The white stretched forever.

  No walls. No sky. No wind. Just silence—thick and absolute. It clung to Alden’s skin like cold mist, but there was no cold. No warmth either. Just... nothing.

  He wasn’t floating, but he didn’t quite feel grounded. Every step made no sound, no imprint, like the floor existed only because he believed it should.

  And yet—there it was.

  That cart.

  A simple merchant’s stall, standing alone in the infinite void. Wood grain, a smooth counter, one leg slightly chipped—exactly like the ones back home. But cleaner. Too clean.

  He walked toward it slowly, each step feeling longer than the last.

  His heart was thudding, though he wasn’t sure if this place had time for heartbeats.

  “What is this place…?” he whispered. His voice fell flat—swallowed whole by the whiteness.

  No echo. No answer.

  He reached the cart.

  No signs. No goods. No shopkeeper. Just a counter, waiting. Like it expected him.

  Alden stared at it for a long moment.

  Then, quietly to himself: “This... is a shop, right?”

  He glanced down at his satchel, his fingers shaking slightly. Inside, nestled between rope and cloth, were two small wooden carvings. The ones he hadn’t sold.

  His best ones.

  “Might as well try something,” he muttered. “But...no one is even here?”

  His voice cracked a bit. This wasn’t how shops were supposed to work.

  Still... he set the carvings down.

  One after the other.

  “I hope Kaeden is okay,” he said, barely above a whisper now, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here…”

  The cart didn’t glow. Didn’t move.

  The carvings simply vanished. As if they'd never been there.

  Then the world twitched.

  A low, slow vibration crawled through the blankness beneath his feet. The white around him started to ripple—not like water, but like paper crinkling under invisible hands.

  He gasped.

  The void began to fold.

  Lines cracked across the white. Shapes returned—just shadows at first. Then outlines. Then color.

  A roar—distant and muffled at first—came rushing back all at once, like sound being poured into a vacuum.

  The alley reformed. Crumbling stone. Kaeden’s voice. Screaming. The monster.

  Alden’s feet hit solid ground again.

  The air slammed back into his lungs.

  And something heavy dropped into his hands.

  He looked down—

  A small, twitching plant pulsed in his palms. Vines coiled lazily around a thick stem. The bud at its center flexed open, revealing rows of thorn-like teeth.

  Alden didn’t have time to react.

  The monster lunged.

  “Alden!” Kaeden shouted, voice breaking with panic.

  Alden blinked—the monster was still lunging, claws raised, jaws wide—but something inside him had gone still. He didn’t freeze, didn’t think.

  He just threw the plant.

  It snapped open mid-air with a sharp hiss. Vines exploded outward, wrapping around the creature’s arms and torso. The thorns bit deep. The monster shrieked, limbs jerking violently as it struggled against the hold—but the vines didn’t let go.

  “Run!” Alden yelled, grabbing Kaeden’s arm.

  They took off down the alley, boots skidding on broken stone, hearts hammering in their ears. Behind them, the creature’s howls echoed off the walls, muffled now by the grip of the plant.

  They didn’t stop running until they turned a corner and ducked behind a half-collapsed wall. Their backs hit the stone. Silence crashed down.

  Alden slumped, breathing hard. Kaeden dropped beside him, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them.

  “…What was that?” Kaeden whispered.

  Alden didn’t answer right away. His chest still heaved. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  “I don’t know,” he said, finally.

  Kaeden turned toward him. “That plant—where did it come from? You didn’t have it before.”

  “I didn’t,” Alden said quietly. “I had… the ring. And then…”

  He swallowed. “It was like the world stopped. Everything froze. There was nothing—just white. Nothing but this… stall. Like from the market. I still had my carvings so I left them on the counter.”

  Kaeden stared at him, eyes wide. “And that gave you the plant?”

  “I think so.”

  Kaeden didn’t respond right away. He glanced back down the alley, then rubbed his eyes.

  “That’s not normal,” he said. “None of this is.”

  “I know,” Alden whispered.

  They sat there a moment longer. Just breathing. Just listening to the wind shift through broken stone.

  “We should find the others,” Kaeden said finally.

  Alden nodded. “Yeah.”

  As they stood up and started walking, Kaeden spoke again, softer this time. “Maybe… don’t tell the others yet. About what happened.”

  Alden glanced over. “Why?”

  Kaeden didn’t look at him. “Just in case. They’re already scared. And you… that thing you did—people might not understand it.”

  Alden didn’t argue. He just nodded again.

  They turned a corner—just in time to see the courtyard ahead. George stood at the center, shouting at Ruben.

  Alden and Kaeden returned to the group, but commotion awaited them.

  George rounded on Ruben, his Terra-charged boots cracking the earth beneath him. “You purposely knocked down the pillar!” he bellowed. “You told us we were gathering supplies, not trying to kill everyone!”

  Ruben didn’t flinch. His arms were crossed, but the faint glow under his gauntlets betrayed the Terra energy he was channeling. “I followed the King’s orders. The boy had to be tested.”

  Lyn was standing near the others, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes scanning the perimeter. Her bandaged arm was stiff, but she looked steady.

  Alden jogged up, panting. “Lyn!”

  She turned—and her expression cracked, just a little. “You’re okay.”

  “Barely,” Alden said. “You?”

  She nodded. “Still breathing.”

  Kaeden caught up and stopped a step behind Alden, hands on his knees. He looked up and glanced at Lyn. “I’m Kaeden.”

  Lyn blinked at the mask, then gave a short nod. “Lyn.”

  “Tested?! You call throwing children and guards into a pit with monsters a test?!” George shouted.

  “There were more monsters than I thought,” Ruben snapped. “But it's better we learn what that ring can do now!”

  George stepped forward, stone grinding beneath his boots. His hand hovered near his blade.

  Kaeden and Alden froze as the air thickened between the two elites, tension curling like vines ready to strike.

  But then—

  “Guys,” Lyn muttered. “Something’s ahead.”

  They turned.

  A figure lay just beyond the next bend, collapsed near a broken wall. A trail of blood led to her—a hand barely twitching, stretched out as if trying to hold the light.

  “Margaret?” George questioned.

  George’s anger vanished. He ran.

  Ruben was right behind him, his pace suddenly desperate.

  They reached her first. Alden, Kaeden, Lyn, and the guards followed.

  The sight stopped them cold.

  Margaret had been torn apart.

  Everything below her knees was gone—jagged bone and shredded flesh left where her legs should’ve been. Her left arm was nothing but muscle strips and splintered bone, twitching uselessly in the dirt. Half her face had been ripped clean through—the skin peeled back to reveal her jawbone, teeth clenched in a grimace of pain, one eye missing entirely. Blood pooled beneath her in thick, congealed clumps.

  And yet—

  She was still breathing.

  Barely. Wet. Rattling. Like her lungs were drowning from the inside.

  George dropped to his knees. “Margaret… gods…”

  Her eye fluttered open. “George… Ruben…”

  “We’re here,” Ruben said, kneeling opposite. “Just stay still. We’ll get you help.”

  She gave the smallest shake of her head. “It’s okay… it’s too late.”

  “You’re not done,” George whispered, fumbling to uncap a healing flask. “You’re not done”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Don’t lie,” she croaked. “I feel it. I’m already gone.”

  George’s hands trembled.

  “The others,” Margaret rasped. “The survivors. Are they safe?”

  Ruben looked away. George turned to the field—burnt shelters, bloodstained stones, bodies half-hidden beneath debris.

  “They made it,” George lied.

  Margaret exhaled. “Good… good. That’s all I wanted.”

  Silence fell for a beat.

  “You remember,” she said, voice thin, “when we enlisted?”

  George nodded slowly. “You beat us both in the sparring pit.”

  “You cried,” Ruben muttered to George.

  Margaret gave the ghost of a smile. “And now I’m the one dying first.”

  “No,” George said, but his voice cracked.

  From across the field, growls echoed.

  Alden turned. Monsters—small, malformed—emerged from the broken buildings, creeping forward with slow, deliberate steps.

  The guards stiffened.

  “Fall back,” one of them hissed. “We have to go—now!”

  “No,” Ruben said sharply. He stood, sword half-drawn. “She’s one of the Ten. We have to try to save her.”

  George’s fists clenched. “Anyone who runs now is no soldier of Terra.”

  The guards hesitated—but held.

  Margaret turned her head slightly, spotting Lyn standing behind George. “Is that Lyn?”

  George nodded, his voice too tight to speak.

  Margaret looked at Lyn. “You look just like your mother.”

  Lyn stepped forward, biting her lip.

  “She used to bring me medicine,” Margaret went on, “even before she joined the church. Said a strong woman shouldn't suffer in silence.”

  She coughed, blood trickling from her mouth. Her good hand moved with effort—lifting her spear, cracked but still glowing faintly with Terra script.

  “No girl should go unarmed in a world like this.”

  She passed her spear to Lyn.

  Lyn’s fingers closed around the shaft.

  Then Margaret looked up into the sky.

  Her one good eye glazed slightly, the other hidden behind torn skin and blood. Her voice was a whisper, barely carried past the wind.

  “I hope… I was of use. To the King.”

  George clenched his fists. Ruben’s jaw tightened.

  The glow in her armor began to fade—those deep, brown-gold Terra etchings that once shimmered with power now dulling like dying embers. Faint lines that pulsed with magic across her neck and wrists dimmed with each weakening breath.

  She shifted slightly, a gasp escaping her lips. Her chest rose—and then stilled.

  The earth answered.

  The veins of Terra energy that had been part of her bled softly into the ground, glowing faintly as they seeped through the dirt and stone beneath her. Like water returning to its well. The vines in the cracked earth twitched—then slowly uncurled. The wind softened.

  And from the forest of monsters gathering at the edge of the street… silence.

  Then slow retreat.

  One by one, the creatures began to turn away. Their growls quieted. Their jagged limbs pulled back into the mist and rubble.

  No fight. No charge. Just… departure.

  The entire group watched, breathless. Even the guards who’d gripped their weapons tightly, prepared to die, stood frozen in awe.

  Alden swallowed hard, eyes wide. “They’re leaving…”

  Kaeden’s voice was low. “Because of her?”

  Lyn knelt beside Margaret’s body, still gripping the spear that had been placed in her hands. She didn’t say anything—her lips pressed in a hard line.

  Ruben slowly knelt down beside George, who hadn’t moved.

  “How did her power ward off the monsters?” Ruben murmured. His voice had lost its edge. “She already left the world.”

  George said nothing. He just bowed his head and whispered, “She was one of the best.”

  A beat of silence followed.

  Then—“Over here!” a voice called out from a nearby building.

  The survivors. Some where still alive.

  “She saved some of them,” Ruben said under his breath.

  The group turned toward the crumbling structure—and moved.

  But Lyn stayed still, just a moment longer, eyes on the earth where Margaret’s body lay. Then she rose, gripping the spear tighter, and followed the others.

  Inside the building, the fire in the corner crackled low, casting uneven light across the scarred floor. Most of the civilians had drifted into a restless sleep, curled against walls or tucked under salvaged blankets. A few children whimpered softly, comforted by hushed voices and the occasional soft hand.

  George sat against the far wall, hunched forward with his forearms resting on his knees. His sword was beside him, still streaked with dried blood. He hadn't touched it since they fortified the building.

  Across from him, Ruben leaned against a broken window frame, his arms crossed and eyes half-lidded but alert.

  One of the younger guards, maybe nineteen, stepped forward. “Sir… the monsters really stopped. You think it’s because of Margaret?”

  George didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were distant.

  “It was like they… backed off. Like something changed,” the guard added.

  “They felt it,” Ruben said quietly. “The Terra energy in the kingdom”

  Another soldier spoke up from beside a pillar. “If that’s all it takes… if all the Ten die and give their powers for the kingdom—”

  “No,” George cut in, voice firm. “We don’t know anything about what exactly happened yet”

  A silence settled, heavy and respectful.

  He looked around at the group—ten survivors, including a few injured guards and scattered civilians. Tired eyes met his, waiting for orders.

  “We rest here tonight. First light, we head back to the central castle.”

  “What about the monsters?” someone asked.

  “We keep watch,” Ruben said. “Three on rotation, two-hour shifts. Anyone able to stand takes a turn.”

  George gestured to a nearby desk and a small map. “We’ll take the south path. Fewer ruined buildings, and more open space in case we’re followed.”

  Another guard walked over, rubbing his arms. “Captain, we don’t have enough rations to stay long.”

  “We don’t need to,” George said. “We’re not staying. One night. That’s all.”

  Ruben nodded. “We make it to the castle. We report what happened. And then we prepare for whatever comes next.”

  The group slowly nodded, guards passing out what food remained, dragging furniture to brace the doors and windows.

  For now—just for tonight—they were safe.

  And upstairs, three kids sat in the attic, carrying a weight none of them could name.

  The floorboards creaked under their weight as the three of them climbed into the attic. It was cramped, cluttered with forgotten crates and cracked furniture, but quiet—tucked above the ruined world like a pocket of stillness.

  Alden slumped down first, resting his back against a stack of old sacks. Lyn sat across from him, cradling her injured arm and keeping Margaret’s spear within reach. Kaeden took his usual place by the small window, peering out for a moment before settling into a crouch.

  It was Lyn who broke the silence.

  “So… how did you and Kaeden get away?”

  Alden hesitated, rubbing his thumb over the edge of the ring. “I—I don’t know exactly. We were cornered, and I was freaking out. Then the ring… did something. Everything froze. I wasn’t here anymore.”

  Kaeden nodded. “He told me a bit of it. Said it was all white. Empty.”

  Lyn frowned. “Like a vision?”

  “More like a different place,” Alden said. “There was nothing. Just this… cart. Like the kind from the marketplace. No shopkeeper, no signs. Just sitting there.”

  “And you just… traded for something?” Lyn asked, skeptical.

  “I didn’t even know I could. I had some of my old carvings in my satchel. I put them on the cart because it looked like something I was supposed to do.” He paused. “Then everything snapped back. And I had that plant in my hand.”

  “The one that grabbed the monster?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Alden said. “It wasn’t huge or anything, but it gave us a chance.”

  Kaeden leaned forward. “It’s weird. But kind of smart. Like your power reacts to what you give up.”

  Alden nodded. “It felt like a trade. I gave something valuable, and it gave me something back.”

  Lyn leaned her elbows on her knees, her voice low. “Can you do it again?”

  Alden looked at her—then down at the ring.

  He raised his hand slowly, focused… and swiped through the air.

  Nothing happened.

  “No shift,” he muttered.

  “Maybe you need to be in danger?” Kaeden offered. “Like, actually scared.”

  “Maybe,” Alden said, disappointed. “Or maybe it only works when I have something worth trading.”

  Eventually, Lyn spoke again. “We should keep this between us for now, until you see the king again”

  “Yeah,” Kaeden agreed. “I said so before also”

  Alden nodded. “Alright.”

  No grand declarations. No heroic plans. Just a quiet agreement—and the beginning of something none of them could name yet.

  They leaned back against crates and rafters, the moonlight slowly shifting as the night dragged on.

  On a rooftop overlooking the ruined district, Louise crouched near the edge, cloak wrapped tight against the breeze. He watched the quiet building below—the one where the others were resting. Alden. Lyn. Kaeden. George and the survivors. They were alive.

  A soft shift in the wind.

  He didn’t turn. “You’ve been following us.”

  Boots tapped against the cracked tiles. “You’re one to talk.”

  Louise finally stood, brushing dust from his sleeves. “Why are you here”

  “Your friend was able to get to the church by herself because of me,” The Hero started, “If I wasn’t nearby all of the monsters would’ve killed her instantly.”

  Louise’s eyes narrowed. “Why go out of the way to help her.”

  “Because I wanted to,” the Hero answered simply. “She got stronger also”

  “That’s a gamble with someone else’s life.”

  “And you’ve never done the same?” the Hero countered.

  Louise didn’t answer. He turned slightly, studying the swordsman in the dark. Cloaked. Masked in shadow. One hand resting casually near the hilt of his blade.

  Then the Hero tilted his head. “A kid, all alone on a rooftop, watching every step your friends make. Strange.”

  Louise’s smile was faint. “I like rooftops.”

  “Or maybe you’re not just a kid.”

  The smile faded. Louise’s body tensed—just slightly. “What are you trying to say?”

  The Hero’s fingers curled around his sword.

  “I saw what happened with the elite. Her Terra returned to the ground… and the monsters backed off.” He paused. “So I wonder. What would happen, if the Terra Origin died here”

  The air cracked.

  Louise summoned a pulse of Terra energy, the tiles beneath his feet fracturing as stone coiled around his arms.

  “How do you know,” he said, voice low.

  The Hero’s blade whispered free of its sheath.

  Lightning sparked along the steel.

  Louise’s eyes widened. “Volt.”

  The Hero moved first.

  A streak of light. A burst of Volt energy surged beneath his boots as he lunged across the rooftop—not just fast, but precise, every motion clean, calculated. His sword glowed white-blue, lightning curling around the blade like a living ribbon. He swung with deadly precision, the arc of his strike creating a thunderclap that cracked the air itself.

  Louise sidestepped, stone snapping upward from the rooftop to form a curved barrier. The blade sheared clean through it, sparks spraying.

  Louise growled and punched the rooftop.

  The tiles around him shattered as stone spikes launched forward in a fan-shaped blast. The Hero leapt sideways, landing on a chimney, then kicked off in a Volt-propelled sprint. He ran up a broken arch, flipped mid-air, and landed behind Louise—only to be met by a wall of rock bursting upward in defense.

  The Hero didn’t slow.

  He slashed once—twice—carving the wall open with Volt-empowered cuts. Then, with a twist of his wrist, he flipped the sword and drove it into the rooftop. Lightning erupted outward, arcing in all directions like a spiderweb of blue veins.

  Louise jumped to a separate rooftop just as the lightning struck where he’d stood.

  He landed, crouched, then dragged both hands along the roof.

  The earth answered.

  Stone wrapped around his arms and legs, forming heavy gauntlets and greaves laced with glowing Terra script. With a thunderous leap, Louise shot toward the Hero, the rooftop cracking under the force.

  They collided mid-air.

  Sword met stone.

  Louise’s gauntlet caught the Hero’s blade, but the electricity jumped—burning scorch marks up Louise’s arm. He gritted his teeth and slammed his elbow into the Hero’s ribs, sending him flying back across a sloped roof.

  The Hero flipped mid-air, landed on one foot, and slid to a stop.

  His eyes never left Louise.

  He raised his free hand—and lightning gathered in his palm. With a flick of his fingers, a bolt shot outward like a javelin.

  Louise ducked. The bolt shattered a rooftop chimney behind him.

  Another bolt came—this time curving mid-air.

  Louise planted both feet and raised a stone wall in one smooth motion. The bolt hit, exploded in a spray of sparks—but didn’t break through.

  Louise retaliated.

  He slammed his fists into the rooftop and the entire platform lifted—a chunk of earth and tile rising beneath his feet. He rode it forward like a wave, launching a barrage of stone pillars from the moving mass. They shot toward the Hero like battering rams.

  The Hero dashed between them, sword flashing. He sliced one pillar clean in half, jumped off the falling chunk, and twisted into a Volt-charged spin, descending from above like a comet of lightning.

  Louise raised his arms in an X-guard.

  The Hero's sword slammed into the Terra armor with a boom that lit up the rooftops. Stone cracked. Wind blasted outward in a ring. The force knocked both of them apart—Louise skidding backward across broken tile, the Hero flipping and landing smoothly on another rooftop several buildings away.

  They stood facing each other now, panting but alive.

  The distance between them stretched—four rooftops apart, far enough from the building where the group resided that no cries or strikes would be heard. They’d instinctively moved away, out of sight and sound.

  Louise didn’t speak—not yet.

  Neither did the Hero.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “You’re not trying to kill me.”

  The Hero didn’t deny it.

  Louise lowered his stance slightly. “So what is this? Just testing me?”

  No answer.

  Louise exhaled. “You’re strong. Volt-style swordplay like that… you’re from Voltrith.”

  The Hero stood quiet, blade still humming with energy.

  Louise’s voice softened. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t the hero be checking up on the other kingdoms”

  The Hero hesitated. Just for a moment.

  “I will,” he said at last. “I’ve seen what I needed.”

  He turned away, stepping toward the roof’s edge.

  Louise took a cautious step forward. “Why follow us at all?”

  The Hero paused.

  Then, without turning:

  “That ring…” His voice was soft. “It was supposed to be mine.”

  And he vanished—leaping into the smoke-filled sky, cloak trailing behind him like the final streak of lightning in a dying storm.

  Louise stood there, the rooftop quiet again.

  He didn’t move for a long time.