Alwin stepped forward as the knights carried Abigel away and the clearing fell silent. His eyes swept over the broken ground, his weathered face hardening.
"The hunting tournament is called off. Every knight will be recalled. Our first priority is finding the princess." His voice was steady, but beneath it was something heavier—personal. Aria was not just a princess to him. She was precious.
"Underneath."
The word was quiet, but it cut through the air.
Alwin turned sharply. Icarus was standing still, eyes fixed on the earth, his staff pointed downward.
"She's beneath us," Icarus said, his tone clipped, as if the weight of the knowledge pressed on him.
Alwin's brows furrowed. "How can you be so certain?"
Icarus met his gaze, sharp and unyielding. "Do you really want me to explain how I know?" There was a dangerous edge in his voice, like he was daring Alwin to press further. He paused, his hand tightening around his staff as if wrestling with himself. "If I tear into the ground with my own power…" His words trailed off, dark possibilities flickering across his face.
Alwin studied him for a long moment. Then, without hesitation, he placed a hand on his sword hilt and nodded.
"Then I'll do everything in my power to help. No matter what it takes."
The old war hero's voice carried no doubt, no fear—only conviction. His weathered eyes met Icarus's, steady and resolute.
For the first time, Icarus's expression shifted. The faintest flicker of respect glimmered in his gaze.
"Then let's not waste time," Icarus murmured.
Meanwhile…
Aria woke in the blank space. Of course. A space she always drifted into when something happened—when someone wanted to speak with her.
"Aria."
The voice came from the dark. Red eyes glowed in the nothingness, unblinking. Aria's breath hitched.
"Who…?" she whispered.
The sound of soft paws padded closer. Something brushed against her legs—warm, furry.
"Cat," she murmured, almost in disbelief.
"More than that," the creature replied, its voice deep and calm. "Oban. That's what he used to call me. Raelin… that funny old man."
Aria's eyes widened. "My great-grandfather. You… you were his familiar?"
Oban's tail flicked lazily. "Actually, I was his master. But he insisted on calling me his familiar. Silly human." He licked his paw, as if the revelation meant nothing.
Aria crouched, reaching out to pick him up, but Oban slipped just out of reach.
"We've met before," she said, frustrated.
"Yes," Oban answered, voice echoing in the empty void. "Because that man left me with a task before he died…"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "So, what? Am I going to meet him now or not?"
The cat's glowing eyes narrowed. "Be patient. I don't like being ordered around."
Aria sighed, folding her arms.
Oban rose to his feet, tail curling high. "Now… it's time. Let's go."
She frowned, glancing around at the endless dark. "Go where? There's nothing here."
The cat's eyes glimmered with mischief as he padded forward, the shadows parting beneath his paws.
"Back to where you came from."
Oban padded in front of her, tail curling like a banner of shadow. Aria didn't know why, but her instincts told her to follow. When Oban flicked his paw, a door appeared in the endless dark—its frame glowing faintly.
As it creaked open, Aria's breath caught.
"My world…" she whispered, eyes widening. She whispered it again, softer, as if saying it twice would make it real.
They stepped through.
It was exactly as she remembered—the last place she'd been. The glowing screen, her fingers clutching the controller, her frustration bubbling over as she failed again. Again and again, chasing the murderer in a game that refused to let her win.
"Do you remember how long you've been playing this game?" Oban asked, his voice curling like smoke.
Aria frowned, thinking hard. "Maybe… more than two years?"
"Four," Oban corrected flatly. His eyes gleamed like rubies. "And do you remember how you got this game?"
She hesitated. "I… think my friend told me about it."
"Which friend?"
Aria's brows furrowed. The harder she tried to recall, the more the memory slipped. "…I can't remember. But you know, don't you?" Her gaze hardened. "By now you've figured it out—I'm not from your world."
Her words hung heavy in the air. The realization struck her again, sharper this time—if she wasn't from this world… then how much did her great-grandfather know?
Oban let out a sigh that sounded almost like a growl. "Did you forget that old man… Raelin could time travel."