Sylaphine's Perspective:
3:38 AM - 31/12/2017
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined such an outcome.
Even for one who has lived seven millennia, some sights defy reason.
Kaiser stood there — his breath a mist of steam, his body cracked with frost and blood, yet his eyes… still burned with that defiant light. With one final pull, the chain screeched and the Frostcrawler's colossal carcass slammed against the ice. The sound echoed across the pond like thunder beneath a frozen sky.
Lucas stepped forward without a word.
"Take care of the beast, sorcerer." Kaiser's voice, hoarse and faint, brushed through the air.
They didn't even look at each other — no acknowledgment, no approval — just an unspoken trust forged through fire and madness.
And then Lucas raised his hands.
Two light daggers formed in his grasp, their blades vibrating with celestial hums. Forty mirrors shimmered into being above him — orbiting, reflecting, multiplying that light into a blinding storm.
When the daggers struck the air, the mirrors converged, magnifying the beam until it tore through the Frostcrawler's core.
The creature screamed — a sound that rattled the bones of the world — and then it burst. Frost and ichor painted the air.
Through that blizzard of fragments, I saw her — Celia — blue-lipped and motionless, her skin marked with frostbite as Lucas caught her mid-fall, carrying her on his shoulder.
Then, before I could draw breath—
Kaiser's body gave out.
He fell forward.
Lucas moved in a flash, faster than my eyes could follow, catching him before he hit the ice.
"Rest a bit, buddy," he murmured softly, almost like a promise.
"I'll handle it from here."
He held them both — one unconscious, one barely alive.
I stepped closer, kneeling beside them. My hand hovered over Kaiser's chest; frost still clung to his lashes, his lips pale as marble. Celia's heart, though weak, still pulsed faintly beneath my palm.
"I must heal them," I whispered. "Their cores are damaged. If the cold sinks any deeper, even light itself won't reach them."
I lifted my hand, weaving ancient sigils into the air — threads of silver and sapphire spiraling around my fingers. The language of my kind flowed from my lips, melodic and low, the song of the First Fairies:
"O' essence of the dawn, return what winter has stolen, mend the soul where light has fallen cold…"
But just as the runes began to glow —
"Wait."
I turned. Lucas stood there, his expression calm but unwavering, frost still steaming from his shoulders.
"That won't be necessary," he said. "I can handle it."
I blinked. "You…?"
He smiled faintly, almost boyishly. "Yeah. Trust me."
Without waiting for my answer, he called out, "Eryndor, give me a hand."
He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward me as if seeking permission. I gave a silent nod. He approached, still trembling, and Lucas gently passed Celia into his arms. Still fearful of Kaiser's unconscious presence.
Then — with a flick of his wrist — a green glow appeared above his palm, materializing into a glass vial filled with swirling liquid.
"Amazing…" Luke breathed beside me, eyes wide.
I said nothing. I simply watched the faint light ripple through Lucas's fingers — not raw celestial magic, but something older, refined, structured. It shouldn't have been possible for a human to wield it with such ease.
He uncorked the vial and let a single drop fall onto Celia's skin.
The frost began to recede instantly. Her lips regained color. The air shimmered faintly around her, alive again.
"That… was not summoning magic," I murmured.
Lucas glanced at me with that infuriating grin. "Let's just say I'm good at improvising."
"Backpack comes handy."
Even in exhaustion, he had that spark — the same spark that terrified and intrigued me in equal measure.
I looked at him, then at Kaiser lying still beside him. "He will need more than potions. The frost cut deep into his veins."
"I know," he said, tightening his jaw. "But I'll make sure he recovers. That's a promise."
He exhaled, turning toward Luke and Eryndor. "You two, take everyone back to the Labyrinth. The infection's spreading fast through the lower sectors — we can't delay it any longer."
"Infection?" Luke frowned.
Lucas nodded. "The Frostcrawler's core carried something... something that doesn't belong in this realm. I'll explain later, but right now, Sylaphine and I need to contain it before it reaches the fairies deeper."
He said my name like it was both a command and a request.
For a moment, I simply watched him.
Kaiser was odd. However, Lucas has mythical abilities that magic shouldn't make possible.
And somehow… It intrigued me.
Perhaps I was too tired to care.
As the others began to move — Luke supporting Eryndor, Celia cradled between them — I turned back to Lucas.
"You speak as though you already know what awaits us below," I said quietly.
His expression softened. "I don't," he admitted.
"But I'd rather give you a hand than let you face it alone."
That caught me off guard.
I straightened my posture, drawing my cloak around my shoulders. "Then let us hurry. If the infection spreads further, this land will wither long before dawn."
Lucas smirked, adjusting his grip on his blades. "After you, your majesty."
I rolled my eyes, hiding a faint smile.
"They'll carry everyone back," he said, walking beside me, "for now focus upon your people."
He is right.
We reached the Labyrinth.
My doors of crystal light parted at my touch, revealing the winding corridors of emerald stone and silver roots — paths that once sang with laughter and wind.
But now…The sight before me was unholy.
Fairy lights flickered weakly, dimming like dying stars.
My people — my beautiful, radiant kin — lay along the marble steps and beneath the crystal trees, their wings pale and trembling. Frost had crept into their veins like glass shards, their lips tinted blue, their breath shallow.
Some coughed blood so vividly crimson it stained the pale floors like crushed rubies. Others stared into nothing, eyes glazed as the infection gnawed through their essence. I could hear their small, desperate whispers, calling my name — pleading, begging for salvation I might not be able to give.
"Queen Sylaphine… please…""It hurts… it burns…""My wings… they won't move…"
Their voices fractured the silence like glass breaking underwater.
My throat tightened. My heart — something I thought long hardened — cracked open once more.
No matter how old I became, no matter how much wisdom I gathered, nothing could prepare me for this kind of helplessness.
"How… how did it enter here…" I whispered, my voice trembling. "The barriers should have held…"
Lucas's hand found my shoulder, steady, grounding. "Now's not the time," he said gently, though his tone carried urgency. "We have to move quickly."
I closed my eyes, forcing down the storm of grief. "You're right."
Together, we descended deeper into the Labyrinth's inner city.
Once, this place had been a marvel — bridges of luminous glass spanning rivers of light, houses woven from flower roots and starlit vines, laughter echoing through halls that never aged.
Now, frost coiled along the bridges like veins of death. The air shimmered with cold mist; petals hung limp, blackened at the edges. The sound of wings had turned into coughs and sobs.
When the fairies saw me, they reached out weakly, their eyes glistening.
"Please, my queen… help us…""Save our children…""I can't… feel my magic anymore…"
Each plea cut deeper than any blade. I wanted to gather them all — every one of them — but my hands could only reach so far.
"I… I will heal you all," I said, though my voice quavered. "I promise."
Lucas knelt beside one of the fallen, studying the frost that had crept beneath her skin. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a sharp, calculating focus.
He looked up at me. "We can save them all," he said, conviction burning in his voice. "But we have to work together."
I nodded faintly. "My healing can reach ten at a time… but there are over six hundred fairies in this city."
His eyes narrowed, mind already racing ahead. "How do you apply the healing magic?"
I hesitated, then closed my eyes, letting the ancient energy rise within me. Visualizing what happens.
"The light flows from my core," I whispered. "I must attune myself to their essence — weave my energy into theirs until our heartbeats align. It takes focus, precision… and time I do not have."
Lucas nodded. "Then I'll buy you that time."
But he didn't move. Instead, his gaze lingered on the infected, scanning every detail with frightening attentiveness. "Tell me," he said quietly, "how does the virus mutate?"
"The virus…" I began, swallowing hard. "It forms a shell around the area it enters — a cocoon of ice that isolates itself. Within, it feeds on vitality, freezing the blood and rupturing the magical veins. It destroys the immune system by mimicking the body's protective spells, tricking it into spreading the frost deeper."
Lucas's eyes lit up. "So it uses the host's defense system against itself. Like an adaptive pathogen."
"Yes. The more they resist, the faster it spreads."
He stood, pacing slowly. "Then it's possible…" he murmured.
I turned toward him. "Possible?"
He glanced at me, that familiar spark in his green eyes again — the same reckless, brilliant light that always appeared right before he defied reason itself.
"If we can disrupt its shell before it finishes adapting," he said, "we can stop the mutation from taking root. You can heal them before the virus reforms."
I frowned slightly. "Disrupt its shell? With what?"
He grinned faintly. "Electric resonance. A timed pulse through your healing field — like what I used on the Frostcrawler's core. Controlled enough not to harm, strong enough to shatter the frost barrier."
My breath caught. "That's dangerous. One mistake, and their cores could collapse."
Lucas looked up at me, unwavering. "Then don't make a mistake."
I should have scolded him. I should have reminded him that I had ruled these lands before his ancestors ever breathed.
But instead… I laughed — softly, bitterly, and maybe, just a little, gratefully.
Because even now, when I was crumbling inside, this foolish mortal had reminded me what hope felt like.
Like how Kaiser showed.
"All right, Lucas Reindhardt," I said, lifting my hands again. "Let us see if your impossible idea can save six hundred souls."
He smirked. "That's the spirit, your majesty."
As we stood at the heart of the dying fairy city, surrounded by frost and fading light, I drew in the last warmth left in the world and whispered to the aether:
"Hear me, light of dawn…Let no frost claim what still remembers the sun."
And this time, I would not fail them.
But then…Nothing happened.
The air around me shimmered faintly, as if pitying my failure. The healing light I summoned dissolved into pale mist before it could touch their wounds. My magic — the same grace that once revived dying forests — could not pierce this sickness.
I tried again, breathing through the rhythm of the world, connecting to the flow of life that pulsed beneath every stone, every wingbeat, every flicker of light within my kin.
Yet… the connection fractured.
I could not see the virus.Not clearly.
"I… the virus is in different places for every fairy here," I whispered, voice trembling.
My face grew pale. To locate each infection individually — in six hundred bodies — would take days, perhaps weeks. And by then… there would be no one left to save.
"How can I…" My hands trembled as I pressed them against the cold floor. "How can I save them all…"
I bit down on my lip, forcing focus. Can I visualize a stronger spell? Something beyond the limits of the Nature's Heart?No — even the Heart of Life itself could not breach something so cunning.
This virus wasn't just a plague. It was alive — aware.Adapting.
I closed my eyes again, pouring every ounce of my essence into the aether. I searched for patterns — for a single common thread — but what I found only deepened my despair.
Ten fairies — the ones nearest to me — revealed themselves first.
The infection had taken root in completely different places: a heart, a lung, a spine, the wing joints, even the magical core itself.
No pattern.
It had learned from me.The last time I purged it… it adapted.
"It knew…" I whispered.
My knees hit the marble, the sound hollow, echoing through the dying city. My fingers dug into the frost-bitten floor as I tried again and again, every failure splintering what little hope remained.
But I couldn't stop.I wouldn't stop.
"I can't give up," I whispered. "I have to save them all…"
Then — a hand touched my shoulder.Warm, steady.
Lucas.
When I lifted my gaze, he was standing above me, his expression calm, though his eyes held that mischievous spark.
"Trouble finding it?" he asked, lips curving into a knowing smirk.
I only blinked, too exhausted to answer.
He crouched down beside me. "Then let me help you," he said. "Give me Nature's Heart — like you gave to Kaiser earlier."
For a moment, I froze.
He even knew about the Nature's Heart…?That was impossible.The last mortal who spoke its name had lived four centuries ago — a scholar who vanished before he could finish his research.
How could this human boy know something so sacred?
"Only I can help you," he said softly, breaking through my thoughts. "So be quick."
His confidence was maddening… and yet something in me believed him.
I hesitated only for a heartbeat before nodding.Then I closed my eyes and reached out — letting my magic unfurl and intertwine with his aura.
The connection was strange.
His essence was unlike anything I had ever felt — sharp, metallic, vibrant, laced with space and warmth. Where my power flowed like wind and light, his surged like space and time.
Our energies touched — and my breath hitched.
"Now then," Lucas murmured. "System."
A faint chime echoed through our shared link — not sound, but presence.Then, his voice sharpened: "Lightstep."
Before I could even react, he was gone.
"System…?" I whispered, startled.
And then I saw it.
He wasn't gone — he was everywhere.
Lucas blurred through the air like a streak of white lightning, dashing across the city faster than my eyes could follow. Every flash of movement sent ripples through the magic we shared — and in those flashes, I saw through his sight.
Each heartbeat became a window — each breath, a glimpse.
A fairy's trembling body. The faint blue veins of infection beneath translucent skin. The crystalline frost spreading in perfect, horrifying beauty.
Each time his form flickered past another, I saw the virus — the shell, the roots, the cold heart of it — glowing faintly within them.
Lucas's voice echoed in my mind, calm yet fierce.
「Don't waste energy trying to find it anymore. Just focus on casting. I'll take care of locating it.」
I gasped, clutching my chest, the link pulsing like a second heartbeat. "All right…" I whispered. "Then guide me, Sorcerer."
I closed my eyes once more, centering the flow of mana through my palms. The magic gathered, coiling like luminous vines through the air, glowing brighter with each pulse of Lucas's movements.
Two minutes. In that span alone, the human—Lucas—crossed the breadth of the city four times. His afterimage split through the night like emerald lightning, every step leaving behind faint traces of wind and light. Four hundred and thirty-eight fairies — each one touched by the pulse of his aura, each one seen, counted, and marked in less than a breath.
Never, in all seven millennia of my existence, had I seen something like this. Not even among the ancient mages who sculpted rivers with thought alone.
"ᚨᛚᛖᚾ—ᛗᛟᚾ ᚾᛁᛏᛏᚨ ᚲᚢᚱᛖᚾᛏ—"
My voice threaded through the air, the ancient syllables spilling like silver water as I wove the chant that would reach them all. The words themselves burned faintly across the city, echoing from mirror to mirror.
He was a blur — every movement exact, ruthless, alive.
I found myself whispering beneath my breath, "Never in history has a human lived capable of such magical potential…"
Even saying it aloud didn't make it real. The fairies below lifted their hands to the green shimmer flowing over them, unaware of the enormity before their eyes.
Then, just as suddenly, he stopped. The air shuddered.
Lucas appeared before me again, chest heaving, a fine sheen of sweat glinting under the mirrorlight.
"Is it over?" he asked, breath ragged.
I shook my head. "No. I've weakened it, but not enough. It mutated — adapted to the heat. A bit more and it'll resist entirely."
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, eyes flicking toward the core's dim glow. "Then we'll have to find a bigger energy source to burn it."
My heart sank at the implication. A bigger source…? Even for me, the thought bordered on madness. Yet his expression carried that reckless certainty only mortals could afford.
"How vast is the Labyrinth?" he asked, eyes darting upward as his mind worked faster than his breath could follow.
"Vast enough to drown cities," I replied.
"How deep does the corruption go?"
"Beyond the foundation stones."
"Then what fuels it?"
"Ether condensed over centuries. It has no source — it is the source."
He tilted his head slightly, murmuring, "So… self-sustaining."
Then, quieter, almost amused, "Then I'll just have to make my own star."
Before I could speak, he raised his palm. Light gathered, bending toward him like worshippers before a god. A ring of pale gold and scarlet ignited — celestial energy fusing with fire drawn from the labyrinth's mirrors.
A ripple of pressure spread outward, and I felt it even through my protective wards. He didn't chant.
He didn't speak.
He was silent-casting — multiple spells at once.
Water flowed from his other palm, orbiting the core like liquid glass. The wind answered next, sweeping around him in controlled chaos, forming a spiral of motion and heat. His hair lifted slightly, caught in the pull of forces older than language.
What was his limit…?
I had thought myself beyond astonishment. But watching him now — a mortal fusing the four great elements through sheer mana.
A nearby pole trembled, then tore itself from the stone, twisting midair as it melted and reformed under his control. The metal liquefied, pulled into the core's center, fusing with the storm of light and flame.
Every reflection in the labyrinth turned toward him — hundreds of eyes of glass and fire watching one impossible act unfold.
Then, for the first time, he spoke a true celestial incantation. The words boomed like bells forged from thunder:
"O lumen et chaos—through mirrored flame, I bind the heavens to this heart of ruin. Burn bright, devour the void—ignite the sky and tear the false night asunder."
The air hummed. The mirrors cracked.
And then Lucas smiled—faintly, wickedly.
"...Ignite."
The world answered.
A burning ball of gas began to rise—slowly, majestically—toward the labyrinth's hollowed ceiling. Its light bled through the fractured mirrors, turning silver glass into rivers of molten gold.
All around me, the fairies—weak, trembling—looked up. Even in their exhaustion, their eyes reflected that impossible light. It was hope, reborn from fire.
Lucas exhaled softly beside me, voice steady despite his trembling arms.
"I've created a miniature sun," he said. "Pour all of your magic into it—and it'll light the labyrinth with enough energy to heal and burn the infection away."
My eyes widened. For a moment, I forgot to breathe .A sun.
A mortal… had forged a sun.
And then it struck me.
Kaiser. Celia. Lucas. Among those names, one carried the weight of prophecy.
Lucas Reinhardt.
He had entered Celestine barely a year ago—an anomaly among mortals. Rumors had followed his steps like shadows: a human who grew stronger after every battle, one who bent the rules of magic itself. Some called him abnormal, others a hero.
But standing here—before the star he'd summoned from imagination—I understood the truth.
He wasn't meant to follow nature's law. He was born to defy magic and create his own.
I turned my gaze upward, to the false sun now pulsing above us.It radiated like a living heart suspended in glass.
Slowly, I raised both arms, palms open to the heavens. My eyes fluttered shut. The air hummed with ancient memory.
And I spoke.
"O cradle of creation…You who stitched time upon the fabric of nothing—Hear me, daughter of the first breath, Sylaphine of the Everglades. Grant this light the grace to remember what it means to live."
My voice echoed through the labyrinth, low and resonant. As I chanted, thoughts wove themselves into words unspoken:
In the beginning, there was silence—endless and patient. And from that silence, nature whispered life into the void. Yet all life, no matter how radiant, carries within it the seed of ending.
I could feel the pulse of the sun synchronizing with my own heartbeat.
"Stars are born to burn," I murmured. "Worlds are born to fade. We… are born to remember both."
I poured my magic upward.
It streamed from my palms in ribbons of green and gold, flowing into the sphere that Lucas had birthed. The labyrinth shuddered, its frozen walls beginning to thaw.
My mind drifted deeper, beyond time—where existence felt fragile and infinite all at once.
We live only once, and yet… that ending gives us meaning.
Perhaps that is the mercy of creation—to let us return, piece by piece, to the soil that dreamed us.
Light burst from the false sun, washing the labyrinth in dawn. The air rippled with warmth, carrying with it the scent of spring.
All around, the fairies stirred. Wings once dulled and brittle began to shimmer again. Their small forms lifted, laughter trembling on their lips.
Lucas looked up, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at his mouth.
And for the first time in what felt like centuries. We achieved something impossible.
"We did it…" I whispered, voice trembling with disbelief and quiet pride.
The labyrinth—once a grave of silence—now breathed like a living thing.
Hope.
Lucas stood beside me, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion, sweat glinting against his temple. I turned to him, still holding my arms close to my chest, the remnants of divine light flickering faintly between my fingers.
For a long moment, we simply looked at one another—and smiled.
One by one, the fairies began to gather around us. Some flew unsteadily on trembling wings, others leaned on one another for support, but every single one of them was smiling.
They called out to me softly—voices breaking, filled with relief.
"Mother…""Your Majesty, you saved us…""The curse is gone, Mother Sylaphine… it's really gone."
The words hit me harder than any wound ever could.
My throat tightened. I felt the ache in my chest finally loosen, a burden I hadn't realized I'd been carrying melting away with the ice.
Their small hands reached for mine, dozens of them, warm and alive.
I smiled—truly smiled.
"Thank you… all of you," I whispered, voice trembling with softness. "Live. That's all I ask. Just live."
Lucas looked at me then, his usual arrogance dulled by a strange, honest warmth.
He brushed his hand through his hair and said quietly, "Guess I wasn't wrong after all."
I tilted my head. "About what?"
"That hope's contagious," he replied with a tired grin. "You just have to give it a reason to burn."
I laughed faintly under my breath, shaking my head. "You mortals and your fondness for poetic foolishness…"
He shrugged. "You ancient ones and your denial of it."
Before I could respond, the sound of hurried wings broke the peace.
"Your Majesty!"
Lily—her face pale, her eyes wide and wet—flew toward us. Her voice cracked halfway through her words.
I immediately stepped forward, my tone shifting from gentle to commanding. "What's wrong, child?"
She stopped midair, trembling. Her lips parted, but her voice faltered before she managed to speak again.
"T–there's something you need to know…"
My heart sank. "What happened?"
Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered, "Four of us… didn't make it."
The world seemed to slow. The warmth of the false sun above us felt distant, unreachable.
My breath hitched. "How? The light—it should have healed everyone."
Lily shook her head violently, tears falling like broken glass. "One of my friends… she… she passed away before you all arrived."
Lucas frowned, glancing between us. "Who was it?"
Lily's voice broke completely as she answered, "It was Linne."
I froze.
The name echoed inside me, heavy and hollow.
"Why… her?" I whispered, the words barely escaping. "She was one of the first to awaken young… she—"
"I don't know," Lily sobbed, covering her face. "I don't know why…"
"Linne?" Lucas muttered, brows furrowing as he looked at Lily. "I feel like I've heard that name before."
Lily's lip trembled. "You saw her… remember? The smaller pink-winged fairy."
"Oh…" Lucas nodded slowly, his tone softening. "The one Kaiser helped, right?"
My eyes turned to him. "Kaiser?"
He gave a faint nod, eyes distant as if tracing back a memory. "Yeah. They were playing some kind of game—two others teamed up on her, and Kaiser stepped in, helped her win. That's all I saw."
Lily pressed a hand to her chest, voice breaking as she spoke. "She was so young… she'd only just awakened. How couldn't her body resist the spell?"
I felt something twist inside me—an ache too old to name. "Linne awakened with healing magic as well," I murmured. "She should have been the one the virus struggled to enter."
The silence that followed felt suffocating. The light above us flickered weakly, as if even it grieved for her.
Lily began to sob again, small shoulders shaking. I reached out, cupping her cheeks in both hands. My palms were still warm from the healing spell.
"Enough Lily," I said softly. "She is gone, but you must not let sorrow claim you too. Your tears won't bring her back, and she would not wish to see you break."
"But Mother…" Her voice cracked like shattered glass. "She was my closest friend…"
It was tough for Lily to make new friends. She must've befriended Linne after seeing her for the first time, she gave it a chance and they got along... that's why she is so attached.
"I know." I brushed her tears away with my thumb. "I know. You did everything you could. Sometimes, even the purest hearts are taken first… nature chooses without mercy."
Her sobs quieted into trembling breaths.
I held her gaze until she steadied herself. "You must be strong for the others now. They look to you as they look to me. Let her passing remind you of why you live, not what you've lost."
She nodded weakly, pressing her forehead against my hand. "Yes, Mother."
Behind us, I caught a glimpse of Lucas. His face was unreadable, but his eyes—there was a flicker there. Recognition.
Guilt, maybe. Or something deeper he didn't wish to share. I wanted to ask what it was, but I stopped myself. Humans… always holding too many secrets. And I had no strength left to uncover another one tonight.
"Go now," I said gently, straightening my posture. "You both should return. Kaiser and Celia are still unconscious—they'll need your care."
Lily hesitated, looking up at me through damp lashes. "Will you be alright, Mother?"
"I've endured longer nights than this," I replied, forcing a smile. "Go. I'll see to the city."
Lucas exhaled, glancing at the fading glow of the miniature sun. "Well then," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I'll see you later. Try not to overdo it, Sylaphine."
"I could say the same to you, Lucas," I replied.
He gave a faint grin. "Touché."
Turning away, he gestured for Lily to follow.
"Take care, Mother," Lily whispered, bowing slightly before flying after him.
I watched them disappear down the vine-lined corridors, their silhouettes swallowed by the labyrinth's light.
Only then did I allow my hand to tremble.
As I descended the winding streets of the labyrinth, a cold unease began to bloom beneath my ribs. The air—once humming with the faint music of life and magic—hung still, suffocating. My steps echoed against the marble, too loud, too alone.
I told myself I was only tired. That the tremor in my fingers came from exhaustion.
But the deeper I walked, the clearer it became—something was wrong. Something had been wrong since the moment we exited the labyrinth.
My mind began to thread the pieces together.
The frostcrawler… it wasn't supposed to think.
Those creatures, even ancient ones, were little more than beasts—driven by hunger, instinct, the cold heart of survival. And yet, that thing… it chose its targets. It waited.
It planned.
It used ice like a weapon, not an element. Shards, spears—perfectly aimed. It even identified weakness, attacked when we were most vulnerable.
I stumbled mid-step, catching myself against an ethereal tree. My pulse thundered in my ears.
"No…" I whispered, but the word carried no conviction.
A monster shouldn't have intellect. Not that kind. Not after millennia of slumber.
My breath quickened, vision tightening around me as the realization took shape—monsters could learn, yes, but not in sleep. Not in silence.
So who had taught it?
My heart stuttered, memory flashing back to that moment—the instant I turned to heal the others, the sudden flare of cold behind me. That spear of jagged frost, aimed for my throat. Not at my wings. Not at Lucas or Celia. Not even at Kaiser.
Me.
It wanted me dead.
Several times.
The thought slithered through my mind like venom. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady the erratic heartbeat beneath my palm, but it only grew louder, harsher.
And then—the virus.
The infection that shouldn't have been able to enter. The labyrinth was sealed, protected by a thousand layers of living enchantment. No foreign magic could breach its doors—not without my knowledge.
Yet it spread.
That could only mean one thing: it came from within.
My stomach twisted. A flash of memory—me, reaching through the forest's heart, feeling for the rhythm of life inside my labyrinth. And then that shape.
A red, fluttering outline—something alive, flying deep within the sealed halls.
I stumbled again, the world tilting for a heartbeat as my vision swam. My knees hit the stone. My fingers dug into the ground, trembling.
Red… wings? No, not wings.
A creature.
And Linne—My mind froze.
She had awakened healing magic. The purest of all gifts. Her body should've resisted infection longer than any of them.
Yet she died first.
Before we arrived.
Which means…
Something killed her before we ever reached her.
Then healed her tortured corpse—just enough for the virus to appear natural.
The breath caught in my throat.
It wasn't infection. It was fabrication.
Something used the virus to hide its hand.
To torture and kill her.
I gripped my temples as a sharp pain pierced behind my eyes. My heartbeat pounded against my skull, faster and faster until the world blurred. I could hear my own breathing—ragged, shallow—as my thoughts spun, tangling into dread.
From everything I understood…
Someone was behind it.
It wanted me gone. It wanted Linne gone. It wanted us all gone.
The fairies. The Sylaris. My entire kin.
Whatever it was—It was inside my labyrinth.
And it was watching.
The sheer depth of their hatred… to torture, to slaughter the defenseless—that kind of cruelty doesn't arise overnight.
It was all planned, long before we ever left. Every step, every breath, all foreseen by someone completely void of a heart.
But why? Why did they want me and Linne gone so desperately?
That creature killed her first—and even twisted her death into a lie, making it look like the virus took her.
Then came the Frostcrawler… endlessly hunting me, as if drawn by some command to erase me entirely.
Whoever orchestrated this—they despised us. Me and her both. Enough to drown the world just to watch us fall. Enough to damn every innocent life tied to us.
If Lucas hadn't been here… they would've succeeded. Every fairy, every Sylaris soul within my labyrinth—gone.
I raised my gaze toward the sun, its pale light wavering through the misted air. The warmth felt hollow, almost mocking.
Whoever you are…I will find you. And when I do, your sins will not be forgiven. You will suffer. You will know what it means to be stripped of mercy. Time will be your cage, and I will be the one who closes it.
...
Tell me—why?
What crime did Linne and I commit? What reason could justify killing those who harmed no one?
You took everything pure and fragile and crushed it—the fairies, the Sylaris, all the innocent lives that trusted in light.
Who are you…
You're a demon. A heartless demon walking among mortals.
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Few hours later... Slowly...
Celia started opening her eyes.
The Queen of Curses.
Awakened.