As night fell, it felt different this time. There was no sharp contrast between light and dark, no gleam from the moon or stars. The sky hovered in perpetual dusk, as if the sun had forgotten to set. A golden glow lingered at the edge of every cloud, an eerie halo casting a surreal light over everything.
It wasn't like the first time we arrived, when day or night bled into a warm, relentless afternoon. This... was something else.
Was it because Scarlette had bound the Light Fairy King Luxeron earlier with her powers, leaving him catatonic? Or because of the revelations she had shared with me? I had no answers.
All I knew was that she deserved redemption—and so did I. And I wouldn't let anything stop that.
Scarlette slept soundly in the room, while I lay awake. Her story replayed itself in my mind like an echo refusing to fade.
I watched her breathe, peaceful for once, and still couldn't believe what had happened to her. She didn't deserve it. But her past explained everything: the sharpness in her laugh, the defiance in her magic, the way she wielded chaos like armor.
Just like she was hunted by King Baltimore, I had been branded an enemy by Queen Judorah. Deemed foolish for wanting to become human. Forced, again and again, to join their plans for domination—for destruction. For what? Power? A bitter ending?
Yes, I absorbed the dark magic of those who tried to kill me. Am I evil for wanting to survive? I doubt it.
Sure, I hunted villains and killed them without remorse, but that was instinct. Lions hunt hyenas. Fewer hyenas mean safer gazelles. But if I were human, I wouldn't need to kill. They call me the Hunter of Villains, but I've been called worse.
Am I foolish for believing people are more than their beginnings? That we are our choices? No. But the other Dark Fairies never understood. They reveled in destruction. I never fit in. I never wanted to.
Scarlette and I—we were outcasts. Dangerous not because of what we were, but because we refused to be what they made us. And now, we were so close to altering reality itself.
Was it natural? Was it fate? Could we both get what we wanted from the same spell?
Could our dreams coexist when the Emerald, the scroll, and the Light Guardian finally came together?
And what had happened to Lumera? She had vanished. Maybe worse. The Light Guardian was still missing. Queen Judorah and the Dark Fairies—where were they? Did the Light Guardian even exist?
My head throbbed.
Then—movement.
A sound outside shattered the silence.
I stepped out.
And froze.
There, in the fading glow of dusk, was someone I thought I knew—Lumera. She stood calmly washing dishes, her movements eerily normal. Then she turned to face me.
My heart stopped.
"Oh, hello, Ravos," she greeted sweetly.
Goosebumps crawled across my skin.
No. This couldn't be real. Lumera was gone. Killed. Wasn't she?
"Hi, Lumera. Good evening," I replied, forcing my voice steady.
"You sound so serious. Is everything alright?" she asked, tilting her head.
But when she stepped closer, I instinctively backed away.
Her eyes were bloodshot. Hollow. Too wide. Too forced. That smile—it didn't belong to her.
"You're not Lumera," I said, voice tightening.
She threw her head back and laughed. A sharp, haughty sound.
"Veravos, I'll be damned," she crooned, and just like that, I recognized the voice.
Queen Judorah.
"What did you do to her?" I demanded.
"Must you ask the obvious, Veravos?" she purred. "I ate her, of course."
The words hit me like a slap.
"All the missing Light Fairies… that was you?"
"Well, there are a few minions of mine involved, so I can't claim credit for all," she giggled.
"You're wearing her skin," I growled. "That's beyond monstrous."
"Who cares about dignity? My cover makes for easier hunting. No one suspects Lumera." Her eyes gleamed with glee. "The Light Fairy Kingdom's tolerance of mixed-fairy couples makes infiltration a breeze. And the King? He erases anything... inconvenient. Even dead fairies."
"You'll pay for this."
"Threaten me all you want, Veravos," she cooed, slipping into Lumera's smile with grotesque ease. "But right now, I'm her. Isn't that delicious?"
Her voice softened into Lumera's gentle cadence. "Well, hello there."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What do you want?" I asked, holding my ground.
"The Emerald, of course. Though mocking you is a bonus." Her smile twisted. "Don't play dumb. I know you have it. Your rumors are clever, but I know your style."
She stepped closer.
"A new Love Fairy in town? Ravos? Really?" She laughed. "And Lumera's house reappearing? Obvious. But I'm done playing."
Her eyes went dead.
"Where is it?"
Before I could answer, the air changed.
Scarlette stepped beside me—silent, radiant, terrifying.
Queen Judorah paled.
"The Queen of Hearts and Ruin," she whispered. "In the flesh?"
Scarlette's smirk could have carved through stone.
"Finally," she said. "Someone remembers me."
Judorah vanished. The door slammed open. A bitter wind swept in, thick with the scent of rot and roses.
My breath hitched.
"Are you alright?" Scarlette asked softly, anchoring me to the moment.
"She was here. Queen Judorah. She wore Lumera's face. She—"
Scarlette took my hand. "She's gone. For now."
My eyes drifted to the bed. The Emerald and the scroll glinted faintly under the low light.
Scarlette followed my gaze. "Paranoia," she said dryly. "The night is full of terrors. Best to keep these close."
I nodded, still uneasy.
"Scarlette," I said quietly, "if Judorah could take Lumera's form so easily… who's to say the other Dark Fairies haven't done the same?"
Scarlette didn't respond right away. Her silence said enough.
"She'll come back," I whispered. "She always does. She's the darkest of us all. I can't fight her alone."
"We'll stop them." Her voice was calm. But in her eyes—just for a second—I saw a crack. The faintest flicker of doubt. Then it vanished.
"For now," she said, "we rest. She won't return tonight."
I let out a long breath.
Then, almost absently, I asked, "What does the scroll say?"
"You can't read it," Scarlette replied at once. Her tone was sharp, certain. "Only the Light Guardian can."
The words felt final.
Normally, I would've pressed her. Questioned everything. But not this time. Not tonight.
Tonight, I trusted her.