I… had no idea what I’d unleashed this ti. But a gut-wrenching instinct whispered—no, scread—that it was sothing far worse than Belle’s ritual. Worse than summoning Barn. And considering that fiasco, that was saying sothing.
It didn’t even feel like I had called forth a ‘thing’ or a ‘soone.’ No, it was more like a command, a switch flipped sowhere deep in reality’s wiring. And whatever it did, I had a front-row seat to the show. The mont I felt the veil tear—not slip, not waver, but rip—it was as if my vision had been yanked clean out of my own skull.
"JADE! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!?"
Lysska’s voice hamred against my mind. I swatted her concern aside—gently, mostly—while my synapses played catch-up. Processing. Right. That’s what brains do. Unless they’ve just hacked reality with a cheat code they didn’t understand.
But first, damage control. Lysska needed calming down, and this wasn’t the ti to stand around looking like a dazed lunatic amidst the wailing chaos. That could co later—preferably behind the safety of my own four walls.
The screaming had already begun. People jolted awake in terror, shrieking as Sablethorn Patriarch ca plumting from the mirror in the ceiling, landing with all the grace of a drunk wyvern.
“I’m fine. Just a little disoriented.”
Lysska narrowed her eyes. “What exactly happened to you? I know you didn’t eat anything from that buffet, so imagine my shock when you just stopped talking mid-sentence .”
Ah yes, the buffet. That food wouldn’t do a thing to a psyche that drinks poison like tea. Though… I had sampled the honeycakes. They were delicious. Not that Lysska needed to know that.
“Oh, trust , I didn’t eat anything,” I said smoothly. “As for passing out, well… looks like whatever I did had a toll on .”
Her eyes flickered with suspicion. I could have lied outright, but Lysska was one of the rare few I actually trusted—at least to a degree. I wasn’t about to spill everything, but I’d give her just enough to keep her hooked. Keep her intrigued, not alard. Because if anyone was going to start following the breadcrumbs back to what really happened, it was her.
And when that day ca, I needed her to believe when the truth hit.
“That’s what I want to know,” she said, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. “What exactly happened here? I saw those n evaporate—like they’d been erased mid-scream. For a mont, I thought whatever they were trying to summon had arrived. But we’re still standing, so that’s obviously not the case. And the Sablethorn Patriarch? He didn’t just fall—he was expelled.”
Yeah. I had no idea what I’d just signed off on.
I shrugged. “Wish I had the details too. As you said—I was unconscious the whole ti.”
Lysska’s expression darkened.
“Whatever it was… we need to leave. Now.”
The commotion was massive—far too loud, too chaotic to go unnoticed for long. If we lingered, we'd be drawing all sorts of attention. And worse, before the other House heads arrived. Maybe even Vernia’s mother.
And if she showed up and happened to notice soone in the crowd bearing an uncanny resemblance to her own daughter… Well, that would be more than awkward. That would turn this ss into an unhinged disaster, escalating in ways I had no interest in dealing with right now.
I wanted answers, but on my terms. Not like this.
So I nodded at Lysska. “Let’s use the chaos to get out of here.”
People were already running, screaming.
“AMBUSH!”
“RUN!”
“WAS IT THOSE ANCESTORFORSAKEN VOR’AKH AGAIN?!?”
“SABLETHORN’S PATRIARCH—IS HE DEAD?!”
The Iron Pact guards were awake too, trying—and mostly failing—to reassert control. But when a supposed Gold-rank warrior takes a nosedive through a mirror and lands unconscious, it’s a little hard to calm people down.
So, we made use of it.
Lysska and I let out a few high-pitched screams of our own, flailed our arms like panicked noblewon, and bolted in our heels. It wasn’t convincing acting, but really—who the fuck was paying attention?
We were just reaching the hall’s exit when it happened.
The temperature spiked, heat rolling in like a sudden desert wind. Sothing entered my Air Sense—moving at a velocity that sent every nerve in my body shrieking.
Not through the main gates.
From above.
Before I could even blink, the roof shattered.
Sothing crashed through it with such overwhelming force that massive chunks of debris were instantly reduced to ash before they ever touched the ground. A choking haze filled the hall, glowing embers swirling through the air.
I always wondered what she looked like.
The woman I assud was my mother.
Father never told anything. He didn’t know anything. But the mont I learned soone out there shared my face, I’d entertained… fantasies.
Would I ever get the chance to see her?
Would I—after all this ti—finally feel sothing? That unspoken, aching emotion that had been buried in since childhood?
But again… I didn’t even know if she was my mother.
And yet, when life dangled the possibility before , I couldn't deny the gnawing need to at least—at the very least—gaze upon her.
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Then dread washed over like a tidal wave.
She descended through the wreckage.
She stood atop a burning sword, hovering effortlessly in midair. Seven more swords hovered around her in a deadly, flaming formation.
Gold and crimson robes. Raven-black hair. Azure eyes that burned like a living inferno. A blazing halo seared the air behind her.
She wasn’t just angry.
She was wrath incarnate.
Her aura recoiled just a fraction when people started clutching their heads, collapsing under the sheer weight of her presence. But she wasted no ti. She strode toward Lord Veyan’s unconscious form, her movents smooth, unhurried.
One of her flaming swords turned, hovering dangerously close to his throat.
Then, in a voice as sharp as tempered steel, she snarled.
It was low. But I heard it clearly.
“Explain what happened here.”
A sharp yank pulled out of my thoughts as Lysska hissed at .
Oh. Right. We were supposed to be escaping.
I stole one final glance at the Flaclaw Matriarch—a supernova in human form—before joining the stampede of nobles. Lysska and I wove through the chaos, two shadows in a gallery of gilded panic.
Mission accomplished, sort of. City saved (probably). Catastrophe dodged (temporarily). Another gold star for my résumé under “Professional Reality Arsonist.”
Honestly, the System ought to grant an evolution already: DraconicApostle of Avoidance, specializing in sidestepping fate’s uppercuts.
That’d be so fucking funny.
***
By the ti I finally stumbled into my dorm, I didn’t even make it past the bed. Just collapsed onto it, limbs sprawled, brain running on fus.
That… took a lot out of .
If ntal exhaustion could manifest as a tangible, soul-sapping force, I was drowning in it right now.
Per protocol, I’d split from Lysska mid-chaos. Varkaigrad now resembled a kicked anthill: smoke pluming, citizens screeching, the Iron Pact’s credibility dissolving faster than a sugar cube in hell.
I could only hope the chaos was at least sowhat contained. Fewer innocents getting dragged into the ss ant less guilt gnawing at later.
The pandemonium was a blessing, really. Any diviner trying to untangle this ss would need a decade and a flowchart. The best move right now? Wait it out.
I watched the window as the curtains fluttered, the sky darkening beyond them. A blizzard was brewing—thick, oppressive, the kind that turned the city into a frozen prison.
Absentmindedly, I tapped the pendant hanging at my neck.
I hadn’t needed to use the guardian Gwen had provided , but I had made sure to inform her about what was unfolding in Varkaigrad. How the Elves were tangled up in the city’s affairs. How the Iron Pact—the very enforcers ant to protect it—seed to be compromised.
And then there was today’s little catastrophe.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the Vor’akhs were working with the Elves.
But then again, they were notoriously xenophobic. They considered beastkin supre—everyone else was just a stain on the world.
So why the hell would they be mingling with Elves for the destruction of their own people?
Well… that depended.
What did they hate more? Other races—or the very idea of their own kind standing united?
I had a sinking feeling it was the latter.
I was still waiting on a response from Gwen.
Still no sign of Belle or Alice either.
I exhaled, reaching inward, feeling for my core. The sa crystal embedded in my chest pulsed steadily—but now, a thin thread coiled around it, sothing new.
I focused on the thread, following its path as it stretched into the void… and then—
A rush of emotion flooded into .
Mischief. Glee. A bubbling, almost childlike happiness.
Belle.
The connection between us let sense what she was feeling, and judging by this nonsense, she was perfectly fine. Which, honestly, was a bit odd for soone on a reconnaissance mission, but hey—if she wasn’t panicked, I wouldn’t be either.
For now, that was enough.
Outside, the wind howled, rattling against the windows. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into my dreamscape.
Skipping past the water tunnel, I erged imdiately into the open space where Lotte was waiting for .
She took one look at and burst out laughing.
The gall of her.
I sighed. This was getting old.
“I’m guessing you’ve got a story for ,” she said, still grinning.
Oh, I did.
This had always been our thing— talking about my mundane, chaotic existence while she listened like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
So, with nothing better to do and so much-needed boredom to indulge in, I started recounting everything that had happened.
And then, I got to that part.
The mont the veil fully tore open. The successful summoning.
When things got weird.
Would Lotte have any answers for ?
Well, only those who ask get answers.
I told her what I saw—how my vision had been yanked from , how I found myself in an entirely different place.
A plane of fire. Magma rivers twisting like veins through the landscape. Jagged, claw-like mountains stretching into the sky.
And above it all—a massive, bleeding eye.
Hell. Literal hell.
The Sablethorn Patriarch was nearby, torn apart, dying. And standing smugly over him was an unknown Drakkari.
Sothing told this was the real summon.
And I?
I wasn’t in my own body.
It was like possession—but not quite. More like… executing a command. A function running itself.
I saw the blue screens, the system prompts. I understood them.
More than that—I knew I could stop it. At any ti, I could shut it down, sever the process.
Every action—when the Drakkari was caught by those countless tendrils, when he was taken by them—ca with a ntal probe.
Like the system was checking with .
Like it was asking permission.
And I had done nothing.
Just watched through that alien eye, witnessing it all unfold.
I watched it happen.
Ti reversed. The Sablethorn Patriarch’s body stitched itself back together, undoing the grueso damage that had been inflicted upon him.
Then, the final command ca—sealing the breach.
And leaving Lord Veyan behind in that hellish plane.
I hesitated.
Then, without fully understanding how, I made a change.
I willed for him to be thrown back first.
A faint flicker of annoyance brushed against my mind—an impersonal irritation, like I had disrupted an automated process. But after a brief pause, the tendrils obeyed. They hurled him back through the veil.
And then they sealed it.
The last function was to erase all data from records.
I had no idea what that ant.
And then, just like that—
I slamd back into my body.
Breathless. Dazed.
I recounted everything to Lotte, still trying to make sense of it all. She listened with rapt attention, nodding along as I finished.
“Fascinating…”
I frowned. “I an, it was your doing, so surely you knew what was going to happen?”
“Not necessarily, Jade.” She tilted her head, smused. “Believe it or not, my vision is really limited. I can trace the threads of fate, but only the ones connected to you. As for this little trick… well, as you might have guessed, it was tied to the system.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was the sa blue boxes. But I felt like I was peeking behind a curtain I wasn’t supposed to be looking behind.”
She chuckled. “What I gave you was a simple instruction—just a way to invoke its attention. What happened after that followed a few preset rules. Everything has rules. Ancient ones. Mortals bend them daily—tiny rebellions, unnoticed. But you? You yanked the curtain open. Made it look.”
I frowned. “So that die I rolled… it was just a command?”
“A string of instructions, yes. A line of rules.” Her gaze sharpened. “Sothing that would have happened regardless of whether you were there to see it.”
I paused, her words sinking in. “So… my witnessing it—taking an active role—that wasn’t part of the plan?”
“There is no plan. Only possibilities.” She laughed. “You think fate’s a script? It’s a suggestion.”
I groaned. “Thalador, here we go again. Cryptic nonsense.”
That did remind of sothing, though.
I raised my scaly brows. “Okay, but also—what the fuck is a low platinum core?!”
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