Part I — Break

  The dreamscape didn’t have a sun.

  It had a pressure.

  A weight that sat on the horizon like a lid.

  Derpy and Lewd finally stepped back from each other, both breathing hard, both pretending they weren’t.

  Mia flopped down first, tongue out, tail thumping the ash like she’d earned the right to rest.

  Sphinx circled once—twice—then sat with the offended posture of a cat who would never admit she was tired.

  Lewd lowered her shield with a slow exhale.

  The skull-face on it looked smug in the wrong light.

  She scooted closer.

  Then, carefully—like she was testing if the moment would bite—she rested her head on Derpy’s shoulder.

  Derpy stiffened for half a heartbeat.

  Then he let it happen.

  Lewd’s voice came small.

  “We should run away.”

  Derpy’s ears twitched. “Run away?”

  “Yeah,” Lewd said, staring out at the ash-shore like it could become a road. “You. Me. Mia. Sphinx.”

  Derpy let out a soft chuckle. “Why would you want to do that?”

  Lewd’s fingers tightened on the strap of her shield.

  “I don’t like this war stuff,” she said. “I’m only doing it so I can be useful for you… and stay next to you.”

  Derpy’s breath left him in a tired sigh.

  “Do you really think that’s possible, Lewd?”

  Lewd shifted closer, like distance was an insult.

  “Our calamity books are training us for something,” Derpy continued. “And we don’t even know what. You think they’ll just… let us go?”

  Lewd’s ears dipped, then lifted again—stubborn.

  “It’s possible,” she insisted.

  She glanced up at him.

  lewd was half derpys size.

  It made her chest ache in a way she didn’t have words for.

  She wished she was taller.

  Not for vanity.

  Just so she could reach him easier.

  “I’ll follow you anywhere,” Lewd said. “Regardless.”

  Derpy’s chuckle this time was softer.

  “I appreciate that,” he said.

  Then his voice changed.

  Not colder.

  Heavier.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Lewd’s head lifted from his shoulder.

  Derpy stared at the horizon like it had done something to him.

  “When I saw Riven’s memories…” he began.

  Lewd’s grip tightened.

  Derpy swallowed.

  “I was going to burn the Elven Empire.”

  Lewd went still.

  Derpy kept going, like stopping would make it worse.

  “I started plotting. Talking with my sinister side. At first I didn’t even realize how far it was going.”

  Lewd blinked, confused—then alarmed.

  Derpy’s eyes flicked to her.

  “I let the dolls take me,” he said.

  Lewd’s mouth opened.

  Derpy didn’t look away.

  “Celica was in on it,” he added. “Along with Sinister Derpy.”

  Lewd’s face twisted.

  “What?”

  The word came out sharp.

  Then the rest came out louder.

  “Why would you do that?”

  Derpy’s shoulders rose and fell.

  “To test myself,” he said. “To see how this empire worked when my friend was in danger. Seeing how Riven was treated… that was all I could think about.”

  Lewd stood so fast her shield strap snapped taut.

  The ash under her boots puffed up like smoke.

  Derpy barely had time to look up.

  Lewd’s hand cracked across his face.

  The sound rang.

  Not loud.

  But final.

  “We were worried about you!” Lewd yelled.

  Her voice shook.

  “I was worried about you!”

  Derpy’s eyes widened.

  Then his expression broke.

  Not into anger.

  Into something raw.

  Lewd’s chest heaved.

  “For one second,” she snapped, “could you look at it from our perspective? You have people who care about you. Friends. Family.”

  Derpy’s eyes burned.

  Tears gathered and refused to fall—proud even in pain.

  “You don’t think I know that, Lewd?” he said, voice cracking. “I do.”

  He stood.

  Slow.

  Controlled.

  Like he was afraid of what he’d do if he moved too fast.

  “All I want to do is protect the people I care about,” Derpy said. “In my own way.”

  Lewd’s face went red.

  Tears climbed into her eyes too.

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  “You don’t just get to decide that,” she whispered.

  Then she reached for her sword.

  And her shield.

  Derpy’s hand lifted.

  Frostburn answered.

  Black ice crawled up from the ash at his feet, blooming into small roses—beautiful, wrong, sharp.

  Lewd’s blade clicked.

  A gunblade.

  The trigger under her finger felt like a promise.

  Poison mist seeped from the seam of her weapon, sweet and sickening, as if the air itself was learning to rot.

  Her shield tilted.

  The skull-face wept.

  Not water.

  Poison tears.

  They slid down the carved bone and dripped into the ash, where they hissed and left dark, bubbling puddles.

  Derpy’s voice came low.

  “I do, Lewd.”

  He stepped forward.

  “I didn’t ask for this.”

  Lewd’s eyes flashed.

  “I didn’t ask for people to worry about me,” Derpy continued.

  Then he dashed.

  No warm-up.

  No mercy.

  Just speed.

  His fist slammed into Lewd’s shield.

  The impact wasn’t a hit.

  It was a hammer.

  A black rose of ice formed on the shield’s surface at the point of contact—petals spreading like a bruise.

  Lewd’s arms jolted.

  The shield became heavier.

  Not physically.

  Magically.

  Like the ice wanted to pin her to the ground.

  Lewd snarled and shoved back.

  The rose cracked.

  Then melted in a slow, ugly drip.

  She charged.

  Her sword came up in a vicious arc.

  Derpy met it with Frostburn.

  Steel and ice screamed.

  Poison mist surged between them.

  Derpy’s feet slid.

  Lewd’s boots dug in.

  They weren’t sparring anymore.

  They were arguing with weapons.

  “I care about you, you big dummy!” Lewd shouted.

  She swung again.

  Then pulled the trigger.

  A burst of poison mist detonated from the blade’s vents—an expanding cloud that rolled forward like a wave.

  Derpy’s eyes narrowed.

  He shifted his stance, letting the mist wash past his shoulder instead of into his lungs.

  The ash behind him turned slick.

  Poison puddles formed at Lewd’s feet, spreading in uneven rings.

  Her shield’s poison tears dripped faster.

  The skull-face looked like it was crying for her.

  Lewd dashed in, ferocious.

  Her eyes changed.

  Hearts formed in them—bright, obsessive, wrong in the middle of a fight.

  Not a metaphor.

  A tell.

  A calamity symptom.

  “I’ve been worried about you since I joined this party!” she yelled.

  Her voice cracked.

  “I want you to be mine!”

  Derpy’s breath hitched.

  Lewd’s blade snapped forward.

  Trigger.

  Mist.

  Again.

  The poison cloud thickened until the air looked like it had been stained.

  “I want you all to myself,” Lewd said, voice shaking, “but that’s not possible. There are others who want you too.”

  Her sword trembled.

  Not from fear.

  From feeling too much.

  “So I’m content staying by your side,” she whispered, “even if I have to love you from afar.”

  Derpy’s jaw clenched.

  A chain of black ice snapped into being around his arm.

  Then around his spine.

  Then around his throat like a collar he’d chosen.

  His body shifted.

  Bones re-angled.

  Fur erupted.

  In a blink, he was in wolf form—larger, lower, faster.

  His eyes stayed the same.

  Still Derpy.

  Still hurting.

  He used magic step.

  Space folded.

  He was suddenly far—then farther—putting distance between them like a wall.

  Lewd spun, searching.

  Derpy fired.

  Ice shots—compressed, sharp, humming with cold—streaked toward her.

  They didn’t aim for her heart.

  They aimed for her space.

  The shots struck the ash around her and erupted into an ice containment—spines and ribs of frost rising up, boxing her in.

  Not a prison.

  A pause.

  A forced breath.

  Lewd slammed her shield into the ice.

  Cracks spidered.

  Poison hissed.

  Derpy’s voice carried through the cold.

  “I’m trying,” he said.

  And it sounded like a confession.

  The dreamscape shifted.

  Not away.

  Sideways.

  Like someone had grabbed the world by the seam and pulled.

  Lenora stood in a darker pocket of the mindscape, where the ash looked older and the air felt watched.

  Three dragons faced her.

  Pyro dominated the space before he even spoke.

  He was bigger than the other two by a cruel margin—shoulders like a cliff, wings like gates, heat like a sentence.

  Standing near him made the air feel smaller.

  Celica held the center.

  Not small.

  But clearly not the largest.

  A medium storm caught in scales—electric-blue and red, broad-winged, her presence sharp enough to cut.

  Blight stayed half a step behind and to the side.

  Smaller than Celica, but not lesser.

  Her green scales carried a venom-bright sheen, and her smile felt like a dare.

  Pyro glanced past Lenora, toward the distant flashes of ice and poison.

  Derpy and Lewd were still going at it.

  It looked like they were trying to kill each other.

  Lenora’s mouth tightened.

  She shook her head once.

  “I’m here because I want answers,” she said.

  Her eyes locked on Celica.

  “I want to know what your intentions are.”

  Celica and Blight looked at each other.

  Then back at Lenora.

  Both of them sighed.

  Celica spoke first.

  “I came back to this world to bring all the calamity books together.”

  Pyro cut in instantly.

  “That’s not true,” he said.

  His voice made the air tremble.

  “And you know it.”

  Celica’s lip curled.

  “Why are you here, Pyro?” she growled. “There’s no way you knew where we were.”

  Pyro’s eyes narrowed.

  “You are so easy to read, sis,” he said.

  Then his gaze sharpened.

  “And you know why you were put into a different world. So the Dark Series wouldn’t wake.”

  The insult landed like ash in the mouth.

  Lenora’s eyes flicked.

  Dark Series.

  Sister-Series.

  Same door.

  Different way of spitting on it.

  Pyro’s wings flared.

  “Why are you back?” he demanded.

  Blight stepped forward, smaller body moving with bigger attitude.

  “Piss off, Pyro,” she snapped. “You have no right to tell our sister where she can and cannot be.”

  Pyro’s heat spiked.

  “It’s not about rights,” he said. “It’s about consequences.”

  Blight’s eyes flashed.

  “It’s not right,” Blight hissed. “We sealed her in that realm. If she stayed there, eventually they would have awoken and this world would have been—”

  “Fucked,” Pyro finished, voice flat.

  Flames licked off his scales.

  “We agreed to protect this world no matter the cost,” Pyro said. “And we decided she would be sealed into a different realm.”

  Celica’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m here to help,” she said.

  Pyro’s head tilted.

  “By bringing an innocent bystander into the mix from another world?” he shot back.

  Lenora’s stomach tightened.

  Pyro’s gaze was a blade.

  “It’s not fair to him,” Pyro said. “Did you ask what he wanted, sister?”

  Celica’s jaw clenched.

  “I did,” she said.

  Then, quieter—like it hurt to admit—

  “He shows great progress. He’s done things no calamity bearer could do.”

  Pyro’s brow furrowed.

  “What could he do,” Pyro asked, “that no bearer could?”

  Celica crossed her arms.

  “He wielded both Blight and I,” she said.

  Pyro’s eyes widened.

  Celica didn’t stop.

  “What if he’s able to wield more than two, brother?”

  Pyro looked genuinely shaken.

  “That shouldn’t be possible,” he muttered.

  Celica’s eyes slid to Lenora.

  “That’s why the small mouse girl and him are here in the first place,” Celica said.

  She lifted her chin toward Lenora.

  “And that girl is here because of you.”

  Pyro’s gaze snapped back to Lenora.

  Celica’s voice sharpened.

  “So ask yourself, brother,” she said. “Do you think I’d come back without a reason?”

  In the distance, an explosion of ice bloomed.

  A containment cracking.

  A fight refusing to cool.

  Sinister Derpy appeared at the edge of the pocket like a shadow learning to grin.

  “I feel you should be more worried about your friends than your squabble,” he said.

  His eyes flicked toward the distant clash.

  “I feel he and Lewd are at each other’s throats.”

  Lenora’s head spun.

  Celica.

  Blight.

  Pyro.

  Dark Series.

  Sister-Series.

  Derpy.

  Lewd.

  She raised a hand.

  “Okay,” Lenora snapped. “Stop. With the bickering.”

  She looked at Celica.

  “Tell me,” Lenora said, voice tight. “Please. Do you have something terrible in store for Derpy? What are your intentions?”

  Celica’s shoulders lowered.

  She sighed.

  “He’s my partner,” Celica said. “I care about him as much as he cares about you and the others.”

  Lenora’s eyes narrowed.

  Celica continued.

  “When you all fought, I kept him alive,” she admitted. “Not well. But enough for him to learn from his mistakes.”

  Lenora’s throat tightened.

  Celica’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “I feel he can change the fractures in these kingdoms,” Celica said. “Bring them together.”

  Her voice softened.

  “That’s why I chose him.”

  Lenora turned to Pyro.

  “And you?” she asked. “You want a partner… or a person you can use for your gain?”

  Pyro’s eyes held hers.

  “I need someone I can depend on,” lenora said. “If Derpy goes too far.”

  Lenora’s chest rose.

  Fell.

  Then she made her choice.

  “So Pyro,” Lenora said, stepping forward, “will you be my partner instead of a user?”

  Pyro’s heat paused.

  Like the world itself was listening.

  “That sounds fair,” Pyro said.

  Then lenora voice sharpened.

  “But there are terms.”

  pyro didn’t blink.

  “Say them.”

  lenora eyes glinted.

  “We use each other,” lenora said. “Depend on each other. No taking over my body.”

  pyro nodded.

  “And when you see your previous partner,” lenora added, “you tell her the truth.”

  Lenora’s hand lifted.

  She held it out.

  “Those terms are fine by me,” pyro said.

  Pyro’s mouth curled.

  “I hope you can handle me well,” Pyro said.

  His heat pressed closer.

  “Because I may burn you up from the inside.”

  An ugly, delighted chuckle rolled out of him.

  Then Pyro folded.

  Scales collapsed into pages.

  Wings became covers.

  A dragon becoming a book in a blink.

  And the book vanished.

  Lenora’s eyes snapped open.

  Real ceiling.

  Real air.

  Her chest rose like she’d been underwater.

  Someone sat beside her.

  Lieam.

  In a maid dress that looked like it had been grabbed in a hurry and never forgiven.

  Lieam’s hands were fidgeting with the fabric at her skirt, knuckles pale.

  Lenora blinked.

  Then Lieam’s voice spilled out.

  “You’re a calamity bearer too,” Lieam said, like it was an accusation and a prayer at the same time.

  Lenora sat up.

  The room was Vaeloria’s.

  Here, the queen’s presence was everywhere—quiet power, expensive silence.

  Lieam’s eyes were wet.

  “I thought something happened to you,” she said. “My mother is worried about everyone in the room.”

  Lenora’s stomach tightened.

  Lieam kept going.

  “There’s no sign of the doll Derpy calls Riven,” she whispered. “And Mk2, Mk3, and Mk4 are missing.”

  Lenora’s gaze snapped to the far side of the room.

  Mk1 sat there.

  Still.

  Watchful.

  Like a statue that could move if it decided you were a problem.

  And beside it—

  Sinister Derpy.

  Not in the mindscape.

  Here.

  Awake.

  That sly, knowing look on his face like he’d been waiting for the room to catch up.

  Lieam’s voice shook.

  “My mother is worried about Derpy,” she said.

  Lenora didn’t answer right away.

  She reached out.

  Grabbed Lieam.

  Pulled her into a tight hug.

  Lieam stiffened, then melted into it like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

  “Relax,” Lenora murmured.

  Her eyes stayed on Mk1.

  On Sinister Derpy.

  On the empty spaces where the other dolls should have been.

  “Let’s not worry about what’s happening now,” Lenora said. “Let’s worry about what’s coming.”

  Lieam swallowed.

  Nodded.

  And somewhere far away—

  In the dreamscape—

  Celica and Blight returned to their partners.

  The air shifted.

  The training act continued.

  And the next fight was already loading its teeth.