Morning in Arnvale should have been peaceful.
Children running between market stalls.
Merchants shouting over prices.
Guild members laughing outside the tavern.
Instead—
The entire town held its breath.
The air smelled of smoke and mana residue.
Half the guild hall was in ruins.
Guards patrolled every street.
Families stayed indoors.
And above it all, hanging heavy over the rooftops, was a singular, oppressive truth:
The Vessel was not the true threat.
Its master was coming.
IN THE INFIRMARY — FEAR
Friezzar sat on the bedside, fully awake now.
His runes glowed more steadily than ever—
blue intertwined with thin golden veins left by his evolution.
He was stronger.
More stable.
More aware.
But also—
More afraid.
Lyra sat beside him, her knees drawn close, hands wrapped around his.
She had never seen him look like this.
His glow was dimmer than usual.
Not weakened—
but uncertain.
"…Lyra," he whispered.
"Yes?"
He touched his chest.
"…feel.
Fear."
Lyra's heartbeat stuttered.
She cupped his face gently.
"Is this your first time feeling it?"
He nodded.
Slowly.
"…yes."
Lyra brushed her thumb along the carved line of his cheek.
"Feeling fear doesn't mean you're weak."
Friezzar lowered his gaze.
"…then what?"
"It means you care about something," she said softly.
"And you don't want to lose it."
Friezzar's eyes lifted to hers.
"…Lyra."
Her breath caught.
"Yes?"
"You," he whispered, touching her hand.
"You… meaning."
Her eyes filled with warmth.
She leaned her forehead against his.
"You're not alone. Whenever you're afraid… I'll be here."
Arden cleared his throat loudly at the door.
"Okay. Emotional pep talk time is over. Oren wants both of you downstairs."
Lyra glared.
"Arden—"
"Nope," he said, holding up a hand. "Save it. The creator guy could show up at any moment, and Oren's losing his mind."
Friezzar stood slowly, though his hand stayed locked around Lyra's.
"…go?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Together."
THE GUILD BRIEFING — SHADOWS ON THE HORIZON
The guild's grand hall was filled to the brim.
Archers lined the walls
Mages prepared containment spells
Knights stood ready with anti-construct spears
Runes glowed along the ground, sealing circles prepared
And in the center stood Oren, gripping a crumpled parchment in one fist.
Arden leaned against a broken pillar, arms crossed.
Lyra stood with Friezzar at her side, holding his hand tightly.
Everyone waited.
Oren lifted the message.
"Another scout spotted him."
The room tensed.
Arden's jaw clenched.
"How close?"
Oren looked up with grim eyes.
"Two hours away."
Whispers ripped through the hall.
Friezzar's glow flickered.
"…Master."
Lyra squeezed his hand.
"It's okay. I'm here."
Oren continued, voice steady but strained.
"This 'creator'… whoever he is… he's not traveling like a normal mage. The mana trail behind him is unstable, warped. Something is very wrong with his magic."
Arden muttered:
"Great. A broken lunatic with forbidden power."
Oren nodded.
"And he's heading straight for Arnvale."
The guild fell silent.
Oren pointed to Friezzar.
"Which means his target is here."
Lyra stepped protectively in front of Friezzar.
"Then he'll have to go through all of us."
Arden smirked.
"And I'd love to see him try."
The guild cheered softly.
But Friezzar…
He didn't look emboldened.
He didn't glow brighter.
He lowered his head.
"…Lyra," he whispered.
She turned immediately.
"Yes?"
"…if Master come…
Friezzar… go."
Lyra's face went white.
"What?"
Arden's head shot up.
"Absolutely not."
Friezzar trembled.
"…Master want Friezzar.
Not Lyra.
Not guild."
Lyra grabbed his arms tightly.
"No. No, no—Friezzar, look at me."
He lifted his eyes slowly.
Lyra cupped his cheeks and whispered fiercely:
"You do not face him alone."
"You are not a tool."
"You are not returning to him."
"You are not a sacrifice."
Arden stepped beside her.
"And if you try to walk out of this town alone, I will drag your wooden ass right back."
Friezzar stared at the two of them.
Something new flickered in his core.
A spark.
A fragile, trembling warmth that wasn't fear but something deeper—
Trust.
He placed a hand over Lyra's heart.
Then over his own.
"…together."
Lyra nodded, tears gathering.
"Yes. Together."
THE SKY DARKENS
A pulse of mana rolled over Arnvale like thunder.
Every mage in the hall froze.
Arden's hand dropped to his sword.
Oren stepped back, eyes widening.
Lyra's fingers curled around Friezzar's hand.
And Friezzar—
Friezzar collapsed to one knee, gripping his chest.
"Friezzar!" Lyra cried, dropping beside him.
His core blazed violently.
Burning.
Pulsing.
Reacting.
His voice choked out:
"…Master…"
"Is he that close?!" Arden yelled.
Oren stared toward the town gate.
"No.
He's here."
A second pulse shook the ground.
WHUMMM.
Windows cracked.
Shields rattled.
Lantern flames blew out.
Lyra looked toward the entrance—
—and saw a shadow approaching through the ruined courtyard.
Long cloak dragging.
Bare feet leaving scorched prints.
Mana twisting the air behind him like a heat wave.
Then—
The figure stepped into the hall.
Tall.
Emaciated.
Skin pale like bone.
Hair long and black, tangled like roots.
Eyes red as burning coals.
And around him—
Broken chains dangled.
Slowly, deliberately, the intruder lifted his head.
And smiled.
"Vessel One," he whispered, voice echoing like a broken lullaby—
"I've come for you."
Friezzar shuddered, clutching Lyra's hand with desperate strength.
Lyra stood between him and the monster.
"No," she whispered, voice trembling but unwavering.
"You're not taking him."
The intruder's glowing eyes landed on her—
—and his smile widened.
"Oh…
The anchor."
Arden stepped forward, sword drawn.
"Touch her and die."
Oren raised his spear.
"Mages — prepare seals!"
But the intruder didn't look at them.
Didn't look at the guild.
Didn't look at the defenses.
He only looked at one thing—
Friezzar.
"Come now, little Vessel," he whispered sweetly.
"Let's go home."
Friezzar forced himself to stand, gripping Lyra's hand hard enough to tremble.
His glow sharpened.
His runes burned.
And he whispered the first words of defiance that didn't come from instinct—
"…Lyra… is home."
The intruder's smile disappeared.
Completely.