The illusion was gone, but the silence it left behind was louder than screams.
Valecrest lay bare beneath the gray dawn — stripped of its gold and glamour, its towers now skeletal and blackened. The air was heavy with dust and disbelief. The citizens wandered like ghosts, blinking against the morning light as if it burned.
Cass stood at the edge of a broken fountain, boots crunching over shards of mirror. "You ever think maybe we're the bad guys?"
Rowan didn't look up. He was crouched beside the rubble, examining what was left of Selara's throne — a lump of fused gold and bone. The Loki crystal in his chest pulsed faintly with every heartbeat, a reminder that divine mana was still inside him.
"She enslaved thousands in her illusion," he said flatly. "If breaking that makes us villains, I'll wear the title."
Cass raised both hands. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm all for blowing up evil nobles. I just… dunno, man. It's weird seeing a city this dead. Like we killed something bigger than her."
Lynx padded beside them, nine tails flicking irritably. "That's because you did. Glamour like hers feeds on belief — she turned her people into batteries. When she died, so did the illusion that kept them alive."
Cass grimaced. "Yikes. So… freedom hurts now?"
"Always has," Mira said, her voice low. She stood nearby, staring at the skyline where golden mist once hung. "They'll have to rebuild. But at least now, they're building truth."
Rowan finally rose, dusting ash off his gloves. His eyes — faintly glowing — lingered on the horizon. "We can't stay. The Phoenix Family won't ignore this. Selara's fall sends a message."
Cass tilted his head. "The kind that gets us assassinated?"
"The kind," Rowan said, "that gets them scared."
---
They left Valecrest by noon.
No one stopped them — no soldiers, no citizens. Just empty eyes watching from behind shattered doors.
As the group passed the city gates, a young boy peeked out from an alley. His face was smeared with ash, his hands clutching a cracked mirror. He looked at Rowan with something between fear and awe.
"Are you one of them?" the boy asked quietly.
Rowan slowed. "One of who?"
"The gods."
For a moment, no one spoke. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Rowan crouched, meeting the boy's gaze. "No," he said softly. "Just someone cleaning up their mess."
The boy nodded, though he didn't seem to understand. When Rowan turned to leave, the kid whispered, "Thank you."
Rowan didn't look back.
---
By nightfall, they camped on the outskirts — far enough from the ruins that the smell of burnt gold finally faded. The world around them was quiet, wild, alive again.
Mira set up the fire, her movements sharp and deliberate, while Lynx scouted ahead. Cass leaned against a wagon wheel, chewing on jerky and watching Rowan pace.
"You're doing that thing again," Cass said.
"What thing?"
"The brooding thing. Hands behind your back, thousand-yard stare, dramatic wind blowing your coat like you're in a painting."
Rowan shot him a look. "You could help."
"I am helping," Cass said with a grin. "I'm keeping morale high. Look, even Mira's smiling."
Mira didn't look up. "That's not a smile. That's restraint."
Cass pointed. "See? Teamwork."
Rowan sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sometimes I wonder why I didn't leave you back in Valemire."
"Because I'm charming and moderately useful with explosives?"
Rowan gave the smallest smirk. "Moderately."
---
Later, when the fire burned low, Mira sat beside Rowan. The forest was still except for the crackle of flames and the distant cry of some nocturnal beast.
"You didn't answer him," she said quietly.
Rowan glanced over. "Who?"
"The boy. He asked if you were a god. You said no, but…" She hesitated. "You didn't sound sure."
He stared into the fire. "Because I'm not. Not really. But the mana inside me isn't human either. Every time I use it, I feel it — like something's watching, waiting to crawl out."
Mira frowned. "You think it's alive?"
"I think it was. Whatever divine energy my father tapped into — it remembers. It has instincts. Hunger."
She studied him, seeing the faint shimmer of blue veins beneath his skin. "And if it ever takes over?"
He met her gaze — calm, but distant. "Then you do what my father couldn't."
Mira's jaw tightened. "Don't joke about that."
"I'm not."
The silence that followed was heavy — too full of unspoken things.
Finally, she exhaled, looking away. "You think that's what they're after? The nobles — the Phoenix Family? They want whatever's inside you?"
Rowan nodded slowly. "The divine power my father tried to contain didn't die with him. It passed to me. To them, I'm proof that a mortal can hold what they worship."
"Which makes you the threat they can't control."
"Exactly."
Mira leaned back, gazing at the stars through the trees. "Then we'll make sure they never do."
Her tone was quiet but firm — the kind of promise that didn't need to be written to be kept.
Rowan smiled faintly. "You sound like my father again."
"Good," she said softly. "Maybe this time the story ends better."
---
The next morning, Lynx returned with news. Her fur shimmered faintly with frost, and her eyes glowed in the early light.
"There's movement in the east," she said. "Caravans heading toward Ironvale — and soldiers with the Phoenix crest."
Rowan's gaze sharpened. "Ironvale… that's mining territory, isn't it?"
Mira nodded grimly. "Yeah. Lord Veyr runs it. He funds the Phoenix Family's mana smelters. He's cruel — even by noble standards."
Cass groaned. "Fantastic. We just burned one city, and now we're going after the guy who owns half the empire's mana supply."
Rowan holstered his revolver, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Then we hit where it hurts."
Cass rolled his eyes. "You've got a weird definition of rest."
"Rest when we're free," Rowan said.
Mira slung her pack over her shoulder. "Then we better move fast. If the Phoenix Family's tightening their grip, Ironvale won't stay quiet for long."
As they packed their camp, the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees. It painted the ashes of their fire gold — a soft glow that looked almost peaceful.
Rowan paused, watching it flicker. "You ever think," he murmured, "maybe we're just burning the world to save it?"
Mira turned to him. "If it's already burning," she said, "we might as well light the way."
---
They set off eastward, shadows stretching long behind them.
The frontier lay wide and cold ahead — full of ghosts, secrets, and the kind of promises that always came with blood.
And though none of them said it out loud, they all felt it:
The storm that began in Greyspire wasn't ending.
It was just getting started.