(Royal Palace of Kalhalla)
(Council Chamber)
The council chamber of Kalhalla was a temple of cold grandeur, a vaulted hall lined with marble pillars etched in silver runic sigils, moonlight filtering through the high arched windows to shimmer against the obsidian floor.
A massive circular table sat at the center, its surface carved with the map of their realm, thin streams of light weaving along its borders like veins of life. The air smelled faintly of incense and parchment. At the far end sat princess Audren, draped in a regal blue mantle that glimmered faintly with celestial embroidery. Her posture was elegant, but her eyes were heavy with disinterest, her cheek resting against her palm as her scepter leaned casually against the armrest of her throne.
'Damn you Fenris, for making me come to this.'
Beyond the sealed doors, the knight captains lingered, Omen lounging against a pillar, Klem half asleep on the floor with her arms folded behind her head, Atale standing perfectly straight with her hands clasped, Harpe dabbing his face with a silk cloth in quiet disgust at the dust, and Seran silent as stone, his hood shadowing his face. Their muffled chatter echoed faintly through the chamber doors.
Inside, the aged Councilor Corten, a gaunt man with a bald head and long gray beard braided in silver thread, stood with his staff beside Councilor Edna, a frail woman whose sharp eyes were hidden behind thick lenses, her white hair bound tight into a bun. Both were dressed in elaborate robes of gold and black, their faces carved with years of study and weariness.
A council member cleared his throat. "He was… butt ass naked?"
Audren let out a deadpan sigh, her voice flat. "Yep. Junk flying all over the place. But he was the summon that came. And now he's dead."
Edna adjusted her glasses, nodding gravely. "We will have to follow up on this. Our mages are still attempting to unseal your father."
At Audren's side, Fenris, her stern wolf advisor, peered his eyes over, his eyes were cold as he rumbled, "Without the Rune of Death, bringing your father back would be pointless. He would be coming back for no reason if the Rune of Death is lost within that summons body."
Audren leaned back, smirking faintly. "Still not a bad idea. I might wanna see him again, let him handle all this royal shit. I was just a princess, then suddenly—bam—everyone is calling me a queen out of nowhere, or going to be. No clue what I'm doing. And now I'm supposed to marry some summon to make him king? Please. I'm almost relieved the guy's dead. Means I can put off marriage and not look like a lovestruck fool. I don't think anyone understands how I feel. I don't even like people, and yet I have to marry. My father and his dumb laws…"
Corten raised his wrinkled hand reassuringly. "Do not worry, your majesty. The council stands beside you."
"Doesn't seem like it. Everything I say is wrong, right? Don't bother showing pity. And because of my fathers laws, the council is over me in majority decisions until I am married and a real queen. So I'm not your Majesty."
Another council member interjected, his tone tense and trying to change the subject. "Scouts report Stroheim has set up camps in the wilderness, likely watching our capital's stability."
Audren stood abruptly, lifting her scepter with a sly grin. "Again? Those bastards never quit no matter how many of them we rip the fuck part. I'll go wipe them out then. Do your little meeting without me."
Fenris's tone was iron. "Your majesty. You might want to stay."
She sighed, collapsing back into her seat. "Fine. Send a few knights to clear them out then."
Audren whispered to Fenris, "Why do you even call me majesty? That's gonna make everyone else say it."
Fenris whispered, "So they can still respect you. They respect you less when you tell them not to call you it. You want them to take you seriously? To prove you actually are stronger and smarter than they think you are?"
"…Whatever."
Edna straightened her parchment. "I mentioned this before, but an all-out assault on Stroheim is advised," she declared. "If we strike first, we maintain control. Manipulate them with being more open about destroying the brain they worship. We could spread lies, saying we found it's true location, and could possibly negotiate—."
The table erupted into divided murmurs, some nodding, others protesting. One councilman said, "If Stroheim is aware of Kalhalla's mission to locate the true site of the Brain and destroy it, they will act swiftly. And there's no telling if they will immediately try and fully invade the capital and the surrounding villages or towns! We had to send extra knights to guard those areas because of the increased enemy scouts! They are watching us too closely."
Another argued, "The former King Bastion wielded the Rune of Death to destroy it but was sealed without warning. During the Wars, Stroheim wished to capture Kalhalla and deliver the Rune of Death to the Brain itself to gain favor. They are insanely desperate."
A third added, "Delivering the Rune to that entity might grant them unimaginable power. What if the brain really does bless them? Or ascend them into gods?"
Fenris spoke, cutting through the noise. "The Rune was inside the summon — Cainan. It was one with him. King Bastion summoned his rune through his blade, but this man… he embodied it. A different kind of warrior entirely. Cainan's body burned to ash when he died, so the rune cannot be claimed any longer."
Edna said, "So doesn't that mean we are out of options? If the rune is no more, then what else can we do? The brain cannot be stopped at this rate."
Corten's eyes lowered. "The oracles of Bastion prophesied that the king of Kalhalla would become one with the Rune. It appears they were wrong."
Audren muttered dryly, "Yeah, no shit. Or they probably meant someone else. The summon."
Fenris's tail flicked sharply. "An all-out assault is reckless. We've never been to Stroheim. We don't know their kingdom or its layout at all as we have purposely tried to not go anywhere near their continent. They could even have a shard of a rune in their possession."
A councilor noted, "A single shard carries a fraction of a full Rune's power, and that's enough to devastate armies. Every scout we've sent into Stroheim never returns."
Fenris took a step forward, voice low and grim. "During the Wars of the Damned, when the Runes scattered, kingdoms slaughtered each other to claim them for immense power and control. When Bastion found the Rune of Death, he declared it told him to destroy the Brain. Stroheim used dark cursed magic to butcher kingdoms for their Runes, and when they clashed with Kalhalla—"
Audren groaned. "—My father was sealed, yeah yeah, we know the story."
Corten nodded. "Their Primarchs—Stroheim's strongest warriors, led the charge. Hundreds of our soldiers fell that day. An assault would only repeat that tragedy."
Edna pressed her gnarled hands on the table. "And yet, an assault may be our only chance. Our knight captains rival the Primarchs. You, your majesty, are possibly the strongest mage in this kingdom, the only wielder of the rare star magic in the world."
Audren muttered under her breath, "Ugh. All on my ass, aren't you, old lady?"
Her gaze drifted off, mind replaying the image of Cainan, the chaos, his grin, the moment he stared up at the Brain without dying.
Edna continued. "Each captain has their role. Seran, commander of the assassins, swift and silent. Atale, master of the healing and reverse-healing knights. Klem, head of the beast-tamers, unmatched in wild strategy. Omen, leader of the elemental knights, wielding fire, water, wind, and earth as one. Together, they could infiltrate Stroheim's defenses from within. And if you, princess Audren, served as our scout, or showed your face to Stroheim itself, it would definitely make them hesitate due to you and your fathers fame. It would probably give us an advantage and turn their eyes away from what's happening around them, we could easily slip our strongest ranks through their defenses, your strength would—"
Audren rose sharply, slamming her scepter to the floor. "I outta blast a magic star hole in your chest for even suggesting that. You've lost your mind if you think I'm walking into some cursed kingdom I've never seen. I'm sick of being used like a tool. I've never had a choice since the day I was born."
Her voice softened with exhaustion. "I need some air."
Fenris turned, finally letting her leave and addressing the council. "Continue your discussions. Get the mages ready and begin preparations for another summoning circle. Maybe if we summon another, the Rune of Death will find him like it did with the last summon."
As Audren reached the double doors, they suddenly burst open, and all five knight captains toppled through in a heap.
Harpe immediately shoved them off, his face twisted in disgust. "Stop touching me!" His eyes twitched violently as he dabbed furiously at his coat.
Atale dusted herself with dignity. "You were being sneaky too, Sir Harpe. Falling on everyone was your own fault."
"Do you want to die, woman?" Harpe hissed, eyes straining redder.
Klem yawned, still sprawled on the floor. "I fell asleep on the door. Boring meeting."
Omen and Fenris said at the same time, "Wow. What a lie."
The massive double doors shut behind them with a dull echo, sealing the council's noise within. Audren exhaled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek as her sharp, half-bored eyes drifted toward the gaggle of knight captains tangled on the marble floor. "Taking a quick ear peep, aren't you guys?" she said dryly, voice like velvet dipped in amusement.
Omen, already straightening his coat and grinning like he'd planned this all along, raised a hand in mock surrender. "Their idea! I was just here to make sure they didn't break the door or something!"
A low hiss followed. Harpe's blade was already pressed against Omen's chest, the metal barely trembling as his strained red eyes widened like a man on the edge of snapping. "A liar. A wretched, degenerate liar." His voice was calm, but his eyes twitched with pure contempt.
Klem stretched lazily, her yawn carrying enough menace to make the shadows under their feet shiver. From those shadows, lions took form — sleek, black, snarling, jaws dripping with smoke — circling Omen with low growls. "Ehhh? Thought we were cool, Omen. Fuck you then. We're supposed to be brother and sister."
Before anyone could respond, Atale adjusted her gloves with practiced grace, her composure pristine despite the chaos. "I am sorry," she admitted in her smooth, sophisticated tone. "I was simply anxious to know the council's verdict and failed to practice patience. My apologies, Your Majesty." She bowed elegantly, eyes soft but unwavering.
Everyone stared. The tension broke when Klem's shadow beasts bowed too, tails swaying mockingly. Omen immediately pointed at Atale, eyes wide. "So… basically Atale is the one who did all this as she just admitted—"
Atale vanished from her spot in a single step, appearing before him, her tone still polite but her words like a slap. "You suggested it, fool. I merely followed your childish curiosity."
Seran stood in the back, silent, arms crossed, watching with deadpan calm.
Audren smirked and finally laughed, the kind of laugh that dripped exhaustion and mild delight at the chaos she ruled. "You captains and this dog here are the only ones I can tolerate. Everyone else can go to the shitter." She twirled her scepter idly, glancing toward the window. "Anyway, guess you heard there's some Stroheim idiots lurking about? Care to bring me their heads?"
Harpe, without hesitation, pressed his napkin to his mouth, eyes sharp. "I'll gladly do it. Alone, if need be."
Klem chuckled, summoning a tiny shadow puppy that wagged its tail. "I'll send this little guy. He's cute until he starts massacring everyone. That'll be fun to watch. Or I can send my shadow dragon, Cupid. He's sick."
Seran finally spoke, quiet as snowfall. "I'll head out immediately."
Everyone turned at once, even Fenris's ears twitched. "Huh?" they all said in perfect unison.
Seran said to himself very silently, "Too much talking for one day, not repeating it."
Klem, grinning as she looked at Fenris made her shadow swell again, this time into a cluster of black cats that prowled around Fenris's paws, their meows distorted and wicked. Fenris froze, fur bristling, and in the next second, he barked sharply, lunging and snapping at them as the captains broke into laughter.
"Okay, that was funny, gotta admit," Omen snickered, dodging a swing of Fenris's tail.
The wolf grew, towering and feral, his red-and-white fur flaring like flames. "So that was funny?"
Omen leaned toward Klem, whispering, "Hey, make a bigger wolf. Scare him, scare him. Wait, do you think he'll be scared by another wolf like him? Never mind then. Oh wait, summon a large cat! Yeah. Do that."
Before Klem could react, Harpe's voice slid through the air like a knife. "Yes, Fenris. They thought it was hilarious. In fact, Omen told Klem to do it. I'd punish them both if I were you."
"Lies!" Omen and Klem yelled in sync.
Harpe's eyes twitched as he muttered, "See how it feels?"
Atale sighed, shaking her head. Seran mirrored the gesture silently.
Audren brushed past them, scepter clicking against the marble. "Gonna go run very, very, very important errands. Fenris, Look after things while I'm gone. And if I don't come back…" She smirked over her shoulder. "Atale can be the new princess and queen, I guess. She's more queen-y than me. All noble and stuff."
Atale inclined her head, smiling faintly. "It would be an honor to uphold your majesty's duties, though I hope you return swiftly."
Fenris only watched, saying nothing. They all knew this routine — Audren vanishing to gods-knew-where whenever she pleased. They'd asked her once where she went; she only said she was "getting air," because, as she put it, "the palace is always fucking cramped." After that, no one questioned her again.
As Audren neared the corridor, Omen called out, "Are we really gonna try and summon another person? What if the Rune of Death doesn't come with the next summon? Then what? Poor guy will just be in the way."
She froze. Her fingers tightened around the scepter before she muttered, "I'm against it. Guess they have no choice. But what can I say? I don't know any better. I've made it clear I'm not suited for big decisions like this. Let Fenris and the council deal with it."
Klem tilted her head, mischief in her eyes. "Wouldn't that mean if a summon comes, you two would sleep in the same—"
Audren turned slowly, grin sharp and royal as she leveled her scepter at Klem. "Don't finish that sentence. You know I never let anyone but me touch my bed. That's my humble abode. MY perfect domain. I will NEVER have anyone sleep in the same bed as me."
Klem raised her hands in surrender, still smirking. The captains chuckled as Audren swept out, cloak flapping at the bottom to the slight wind, the doors closing behind her as she descended toward the capital that sprawled beneath her palace, the cage she longed to escape.
Omen asked everyone, "You guys think that Cainan guy could've actually killed the brain if he was alive?"
Klem sighed, "He's strong, I can tell."
"I just can't wait for that dumb brain to get cut in half or something. When someone dies, they are devoured by the brain and reborn as a ravaging beast. THEN, the brain chooses everyone's magic class at birth which is definitely unfair but I'm glad we got our magic shit before the brain came and started dictating stuff. And now since the brain is here, no one can get their magic stronger because of it, so if someone is weak, they will be weak as long as the brain lives."
Harpe walked past them all, saying, "All the more reason why another summon is needed. It shouldn't be a discussion."
The marble corridor stretched wide and cold behind her, stars glittering faintly through the high windows. Audren stopped just short of the threshold, lifting a hand to her face.
From her palm, a shimmer of starlight bloomed, threads of cosmic blue and white coiling together into a mask that settled over her features. It was beautiful, a delicate sculpture of light and faint silver veins that pulsed like the breath of constellations.
Her gown glowed faintly under the moonbeams until she waved her scepter once, and a burst of glittering magic cascaded down her form. Her royal robes dissolved into simple traveler's garb, brushed with faint traces of nebular dust, as though she had dipped herself in the glow of a dying star.
Behind her, the palace loomed like a sanctified monument carved from celestial stone, white marble veined with red color, the walls tall and slender, windows in the shapes of spires and crescents that glowed with soft gold light. Red banners stitched with silver sigils rippled from every tower, and the twin wolf statues guarding the gate stared endlessly at the capital beyond. The garden stretched beneath in perfect symmetry, rows of red lilies and white thorn-vines blooming around fountains of crystal water that reflected the sun like scattered shards of mirrors.
Audren descended the steps into the capital, the city sprawling beneath her like a living galaxy. The streets pulsed with noise, the lanterns bright and the cobblestones shimmering from recent rain. Merchants shouted from stalls heavy with fruit, spices, and charms.
Brass bards played chaotic songs near tavern doors while children chased each other between carriages. The air was thick with life and perfume and laughter — the kind that barely masked fear.
"Did you hear? The brain arrived earlier during the Summoning Rite," muttered one woman near a food stall, her hands trembling as she packed loaves into paper.
"Yeah," a man whispered back, eyes darting, "don't look at it, they say. You'll die the second your eyes land on it. My cousin tried to peek when we were trying to go around Myrrvindraal but his head exploded. Damn he was such a curious fool."
Across the way, two elderly men leaned on their canes by a fountain. "Maybe now the kingdom'll get a king, eh? Audren can't run things by herself. She's only 19. Maybe she'll finally get a husband."
"I don't think she'll like him. She doesn't really like anyone."
A third voice, rough and breaking, came from a drunk near the steps of a chapel. "Saw my wife turned into one of those damned griffin chimeras… warped right after she died. The brain brought her back. I saw her face in the feathers. I really need prayer…even if the gods are gone."
Audren's steps faltered. Her jaw tightened under the mask, and she turned down another street.
'Tch. No matter where I run, royal kingdom bad shit is happening around me. I wanna run super far away but there's no escape. I just can't leave here, which sucks. Dumb guilty conscience. I just come out here and act like I'm part of the society. Makes me feel free enough.'
She ducked into a tavern that roared with drunken celebration. The crowd cheered around a long wooden table where men twice her size arm-wrestled for coin.
Audren rolled up her sleeves and joined in. One challenger after another came forward: a burly miner, a one-eyed sailor, a female mercenary with arms like steel, and the "masked lady" (Audren) slammed their hands to the wood, one after another.
"The Masked lady wins again!" someone shouted over the clamor.
"She's cheating!" another cried, laughing.
"Hell no, she's a demon in silk!" someone else hollered, mugs crashing together as ale spilled across the table.
Hours later, she slipped into a side street where a small festival had begun. Word spread that Kalhalla's knights had driven back Stroheim again, some not knowing it was still a failure since Cainan died in front of Audren and the knights.
Streamers of gold and blue fluttered overhead. Audren wandered through a booth where archers tested their aim at wooden targets. She watched a few attempts, arrows wobbling, thudding into hay, one soaring pitifully off-course.
She took up a bow, fingers wrapping the string with quiet familiarity. Her arrow struck dead center. Her father's voice echoed in her memory, calm but firm: "If you can master the bow, you master patience. It teaches you distance, precision, control. A sword kills what's in front of you. A bow kills what you choose."
'Corny flashback right in the middle of me using a bow and arrow. I'm not some fair maiden in distress. All that bow and arrow crap went out the window when I randomly awakened to star magic. The time I was told only the elves had the most rare magic, but I'm not an elf. Crazy I didn't end up with a sword or a bow, but a scepter at the end anyway.'
A tall adventurer beside her, scar across his nose and grin sharp as a dagger, pure white eyes, and pointed ears watched her next shot. "You got skills. I like that. Mind taking that mask off and telling me about yourself? You smell good too. What do you like?"
Audren lowered the bow and looked him dead in the eyes. "I'm a miserable wench. That answer your question?"
The man's grin widened. "Mm, that gets me hard. When they're feisty. When they fight back."
Audren turned and walked away without looking back. "Buzz off, freak."
'Ugh. He gets hard just from people being mean to him? What a creep.'
"Ah, I like that too!" he shouted after her.
She ignored him and moved deeper into the capital.
Later, she found herself sitting among a crowd before an open-air stage. The evening air was cool, the torches warm, and the play unfolding before her was loud, dramatic, and bloody. Actors in shining armor fought beasts in papier-mâché suits, fake blood splattering the wooden boards as the audience roared.
Audren leaned forward, shouting, "Kick his ass! Rip him apart! You have a sword and magic! He's just a large bear or something!"
A small boy beside her blinked up in surprise. She tilted her head toward him. "Hey kid, what is that thing he's fighting?"
The boy whispered, "I don't know… maybe it's a warped beast."
Warped beasts — creatures stitched from the dead by the brain's will, half-living monstrosities dragged back from oblivion.
Audren watched the stage again, her expression softening just a bit. "Ohhh," she said.
The crowd laughed, and for a brief, fleeting moment, Audren, hidden behind her star mask, smiled like someone who wasn't a queen at all.
Then she thought, 'Half the beasts in this continent look weird, and warped humans look too similar to them. You never know what you'll see. Not really a difference between their looks.'
The afternoon sun poured down in thin dark gold strands through the emerald canopy, catching every droplet as it fell from the waterfall's crest. The water cascaded over Audren's shoulders in a silver curtain, glimmering like powdered starlight against her skin. She stood barefoot in the shallow pool below, her breathing slow, her body relaxed for once, as if the weight of the crown had finally slid off her spine.
The sound was constant and soothing; the steady roar of the falls, the faint creak of trees swaying, birds gossiping from the branches, insects murmuring in the high grass. Each breath she took came with the scent of damp stone and wild mint carried by the mist.
For a long moment, she let herself forget. The forest felt untouched by war or kingdom or prophecy. She leaned her head back, letting the water run over her face, eyes closed. A dragonfly skimmed across the surface of the pool, its wings catching the sun like shards of glass. Somewhere above, a hawk screamed, sharp and distant, fading into the vast calm.
Then a voice came, firm but hesitant, cutting through the peaceful rhythm like a blade through silk.
"Your highness."
Audren spun around instantly, water whipping from her hair like threads of crystal. She covered herself with one arm and raised her other hand, her scepter already materialized in her palm in a burst of starlight. "Who goes there?!" Her voice echoed against the cliffs. "It better not be one of you elves prying on me! You've been hiding for years in the wilderness. Don't come out once you see someone like me!"
She didn't wait for an answer. The air trembled as she summoned a flash of chaotic star magic, a shower of prismatic light that roared down into the trees behind her. The explosion shook the branches, scattering birds into the sky.
When the steam cleared, she focused on the figure standing where the magic had struck. It was not a man, not exactly, but a mannequin, crudely carved from pale wood, its limbs stiff and painted with fading streaks of red, blue, and green. Its back was turned to her, the paint forming patterns like brushstrokes of a forgotten mural.
The wooden voice came out shaky, uncertain. "Forgive me, your highness, I didn't mean to intrude! I know Patras knows that spying on you means instant death. I was only sent to deliver a message."
Audren lowered her scepter slightly, still keeping it raised just enough. "Then talk fast before I decide to reduce that block of timber you call a body into splinters."
The mannequin shifted awkwardly, as though its joints creaked from fear. "Patras found something. Regarding… the summon. Cainan."
Audren froze. Her expression faltered, the mist curling around her like ghostly breath. "Cainan?" she repeated, a small disbelieving laugh escaping her. "He's dead. I watched his head explode like a pumpkin. His head went sploosh. It was super messy."
The mannequin nodded stiffly, wooden shoulders clicking. "Patras really needs to see you."
Audren stared at the back of its painted head, the dripping water around her forgotten. Her grip on the scepter loosened. Her eyes narrowed as she thought, 'What does that painting guy want now? What does he want with a dead summon?'
The forest hummed quietly around her, unaware that her moment of peace had already ended.
"Ughhhhhhhhh," Audren groaned, dragging her hands down her dripping face as she tilted her head toward the sky. "Someone always needs me. Can't even try to act like I'm free for a few hours."
She sighed, stepping from the pool, droplets sliding from her skin like falling glass beads. Her garments hung neatly on a low branch, the royal whites and reds folded in perfect symmetry, gleaming faintly in the soft light. She pulled the fabric over herself as she walked, fastening the gold clasps and brushing the star-shaped pendant at her collar.
Then, without warning, a surge of starlight burst from her hand, a prismatic blast that struck the mannequin behind her. It shattered instantly into motes of light and dust. "I know Patras can track our locations with his little magic stool," Audren muttered, brushing a lock of wet hair from her face. "So he knew I was butt naked under a waterfall. That's for him messing with me."
Moments later, the air rippled. The particles of paint pulled together, reshaping into the mannequin's wooden form. Paint reformed across his limbs — each stroke appearing like a brush guided by invisible hands until he stood whole again, colors blending back into his carved face. "H-He can't really see you guys!" he stammered, arms trembling. "He just sees the location through dreams—!"
"Same shit, woody," Audren said flatly, flicking a droplet from her sleeve.
–––
(Kalhalla royal palace)
The palace swallowed her steps in soft echoes. She walked behind the mannequin down a wide corridor that looked like it had been painted into existence — every wall covered in layered murals that shimmered faintly when she passed. The colors moved subtly, almost alive: flowing reds, spiraling whites, fragments of ancient stories that hummed beneath the surface. L
The mannequin hesitated before speaking, voice cautious. "S-So you've seen a real elf? In the woods? No one's seen one in over fifty years."
Audren yawned. "I mean, there was one guy, he looked like an elf. Big ears, weirdly graceful. Followed me from that bow and arrow competition I was in. But he wasn't an elf, he was a Parley. The Parley race that eats only raw meat and corpses have pointy ears as well, and pure white eyes. They look too similar to each other so I thought he was an elf at first glance. Then I scared him off by almost blowing a hole in him. Then I heard other noises in the distance and automatically assumed it was the elves because my father said they like to avoid humans, and they hide from them. A really shy race it seems."
Woody the mannequin said, "But the elves sort of have sharper faces and slanted eyes. Could they be related?"
"No they aren't related. I understand Patras just created you out of thin air, so you have a lot to learn."
They stopped before a tall, painted door. The wood wasn't carved but brushed in perfect illusion, and when the mannequin opened it, the air rippled like the surface of a lake, and they stepped into another realm.
It was breathtaking. The world was made of pigment and imagination: floating objects, brushes, canvases, half-finished sketches, drifted through the air like lazy comets. The realm pulsed with painted light, the sky a cascade of watercolor shifting between light, dawn and twilight. And in the center of it all sat Patras on his stool, painting.
He wore a dark blue robe threaded with fine white lines that curved like constellations. His long white hair draped over his shoulders, white eyebrows and eyelashes, eyes an icy soft blue that never fully focused. Each stroke of his brush reshaped the world around him: when he painted a sea, it rippled into life behind him; when he traced roses, they bloomed underfoot, their fragrance faint but haunting.
Audren stepped beside him, arms crossed. "So. The summon dead or what, Patras? If so, could've sent your little creation here to just tell me instead of ruining my bath. I was having fun by myself, away from all of this."
Patras didn't look up. His tone was calm, detached, and distant as though his voice came from inside a dream. "The summon is alive," he said. "But…. I….wanted your permission to reveal his location through the Rune of Dreams and Nightmares."
"The Rune of Dreams and Nightmares?" Woody asked in confusion.
Audren sighed, "He's so new."
Patras dipped his brush into shimmering blue ink, painting as he spoke. "It allows me to enter the dreams of those who sleep, every dream ever dreamt exists in the same river. People dream dreams and nightmares just because of the existence of the rune I wield. They exist because the rune is a pillar of reality along with the other runes, they shaped the laws and foundation of the world. I can enter those dreams of sleep and the weary…and through that, can I find where they are resting. So your summon was asleep…."
Audren frowned. "Then why ask me for permission? This is something Kalhalla has been working toward for years. We need him. But how the hell did he survive? I saw it… his head exploded. His body turned to literal ash."
Patras paused. "It is a mystery to how he survived…but Fenris was persistent with me to take this up with you first instead of the council…."
"Why would Fenris do that…? He knows I'm not the council type. He knows the history of the kingdom is based on merit and experience, and age. If the king and queen dies, then the council is in charge of legal actions until the prince finds a bride or the princess finds a husband, only if they are over the age of 20. And if there is a prince and princess, they must duel in order to take the blessing of becoming the future leader. I have no experience with council stuff like I said before, all I know is fighting. And I'm not old enough. Fighting is my only experience. I don't need to be in the council room, but Fenris makes me sit in there so I can gain knowledge when it's so boring. Why…?"
Patras turned slightly, clearly detached, one pale brow rising. "You've…. had Fenris since he was a pup. You know what he's capable of, especially when it comes to you. And to the kingdom. He's been….. by your side since then, and you've even fought off a group of bandits who tried to take him. And he's….killed bad people for you. That wolf cares about your well being….he is your loyal protector…after all…"
Audren chuckled, "The first time I killed someone, and the day I gained star magic. And the first time I saw an elf up close. Off topic, but speaking of that, You're still trying to figure out what the deal is with it, right? Why I have it? Where it comes from? This star magic, right?"
"Of course I am…..it definitely has something to do with the elf you saw….you don't remember it…but I plan to…see it in your dreams…and the dreams of everyone else….the elves are…fascinating…"
Audren's tone hardened. "Also, you told me once that if you use the power of a full rune, an outer being comes for you. To kill you. To take it."
"I did," Patras said quietly, eyes fixed on his work. "And I would still take that risk. For the sake…of destroying the brain. That's why King Bastion and I understood each other. He's an exceptional leader. Different from many I've seen in… hundreds of years."
"Yeah, all that and yet you never told anyone where you came from," Audren said sharply. "You just popped out of nowhere. So go ahead and tell me."
Patras finally met her eyes. "No thanks. The secrets of my origins…rest with your father only.."
"Tch." She looked away. "Fucking loser."
Without expression, Patras lifted his brush and pointed upward. "I found your summon."
Audren turned fast, but instead of an image of Cainan, the air filled with a hundred beautifully detailed painted middle fingers.
"You bastard," Audren muttered, her eye twitching.
The mannequin snorted, a quiet wooden chuckle escaping him before he caught himself.
Audren turned her head slowly, smiling with mock sweetness. "Laughing, woody?"
The mannequin stiffened and began whistling innocently.
"Yeah," Audren said, cracking her neck then turned to Patras. "Go ahead and show me the summon."
Her thoughts flickered, sharp and uneasy. 'How is he alive…?'
Patras dipped his brush into a shimmer of cerulean, and the parchment flared to life beneath his hand. The strokes came slow, deliberate, each one breathing form into emptiness. A horizon of deep gold stretched across the paper, light gleaming off imagined oceans.
He layered strokes of blue and silver, painting what looked like a peaceful shoreline, birds, faintly glowing clouds, gentle mountains shaped by unseen winds. The air around them changed as he worked; the realm mimicked his brush, reflections rippling in suspended air. For a moment, the world felt beautiful and untouched.
But then, his hand shifted, the colors darkened. The blue turned to sickly green, the gold into rusted brown, the serenity into rot. Black mist began to bleed from the canvas, twisting the air as his brush cut deeper strokes. The image became heavier, almost alive, as if each pigment carried decay itself. Around them, the realm dimmed, the light from his paintings flickering like dying embers.
The parchment showed a vast swamp with trees half-sunken, their trunks wrapped in fungal ropes and glowing spores. Thick vapor coiled above stagnant water, and through the murk stood jagged metal fences, towers like sharpened bones, all circled by skeletal guards and rusting chains. When the final line was drawn,
Patras pointed his brush at the image, and the painting seemed to breathe, a grim pulse of color running through the parchment.
A prison loomed there, immense and medieval, its walls of blackened stone dripping with moss. Spiked gates, flooded moats, and red banners smeared with mud and blood.
Woody the mannequin leaned forward nervously, wooden eyes widening. "Ohhh that looks bad. Real bad."
Audren tilted her head. "The hell is that supposed to be—?"
She stopped as her breath lagged behind. Etched on one of the banners, barely visible through the painted grime was the insignia of Stroheim's flag, black and steel-gray, fluttering on a pike. Her lips parted in a low gasp, then curled into a grin. "Haha! What luck. Our summon got kidnapped and thrown into an enemy jail?"
Patras didn't look up from his work. "Based on the heavy volumes of swamps around it," he said calmly, "they are near the border of this kingdom, which leads to Myrrvindraal, the kingdom of beast-kin."
Audren narrowed her eyes. "Why would Stroheim put a random prison between the borders of two kingdoms?"
Woody stammered, his painted fingers tapping against his side. "M-Maybe if something were to happen… if you were to invade it, Myrrvindraal would step in. It's on their border too."
Audren's grin returned, sharp and vicious. "No way they have some kind of alliance crap with them. But since Myrrvindraal isn't as strong as Stroheim, Stroheim probably threatened them. Still, those two assholes are definitely in cahoots. Myrrvindraal's racist as hell, doesn't even let pure humans or other races step inside their borders. Stroheim knows how to piss people off, they've done it for years, always trying to cripple us, always scheming to write us off entirely as we are their biggest threats, as they are to us besides the brain. Trying to push us into war with another land."
She laughed, a short, dangerous sound. "If Stroheim and Myrrvindraal team up, that's double the armies. Myrrvindraal follows a pact of any blood spilled into their land means immediate war, they don't attack without cause. They worship spirits so their pact is real. Guess we'll go there, meet them, and talk it out. And if they don't like it? We still get our fucking summon back." Her grin widened. "This is exciting."
Patras paused, his brush trembling faintly. "You should… leave quickly," he murmured. "An Outer Being is coming. If you are in the presence of this battle, you and Woody will die horrifically…"
Audren blinked. "Wait—his name is really Woody?"
Woody nodded awkwardly. "Y-Yeah. You've been saying it this entire time."
Patras ignored the exchange. "He….will lead you to the prison after your meeting with Myrrvindraal. He can accompany you and the knight captains, if you wish. But you must go now…there's a reason wielders of full runes stay confined to their own realms. When an outer being breaches this space, catastrophe follows..."
Audren threw up her hands. "I'm going, I'm going, geez! Don't lose either."
She turned to leave, Woody scurrying after her, as the realm began to tremble.
The Outer Being was coming.
The painted world cracked, the air bending like torn fabric. Above them, the sky of the realm split open in a violent burst of color, a fissure of red and black light tearing the sky. Through it reached a colossal, rotten hand, its flesh carved with black runes that pulsed like molten veins. The fingers clawed at the painted stars, ripping through the dreamlike world as a massive eye opened, red and orange spiraling inward, burning through layers of creation.
Patras didn't flinch. He simply continued painting. Calm, detached, and unbothered as if the intrusion were a passing storm.
Audren and Woody stepped through the painted door, slamming it shut behind them. The sound of the realm's chaos echoed faintly, muffled by the stillness of the palace hallway.
The corridor stretched long and pale, murals of kings and gods flickering under dim light as Audren exhaled sharply, brushing stray paint dust from her cloak.
"Let's go," she muttered.