"Dúnadan! Ithiona! Help me!"
A bright smile flashes from above as Orlaith's owl zooms through the air, making countless sharp turns. Standing upside down on its back, Orlaith notices movement near a narrow passageway.
"Help! Help! Help! Help me!" Lysel cries out at incredible speed, weaving through sharp turns as she tries to lose the owl. She bolts toward the guardians, her breath sharp and uneven. "Ah… ah… ah…" she pants, finally reaching them and ducking behind Ithiona. "Sis, he keeps trying to feed me to his owl!" Her voice cracks just as the large owl lands before them.
"Oh please, stop being so dramatic. As if Grover here could actually catch you," Orlaith exhales, rolling his eyes and patting the owl."You're the second fastest fairy in this realm."
"T-that doesn't mean I can't be scared, idiot!" she whines, throwing a rock at his head. "Sis, please do something about this crazy guy! Every time I go scouting with him, he tries to feed me!"
With a tired exhale, Ithiona rubs her head. "That's enough, both of you. You can't be playing around when you both have important jobs—"
"But I did nothing wrong! He's the problem!" Lysel whines, tugging on Ithiona's arm.
"Behave." Dúnadan's cold eyes make both of them step back. "You're both commanders. You can't act like children during working hours."
"Yes, sir!" they both say at once, suddenly nervous as they glance at the other fairies enjoying their meals.
Holding a glass, Dúnadan takes a sip and exhales. "What have you found? Last time, we concluded this dungeon was simply abandoned—too deep in the forest, and weakened from the lack of visitors until it died."
Helping them from atop his owl, Orlaith scratches his head. "It's… complicated. I have no idea how, but the dungeon is definitely alive." As they circle the massive tree, Orlaith leads them toward the opening he saw earlier. "While we were exploring, we couldn't find anything at first. But there was a distinct shift in mana. I'm certain the dungeon was manipulating the space around us—keeping it in cave form for some reason."
"Yeah, and I said I could try outflying it, but noooo, he wouldn't let me." Lysel rolls her eyes, casually floating beside the owl and keeping pace without effort.
"Oh yeah, let you run in like an idiot and possibly get yourself killed so our guardians can scold me," Orlaith clicks his tongue. "As I was saying… I couldn't find the core. It's too confusing, but I caught a clue. Just as Lysel was whining, I saw movement—right here. "He stops at a passageway too narrow for the owl. "Since it's so close to the others, I figured you'd want to check it yourself." Orlaith jumps off the owl and lands at the entrance."I feel something… off."
"Well that's not a good sign," Dúnadan sighs.
With a nod, Ithiona casually lifts her wooden staff. A bright, massive golden magic circle blooms across the tree and the sky above it, surrounding the fairies circling nearby.
"That barrier should protect them for now," she smiles, just as the owl lowers its wing for her to walk down.
"Come on, guys. Worst case scenario—the dungeon's rebuilding itself. Let's collect as much as we can and head home before our prince notices."
Lysel stares up at the massive tree ahead. It's beautiful. Ancient. Powerful. And deeply annoying."Ugh… I hate this," she groans, a single tear sliding down her cheek.Commanding was never her dream. She longs for something much greater: unemployment.
Meanwhile, Dúnadan walks in silence, his thoughts heavier than his sword.'This could become a serious issue. Best-case scenario, Mother Earth lent her vitality to the core.'He glances at the others walking ahead. The tunnel eventually opens into a wide, open field blanketed in green.'But if it's not her… then this is bad. Really bad. The tension between dungeon masters is already unstable. They won't survive another millennium without war. If one of them gets ahold of this dungeon, the balance will break.'
As they step deeper into the field, the light dims unnaturally with every step.
Then—"Get behind me, you damn stupid fruit fly. Everyone stop."Orlaith's voice drops into a growl as he yanks the overly relaxed Lysel behind him.
"This is a trap," he mutters, eyes scanning the terrain. "We're trapped. We walked right into it like idiots…"He slaps his face."How the hell did I miss it?"
"Huh? Are you high on mint?" Lysel raises an eyebrow, annoyed."See, sis? This is what I keep—"
DINGGG—!
A piercing chime splits the air as a flash of golden light erupts at the tip of Ithiona's staff. It clashes violently with a dark red blade—blocking it a hair's breadth from Lysel's skull.
The impact sends a shockwave rippling through the grass.But Lysel is already gone.
An afterimage hangs in her place, shimmering like a fading memory, before vanishing entirely. She reappears beside Orlaith, clutching her chest, breath shaking.
"A-ah…" she stammers. "T-that was too close."
She glances back at where she stood just milliseconds before.Had Ithiona been even slightly slower…
The golden aura surrounding Ithiona flares, swirling like a halo of power. Her hair glows, turning fully golden. Her eyes ignite with light. And yet—
Her expression is calm. Cold. Controlled.
She takes a step forward.
The grass beneath her frosts over instantly, crackling with ice as her divine energy spreads.
Then, she speaks—softly.
"You dare touch my sister…?"
A whisper.Her head tilts, just slightly.
The figure before her does not move.
As the golden energy convulses wildly, a figure steps out of thin air.
It hovers just above the grass, gazing down at them with eyes that don't exist—only glimmers of unstable light.
"Hey, sorry about that," the figure says casually. "Thought I'd take the fast one first."
Its body flickers—erratic, shapeless, formed of pure mana. It floats downward with slow, lazy movements, but in a blink, it shrinks to match their size.
"Wow. Guardians sure are scary." The voice crackles like static as the spirit slowly reshapes itself, taking the form of a human man—tall, slender, grinning with false humility.
Dúnadan narrows his eyes."...A spirit."His breath sharpens. 'What is this? It reeks of death.'Subtle pulses of mana light his palm as he scans the area.
"Do not speak so casually." Ithiona's tone is ice.
With a flick of her wrist, the earth cracks beneath the spirit. Golden chains explode upward from the soil, coiling tightly around his body in a sacred bind.
"Tch, there's no point in fighting me."The spirit floats upside down now, wrapped in chains, yet completely unbothered. "Let's speed this up. She's not watching right now."He yawns. "I was supposed to kill both your scouts. You know, since they didn't take any of it."He flips right side up, the chains flickering in and out of phase with his form."But I'm annoyed, alright? I'm cursed. This bitch witch keeps overriding it, ordering me around like I'm some fucking pet!"
He pops—disappearing and reappearing behind them in a flash of static light.
Dúnadan and Ithiona spin, preparing to strike—
—but their bodies seize.
GHHK—!
Both choke suddenly, violently retching a black, tar-like sludge. The magic in their limbs spasms and fails.
"Sis!"Lysel grabs Ithiona, holding her upright as golden energy flickers unsteadily around her.
"What did you do to her?!" she shouts—but before she can act, Orlaith throws a cloud of sparkling powder at her face.
Psshh—Her body slumps gently into his arms.
Orlaith's eyes widen in horror.
His pupils shrink.
"…Oh no."
He drops to his knees, clutching his face as his vision shifts.He can see through the dungeon—through every wall, every floor, every hidden space.
"T-this isn't happening…"
And then—he sees them.
Far below, their prince sits across from a woman. The two share tea like old friends.
The prince's eyes lift.
He meets Orlaith's gaze.
His mouth moves.
No sound is needed. Orlaith understands.
At that same moment, the woman turns as well—her gaze latching onto Orlaith like a vice. Her aura swells with deadly curiosity. Reality bends.
But before her energy can reach him—
Flick.
A simple motion of the prince's wrist snaps Orlaith's vision back to the field. Back to his comrades. Back to the now.
"N-no… Dúnadan, listen to me."His voice is cracked, hoarse.He turns between Dúnadan, the spirit, and Lysel's unconscious form."Don't forget. Please—both of you need to remember. For the sake of the people."
His body trembles.
"Y-you owe a favor," he whispers.
Then turns to the spirit.
The spirit blinks. "Huh?"
"Hey—what are you talking about?" Dúnadan growls, grabbing Orlaith's shoulder, wiping his mouth with the other.*'What did I miss? How did we—the tree—'
"Ughhh, I don't have time for this."The spirit groans, stretching its arms."Yes, yes, I owe a favor. Since your boss said so… just don't struggle, okay?"
Before Ithiona can react—A massive magic circle, unlike any they've seen, glows above them.
The symbols are foreign. Ancient. Alive.
And then—
FLASH.
A blinding light engulfs the field.
When it fades, only Dúnadan and Ithiona remain.
And on the grass beside them…
Two crystals lie where Orlaith and Lysel once stood.