlight gaze open the river, making it shimmer and glisten. The small grass was as bright as the trees allowed the moon to make it. As he leaned over to look into the river, he could see tiny fishes swimming through, going with the flow. They looked slightly happy, despite the dull expression on their little faces. It calmed his nerves easily. It was peaceful even. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relaxing his shoulders and gazing up at the covered sky yet again. “Ugh…,” he groaned solemnly. “When will this Trial be over? It’s only starting to annoy me…”

  A cloaked figure steps out of the shadows made by the trees. Fionn opened an eye, looking at them. Judging by the way the cloak were stretched around certain areas of the figure, he could identify the figure was a woman with a height estimated to be 5’5, but it was hard to get a clear image of her with her back facing him. She lowers herself, sitting seiza style

  Fionn kept his guard up, his eyebrows narrowing at her. She gave off a dangerous vibe, making him feel uneasy. Just who was she? Is this normal here? He decided to not engage, only to wait patiently until she made a move first. Out of the corner of his left eye, the woman stands again after sitting for a few minutes. A brown book materializes next to her hip with a bright green flash

  “I should practice,” she muttered to herself, being picked up by Fionn’s ears with a twitch

  A casting staff materializes in her right hand. The staff was almost half her size, with a green crystal with a sharp pointer etched into the tip of it. Green energy gathers around the crystal, bubbling together into a glowing white ball with a green aura. Her grimoire flips open randomly, stopping on a specific page. “Aero Burst!” she shouted, shooting a thick beam of condensed wind energy into an open field, the pressure of the wind knocking down nests, bug holes, and weak branches being caught in the crossfire of her attack. In the blink of an eye, Fionn reacted critically on his instincts, destabilizing the attack with a sharp energy kick to save a nest from shattering against a rock. The woman’s eyes opened up, shock coursing through her veins as he gently set the nest against a safe spot–out of harm’s way

  Fionn looked directly at the woman. “Do you even check where you’re aiming?” he snapped at her. “Pay attention next time!”

  The woman stood like a pillar. How did she not detect him? Was he blending in? Laying low? No, that couldn’t be. Her grimoire glows with green energy again, then stopped shortly after

  “Do you not possess any mana, boy?” she asked bluntly

  He narrowed his eyes on her. Is she trying to change the subject? “Yeah, I don’t have any mana. That’s not the point!” he scolded, raising his voice “Find an open area, not an enclosed forest!”

  The woman’s face was covered by the cloak, but he could tell she was frowning. “My, you don’t have to shout it,” she muttered, almost solemnly. “I was merely using my magic for practice.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you anyway?” he asked, looking at her up and down. “Could your eyes not wander over my body? I do not appreciate such glances,” she stated

  “Huh?” he said, narrowing his eyes

  “Your eyes searched over me as if I was a common maiden. Do best to not misinterpret me for someone weak,” she said, scoffing at him. “I am a wind mage, child. Not a commoner.”

  The look on his face was a combination of disbelief, irritation, and confusion. “Is she…,” his thought couldn’t even process what she said. He did understand not to look over her body, that’s common, but what the hell was with that second half? “Is she high?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I’m saying to not use a forest as a training area because of weak animals around,” he said

  There was a long, awkward pause between the two. The woman stood still as if his words had been foreign to her. “Oh,” she said quietly, as if she finally realized what he meant. “Well… Excuse my previous words.” She said with a bow, letting Fionn see a glimpse of her nose tip. She straightens up, clasping her hands together

  “Who are you?” he asked bluntly

  She froze. “I…,” her voice trailed off, as if she was hesitating. “First, answer my questionnaire about you.”

  He agrees, nodding slowly

  “Are you a foreigner?” she asked quietly

  “Yeah? My outfit is different from what’s normal here, isn’t it?” he said with a neutral tone

  “Ah…,” she muttered. “You seem recognizable, almost as if we met before.”

  He now knew–she had some screws loose. Just who is this woman? Why is she speaking so cryptically? He bites his tongue to not say anything and moves on

  “My next question…,” she said, holding her jaw as she thought to herself. “Are you familiar with relics and totems?”

  “No,” he said. “But I’m better with weapons.”

  “A totem can be a weapon too, boy,” she corrected. “Not everything has to be a blade of some sort.”

  Fionn bit his tongue harder to not snap at her. She was really starting to push his buttons. First, she scolded him for almost nothing, next, here she is thinking that he thinks every blade is a weapon

  “My mistake,” he forced out, his calm tone betraying the annoyance he’s feeling

  “It is your mistake,” she said

  Fionn closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. “No, no, don’t say anything. It’s fine. It. Is. Fine,” he thought to himself

  “Next question,” she continued. “Are you a mage of some sort?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “I told you, I’m better with bladed weapons, not magic and runes.”

  She thinks for a bit, then turns on her heel. “You are not worthy then,” she said coldly, dispelling her grimoire and staff

  As she left, he could see that she was wearing black high heels. He was only left with questions: who is she? Why did she sound like a teacher? What was with her questions? She was weird to him, not mysterious. “Of course the weirdos appear at night,” he thought to himself. “I should’ve stayed with the panic attack.”

  Instead of walking back to the inn, and potentially encountering another unwanted interaction, Fionn teleports to his stationed room

  “Hm?”

  His eyes glanced over to where had been sleeping. She wasn’t there anymore. “Did she go pee or something?” he thought. He hits the bathroom door with a soft knock. No response. “Ann?” he called, hoping she would hear him. Nothing

  He sighs, cracking his neck with a small pop. “She’s off minding her business. Stop worrying,” he told himself. He sits down on his side of the bed, letting out a heavy sigh

  “I feel like I’m going insane trying to keep this persona up,” he said aloud, his eyes drifting to the window. “But acting like myself usually ends up with looks of disappointment.”

  He thinks back to the Trick Anomalies he killed a few days ago

  “The one time I could let go…,” he said, shaking his head. “Just sleep. You already encountered that delusional woman earlier.”

  With that, he forced himself to lie on the bed, finally closing his eyes after hours of delay

  As the polished golden rays of sunlight flew through the window and shined on Fionn’s face, making his eyes twitch. “I shouldn’t have stayed up so late,” he thought, pulling the blanket over his face. He attempted to roll on his side, only to be stopped when he pushed into something. He opened his eyes, met with a familiar figure–a sleeping Ann

  He lets out a tired groan, pulling himself up to sit up straight, seeing her left arm was draped over his torso. “She probably did this after she came back to make sure I don’t leave again,” he deducted, glancing at her different outfit

  Instead of the night gown she had worn before he left, he sees her wearing a black sports bra, white shorts, and long white socks. His eyes narrowed, remembering how old she was. “She’s supposed to be fourty, right? Why am I getting the feeling she’s younger than that?” he thought, shrugging. “I’ll ask her whenever she wakes up.” He gets out of bed, steam cleaning himself and his clothes. The steam he emits transformed into a simple granola bar. Afterwards, he heads out, seeing Division 2 and Division 5 members chatting amongst themselves. Fionn, to avoid interactions, materialized his pair of headphones, scrolling through his phone to play music from one of his favorite artists–Futaba. He clicks on a music video with the title “Queen of Music”. As he started walking, a pop trap type of beat started booming through the headphones

  “I’m that spark–born to shine, not to please

  Crown on my head, I don’t bow to the beat

  I talk real loud, proud and profound

  You can never get me down, I’m the one they chase

  You’re the echo I leave, I was born to lead

  Love me or hate me–I’ll always reign supreme

  The name’s Futaba, step to the rhythm and dance

  Solo in the spotlight, I never miss a chance

  My flow won’t stop, I’m feeling kind of hot

  Staying on top, you’ll never see me drop

  I’ll never stop–as the queen of the land

  My music’s a bop, got the world in the palm of my hand,”

  He scrolls through her music and glances over at the different outfits relating to the song titles, like “Cupcake Swirl”, “Party Time”, “Liberty with Peace”, and “The Dragon Inside”. “She makes pretty good music. And the visuals are amazing,” he thought, pausing as his fingers hovered over one of his favorites–Bubble Girl. “I really don’t understand how she can make so many different genres of music, yet they each tell different stories about herself and what she likes.”

  He walks out of the inn, looking up at the morning sky. “I’m ranting again. She’s an idol, after all. I shouldn’t be trying to decipher her music like scripture,” he thought to himself, taking a familiar direction to the blacksmith shop. “I remember Sana said something about Mr. Masamune having a gift for me. I hope it’s–”

  His thoughts abruptly stopped as he heard Mr. Masamune’s furious shouting from inside. “GET OUT OF MY SHOP! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FALSE HERO!” Mr. Masamune shouted from inside. Laughter followed his shouting shortly after. “What’s so wrong, you old blacksmith? If the bitch can’t do what her customer want, then maybe she shouldn’t be employed in the first place,” a man said casually

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Fionn’s eyes widened, stopping in place and stopping the music. Did he hear that right? There was no way that man was referring to Sana, right? That shouldn’t even be a possibility… right? He clenched his fist tightly, his nails digging into his palms deep enough to draw trails of blood

  “Who the hell has the nerve?!” he thought to himself. Fionn forced himself through the doors of the shop. His breath hitches once inside, his chest aching like he was stabbed. Sana was trembling behind the counter with a glowing red hand print on her cheek. Mr. Masamune was gripping a katana’s handle defensively in front of her, his eyes burning with anger. Across the room, a man was looming with a floating grimoire swirling lazily in the air beside him

  The man looked like he was nearing his thirties–at least 6’4–and had a black eyepatch around his left eye, a black full goatee, combed hair swept to the right, a noticeable flesh scar on his lips, an X-scar on his left cheek, and another scar splitting his right eyebrow. He wore a black cloak that covered the right side of his body, a crimson red tunic with a golden shield emblem on the front with rope tied around his waist that covered another longer white tunic underneath, baggy light gray trousers, and dirty brown boots

  “Hm?” the man sneered, looking behind to see Fionn

  “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” Fionn shouted

  “The boy!” Mr. Masamune exclaimed

  “Fionn!” Sana cried, letting out a silent breath

  The man turned around to face him head on. “Keep your voice down, boy,” the man said coldly. His eye narrowed down on him. “Get out of my busi–”

  Fionn didn’t let him finish his sentence as he lunged forward and smashed his fist across the man’s face. “I don’t care who you are! You don’t lay hands on innocent people!” he shouted

  The man staggered backwards, narrowing his eyes onto him. “You insolent little shit!” he snarled, a black ball of energy forming in his left palm. “Dusk Magic; Umbral Galaxy castings: Dusk–” Fionn materialized a steel hunting knife and severed the man’s left hand with a swift stroke. Mr. Masamune’s and Sana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise

  “H-he actually–” Sana thought

  “This boy just…,” Mr. Masamune

  Before the man could hold his wound, Fionn twisted midair, snatched the man’s collar into a tight grip, and hurled him out of the doors of the shop. His face scraped against the cobblestone. “When you said you had bad customers,” he growled, looking back at Mr. Masamune with eyes burning with anger. “I thought you meant annoying assholes!”

  The man groaned and clutched his stump pain, glaring daggers at Fionn from outside. “Wh-what the hell are you?! Are you one of those Pseudos?!” the man snapped. His severed hand melts into a black sludge and disappears underneath the shop, replaced by a shadowy limb from his magic. Fionn’s eyes narrowed further, switching to his steel daggers with a bronze clover guard as they materialized with a golden flash. “I’m not against killing you, you know,” he snapped through gritted teeth. “I’ll waste you if it means getting rid of pieces of shit like you!”

  The man pulled out an obsidian black blade from his grimoire with his left hand. “Darkness will consume you, boy…,” the man said

  “Let it try–it’ll take a while,” he snapped, a small grin making its way on his face

  The man’s expression twists with enrage. “Do you think you’re being cute?!”

  “I know I am. But I don’t need some grown man swooning over me now.”

  Furious with being mocked by a mere child, the man fires sludges of black at him from his grimoire. Fionn slammed his right foot down, erupting a protective barrier around the shop. The man’s eye widened as he was alarmed. “That’s… that’s not mana. I don’t sense anything from him!” he thought

  Fionn quick-steps to the side with a blinding blur, staring at the man. “Hey, I’m over here now. I know you’re old, but you can’t be that slow,” he taunted. “Did that punch mess up your senses?”

  The man lets out a low growl, noticing the bystanders gazing at them. “I see now… he’s feeding off of the views of the people,” he thought. A skeletal hand started to pull itself out of a muddy black portal from below. “No matter. I’ll just have to kill them.”

  Once the man took his eye off of him, Fionn seemingly appeared in front of him. “Don’t take your eyes off of me,” he whispered, slamming his heel into the back of the man’s neck. He was sent forward, crashing face-first into the stone again and rolling violently onto his back. Bystanders audibly gasped as they see Fionn effortlessly lands on his feet

  “Are these two… heroes?” a woman murmured

  “How did that boy move like that?!” a man exclaimed

  “Was that necromancy he was about to use?!” another man whispered

  Fionn gazed over the bystanders and stood tall. He points at the skeleton with his index finger, flicking light beams at it before it could advance out any further. “Everyone, get back!” he shouted, continuing to blast the skeleton. “This man will attack you if you get too close!” The bystanders scattered instantly as the man came rushing in with an attempt to slash Fionn. His obsidian blade flashed in the sunlight, but Fionn ducks low under it then counters with a straight jab at his liver. The man was forced to stumble back, dropping the sword and clutched his side in pain. “Ack!” he groaned in pain, gasping for air. Fionn kept a ready stance, his fist clenched in case of needing extra force

  “Who are you to hit Sana?” he asked

  “Are you her boyfriend or something? I said to stay out of my business!” he snarled

  “Answer my question,” Fionn warned, “or I’ll break your liver this time.”

  The man grits his teeth with fury at Fionn’s interference. “Damn it… this kid is wasting my time,” he thought, his eyes darting around for an opening of some sort. “He won’t let me use any of my magic, so I have to rely on Sophie to–”

  “Boss!” a voice shouted towards them. Fionn hesitates slightly, looking to see who said that

  A woman–her brown hair tied into a small ponytail, wearing a white blouse tucked into a red skirt, dull green eyes, pale skin–came sprinting towards them. “Get away, Pseudo!” she screamed

  Fionn’s eyes widened slightly. That word… That damned word. Why? Why is it the go-to word? “H-hey–" he started, but she interrupted him

  “Get away from my boss! He’s a hero, you know!” she snapped, shielding him from Fionn to prevent any further harm. “Once the knights hear about your assault, you’ll be executed!”

  Fionn lets out a dry laugh in her face. “Oh wow, what a shocker. Killed for putting my hands on a hero. Anything else you got to say, you pale ghost?” he snapped

  Her jaw tightens, refusing to say anything

  The man clicked his tongue. “Took you long enough,” he muttered behind his cloak. “Get us out of here before he catches on,” she ordered. A pool of black mud covered them, catching Fionn’s attention. He flicks a beam of light to break it but it misses the hit by merely the quarter of a millisecond

  “Damn it,” he hissed

  He looks around and scanned for any injured people–none–then heads back into the shop

  “Are you two–” he was about to say, but was stopped

  Sana immediately threw her arms around his neck, her tears raining down her cheeks as she sobs into his shoulder. “I-I’m sorry,” she cried, holding him tighter with trembling arms and shaking knees

  Fionn was stunned, frozen like a statue. Why was she apologizing? It wasn’t her fault for any of this. Sana was innocent. Mr. Masamune was innocent. Although, that woman that ran in… What was her involvement?

  “Hey,” he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face with his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

  “H-he ordered a sword, and I forgot to make it…,” she said between sobs. “S-so he slapped me.”

  Fionn bites his tongue to not say a threat or even curse. She needed comfort and reassurance right now, not revenge. “It’ll be fine,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

  Mr. Masamune exhales slowly, finally breathing normally. He places the katana back in its sheathe, setting it aside. “Boy… although we now have an enemy, I can’t thank you enough for protecting us,” Mr. Masamune acknowledged

  Fionn kept Sana close to him but offered a faint smile. “I heard you yelling earlier. I couldn’t just sit there,” he said

  Mr. Masamune bows low. Fionn noticed that he was fighting back tears by the tremble in his voice. “We’ll forever owe you, no matter what!” Mr. Masamune said. Sana joined him, bowing as well. Fionn pauses to take a steady breath. They were safe. That’s all that mattered to him. “Nah,” he said simply

  They both straightened up, looking baffled at his denial of their offer

  “But why not?” Mr. Masamune asked

  “We’ll never charge you for repairs of upgrades,” Sana added quickly

  He shook his head. “No.” he denied again

  “But why?” she asked, wiping her eyes with her sleeve

  “I shouldn’t get special privileges just for saving you,” he said, flashing another grin on his face. “I’m just a hero, after all.”

  Sana’s eyes widened, her sobbing slowly being replaced with a smile. “I-I know…,” she started, “but it’ll feel wrong to not at least show our gratitude.”

  “You can show it by effort, not by money,” he advised. “Think of it as a way of proving why you were saved instead of having to return the favor.”

  Sana’s eyelids opened, finding his logic a bit silly, but he had a point no doubt. She adjusts her uniform, standing tall now with her hands on her hips. “Right!” she said with renewed determination. “I’ll start by making you two new swords and two daggers!”

  “Uh…,” Fionn hesitated, “Maybe you shouldn’t be making them.”

  Sana raised an eyebrow, confused by his point. “Why not?” she asked

  “Remember? Muramasa’s cursed blades?” he reminded her

  Mr. Masamune lets out a cheap laugh at seeing Sana’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “O-oh… right, hehe,” she muttered sheepishly. “B-but still!”

  Fionn slides his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I’m still paying at full price,” he muttered, turning on his heel. He lazily lifts his right index finger and begins to undo any damage that might’ve happened in the previous scuffle. He disappeared into a bright light and floats away with the breeze as he travels to the direction he last saw where the woman came running from

  Despite the form he was in, he could still think in this state. “What was she running from in the first place? And what did she mean by ‘boss’?” he thought to himself. His eyes scanned over from above like a robot–no clues. “Hmph,” he grunted in irritation. “Maybe that bastard was just a hero, but then why did he seem more like he was a vigilante?”

  He materializes inside the shadows of an alleyway, retracting his form and shrinking down into a rat. He flickers a miniature version of his trenchcoat, his tail poking out comfortably instead of like a sore thumb. “Not my best idea really,” he thought, laughing at his mini joke. “But it is a great way to get information,”

  Hours passed by as he scurried through the streets of the city–blitzing underneath carts, benches, and away from mischievous cats–looking for anything out of place... other than the shrieks of fear from people seeing a small rat in a mini white coat zooming at light speed under their legs

  From morning to mid-afternoon, Fionn found nothing after the confrontation, but did get attacked by cats twice. He lets out a low gruff. “That sucks…,” he muttered, leaning against the damp wall of an empty part of the city and crossing his arms. In this rat form, he looked adorable. “I wasted nearly half of the day looking for clues or leads and still turned up empty handed.” His whiskers twitched in annoyance. How could he not find anything after searching for this long? Not even a suspicious person was around when he needed it. Just as he was about to return to normal, his ears twitched in response to hearing the footsteps of someone approaching. He made his coat dissolve into white particles and ducked behind a trashcan

  A short boy–estimated to be at least 5’4–was walking around and carrying a wooden casting staff while idly biting into a yellow apple. He had a pale shade of baby blue skin, pitch black sclera, and green irises with a slight glow in them. He was wearing a short off-shoulder white tunic and a tight black corset that outlined his slender figure, beige linen pants that clung to his curves, and brown boots. He had cobalt blue hair styled into a cute short wolf cut. Fionn noticed that his body seemed to lean more into a delicate figure than a man’s would–his hips would slightly sway with each step he took

  “Big Sister said this was the spot, right?” he mumbled between his bites, his tone uninterested. “I should’ve paid attention when she was talking…,” Fionn could tell he was lazy by the voice alone but noticed the pitch was higher than normal. “Hope Toy Nine doesn’t hit on me again. It’s super awkward trying to pretend I don’t hear him.” He leans against the wall, crunching into the apple again

  Fionn kept his senses sharp as he listened in. It went still again, broken by the sound of the boy chewing. Almost nothing happened for a moment, until the squelching sound of mud broke it. Fionn’s rat ears twitched upon seeing a black hole open on the stone, black mist oozing out of the portal like it was the incarnation of death–his nose twitching from the smell of rot, iron, and clay. A short figure flips backwards out of the portal, landing on top of the trashcan with her hands in the air for a pose. She was wearing a white cloak with colorful polka-dots all over and bandages that concealed her identity with a big red clown nose that stuck out

  “Well, well, well, well, well!” the girl cackled cheerfully “What a lookie we have here!”

  Shortly after, a tall man rises out of the portal with the help of slimy ink black tentacles on the way. He was wearing a deer skull on his face like a mask

  “Master Illusion,” the man began, having a formal tone with a deep voice that reached the void. “Mistress Catastrophe has issued a report of conflict to everyone. Emperor Brennen requests the blonde haired Pseudo who attacked him to be taken out. No traces.”

  Illusion didn’t reply for a few seconds, unimpressed by the report. “Blonde-haired…? That’s a really long list,” he replied lazily

  The clown girl spun on her heel with glee. “Woah! We get to fight him? Awesome!” the girl cheered. “Oh, this is going to be so fun!”

  “Do not be careless, Number Seven,” the masked man warned with disdain. “He is a Creation Anomaly.”

  “Oh boohoo,” she replied, turning on her heel and front flipping off the trashcan. “Then I’ll make him join my circus act! It’ll make him pop like a popcorn kernel!”

  Without waiting for a response, she spins around and cartwheeled repeatedly with grace–her form of leaving to explore. Her laughter echoes as it fades away

  Illusion and the man both watched at the way she was leaving in quiet resignation. “Why does she have to do that?” Illusion asked in a dry voice, nearly dropping the apple

  “I wish I had an answer, sir,” the man replied. “I’ve stopped questioning her methods.”

  Illusion lets out a huff and stretches an arm above his head, tossing the apple towards the street. “Anyway, was that all she had to say?” he asked

  The man shook his head. “No, sir. Two more orders,” he continued. “Mistress Catastrophe wishes for you to destroy Division 2’s Captain while Gi plans a sneak attack on Division 5.”

  He frowns slightly at the first part of the man’s sentence. “Who are they…?” Illusion asked with a long yawn. “I hate fighting strong people. They’re scary and troublesome.”

  “You must,” he replied calmly. “King Brennen and Mistress Catastrophe will be stationed to attack the remaining villages to lure out the Trial Code.”

  “Ugh…,” Illusion groaned. “But I don’t want to.”

  “Please, sir, do not think you’ll be alone,” the man reassured. “Number Two and Number Six will assist you. Number One, Four, Eight, and Nine will be with Mistress Catastrophe.”

  “And what about Zero? And Eleven?”

  “Number Zero remains with King Brennen. Number Eleven will be the distraction,”

  Illusion tilted his head to the right slightly. “Everything’s already set? I thought Sophie needed more time?”

  “She finished early–thanks to Anomaly's interference.”

  At that, Illusion lets out a low laugh. “So he’s the reason why things got interesting. I want to talk to this Pseudo myself,” he said, a smirk forming on his face. “Maybe he’s some cute guy that I could use a heart trap on.”

  “Tell me, Number Five, is this Anomaly at least cute?”

  The masked man hesitated to reply. To be fair, how exactly was he supposed to explain someone’s appearance when he had never seen them before? “By your standards, he’ll be your ideal companion–only if you can persuade him, sir.” he replied

  A smirk flashes on Illusion’s face. “Heh, that’s perfect,” he purred, pride overtaking his voice. A hand rests on his hips as he strikes a pose. “Maybe I’ll skip the killing and take his heart outright.”

  His tone shifts to being layered like honey. “Seduction is my specialty, after all.”

  From where he was hiding, Fionn looked visibly uncomfortable after hearing that last bit. “Oh great, a flamboyant and homicidal maniac on my ass,” he grumbled under his breath. “Just my luck.”