As they traveled, the terrain grew wilder, more untamed. Lakes, black as polished obsidian, reflected the sky like fractured mirrors. Jagged cliffs jutted from the earth like the teeth of some ancient beast, their sheer faces plunging into shadowy depths. Patches of mist curled over the land, moving like restless spirits.

  Then, ahead, the world darkened.

  A vast, sprawling forest loomed, an ocean of towering trees whose canopies were so thick they strangled the light, swallowing it whole. The air here felt heavier, charged with something unseen—a deep, thrumming presence that resonated through the very atmosphere. The trees were monstrous, their twisted forms rising like sentinels, their gnarled branches reaching skyward like skeletal fingers. Another dark forest lay in wait.

  The further they flew, the denser the woodland became. Shadows pooled beneath the foliage, shifting with an eerie fluidity, as though alive. A distant roar echoed through the canopy. The undergrowth was a tangled mess of vines and roots, curling and twisting like serpents waiting to ensnare whatever dared trespass.

  “Thank Artemis we don’t hafta pass through that forsaken forest. The Furthians said they heard horror stories, more so than the other forests!”

  “Really? Geez. Even more so than the Sinister Forest?”

  “Yeah, ‘parently, there is walkin’ tree monsters in them woods…” Silver shuddered with the thought. “Standin’ tall as yahselves!”

  “Perhaps the plants are evolving?” Ezekiel suggested.

  “Evolvin’? Puh, more like infestin’! I hope whatever you talk to Artemis ‘bout… clearin’ them forests be part of it! Anyway, after this forest, we be flyin’ over some barren lands. Like I said, it usedta be human farmin’ lands. Turned to a wasteland, thanks to them.”

  “Riveting.” Dante jests.

  As they flew over the forest, strange sounds were originating from below. A quick peek showed the trees were moving about as though something was following through, waiting for them to fall in.

  It was causing the Furthians to get nervous and tire more rapidly. Plus, with evening approaching, they did not want to land in the forest. Unfortunately, there was still quite a bit to fly over.

  “There! Land there, should be good.” Silver pointed out.

  The chariot settled down gently on a high cliff that overlooked the forsaken forest. Unless the plants could climb straight up the walls, they should be safe.

  “You guys get your rest. Ezekiel and I will stand guard. We don’t sleep anyway.”

  That night…

  The Chimerans sat around the fire, drinking and smoking, their laughter ringing through the dark as the flames crackled and sent embers drifting into the sky. Their conversations bounced between stories of past battles, exaggerated tales of heroic feats, and, of course, jokes—Chimeran jokes, which seemed to operate on some entirely different level of logic.

  One of the Furthians, a broad-shouldered warrior with tufted feathers like a horned owl and a grin far too mischievous, slapped his knee and declared, “Alright, alright, I got one! Why did the Furthian refuse to fight the Hoven?”

  The others leaned in, grinning.

  “Because he didn’t wanna beef with him!”

  A split second of silence. Then, the Chimerans erupted into howls of laughter, some doubling over, others thumping their talons against the ground in sheer delight.

  Dante and Ezekiel exchanged a slow glance.

  Dante furrowed his brow. “I mean… I get it. ‘Cause, like… a Hoven could be like a bull or something. Beef.” He trailed off, frowning. “But that’s not… that’s not really a joke.”

  Ezekiel folded his arms, his expression unreadable. “It lacks structural integrity. There is no buildup. No subversion of expectation. Merely… word association.”

  The Furthian who told the joke wiped a tear from his eye, gasping through his laughter. “But then the Furthian fought him anyway!”

  “BWAHAHA!” the drunken idiots went on.

  Dante blinked. “Now I’m completely lost…” He muttered as the Chimerans continued trying to top each other with their silly jokes.

  Before any further discussion could be had, Silver snorted in his sleep, his soft snoring cutting through the Chimerans’ continued amusement. Slowly, Dante and Ezekiel sighed in unison, resigning themselves to the fact that some things were simply beyond understanding.

  After a while, the Chimerans had all fallen into a deep slumber, their breath rising and falling beneath the starry night sky. The fire crackled softly, casting shadows across the ground. Dante and Ezekiel remained awake, staring into the flames, their faces carved with unspoken thoughts.

  Dante broke the silence first. “Things okay over there?”

  Ezekiel exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening on his amulet. “I wonder… is atonement truly possible?” He turned the amulet between his claws. “I have committed great sins. Not just against my people, but against the Chimerans—perhaps against the fabric of the reality itself. I let Sophitia take hold of me, and I shudder to think of the ripples it caused. Some protector I turned out to be…”

  Dante studied him. “Well… I mean, I don’t know much about your people. From what you showed me, they’d probably forgive you. Seems like family was a pretty strong value for them.”

  “Possibly…”

  “And besides, according to Tyr, we just fade into Synenergy and float into the Subnet to be used elsewhere.”

  “The Subnet? Hmm, it is a mysterious thing, isn’t it?” Ezekiel’s gaze lifted slightly. His expression darkened. “But how can you trust her?”

  Dante hesitated, rubbing his jaw. “I don’t know. It made sense at the time. But yeah… could be a bunch of crap.”

  Ezekiel hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is true. Perhaps it is not. We have glimpsed things others have not.”

  Dante looked up at the sky. “Yeah… I remember when I was first changed. I could see the synenergy up there, the branches of the Subnet. Now that my power’s faded, I can’t anymore.”

  “Right, the modules grant an amazing amount of power at a severely high cost… it would probably take another one to regain it,” Ezekiel commented.

  Dante scoffed. “I dunno. Another world shoved into my chest?” He frowned. “I don’t think I could live with myself doing that again. I already have one in there… and that’s bad enough.”

  Ezekiel gave him a long, knowing look. “Did you choose it, Dante?”

  “At first…. yeah, because I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

  “Then… it is not your fault.”

  “Yeah, yeah… predetermined, right?” Dante waved a hand dismissively.

  Ezekiel nodded. “For all we know.”

  Dante leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Anyway… maybe your people aren’t gone. Maybe they’re like you were—trapped inside their jewels. That’s how it works, right?”

  Ezekiel’s eyes were lit with a spark of something—hope, perhaps. “Our jewelry is remarkably resilient. Nearly indestructible. Only those who operate outside the laws of reality can destroy them. I didn’t see what happened when the vessel exploded, so my kin’s jewelry may be scattered across time and space, beyond Sophitia’s reach. If that is the case, then there is a chance they endure.” He tightened his grip. “A chance they may one day rise again.”

  Dante let that sink in. “Then maybe you’ll find them.”

  “Perhaps. But for now, I will remain here. By your side.” Ezekiel’s voice was steady, resolved. “I have no desire to leave. And if Sophitia comes for me, I will stand my ground. Should the time come, I will give my life.”

  Dante frowned. “But… isn’t that what she wants?”

  Ezekiel smiled faintly. “I will not go down without a fight. But if the moment comes—you must destroy my amulet. Do you understand?”

  A silence settled. Dante had to bear that in mind. It might still be a possibility that Ezekiel could end up becoming an enemy if Sophitia’s love spell takes control. He had to believe that the Alphin could endure. Hopefully, his power will be restored by then. Then traveling would also be much easier.

  Dante’s jaw clenched. “I… okay. If I have to, I will.”

  Ezekiel studied his amulet again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Accursed thing… Immortality is not what it was thought to be. Even death is not a final release, according to Tyr. It is not an ultimate freedom.” He looked at Dante. “Do you agree?”

  Dante hesitated. “I… don’t know.”

  Ezekiel didn’t push further. Instead, he studied Dante with a careful gaze. “Something else troubles you. It is not only Sophitia and your doubts, is it?”

  Dante rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s… something else. When I was changed, I heard a voice. Said it came from the void.”

  Ezekiel’s eyes sharpened. “A voice within.”

  Dante nodded. “Yeah. And it got me thinking. Sophitia… she had something like that too, didn’t she? That… thing inside her.”

  “Myria. The Seal.”

  Dante exhaled. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not saying we’re the same, but… I don’t know. What if we are? What if what is inside me is just another version of whatever she is?”

  Ezekiel’s gaze didn’t waver. “You are not her.”

  Dante let out a dry chuckle. “Appreciate the vote of confidence, but you don’t know that.”

  Ezekiel steepled his claws. “I know that she was more than what she was made to be. And I know that you are as well. We spoke yesterday of the strings that pull at us. Perhaps we are all just pieces in someone else’s game.”

  Dante’s expression darkened. “Ozma thought so.”

  “Indeed.” Ezekiel’s eyes glowed faintly in the firelight. “And yet, even he—despite all his knowledge—did nothing. I still have many questions for him.”

  Dante cracked his knuckles. “Yeah? Well, if I see him again, I’ll beat the answers out of him.”

  Ezekiel chuckled. “A noble cause. I shall assist.”

  Their laughter drifted into the night. Then, silence settled over them, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire.

  For the first time in a long while, Dante felt a little lighter in his soul.

  In the morning, things were looking up already. The Furthians stretched, cleaned up the camp area, and took their places. Once in the air, they quickly made their way to pass over the forest, which transitioned to a more arid landscape. And then barren wasteland. It wasn’t a sandy desert. It was dry and bare, cracked land. It was also hot. Silver panted the entire flight. Constantly drinking water. Occasionally, though, he’d run out, so Ezekiel would scout ahead and find various oases with clean water. Lucky for them, they didn’t have to land every time, except to take breaks. The arid air didn’t bother the Furthians too much, it allowed them to make great time.

  As the day transformed into evening. They decided to stop at one of the oases and rest there for the night, the peaceful ambiance of the oasis offering a welcoming comparison to the harshness of the surrounding dehydrated terrain. Once again, it was a night of laughing, inebriated Chimerans. It made Dante happy to see Silver making friends. But it also made him feel alone. Besides Ezekiel, there was no one else around who was much like him. Silver found his place, which was great. Dante still needed to find his. And then Ezekiel? Who knows. It ate at Dante, through and through.

  “You don’t mind if I take a walk, do you, Ezekiel?”

  “By all means.”

  “Thanks.” He said

  Dante, deep in contemplation, wandered away from the group. Lost in his thoughts, the moonlit oasis became a backdrop. The air hummed with the soft sounds of the night. In the stillness, he grappled with the mysteries that enveloped his impending meeting with Artemis. Sophitia would have to wait. There was no sign of her anyway. So that was fortunate. But still, he had an aching feeling that something was not quite right. The oasis, as serene as it was, left him feeling like something was about to happen. As he distanced himself further and further from the group. He could no longer hear or see the camp. Instead, He could hear a whistle. It was getting closer, whatever it was. He couldn’t react fast enough.

  He was slammed to the ground by the force of the unknown entity. His immediate thought was Sophitia, he picked himself up quickly. Throwing his fists at whatever just attacked him. Subsequently, he realized he was batting at the air.

  Then, a slight giggle was heard. He stopped and could see a familiar diamond armored figure wielding a massive shield, hovering in the moonlit sky. Her white wings spread wide, a beautiful silhouette. She smiled and laughed maniacally. He didn’t know what to think of her, maybe she had lost her mind.

  “Tyr!?” He coughed up some dirt. “Wha–”

  Without warning, Tyr, swift and sudden, smashed into him with her shield. Her shield struck him like a comet. The impact sent him hurtling through the air, his body tumbling across the cracked dirt, leaving deep trenches where he crashed. He quickly responded with instinctive agility and jumped to his feet. He squared his steps as she dashed towards him. He narrowly dodged her shield bash attempt.

  She quickly maneuvered around and darted towards him again, but this time, he was ready for her. With his shoulder, he slammed into her shield, causing both of them to be blown backwards. As they lay sprawled in the dirt, Tyr sat up.

  “Still got it. That’s great. Hehe.” She jumped to her feet and dusted herself off

  Dante took a defensive stance. “What the hell, Tyr?”

  “Tsk, tsk, is that how you should greet me?” She tilted her head to be cute.

  Dante almost choked from the audacity. “Are you kidding me? After all you and your sisters have done? What you did to Ezekiel… to me!?”

  Her eyes dropped. “I see you’ve met Ezekiel.”

  “Yeah… he told me the whole story. No, he showed me!” He stomped his foot.

  “We have quite a history. Well, not me in particular.” She shrugged.

  “I’d say you in particular! I know you are a part of Sophitia! Quit hiding behind that. I saw the entire thing! You split apart into three. Then what, ya named yourselves and became her lackeys!?”

  “Yes, it is true… I am a part of her. When the Memorandia exploded, it caused a rift that sent her through the Subnet, creating our separate selves. That is the gist of it.” She explained.

  “Forget all that. If you are here, then that means Sophitia is here, too! I need to get back to Ezekiel before she tries to kill him again. And steal his amulet and do who knows what with it!”

  Tyr held up her hands and made her shield disappear in the purple fog. She looked on sadly. “That’s why I’m here. I came to warn you that Sophitia will be here soon… After you touched the amulet, it caused that explosion. Right? Then… you were gone. The amulet. Everything. Poof. Sophitia was so mad about it. Once she came back, I pleaded with her that I would help find it. That I would not resist. It seemed to have worked. Then, once we entered the Subnet. I was able to escape.”

  “She just let you escape!? LIES! How can I even believe you or trust you? Ever!?” Dante was enraged by her very presence. It took every ounce of his being to hold back striking her. “I should kill you where you stand!”

  “Then do it. Here.” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her module. “Go ahead. Pull it out. End me.”

  He could have at that very moment. He looked into her impossible eyes and turned away. “I can’t... a part of me wants to. But I just can’t…”

  Tyr smiled brightly. “That’s because you are not a monster. Unlike my sister.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  His face dropped. “I… I could be a monster! I just… I can’t do it. Even though you deserve it! I… just don’t understand… what to do.”

  “If you let me…. I can help.” She slowly held her hand out. Out of the purple fog, a module appeared. Sparkling in the moonlight. “This. This is your world. The one we took.” She placed it in his hands.

  “My world?” He eyed it with disbelief.

  “Yes… I want you to have it back. It is your world, after all. Here.” She placed the module in his hand.

  The module hummed against his skin, its glow pulsating like a heartbeat. An entire world crammed inside a tiny orb. He knew what it meant. But he didn’t want to believe it.

  “How… do you know this is mine? How do I know you aren’t trying to manipulate me?” He said, eyeing the glowing orb, still suspicious of the object.

  She furrowed her brow. “Why would you ask that? What do I have to gain by giving you some other world?”

  The module pulsed in his grasp, a slow, rhythmic thrum that sent ripples of energy through him, waves that clashed and tangled with the unstable force that made up his being. He staggered, the frequency of its vibration resonating with stolen memories, love, ambition, dreams, drive, everything that made humans human, trapped in a consumable form. His legs gave out beneath him, and he sank into the dirt.

  "It… is my world…"

  The glow of the module bathed him in soft hues—colors that felt familiar. There was warmth in it, a pull, like it recognized him. Like it wanted to return to him or that it wanted him to return to it. It seemed to call to him from within his mind. Voices, thousands of them, unaware of what they were trapped in. He could smell familiar aromas emanating from the object. Foods he used to love. Swept by emotions, he would have shed a tear, but he had no tears to shed.

  He gripped it tighter, but the more he held it, the more it felt like too much. A surge of longing crawled through him, sharp and unrelenting. This was his world. His home. Encased. Controlled. Ripped from him. And now, just… given back? Just like that? A cold realization settled over him, coiling through his spirit like a slow, creeping poison. Was this a gift? Or a sick joke?

  He glanced up at Tyr. The energy within him recoiled from the weighty module. "What… what am I supposed to do with this?"

  The module pulsed, sending ripples through his essence, pressing into the fractures of his being like it was trying to stitch something back together. The emotions from the module burrowed into him, more resounding than thought, more in-depth than memory. It felt like holding a piece of himself that had been long-lost… or stolen.

  Tyr knelt beside him, her expression softer now. She placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of her touch barely reaching past the cold storm of emotions clawing at him. “That part is up to you.”

  He stared into the module, its glow alive and aware. Its rhythmic pulse tugged at him, beckoning. Demanding. But his grip trembled, his fingers tightening, then loosening.

  Tyr didn’t push him. She simply waited. The silence stretched between them, heavy, charged. She allowed him to sit with it, to wrestle with it. No words, no reassurances—just what led to this moment pressing down on him.

  Finally, he broke the silence, his voice hoarse, strained. “What… do I do, Tyr?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “So much has happened… Ever since I grabbed that amulet and it—” His voice hitched, the memory burning behind his eyes. “It broke me. I have so much I want to say… so much I want to ask. But I just—” He clenched his jaw. “I just… can’t trust you.”

  “I understand.” Tyr dismissed her gauntlet, her fingers brushing his face. Her touch was warm and soft. Her scent of sweetness permeated the air. There was an unknown taste in his mouth that must’ve come from the module or maybe her scent as it filled his nostrils.

  “Do you not remember? I need you, Dante. To get us home.”

  He exhaled erratically. “Yeah, I remember… but things have changed. Phantasm is gone.” His voice wavered.

  She shook her head. “It’s not gone, Dante. I can still sense it within you.”

  His energy pulsed. Confusion. Doubt. Hope. “What?”

  Tyr’s fingers trailed from his cheek, ghosting over his jawline. “That energy… it’s still inside you.”

  A cold shiver ran through him. “No… I felt it shatter. I watched it break apart when I touched the amulet.” His own hands clenched into fists, trembling. “I lost it. It’s gone.”

  A knowing on her face. “Ah… so a similar thing happened to you that happened to me.” She tilted her head, studying him. “I wondered if that was the case…”

  Dante’s energy flared, sharp and jagged. “Wha… were you… testing it!?”

  Tyr hesitated. Then, carefully, she said, “I… don’t know… But if it is the case, then Ezekiel’s amulet… is the only thing that can put you back together.”

  His entire form surged with guilt and dread. “No.” His voice was low. “I will not do that.”

  She remained still. Watching. Calculating.

  Dante’s energy lashed out. “I won’t sacrifice him. He’s been through too much already. There has to be another way.”

  Tyr sighed, a quiet, almost resigned sound. “I see… you’re still hanging on to that idea.” Her eyes softened, but her tone carried an edge of disappointment.

  “Just because you all think this reality is a prison doesn’t mean the pain and suffering everyone feels isn’t real,” Dante growled. “It’s real to them. I can’t just look past it. And all the destruction you and I caused in the process—how can I ignore that!?”

  Tyr exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I’m not the one causing the destruction.” Her voice wavered, but she steadied herself. “Why are my sister’s sins being held against me? Do you not understand what she is?”

  Dante clenched his fists. “That’s the thing… Sophitia could have easily destroyed the Alphins, taken Myria, and gone home. None of this had to happen. I didn’t need to be involved!”

  She stood still. Then, quietly, she admitted, “I couldn’t… at the time… Dante… I couldn’t.”

  Dante studied her. There was something in her voice. Regret. He felt his anger waver. She wasn’t a monster. Not completely. A part of her carried guilt, sorrow. But was it real? Or was it another game? Another manipulation?

  He felt used. Betrayed. His chest was tight with it. What was she hiding?

  His voice dropped. “Why do I get the feeling… that you are the mastermind behind all of this?”

  Tyr flinched. Then she shook her head, firm. “No… I just want to be free. Free of this prison. I want to go home. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to destroy anymore.”

  Dante studied her face, searching for deception. But all he saw was exhaustion. She meant it.

  “I see…” He looked away. “Well… I can’t help you. I’m sorry. The cost is too high.”

  Her brows furrowed, frustration flashing in her swirling eyes. “You think you have a choice?” She scoffed. “If you don’t use Ezekiel’s amulet, then—”

  Dante’s eyes widened. No. That was out of the question.

  “Maybe I just need more friends,” he interrupted. A fire lit in his chest. A new path. A different way. “We fight Sophitia. We win. Then I can close all the loose ends on this world. Help Ezekiel. Find the pieces of myself. And then—we go home.”

  Tyr stared at him. Then, slowly, she smirked.

  “Are you serious? You actually think there’s hope?”

  “I don’t know,” Dante admitted. “But there’s something here. I can feel it. And I can’t—I won’t—sacrifice Ezekiel or anything else. I just need time.”

  Tyr laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “Time? You think you have time?” She shook her head, crossing her arms. “It’s already running out, Dante. It’s literally and figuratively working against you.”

  Dante held her gaze for a long moment. “What are you going to do?”

  She exhaled, shrugging. “Me? Fly around aimlessly, I guess.” Her voice was light, but the sorrow beneath it was unmistakable. “My sister will come. She’ll find me. She always does. And then we come after Ezekiel again. He’ll teleport away—again—and we’ll have to relive this entire process.” Her eyes darted up to meet his. “You’ll see.”

  “Can’t you decide not to?”

  She hesitated. Then, softly, “That’s up to you.” For a brief moment, her eyes gleamed, then it was gone.

  Dante felt a wave of unease. “Up to me? I don’t have any control over you or any of this!”

  Tyr lifted her hands in exasperation. “Well, I gave you a fighting chance. Take it or leave it.” She turned away, shaking her head.

  Dante exhaled slowly. His gaze drifted back to the glowing module in his hand. His world. Trapped.

  “This is unbelievable…” he muttered.

  Tyr smiled faintly. “Believe it.”

  She raised a hand, and in a swirl of purple mist, a long claymore materialized in her grasp. She twirled it once before holding it out.

  “Here.”

  Dante blinked. “Whoa—where did you—?”

  “Consider it my parting gift,” she said simply.

  He hesitated before taking the weapon. It was impossibly light, yet he could feel its weight, its history. The blade gleamed, lined with narrow holes down its center—a weapon of precision, of elegance. Sophitia’s blade. How and why does Tyr have it? When he looked up, Tyr was already gone. He stood there in the dark, staring at the place where she had been. A part of him wanted to see her again. Another part of him was relieved she was gone. But her words lingered, sinking into his mind, more profound than he wanted them to. He turned the sword in his grip, then looked at the module. He sighed.

  “I don’t know what to do with these…”

  For now, he had one option. Return to camp. Tell Ezekiel everything.

  Dante walked slowly, his mind weighed down by the conversation with Tyr. Guilt. Sorrow. And now, an impossible responsibility. How was he supposed to gather his scattered selves and—what? Sacrifice Ezekiel?

  No. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

  When he arrived back at camp, the fire had dimmed to smoldering embers. The night felt heavier than before. He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the sword and module in his hands. He could barely look Ezekiel in the eye.

  Ezekiel stood abruptly. His confusion merged into alarm. "Dante?"

  Dante inhaled deeply. "Ezekiel... Sophitia is coming for us."

  Ezekiel’s expression darkened. Then, his eyes darted to the blade in Dante’s grip—Sophitia’s sword. And the module. "What—where did you get that sword!? And that module!?" His stance changed, prepared for a fight.

  Dante raised a hand, trying to calm him. "Tyr… she came. She warned me about what’s coming."

  Ezekiel scanned the darkness as if expecting an ambush. "Tyr? She’s here!? Now? Then… Sophitia must be somewhere just around the corner!"

  "Tyr said that Sophitia is coming, that she escaped," Dante said. "I don’t know how much I believe with her. But l… we need to go. Now. The Quadraseph might be our only chance. Maybe Artemis can help. We need fighters capable of standing against Sophitia. We have to do something!"

  Ezekiel didn't hesitate this time. He nodded sharply. "It’s me she’s after… just leave me."

  Dante stomped his foot. “No! Absolutely not. What good would that do!? She gets her way? No, I will not sacrifice you.”

  Ezekiel nodded, “But what is the point. She will just keep coming after us.”

  He clenched his fists. “Not if we fight and win!”

  “You truly think so?” Ezekiel’s eyes were hopeful.

  Dante nodded excitedly. “Yes, I truly think so.” He lifted her sword. “Look. We have her sword. And I’m still strong. And you are still strong. And then there is Artemis. We have a fighting chance. Three to one. I don’t think Tyr is going to fight for her.”

  Ezekiel looked thoughtful as he remembered, “But there is still that other one, Sylvaya.”

  Dante slumped his shoulders. “Oh… right, I forgot about her.” Then perked back up, thinking the odds were still good. “Okay, three on two!”

  “Maybe… that is, if Artemis is good,” Ezekiel said, shrugging.

  Dante’s confidence wavered. “Right… that is also true, but we don’t have time to ponder it!” He turned, kneeling near Silver and the Furthians. "Silver! Furthian friends! Wake up!"

  "Huh—what!?" Silver jolted awake, ears twitching. His gaze landed on Dante’s sword. His eye widened.

  The Furthian leader stirred, his voice laced with disbelief. "Whoa—where did you get that stuff!?"

  Dante exhaled. "They're… gifts. But we don't have time to explain. We must hurry to the Quadraseph!"

  Silver yawned, stretching his arm. "Okay, okay, let me grab my stuff… It’s still dark, y’know." He strapped his pack around his shoulder while the Furthians gathered their things.

  Dante barely let them finish. "Yeah, but we need to move. Now."

  They broke camp, slipping into the cool night, the urgency pressing them forward. The barren land stretched endlessly until a river shimmered ahead, reflecting the first hints of dawn. There was a large wooden bridge that led into another land.

  They reached Lafoo. The Furthians needed a place to rest as they did not get enough sleep.

  As the village came into view, Silver whistled low. "Ah, Lafoo. Nice place. We should stay a bit."

  Dante shot him a look. "We can’t stay. Sophitia could be here any moment!"

  “But the Furthians… they’re getting tired… Can’t work ‘em like this…”

  Dante sighed, “Alight. Go ahead and touch down just outside the town.”

  The leader nodded as they began their descent. Silver decided it would be good to check out the town, so he led the way as the troop went forth. The Furthians stayed behind to guard the sword and the module; Rezzo villages weren’t their thing anyway.

  The first golden rays of sunlight brought Lafoo to life. The clustered huts hummed with activity—fires crackled, traders set up their makeshift stalls, and the scent of spiced food lingered in the air.

  The Rezzo moved between the huts, their lizard-like features similar to Ezekiel’s. Among them were the Meorbin, their smooth amphibian skin catching the morning light. Some are bright and noxious like poison dart frogs, and some are warty and slimy like common toads. Dante noticed the moment they were spotted.

  Whispers followed them. Eyes lingered on their group, shifting between curiosity and reverence. The air felt tense.

  Then, the guards stepped forward, blocking their path. A cry within could be heard.

  “Ravenwings has returned!” one of the villagers cried out.

  “Huh? Ravenwings!? RA----VEN----WINGS!” multiple villagers cried.

  “Ravenwings?” Dante looked at Silver, who shook his head, confused.

  “Who is Ravenwings?” Dante asked in surprise.

  “Why… you are Ravenwings! The one that created us long ago!” A villager exclaimed and began dancing around them.

  “Oh… Sebooro! He had a couple of names, didn’t he? I feel like I heard it mentioned awhile back.”

  “That must be it.” Silver nodded.

  More and more villagers swarmed around Dante; they offered gifts, pampered him, and bestowed upon him a level of adoration that left him bewildered. Initially appreciative of the warmth and hospitality, Dante soon felt a discomfort at being revered in such a manner. The Rezzo, in their genuine admiration, sought to honor their unexpected guests. Despite their pressing mission, Dante decided to reciprocate the kindness, allowing the Rezzo to express their gratitude.

  Silver and Ezekiel were also well received by the Rezzo. “Trusty traveling companions! Come, we must celebrate the return of Ravenwings! Drinks are on the house for you all!”

  Silver baffled, “Mighty pleasant o’ ya… but we mus—”

  “Nonsense! Won’t hear another word of it! Come!” a large Rezzo called out. He must’ve been the leader of the village.

  As the day unfolded, the village square became a stage for celebration. The Rezzo showcased its ability to host grand parties. A large table of food was prepared. Silver, of course, had his fill. To be polite, Ezekiel and Dante ate small portions.

  Dante watched as Ezekiel daintily tasted a roasted duck. “Do the Alphins eat anything or need to?”

  “No, but we do have the ability to taste and smell. This feast appeases the senses greatly.” He said with a smile as he chewed the duck.

  The Rezzo chefs were unsure what the Alphin said. Dante translated, and they bowed, hearing such honorable words of their meal.

  Next, they were given a mud bath. Ale in hand. It was the best-tasting ale they’d ever had.

  “A Ferenzial could get usedta this,” Silver chuckled while enjoying his mud-covered fur.

  Ezekiel tried to enjoy it, but the threat still loomed, “Dante… we should make haste…”

  “Agreed, apologies, kind folk. But we must meet with Artemis at the Quadraseph. This was all very great!”

  The Rezzo were reluctant to see them go. As Dante and the others prepared to depart, the villagers gathered with reverence, murmuring in low, respectful tones. They had done everything to make Ravenwings feel at home, and now, they sent them off with the best they had to offer.

  The chariot stood at the edge of town, the Furthians prepared to head off at a moment’s notice. The Rezzo and Meorbin worked together, hauling their gifts with careful hands—glistening fruit baskets filled with exotic produce, bottles of aged amber wine, and trinkets woven with intricate metallic filigree.

  The village leader, his scaly hide catching the afternoon light, placed a clawed hand on Dante’s shoulder. “These are our most treasured belongings, for you, Ravenwings, Lord of the Chimerans. Are you on your way to see your beloved, Queen Artemis?”

  Dante nearly choked. “B-Beloved!?” His wings twitched in surprise. “I, uh… I appreciate this. You’ve done more for us than I could ever repay.” He placed the last of the gifts in the chariot, still thrown off by the leader’s words.

  Silver leapt in, stretching out lazily among the carefully packed goods, while Ezekiel stood by, waiting for lift-off. Dante was awkwardly wedged between a crate of fruit and a rolled-up tapestry.

  “Yeesh, so much stuff! I hope you guys can carry it,” he muttered.

  The largest of the Furthian warriors laughed. “We could carry two more of these chariots, I’m sure!”

  With a final chorus of cheers, the chariot was hoisted into the air, the wind sweeping through their feathers as they soared toward their next destination.

  Below them, farmland stretched far and wide, a patchwork of golden fields and irrigation channels glistening in the sunlight. The land gave way to a dense, dark forest—an ominous sight even from above.

  As they passed over a clearing, a massive, lumbering figure lifted its head. It was Largo. The Rhino watched them pass with mild curiosity, his large eyes blinking lazily before offering them a casual nod and wave.

  Dante couldn’t stop thinking about what was said about Artemis. He looked at Silver as he popped open the wine bottle and had a massive gulp, “Silver… what did they mean by beloved!?”

  Silver grinned, “Not sure… Believe it may be possible that Artemis n’ Sebooro were an item…”

  “Uh… what!? Now you tell me!?” His eyes were wide.

  “Yup, just a legend, though,” Silver said, grinning wider.

  “Great… now I have a girlfriend… that I didn’t know,” Dante said, holding his face.

  “Hehe, could be worse, right?” Silver said, taking another drink of the wine.

  Even Ezekiel chuckled.

  “You guys are terrible…” Dante said, leaning against the railing.

  By nightfall, they reached the outskirts of the Quadraseph.

  The city was immense—a sprawling medieval fortress of stone and iron, dominated by a towering central spire that pierced the sky. The streets below bustled with movement, but not in the way one might expect from a thriving city. There was no idle chatter, no laughter. The air was thick with unease.

  As their chariot touched down at the city’s edge, Dante knew this would not be a peaceful visit.

  “What’s going on?” He asked.

  “Looks like war prep…” Silver looks on, “Then that means…”

  “Humans?” Dante asked quietly.

  “Thinkin’ so…”

  The inhabitants quickly noticed the chariot and came running. “HALT!” one of the guards screeched. “State your business!”

  Dante hopped out of the chariot. “We’re here to see the Queen. She is expecting me.”

  The Furthian guard and multiple villagers bowed in instant reverence. “Great One! Yes, yes, please come this way. We have heard many things from the Queen of your coming!”

  Dante grabbed the sword and the module. He then handed the module to Silver. “Got room in your pack for this?”

  “Ya. I can hold it,” he agreed, tucking it away.

  “Thanks. As for this sword. I don’t know where to put it.”

  “Sure it’s fine that ya carry it; we’re all used to weapons.” Silver

  “Okay, usually royalty, at least in my world, wouldn’t allow you in their presence with a weapon.”

  “Ha. Well, this ain’t your world.” Silver laughed dryly.

  The guard led the group through the city of the Quadraseph, towards a lofty structure that loomed overhead, towering over the city.

  Furthians filled the city—proud eagle-like warriors sharpening their talons, spears, and halberds, falcon-types adjusting their armor. Vibrant, colorful Furthians manned blacksmith stalls, their feathers dulled by soot. Bartenders poured drinks in quiet contemplation while farmers moved hastily, keeping their heads low. Until they saw Dante pass by, they jumped up in cheer. “Sebooro is here! He’s here to save us all!”

  Dante looked up and smiled nervously. A lot of pressure on him now could be felt all around.

  The Quadraseph was a marvel of ominous grandeur, its dark spire reaching into the sky like the claws of a colossal beast. Hundreds of Furthians flew in and out of the great spire, like a massive beehive. As they reached the Quadraseph's base, Dante, in a moment of eerie familiarity, realized that the towering structure bore a striking resemblance to the Eiffel Tower from his world. However, unaware of the connection, he marveled at the imposing spire that reached into the sky. The entrance was heavily guarded, but once they saw Dante’s party, they bowed with reverence.

  As the group entered the base of the structure. It was a large room with metal arches as its skeleton. As though the tower has been modified to be more than what it was. There was a hustle and bustle going on until the Furthians noticed Dante. Bowing with reverence, they pointed them towards a machine. The only machine he has ever seen since his arrival.