When they all gathered in the main hall, Kyren spoke first.
"We need to head out. I'm ready to go home."
"Same. I miss Grandma's breakfast," Lydel added with a grin.
"So… this Grandma—who is she?" Runa asked.
"The woman who took me in. Raised me for the last four years," Kyren said, a smile spreading across his face.
"She's the sweetest lady to ever grace the outskirts," Lydel said, unusually serious.
"Well then," Runa said, already heading for the door, "let's go meet her."
They stepped through the massive doors of Veilheart Château and leapt onto Veldthar's back. Home lay only 200 miles away, but at Veldthar's newly evolved speed, the distance began to melt beneath them. In just three hours—with breaks to drink from forest streams and rest aching muscles—they had less than 90 miles left.
Kyren had returned Arvalen and Liora to the Wayfinder's Realm; neither could keep pace for long. Now, it was just the three of them, riding hard. The wind whipped past, but Veldthar never faltered. He could feel it—Kyren's heart racing faster the closer they got.
That emotion stirred something else.
Kyren's mana began to swirl unconsciously. Without meaning to, he activated the Queen's Domain—the world around them fell into silence.
For a moment, Runa and Lydel froze. The sudden hush was jarring. But then… they felt it. The Domain accepted them. Power surged into their limbs. Focus sharpened. Resolve crystallized. Even Veldthar grew faster, hooves striking ground without a sound.
Only Kyren didn't notice—until Runa tapped his shoulder and leaned in. Her lips moved, but no sound came. Not even her breath. Kyren blinked, then the silence collapsed. Mana drained away, leaving him winded.
"What was that?" Runa asked, her face close.
"Something I developed during the battle at Zybana," Kyren said, glancing back. Her cheeks flushed and she leaned away, fast.
The path rushed past beneath them. Towns blurred by. Hours passed. At a small creek, Veldthar stopped to drink. Kyren checked the compass.
"We're almost home. Lydel, Runa—you're about to meet Grandma Windy."
A massive grin tugged at his face as they mounted up once more.
But that grin died quickly.
They reached the familiar clearing—the large trees marking the outskirts. But now, black smoke rose above the canopy. Thick. Ugly. Fresh.
Kyren's chest tightened.
"No."
He urged Veldthar forward. The mount obeyed, bursting into full sprint. As they crested the hill, the village came into view.
Chaos.
The cult was here.
Screams ripped through the air—villagers and cultists locked in brutal combat. Flames licked the edges of buildings. Blood painted the streets.
Kyren jumped from Veldthar mid-run. His armor and weapon appeared in a flash of light. The first cultist he saw didn't even have time to react before being cut down.
A second cultist fell, cleaved through while attacking a shopkeeper. Then it happened—mana burst from Kyren in a shockwave. Silence swept out, blanketing the battlefield in a 30-foot radius.
The Wayfinder's Realm tore open behind him. Arvalen leapt through, roaring with the fury of a storm.
Veldthar sped past, carrying Runa and Lydel.
Runa jumped off, rolling into a sprint.
Lydel stayed on, racing toward the orphanage.
Kyren and Arvalen became a blur of blade and claw. They tore through the cultists like ghosts, too fast to track. Every strike from Kyren landed before the target even realized they were under attack.
Runa moved with cold precision, blades of forged grass slicing down those Kyren missed. She was elegant. Measured. A storm behind the storm.
Lydel reached the orphanage.
And there she was—Grandma Windy, battling a converted priest with raw force and ancient skill. A second priest stood further back, hurling tiny wooden shards that exploded on impact. Each time one hit, Windy's body shimmered—and reversed. Her injuries undone in a flash, as though time itself bent around her.
But she was tiring.
Veldthar crashed into one of the cultists, sending the priest tumbling. Lydel leapt from his back, blade out, dashing toward the second priest. He struck, slicing deep into the man's arm.
Windy gritted her teeth. Her mana was almost gone. Just one minute longer… if she could hold on…
Then the battlefield changed.
A lion's roar split the heavens—louder than the screams, louder than the fire.
Kyren had arrived.
He activated Queen's Domain and King's Barrier simultaneously. A glowing sigil of a golden lion appeared behind him, hovering in the air like a divine symbol.
All eyes turned.
The battlefield fell silent.
Truly silent.
Windy's eyes widened. She knew this power.
Her sister-in-law's legacy.
Then she saw him—Kyren, blazing across the field like judgment incarnate. His blade sang through the air, so sharp it cleaved space itself. Cultists fell in his wake, sliced down before they even noticed.
Arvalen followed close behind, tearing through enemies with royal fury.
By the time Runa arrived at the orphanage, it was over.
More than a hundred cultists and priests lay dead. A few villagers had fallen too—but the town still stood.
Kyren's Domain faded, shrinking into his body. The Barrier shattered into glittering pieces of mana. The lion sigil faded last, like a ghost letting go.
Kyren collapsed to his knees, breath gone. His mana drained.
The world tilted.
And then, that voice returned.
"Now you see… why you must find what I left behind, Kyren."
"What did you leave for me? I don't understand," Kyren asked, his voice echoing in the strange, dark space.
"What fun would it be to spoil a secret I've been planning for 150 years?" the voice responded, almost amused.
Kyren frowned.
"Then why should I even bother?"
The voice answered calmly.
"You want to change things, don't you? Not just this city… but the world."
Kyren didn't reply. He couldn't. The words hit too close. He did want that. More than anything. But he still didn't know what the voice was, or what it wanted from him.
"If that's true," the voice continued, "then finding what I left behind will help you do it."
Kyren hesitated, then asked the question twisting in his gut.
"How can I trust a random voice in my head?"
The reply came with a note of quiet certainty.
"Kyanna trusted me. And you and she… share more than blood. You share a dream."
A pause. Then,
"That's all we can speak of today."
And just like that, the voice vanished—and Kyren was jolted awake.
He gasped, sitting up in bed. His muscles ached, but he was alive.
He blinked at the faces in the room.
Runa. Lydel. Grandma Windy. And—
"Irene?" Kyren smiled.
"Hey! Took you long enough. You've been out a whole day—long enough for me to come back from school," Irene said, grinning wide.
Kyren sat up more fully, rubbing the back of his head. His blanket slipped down, revealing faded scars and healing bruises.
Irene glanced back at the doorway. Tiny faces peeked around it—wide-eyed kids from the orphanage.
"We all missed you, Kyren," she said, quieter now.
Kyren exhaled through his nose, warmth flooding his chest.
"I missed y'all too. But I'm especially glad to see you, Irene. I think I might've found you a better teacher."
He pointed at Runa.
"Me?" Runa blinked, raising her hands. "I'm not a teacher."
"You both use telekinetic abilities," Kyren said with a shrug. "I think you'll be able to help each other out."
He pushed the blanket off and swung his legs off the bed.
"You need help, bro?" Lydel asked, offering a hand.
Kyren waved it off.
"I just ran out of mana, not died."
He stood, a little shaky, but still strong.
"Let's get some breakfast," he said with a grin.
Irene giggled.
"Kyren… it's nighttime."
Grandma Windy stepped forward, smiling that warm, mischievous smile.
"Then we'll have breakfast for dinner."