Destiny had watched North without a word.

  And the atmosphere had changed.

  Not just because they’d destroyed a city with their Unraveling—this was different. This was quieter. Sharper. Like the air itself had learned to flinch around him.

  She looked over at Crisper and Jamal.

  Crisper’s hoodie and sweats were ripped to hell, her rainbow hair dulled under soot and dust. She was still standing, but barely—eyes narrowed, body coiled like she didn’t trust the ground under her feet anymore.

  Jamal lay under the coat he’d stolen from Cale, still unconscious.

  The fact a mere mortal had survived the burden of a Story was… incredible.

  It also explained a lot.

  It made sense why he hated her now.

  Destiny exhaled through her nose and floated over to Ozzy and Tabia.

  Their faces were solemn.

  “What’s wrong?” Destiny asked.

  Tabia answered immediately, blunt and hollow. “The crew we came with… they perished.”

  Destiny blinked. Then slowly closed her eyes.

  Of course.

  Tabia continued, voice low. “North went to save his friend. S?urtinaui.”

  Destiny’s jaw tightened.

  She sighed, equal parts irritated and… worried.

  “Idiot,” she muttered. “It could’ve been a trap.”

  She looked to Ozzy.

  He was sitting down, elbows on his knees, blindfold tilted slightly like even fabric could look tired. For once, he wasn’t grinning. He wasn’t joking. He just sat there in silence, deep in thought like he was trying to calculate something.

  Destiny’s gaze hardened.

  “We’ll go after him,” she said.

  Tabia shook her head. “That’ll be difficult.”

  Destiny turned. “Why?”

  Tabia hesitated—then spoke anyway.

  “North warps space when he travels.”

  Destiny froze.

  “…What?”

  Tabia looked back at her. “I was surprised too. But he doesn’t seem to notice.”

  Destiny’s mind flashed—pieces connecting.

  That’s how they got here so quickly.

  Tabia nodded like she’d read the thought. “Yeah.”

  Destiny stared out in the direction North had vanished, eyes narrowing.

  Everyone else was in bad shape.

  Ozzy was drained.

  Crisper was battered.

  Jamal was out cold.

  Even Tabia, standing steady, wasn’t built to chase someone who traveled by bending the world.

  Destiny inhaled once.

  Slow.

  Then she made her decision.

  “I’ll go,” she said quietly.

  Tabia’s eyes widened. “Princess—”

  Destiny cut her off, voice firm. “You’ll slow me down. All of you would.”

  She turned her head just enough to look back at them, her expression softening only slightly.

  “Stay alive,” Destiny said. “I’ll bring him back.”

  Then her aura rose.

  Gold and gravity.

  Uh…

  Something was wrong.

  Not dangerous.

  Just… off.

  Like she was losing something she couldn’t name. Like a piece of herself had slipped loose.

  She frowned, but forced it down.

  That could wait.

  It wasn’t threatening.

  It wasn’t an Unraveling.

  So she’d be fine.

  Right now, she needed to find North.

  And somehow… that was easier than expected.

  She simply thought about him.

  And the world answered.

  Golden flickers appeared ahead of her like guiding sparks, pulling her forward like fate itself had decided she was allowed to follow.

  Golden wings unfolded from her back—not because she needed them.

  Because it felt right.

  Because it looked right(and cool).

  She launched into the air—only to realize a second later:

  North had gone really far.

  Farther than it should’ve been possible to go that fast without tearing distance apart.

  And for all her power…

  She couldn’t naturally bend space like that.

  Not without focus.

  Not without intent.

  And right now, her thoughts weren’t clean enough for that.

  So instead, Destiny changed tactics.

  She sent a signal.

  Again.

  Again.

  Again.

  A pulse of gold reaching outward like a repeated knock on a locked door—

  Until finally…

  Something answered back.

  A far-off flare.

  North’s aura.

  Destiny’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile.

  Got you.

  She floated back down to the others, landing lightly despite the devastation around them.

  “Ozzy. Tabia,” Destiny said, voice clipped but composed. “North should be returning soon.”

  Ozzy looked up, tired behind his blindfold. “That’s good.”

  Destiny’s eyes cut toward the horizon.

  The golden wave was closer now—close enough that even the air felt wrong, humming with pressure.

  “And we need to move,” Destiny added. “That wave is getting too close for comfort. We need to recuperate before it reaches us.”

  Ozzy nodded once. “Sounds good.”

  Tabia nodded too, already shifting into motion. “I’ll help move your… acquaintances.”

  Crisper didn’t say anything.

  Jamal didn’t wake up.

  Ozzy’s head lifted slightly beneath his blindfold, like he was listening to something nobody else could hear.

  “There’s another town,” he said quietly. “Not far from here. We passed it on the way in.”

  Tabia didn’t question it. She just nodded once and bent down, sliding Jamal’s limp body into her arms like she’d done it a hundred times already. The coat dragged along the ground as she adjusted her grip.

  Destiny watched them move—watched the quiet efficiency, the way exhaustion had turned everyone into machines running on habit and stubbornness.

  Then she felt it.

  A shift in the air.

  A pulse that wasn’t quite a pulse.

  North.

  Returning… or trying to.

  But it wasn’t his usual arrival. No crack of speed. No clean rip through distance. It felt messy.

  Unstable.

  Like a drunk slipping around the street in a haze.

  Destiny’s eyes narrowed.

  “Looks like I do have to go,” she muttered.

  And she darted.

  Gold flickered behind her like trailing sparks as she launched toward the disturbance, closing the distance in seconds. The wreckage blurred beneath her—broken stone, burned trees, fractured earth still smoking from battles that had already ended.

  She found him walking or rather stumbling.

  North was barely upright, swaying like his body couldn’t decide which direction gravity belonged in. His aura was ragged—spiking, collapsing, sputtering back to life again. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  And in his arms—

  Destiny’s breath caught.

  An elf.

  Missing an arm.

  Face split open from lip to ear, blood dried and smeared like war paint that no one wanted.

  She recognized her.

  The same one from before.

  Destiny dropped beside them, landing softly.

  North’s head tilted toward her, half-aware, as if he didn’t fully process the world anymore. Destiny’s gaze swept him once, quick and clinical, then sharpened.

  “You’re running on fumes,” she said.

  North gave a shaky, humorless breath—almost a laugh.

  “I bet,” he rasped.

  She looked at his face and the red lines had changed. “What happened to your—”

  “We can talk about that later.” North’s voice came out flat. “You know any healing techniques?”

  Destiny crossed her arms. “Yes. But—”

  “But nothing,” he cut in instantly. “Heal her. Best you can.”

  The look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

  He wasn’t threatening her.

  Not directly.

  But something was off.

  Something sharp in the air around him that Destiny had felt before—like a shadow of a shadow. Like the kind of presence that didn’t belong to him, but lived in him anyway.

  Vari’s memories stirred unpleasantly inside her chest.

  Destiny’s expression tightened. “I’ll heal her,” she said calmly. “But we need to talk afterwards.”

  “After what?”

  “After you calm down.” She met his eyes without blinking. “I can tell you’re pissed.”

  North didn’t deny it.

  “I’m not hiding it,” he said, voice low, shaking at the edges. “My friend is dead. Another one is missing and may or may not be an enemy. And there’s this shitty wanna-be MC running around.”

  Destiny’s brows lifted. “Shitty wanna-be—”

  “We don’t have time for this,” North snapped. “Heal her. And we move on.”

  Destiny scoffed. “Don’t direct me.”

  North’s jaw flexed.

  “Then stop being a fucking dick and help me—”

  His eyes poured into hers.

  Sigils rotating, locking, tightening like gears grinding into place.

  “Or get the fuck out my way.”

  Silence.

  The world held its breath between them.

  Then Destiny exhaled, slow and controlled, and stepped up to him.

  “Fine. Put her down.”

  She knelt beside S?urtinaui.

  The elf’s aura was faint, like it might blow away if the wind hit it wrong. The missing arm was beyond quick repair. The wound across her face wasn’t just deep—it felt like it had been carved in a way healing didn’t want to acknowledge.

  Destiny placed two fingers against S?urtinaui’s chest and let her own aura slip outward.

  Not as a burst.

  As a stream.

  A careful flow.

  Golden light threaded into broken places, searching for fractures, sealing what it could without forcing the body to reject it.

  Then she paused—and grabbed North by the wrist.

  Hard.

  North’s head snapped toward her.

  Destiny didn’t look up. “Watch.”

  “I don’t have time—”

  “Watch,” she repeated, sharper. “If you’re going to drag injured people through hell, you’re going to learn how to keep them alive.”

  North’s breathing tightened.

  But he didn’t pull away.

  Destiny guided his hand down, forcing him to kneel closer. “Ryun healing is good,” she said. “But aura healing is more precise.”

  Her aura flickered—tightening into a narrower channel.

  She moved his palm to S?urtinaui’s shoulder—just above the torn flesh. “Don’t push,” Destiny warned. “If you force your aura into them, you’ll tear what little is holding.”

  North swallowed.

  His sigils slowed.

  Destiny breathed out, controlled, and let her aura flow again—slowly threading into S?urtinaui’s system like warm light poured into a cracked cup.

  “Feel that?” Destiny asked quietly. “You’re not healing for them. You’re giving their body something to work with.”

  North stared, jaw tight.

  Destiny kept his hand steady.

  “Now,” she said, voice softer but still firm. “Don’t look away.”

  S?urtinaui’s aura didn’t surge back like a miracle.

  It returned the way a candle returns after someone shields it from the wind—faint, stubborn, and trembling.

  The missing arm didn’t regrow.

  The slit across her cheek didn’t vanish.

  But the rawness began to close. Torn flesh pulled together slowly, sealing enough that the bleeding stopped, enough that her body remembered how to hold itself.

  Destiny kept her hand steady, feeding just enough aura to support the process without forcing it.

  North watched, his eyes were trying to memorize the technique out of desperation.

  When Destiny finally leaned back, she spoke without looking at him.

  “Ozzy and the rest started toward a town not far from here.”

  North didn’t even blink. “That’s fine.”

  Destiny’s brow twitched. “Fine?”

  North’s voice was flat. “I don’t plan to be there long.”

  Destiny turned her head sharply, glaring at him. “Of course you don’t.”

  North’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re doing that thing again,” Destiny said, standing. “The thing where you act like you’re fine, and then you do something violent and reckless like it’s a strategy.”

  North rose too slowly, still looking at S?urtinaui like he didn’t trust the world to not steal her away. “Stop trying to tell me how to operate.”

  Destiny scoffed. “You’re not operating. You’re spiraling.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not.” Destiny’s voice sharpened. “You’re being a hothead and you’re about to do something stupid.”

  North’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not stupid.”

  “It is. It’s reckless.”

  North’s voice dropped, dangerous and raw. “It’s not reckless.”

  Destiny’s stare didn’t flinch.

  North’s lip curled.

  “It’s revenge,” he said, every syllable chosen like a blade.

  “Very different R word. But I got another R word for you—“

  Destiny stepped forward, anger flashing across her face. “Don’t.”

  North’s mouth opened anyway—ready to spit something ugly, but Destiny shoved him back, hard.

  Not enough to hurt him.

  Enough to remind him she could.

  Lightning curled around North’s fist instantly, snapping and hissing like an animal that smelled blood. His shoulders tensed, aura surging—his eyes rotating faster, sigils grinding like gears under pressure.

  Destiny’s gold flared in response, wings flickering once like a warning.

  For a moment, it felt like they might actually do it.

  Right here.

  Right now.

  Then—

  S?urtinaui coughed.

  A wet, harsh sound.

  Both of them froze.

  North’s fist unclenched instantly, lightning dying in the air like it never existed. He dropped back to his knees, attention snapping to her so fast it made Destiny’s chest tighten.

  S?urtinaui’s eye fluttered open again—barely.

  Her voice came out small.

  “…Stop…”

  North swallowed hard. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

  Destiny looked away for a second, jaw tight.

  Because she could say whatever she wanted about North being reckless.

  She could call him unstable.

  She could call him dangerous.

  But she couldn’t deny the truth sitting in the dirt between them.

  ———

  The town was mostly abandoned.

  Most natives had fled long ago—back when the event first started, when the warning signs were still small enough for denial. Now all that remained were empty streets, broken windows, and doors that swung on loose hinges like the town itself was breathing out its final patience.

  It looked normal at first glance. Standard buildings. Old signs. Roofs worn down by weather and time.

  But the lake ruined the illusion.

  Water snaked through the center of the town like a vein, cutting the settlement in half with a calm that didn’t belong in a region drowning in death.

  Ozzy sat on a rooftop overlooking it all, legs dangling over the edge, blindfold tilted just slightly as if the fabric could sense his thoughts.

  A lot of things went off course.

  A traitor?

  He didn’t know.

  He wasn’t sure who could do it.

  They’d picked everyone for this mission ahead of time, and Mi’Lentra wasn’t the type to make mistakes when personally choosing people. Not with lives on the line. Not with the Occulted Moon’s name tied to the outcome.

  And the crew was strong.

  Strong enough that them being wiped out like that didn’t make sense.

  It didn’t add up.

  Ozzy clenched his fist, knuckles whitening.

  He loved all his crew members.

  Every single one.

  So he would find the truth.

  And he would get North to fulfill his part of the deal they made when they left.

  Footsteps behind him.

  Tabia.

  She came up beside him, stopping at the roof’s edge without sitting. Her posture was stiff, like she didn’t know what to do with her hands right now.

  Ozzy didn’t look back.

  He didn’t have to.

  “What’s the status?” he asked.

  Tabia’s voice was sharp, but strained underneath. “The one that goes by Crisper is with the other they call Jamal.”

  Ozzy nodded slowly.

  He could hear it in Tabia’s breathing…

  Tense.

  Too tense.

  Ozzy finally spoke, softer. “It’s okay.”

  Tabia didn’t answer.

  Ozzy continued anyway. “We’ll get to the bottom of this mishap.”

  Tabia’s jaw flexed. For a moment it looked like she might argue—like she wanted to tear the sky open and demand an explanation.

  Instead, she forced the words out.

  “…Captain. I request a pardon.”

  Ozzy blinked once beneath his blindfold.

  Then nodded. “Granted.”

  That was all it took.

  Tabia’s composure cracked.

  Her frustration spilled out like a dam giving way—fast and jagged.

  “This can’t be happening,” she hissed. “It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. We were supposed to control the situation. We were supposed to—”

  Ozzy listened without interrupting.

  Tabia’s voice rose as she spoke, anger trying to hide what was really there.

  Fear.

  Grief.

  Guilt.

  Ozzy’s expression didn’t change, but his voice did—gentler now, like he was giving her permission to say what she was too loyal to admit.

  “If you want to blame me,” he said quietly, “you can.”

  Tabia froze.

  Her eyes snapped to him.

  Then she shook her head immediately, words coming out fierce.

  “I won’t.”

  Ozzy tilted his head. “You should.”

  Tabia’s throat tightened. “Your intuition saved the Blood Prince.”

  Ozzy’s smile didn’t come.

  Not the usual one.

  Just a faint softening around the edges.

  Tabia continued, voice lowering. “Regardless of the outcome… the mission comes first.”

  Her red eyes shimmered.

  Her aura dimmed.

  And then she looked away, like she hated herself for even letting it show.

  Ozzy stood up and crossed the small distance between them.

  He wrapped his arms around her.

  Tabia stiffened, caught off guard—then her shoulders fell, surrendering to the weight she’d been holding in silence.

  Ozzy held her firmly.

  “It’s okay,” he said again, voice low. “You can cry on me.”

  Tabia’s breath shuddered. “What are we going to do?”

  Ozzy didn’t hesitate.

  “We complete the task at hand,” he said. “And when this is over… we give everyone a proper send-off.”

  Tabia’s grip tightened slightly, like the words were the only thing keeping her upright.

  Ozzy’s voice hardened just a little—purpose returning.

  “And I’m going to make sure North knows something else too.”

  Tabia lifted her head slightly. “What?”

  “That we had no connections to this disaster.”

  Tabia stared at him for a second, then nodded once.

  ——

  North and Destiny arrived not long after.

  North was carrying someone.

  At first, Ozzy couldn’t make out who it was—just a limp figure wrapped in blood and torn fabric—but the moment he stepped closer, his stomach tightened.

  The elf.

  S?urtinaui.

  Crisper, posted near a window, lowered her sniper the second she saw North’s face.

  When North and Destiny entered, the tension became its own living thing.

  North didn’t speak.

  He just walked into the house and laid the elf down gently on the couch, like he was setting a blade on a table and praying it wouldn’t break.

  Silence swallowed everything.

  The house itself looked almost normal—a townhouse layout that could’ve been pulled straight from Earth. Plain walls. Stairs. A kitchen that still had cabinets. A living room that still had furniture.

  A lie of normalcy wrapped around tragedy.

  But after a moment, a few auras drifted closer to the building.

  North’s head turned before anyone else even sensed them.

  He stood.

  And he walked out.

  Not hurried.

  He didn’t listen to their voices.

  Didn’t acknowledge their presence.

  That’s all they were.

  Noise.

  A crackle of red lightning tore across the air—

  And five bodies hit the ground before they could even finish whatever threat or plea they came to make.

  Silenced.

  Crisper blinked once from her spot by the window.

  “…Woah.”

  Ozzy and Tabia watched without moving.

  But Destiny shot up like a flame finally catching.

  She stormed out the door.

  “Why would you do that?!” she demanded.

  North turned slowly.

  The look on his face wasn’t confusion.

  It was annoyance.

  “You need to stop questioning me.”

  Destiny’s eyes sharpened. “And you need to stop acting like the world belongs to your mood swings!”

  North stepped forward. “This is a death game. People come near us, they die. That’s it.”

  Destiny threw her arms wide, disbelief hardening her voice. “A death game doth not grant thee permission to act as a fool!”

  North stared at her. “Why are you making this such a big deal?”

  “Because,” Destiny snapped, “you’re giving me a foul feeling.”

  North’s brows lowered. “What?”

  Destiny pointed at him. “I have felt this before. That pressure. That shift. That—”

  North’s voice erupted. “I’m not Jafar!”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Destiny shouted back. “This has nothing to do with Jafar!”

  She stepped closer, refusing to give ground. “You need to calm down. Before thou dost something rash, something unforgivable—”

  North’s lip curled. “Oh spare me.”

  Destiny’s eyes flashed. “Spare thee?! Thou art a storm pretending it is a plan!”

  North’s jaw flexed. “Shut up.”

  Destiny didn’t.

  North’s insults started coming faster—meant to wound rather than argue—and Destiny tried to reason with him until her patience finally snapped too.

  And then she started insulting him right back.

  Inside the house, Crisper slowly turned her head.

  She looked at Jamal on the floor—still unconscious. Then at the elf on the couch. Then she looked to Ozzy and Tabia.

  Both of them stood like statues.

  Waiting.

  Watching.

  Measuring.

  No one was sure they could trust each other.

  Crisper’s fingers flexed.

  Her weapon wheel was ready.

  Tabia noticed immediately.

  Her aura flared just a fraction. Ozzy lifted a hand and stopped her without even looking.

  Then he glanced at Crisper and smiled.

  “Don’t worry, ya cotton candy head,” he said. “This situation is a weasel in a hen shack… but rest assured.”

  His smile sharpened slightly.

  “We’re your fellow hens.”

  “And we’re gonna find that weasel.”

  Crisper let out a slow breath, still not fully relaxing. “Should we stop them?”

  Ozzy laughed quietly.

  “Naw.” He leaned back against the wall like he’d seen this kind of thing too many times. “It’s two hounds trying to mark their territory. We gotta let ’em get it out.”

  Crisper sighed, eyes flicking toward the door again.

  “…I hope you’re right.”

  Ozzy’s smile didn’t fade.

  “Me too.”

  ———

  “Besides… stupid,” Destiny spat, eyes blazing. “Who said you were in charge?”

  North didn’t even blink.

  “I never said I was,” he snapped back. “I said help me or get the fuck out my way.”

  He stepped closer, voice low and sharp.

  “Don’t tell me to relax. And don’t tell me how to handle this situation!”

  “North, I—”

  “You wanna be an enemy too?!”

  For a second, Destiny just stared at him.

  Then she laughed.

  A sharp little sound like she couldn’t believe the nerve of him.

  North’s sigils flared, the red lines beneath his eyes lit up brighter, bleeding down like vertical tears, and lightning began to dance around his body in restless, snapping coils.

  Destiny tilted her head slightly, almost pitying.

  “You really wanna do this?” she cooed.

  North’s jaw clenched.

  “You won’t shut up any other way.”

  Destiny’s smile widened, but her eyes stayed cold. Her aura rose—gold and pressure, elegance turning into threat.

  “You need something to hit? Fine.” Her voice dropped. “But don’t expect a punching bag.”

  Inside the house, Crisper watched through the cracked window frame and shook her head.

  “Dude…” she muttered. “They both are on their last leg.”

  Ozzy shrugged. “She seems to know what she’s doing,” he said calmly. “We’ll just have to see if it’s the—”

  A flash.

  North exploded forward.

  Red lightning encased his body like a living storm as he tore across the street—Destiny lifted one hand.

  Light began to swirl above her pointer finger and middle finger, bending and tightening like it was being threaded into a needle. Sparks snapped in the air, sharp and bright, as the golden glow condensed into something focused and precise.

  She stared directly at the charging beast.

  And fired.