Something had gone terribly wrong.
The spell hung, unstable, in the air—water swirling in impossible shapes, infused with a sickly green light.
Audree staggered back a step, clutching his right arm.
Then the pain hit.
It flared like wildfire—searing, white-hot agony rushing down from shoulder to wrist. The runes etched into his skin pulsed with unstable light, burning like fresh brands.
He gasped, doubling over as the magic surged deeper, flooding his system like poison.
It wasn't just pain—it was wrong.
The slime's mana, once passive and cooperative, now felt invasive. Alive. Furious. It surged through him like his blood had been replaced by liquid fire. His body rejected it, muscles seizing, vision blurring.
It felt like an infection—like his very cells were breaking down, trying to fight off the foreign energy tearing through them.
If it kept going...
He didn't know what would happen.
But it wouldn't be good.
With what little clarity remained, Audree locked his gaze on the water spell still suspended in the air, trembling under its own unstable pressure.
He gritted his teeth.
Push it out.
He focused on the connection—on the spell, the link, the slime's remaining mana—and shoved with everything he had.
The rune lines on his arm lit up, then cracked. The ink flared green, then white.
The platform on his shoulder sparked violently, thin wood blackening and splitting down the middle. The spellbook in his other hand glowed—too bright—then shattered, the pages bursting into ash, the binding blown open like a bomb.
The force of it knocked him backward, slamming him into the ground.
BOOM.
A shockwave of magic-laced air erupted from the spell site, flattening the grass and rattling trees as far as the eye could see.
The sky pulsed once—green and blue flashes mixing in the smoke.
The light was so intense, it lit up the fields like noon daylight.
Even at this distance from town, someone would've seen it.
Everyone might've.
And then—
Silence.
The spell collapsed.
The floating sphere of water dropped harmlessly to the grass and burst like a raindrop.
Audree lay sprawled, panting, his arm scorched and marked with fragmented, glowing lines. His entire body ached. Every nerve felt raw.
Nearby, Leif crouched behind a boulder, stunned and wide-eyed, the remaining half of the slime quivering in a puddle beside him.
Audree stared up at the sky, smoke curling above him.
He had wanted magic.
But he hadn't expected it to want him back.
From behind the shattered boulder, Leif came sprinting.
His boots skidded in the ash-coated grass as he dropped to his knees beside Audree, eyes wide with panic.
"Are you okay?! Audree!"
He reached for his friend's wrist, trying to check his pulse, but the second his fingers brushed Audree's skin—
"Ah—!"
Leif flinched and pulled back, as if burned.
Audree blinked, barely able to lift his head, eyes half-lidded.
Weird... he thought distantly, watching Leif's stunned face, then turning his gaze back toward the sky.
The pain was there—everywhere. His body ached down to the bones, like his soul had been scraped raw.
But above him...
The sky was clear.
For the first time in his memory, the thick, perpetual smog of Embershade had broken. The clouds had parted, revealing a velvet canvas of stars—brilliant, distant, unfiltered.
He had only ever read about the stars.
Now, they looked down on him like forgotten gods.
They say that far beyond, in the space between suns, there are other worlds. Other realms with their own skies and suns and people. It was called the multi-world theory, right?
Audree let out a shaky breath, the air cool against his scorched skin.
He felt... tired.
But his thoughts drifted upward—past the pain, past the ruin—to the stars.
What's out there?
What could I find?
What could I become?
A shadow fell across his face.
Ina.
She looked pale, her face drawn and tense in a way Audree hadn't seen since he was a child. Her mouth was moving—yelling at someone just outside his view. Nora? Town guards?
He couldn't tell.
He wished she'd stop yelling.
The sky was so nice.
So much better than the gray ceiling Embershade usually gave them.
He wanted to tell her.
"Hey... Ina," he rasped, barely audible.
But the words caught in his throat.
Maybe later.
After a quick nap.
The stars swam in his vision.
And then—
Darkness.
—-----
It was dark.
Not the familiar, comforting dark of sleep—but something deeper. Empty. Still.
Audree floated somewhere between thought and breath, the pain from earlier swallowed by a strange, impossible silence.
Then—
Light.
Tiny stars began to fall from above like bouncing beads of light, striking the unseen ground with soft tinks like glass bells. They scattered around him, illuminating the floor beneath his feet.
Gold.
The floor was gold.
Smooth and reflective, stretching out in every direction like a divine mirror.
He crouched slowly, the motion strangely effortless, and picked up one of the stars.
It was encased in glass—a perfect orb, cool to the touch, with a star pulsing softly at its center.
"Weird," he murmured, but the sound echoed far too loudly for such a quiet word.
The orb was pulled from his hand, drifting upward and joining with the others to form a glowing circle above him, spinning slowly.
The space shifted.
To his left, the floor rippled like water, and a lake formed—smooth and mirrorlike, glowing with soft lavender light. From its center rose a statue, towering and impossible.
A woman.
She had long, braided hair that reached her waist and curved, antler-like horns sweeping back from her head. Wings rose behind her—not feathered, but flowing, carved from something between stone and starlight.
She held an enormous axe in one hand, its edge etched with runes, and in the other, she reached skyward, palm open.
A single glowing rune marked the center of her outstretched hand.
Above her, the moon blazed—a full, silver disk in a sky now streaked with stardust.
Audree stepped toward the lake, mesmerized.
He didn't recognize the woman. Not from any book or myth he'd studied.
But the power radiating from her, from the lake, from the floating purple flame that now hovered above the water—it was undeniable.
Ancient. Boundless.
It made his skin prickle.
Then—a rumble.
Low. Thunderous.
Audree turned sharply, his gaze drawn back across the star-ringed circle now spinning above him faster.
The golden floor quaked.
Something was stirring on the opposite end—beyond the light, past the silent lake.
Another presence.
Another force.
—---
From the golden floor, something rose.
A cauldron.
Massive, ancient, carved with swirling vinework and rune-inscribed roses. Beneath it, a rune circle lit up—green, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The ground trembled again.
On the far side of the chamber, a throne emerged—golden, radiant, humming with barely contained power. Runes lined its arms and base, glowing faintly, whispering something just beneath the edge of hearing.
And then—from the cauldron—
Flame.
A sickly green fire crackled upward, dancing like a serpent's tongue.
It wasn't like the purple flame by the lake—soft, divine, unknowable.
This one was temptation.
It didn't roar with power. It called.
Audree felt it in his chest first. A pull. A want.
He needed it.
His feet moved without thought, stepping toward the throne. His mind tried to resist, but his body no longer listened. Before he could understand what was happening, he was seated—on the golden throne, at the center of it all.
The green flame hovered before him, whispering in a melody that vibrated through his bones.
"Audree... you need me."
His hand rose—shaking, unsure—and grabbed the flame.
The moment he touched it, the circle of stars above flashed green, pulsing like a signal flare.
Then the golden floor changed.
The light bled, corrupted. Green spilled outward from the throne and the cauldron like a spreading infection, devouring the polished gold with each second.
Across the chamber, the statue of the winged, axe-bearing woman began to move.
Her head, once still and regal, turned.
Her expression shifted—from stoic watchfulness to a wide, terrifying grin.
A knowing smile that split stone.
She looked straight at the throne.
Then she opened her mouth, and the sound that emerged was a deep, hollow howl. A call of challenge. Of war.
The purple of her lake rose, consuming the green like a tide, striking the golden floor in waves.
Moonlight flared above as the woman raised her axe.
Purple vs. Green.
A battle not of force, but of influence.
Dominance clashed with Desire.
Will against Want.
For a moment, the green wavered—buckled under the sheer command of the woman's presence.
But the flame persisted.
The feeling returned—I want it. I need it. And that craving, that hunger, won.
The purple flame flickered.
The lake evaporated.
The moon above shattered like glass.
And the stone woman—grinning still—shattered.
Cracks spread through her wings, her body, her horns—until all that remained was her twisted, haunting smile.
Then even that was gone.
And Audree was alone.
Seated on a golden throne that was no longer gold.
It was green now.
The stars above had gone dark.
Everything else had crumbled.
He was the last thing left.
And he sat there, frozen—unable to move—staring into the space where the woman's eyes had been, haunted by her smile.
Audree had become frozen in gold.