The warm glow of the midday sun filtered through a cracked window, casting golden streaks across the modest home. Dust danced lazily in the beams as Lisa Del La Cruz knelt beside the washbasin, a damp cloth in hand. Her dark curls were tied back, red eyes soft with patience—but firm with intent.
Justin sat on a wooden stool with his arms crossed, a fresh bruise swelling just beneath his eye. His lower lip was split, and dried blood crusted near his nose. The defiance on his young face was louder than any shout. "She started it," he muttered, flinching slightly as Lisa dabbed his cheek.
"I'm sure she did," Lisa said, tone calm, voice like velvet over steel. "But you're the one who threw her through the laundry shed."
"She challenged me. What was I supposed to do?Lose?"
Lisa gave him a long look. "Sometimes, yes."
Justin blinked. "What?"
"You're not always going to win. Not because you're weak—but because you're still learning. And that's not shameful. It's honest." She paused, squeezing out the cloth before pressing it gently to his split lip. "Strength isn't just about how hard you hit. It's also knowing when you're outmatched... or wrong."
He looked away, his jaw tight. "Ardyn said I was too flashy. That I don't think before I fight."
"Ardyn isn't wrong."
He scoffed.
"She's just like her mother," Lisa continued with a smile. "Blunt, brave... a little reckless. And she's still your sister, even if not by blood."
"She threw me first."
"Justin. She challenged you to spar. You turned it into a brawl."
He stayed quiet. Lisa let the silence linger before sitting back on her heels. She touched his chest lightly with two fingers, right above the heart.
"You have a fire in here, Justin. It's beautiful—but dangerous. If you let it burn without purpose, it'll scorch everything around you. Even the people you love."
He swallowed hard.
"So what do I do?" he asked, voice smaller than before.
She smiled again. "You let it grow slow. Controlled. You listen. You learn. And when it's time to burn... you know why you're burning."
***
"...you know why you're burning."
Her voice still echoed in his mind, the memory fading like the warmth of a flame that had long since died. Now, the glow came from behind iron bars. Justin sat silently, elbows resting on his knees, staring into the dim holding cell beneath the guild. The stone walls were cold. The torchlight flickered across his face, casting long shadows down the side of his jaw.
Torez sat in the far corner, his red hair tangled, one metal arm draped lazily across his raised knee. Despite the bruises, despite the chains, his eyes were the same—measured, indifferent, impossible to read. Neither had spoken for several minutes.
"You know," Justin finally started, voice low but sharp, "I don't even know where to begin. You don't deserve a voice after what you did. But you'll get one anyway, because—"
Torez cut him off, gaze rising like a blade unsheathed.
"Do you want to know why it failed?" he asked flatly. "Why didn't your judgment smite me?"
Justin's breath caught.
Torez leaned forward, chains rattling. "Do you want to hear the truth from the mouth of a ghost? Or are you still clinging to the delusion that you're some kind of chosen hero?"
"The Smite That Never Landed"
Torez's words hung in the air, their weight pressing against the stone walls of the cell. Justin didn't respond.
Torez tilted his head slightly. "You can't smite what the world doesn't blame."
Justin's fist clenched. "You killed them."
"I stopped a curse." His voice was calm, unshaken. "You think I enjoyed it? That I wanted to burn everything down? I didn't. But I was given an order. And more than that, I was given permission."
Justin blinked. "From who?"
"The ones who came before even Victory," Torez said. "The old systems. The forgotten rules. The ones who thought he was meddling in something too dangerous to continue. My job wasn't to kill a village. It was to stop a seed from sprouting."
Justin stood now, pacing in a tight circle in front of the bars. "You burned my mother alive! You destroyed the only home I knew. Don't sit there and paint yourself as a necessary evil!"
"I didn't know she had a son," Torez said, eyes lowering. "As I said once before, I didn't know you existed. And if I had... I might've hesitated. Which is exactly why I wasn't told." He leaned forward now, elbows on his knees. His eyes, rimmed with tiredness, locked with Justin's.
"The smite—your judgment—it came for me. It really did. I felt it clawing at the edges of my soul."
Justin stared, silent.
"But then it recoiled. Not because I resisted, not because I deflected it. But because some higher thread in the weave of fate... declared me not at fault. I was a knife. Not the hand."
"You still cut," Justin muttered.
"I did. But I wasn't the one who lifted the blade. I was forged for one job. To sever a line. To stop the curse from spreading."
Justin's throat tightened.
"And yet—" Torez went on, "it spread anyway. You. Truth. Justice. All of you... living proof that I failed. Or that the curse wants to complete itself. And maybe that's what the world fears now. You don't feel it? That pull toward destiny? Toward power that isn't yours to command?"
Justin's silence gave him his answer.
Torez's tone grew more solemn. "The universe didn't spare me because I was innocent. It spared me... because I didn't break it! Victory did! The curse did! The smite passed over me, because I was an echo. Not the origin."
He stood, chains dragging, approaching the bars.
"You think you're ready to judge me, older brother? You're not. Because the closer you get to understanding what you are—the more you'll wonder how far you'd go to stop it from spreading."
Justin's flame flared slightly at his back, pulsing with the beat of his heart. But he didn't lash out.
He just asked, low and angry, "So what now? Do you want forgiveness?"
"No." Torez shook his head. "I want you to understand what you're becoming."
***
The woods were quiet, unusually so. A mist clung to the soil like breath on glass, tendrils snaking through the brush. Even the birds had gone still. And then came the click of boots against stone and root. Kiras strolled leisurely through the trees, hips swaying, her black-and-crimson coat brushing against the tall grass. Her steps were deliberate, like a queen taking her time to arrive at her throne. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above, catching the shimmer of the metal beads in her hair. Her violet eyes scanned the terrain, bored but expectant.
"I was hoping someone would try and stop me," she muttered to herself, amused.
Ahead, the sound of rustling armor. Five—no, six—guild members of Eldoria emerged from the woods, weapons drawn, led by a mage whose face was etched with resolve. A paladin stepped forward, golden shield in hand.
"You're trespassing on sovereign territory. Identify yourself."
Kiras tilted her head and gave him a once-over. "Mmm… I'd rate the effort a seven. The voice could use more grit."
"We won't ask again."
"Oh, but I was hoping you wouldn't." She smiled like a serpent in bloom. "Let's dance."
The first strike came from the archer in the back—a volley of spirit-tipped arrows whistling through the trees. Kiras sidestepped with an effortless twirl, the arrows sailing past her hair like feathers in the wind. The paladin charged next. Brave. Stupid. She met him halfway, gloved hand glowing with eerie, crimson light. When his sword came down, she caught it with two fingers, the metal hissing as it corroded under her touch.
"Now that's more like it," she purred, before slamming her palm into his chest.
Boom.
He flew back into a tree with a sickening crunch, crumpling like paper. The others hesitated. It cost them.
She blurred—one moment a few steps away, the next in their midst, slicing through armor and limbs like silk. Her movements were precise, balletic even, but each flick of her wrist sent another body tumbling to the moss-covered floor.
The mage tried to retreat, fingers glowing with panic. She whispered an incantation, eyes rolling back, and—
A projection flared from her forehead like a flare. A mental message sent skyward. To Eldoria.
Kiras paused, standing over her. "A warning, huh? Clever girl."
She touched the mage's forehead gently. "Shh."
The woman's body convulsed, light flickering out in a whimper as she fell still. Kiras rose slowly, brushing dust off her sleeves. "Hope you're watching, darlings," she said to the sky, violet eyes glowing faintly. "I'm coming for what's mine."
***
Eliquin stood beside the central crystal node, its mirrored surface humming faintly as guild messages filtered through like pulses in a bloodstream. Then came a blinding flicker of red light.
The node cracked like thunder, casting eerie shadows across the hall. Eliquin's eyes widened as the projection bloomed midair—a blurred image of the mage's terrified face, then static, then her.
Kiras.
She stood alone amidst corpses in a forest clearing, blood and mist swirling around her. She didn't speak in the vision, but she smiled. A slow, deliberate smile. And then the message cut.
From across the hall, Seraphine clutched her tea cup a little too tight—porcelain cracked. "She's close," she whispered, already turning toward the exit.
Eliquin's jaw tightened. "Sound the internal alarm. Now. Lock down the southern gates and reroute all travel toward the Violet Path."
Within moments, panic radiated from room to room. Guild members ran, some for orders, others for weapons.
Freedom was already in motion, gripping the chains that bound Torez, yanking them as the half-brother stumbled forward. Galdron, smug as ever, hummed to himself like a man on a sunset stroll. Talon came around the corner in a blur, bootsteps hitting hard stone. "Freedom—stop."
Freedom didn't. "She's coming, isn't she? We need to move now."
"That's not your call."
"You're dragging your feet," Freedom snapped. "She sent a message—clear as daylight. She wants them. You want to keep them in the center of the damn city?"
Seraphine appeared at the top of the steps, steady despite the chaos. "They're too dangerous to move. If she's baiting us, we're walking right into it."
Freedom gestured at the prisoners. "Or leaving the doors wide open and setting the table!"
Talon stepped between them. "I'm not going to risk an ambush with half our forces rattled. They stay under guarded containment until we know where she'll strike."
"And if she's already here?"
Talon's eyes narrowed. "Then she'll find out Eldoria doesn't bend."
"Or burns." Freedom's flame sparked at his collarbone.
Torez chuckled low from behind them. "Awfully poetic. The brothers are really starting to sound alike."
Freedom spun on him, fists clenched, only for Talon to pull him back.
Seraphine descended the stairs slowly, voice low. "Eliquin has requested a strategy meeting. All top members. Now."
Talon turned, silent. Freedom lingered, chest heaving, glaring at the two prisoners like they were shadows from his past—because they were.
Then he muttered, "Fine. But if this falls apart, I'll be the one cleaning up the ashes."
The courtyard was no longer calm.
Guild members scrambled in every direction, weapons drawn, orders flying. Panic began to ripple through the crowd like a sharp gust before a storm. In the center of it all, the prisoners stood tightly bound—Robin, Tess, Torez, and Galdron, whose smug smirk hadn't left his face since the gates closed behind them.
Freedom had a hand on Torez's shoulder, holding him in place as they watched the chaos unfold. But it was Galdron who broke the tension with a deep, resonant chuckle. Not just laughter, but mockery.
"Oh, how predictable you all are," Galdron mused, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Stampeding like cattle the moment someone lights a match near your fence. It's adorable."
Talon turned on him. "What are you grinning at, freak?"
Galdron tilted his head. "This? All of this—was the plan. You didn't think we actually got caught, did you? Well, we did. But not without reason."
Seraphine narrowed her eyes. "You're bluffing."
Galdron chuckled again. "You poor souls… She's already here. And the moment she steps through your precious golden gates, it's too late. Tick, tock, Eldoria."
That phrase hit harder than the mage likely realized.
Truth—Evren—stood still as stone. His heartbeat faltered for just a moment. His ears rang.
"Tick tock goes the ticking clock…"
His lips parted in realization, the words of the old rhyme surfacing from the depths of his memory. Who watches who? It wasn't just a nursery song—it was a warning. A prophecy, cleverly hidden. Every line made sense now. His fists clenched.
"This… isn't an attack," Truth said aloud, gaze distant but eyes alight. "It's a reckoning."
Grint glanced at him. "What?"
Truth stepped forward, ignoring the noise around them. "This wasn't about escape. It was about entry. We brought them in. We opened the doors wide. And now Kiras walks through our front gate with a smile."
Robin's expression faltered. Even she hadn't expected Truth to see it.
Torez muttered, "He figured it out…"
Freedom blinked, taking a step toward his friend. "Evren, what are you saying?"
Truth's voice dropped low—measured, grounded, and terrifyingly clear. "There's no plan to stop her. No time for one. This is a message. We're being watched, tested. Judged."
He turned slowly, locking eyes with the other Pillars. Then Talon. Then Seraphine.
"I say we don't scramble. We don't run. We ready ourselves. Not to stop her—but to meet her."
He inhaled deeply.
"Tick… tock."
Galdron's slow, mocking applause broke the silence. His hands came together once, then again, his grin wide and dripping with venom.
"Bravo," the wizard purred. "The ice one's got a spine and a brain. I almost regret what's coming next."