The note trembled in my hand like a dying leaf. "Meet me at the western tower balcony. Midnight. Come alone." Elane's handwriting—neat but pressed so hard into the parchment that it nearly tore through in places.

  I folded it carefully, slipping it into my pocket as I navigated the moonlit corridors of the capital castle. The western tower was rarely used these days, its winding staircase leading to an observation balcony that overlooked the city's ancient walls. Perfect for a clandestine meeting—or an ambush.

  My footsteps echoed against stone as I climbed, one hand resting on my sword's hilt. Trust wasn't something I gave freely anymore, not even to Elane. Especially not to Elane, whose choices continually baffled me.

  She was waiting at the top, her small frame silhouetted against the midnight sky. The moon cast her in silver light, making her appear even more ghostly than usual. She hugged herself tightly, as she always did when nervous, her dark hair spilling over hunched shoulders.

  "You came," she whispered, as if surprised.

  "Your note didn't leave much room for interpretation," I replied, keeping my distance. "What's this about, Elane?"

  She turned, and I saw she was cradling something wrapped in cloth. Her hands trembled as she pulled back the fabric, revealing a shortsword unlike any I'd seen before. Its blade caught the moonlight, reflecting it with an intensity that seemed almost unnatural. The steel had a faint blue tinge, and runes were etched along its length, pulsing with a subtle glow.

  "I made this for you," she said, her voice barely audible above the night breeze. "It's called Everedge."

  I stared at the weapon, unable to hide my confusion. "You... made this? How?"

  "The Midnight Diamond." She offered the sword to me, her eyes downcast. "I used it as the primary material."

  My mind reeled as I took the blade, feeling its perfect balance. The Midnight Diamond—her ticket to freedom, the rare gemstone I'd given her weeks ago that could have funded her escape from the Heroes Party, from Heather's manipulation, from this entire life of servitude.

  "But you already used your Rare Crafting Moment this level," I said slowly. "For Heather's gown."

  Elane's shoulders hunched further, her fingers twisting together. "I... I lied about that. My ability actually lets me craft two rare items per ten levels. I just... never told anyone."

  "Not even Heather?" The words came out sharper than I intended.

  She shook her head, a wisp of a smile touching her lips. "It's the only secret I've managed to keep from her."

  I examined the sword more closely, running my finger along the runes.

  [Scan Results] [Item: Everedge Type: Rare Trait- Blade which never dulls and increases damage struck from behind to 30%, Critical Hit Chance +15%]

  On Earth there was no logical reason a diamond could make a blade better. I saw shards of the diamond embedded in the metal from hilt, rising up to the tip. I also saw those same diamond shards embedded in runes somehow carved into the steel, making them glitter in the light.

  She used the Midnight Diamond I gave her to make this for me.

  She used my gift to make me a gift instead of escaping.

  I felt a knot forming in my throat as I stared at the sword, its runes glowing faintly in the darkness. My fingers tightened around the hilt until my knuckles turned white.

  "Why are you doing this to yourself?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  Elane tilted her head, genuine confusion crossing her features. "What do you mean?"

  "This." I held up the sword, moonlight dancing along its perfect edge. "I gave you that diamond so you could escape, Elane. So you could finally be free of them. Not so you could craft me a weapon."

  She blinked rapidly, her hands fluttering like wounded birds. "Escape? Will, you're being overdramatic. I don't need to escape from anything."

  "Don't you?" The words came out harsher than I intended.

  "Heather and Jesse are my friends," she insisted, her voice taking on that familiar, rehearsed quality I'd come to hate. "They only want what's best for me. Yes, sometimes Heather can be demanding, but she's under so much pressure as our healer. And Jesse, she's just protective of the group. They care about me, Will. They really do."

  Something inside me snapped. Months of watching her diminish herself, of seeing her flinch at Heather's sharp words, of watching her exhaust her powerful abilities for others while receiving nothing in return—it all boiled over in an instant.

  "Shut up," I growled, thrusting the sword back toward her. "Just... shut up. Take it back. I don't want it."

  Elane stepped away, shaking her head. Her eyes widened with something like panic. "I can't take it back. It's yours now. If you don't accept it..." She swallowed hard. "If you don't want it, I'll give it to Andy."

  The mention of Andy's name hit me like a physical blow. Of course. In her mind, there were only two options—please me or please him. The concept of keeping something for herself, of valuing her own needs, was so foreign it might as well have been written in a language she couldn't read.

  I lowered the sword, feeling the fight drain out of me. "Is that what this is about? You think if you don't keep everyone happy with gifts, they'll abandon you?"

  "No, I—" She stopped, her brow furrowing as if encountering a thought she'd never considered before. "I just wanted to do something nice for you. You're always looking out for me, and I never..." Her voice trailed off.

  The silence between us stretched, filled only by the distant sounds of the sleeping city and the soft whistle of wind through the tower's ancient stones. I studied her face in the moonlight, searching for some sign that she understood the cage she'd built around herself.

  "You really don't see it, do you?" I asked quietly. "What they're doing to you."

  "There's nothing to see," she insisted, her voice taking on that familiar defensive tone I'd heard countless times. "You've always been suspicious of them, but they've never done anything to hurt me."

  I thought of the bruises I'd spotted on her arms last month when her sleeve slipped. The way she'd quickly pulled the fabric down, avoiding my gaze. The times I'd heard Heather berating her for minor mistakes, reducing her to tears. How Jesse would "accidentally" forget to include Elane's share of loot after dungeon raids.

  "Never hurt you," I repeated, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I sheathed the sword at my hip, its weight unfamiliar yet somehow right. "Fine. I'll keep it."

  Relief washed over her face. "Thank you.”

  “Also, don’t ever speak to me unless it’s about killing the Demon King.”

  I only saw a brief flash of shock before I turned around. I moved so fast out of that room, she probably didn’t even have a chance to fully process my words until after I was out of sight.

  I was officially done. I was so fucking done.

  Why do I keep making the same mistakes? They’re both lost causes, her and my dad…

  “Will Walton, what the hell are you doing in my swamp?”

  “I’m not sure if we can really say it’s your swamp Ms. Gardens. I mean I’m pretty sure this place is technically owned by some noble,” I said as I tried to mentally calculate the chances of her being able to kill me. We were trapped inside a cage, basically sitting ducks if she had some spell to hit us with.

  “These lands are owned by Duke Melvin of Ravenwatch,” Duncan said, glaring at the old lady. Of course he would know something like that.

  Hellene stomps towards the cage, her long snow white hair tied back in a tight ponytail. Her face is set in a permanent scowl, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deepening as she approaches. Her intricately embroidered grey robes shimmer with subtle enchantments, and her magic staff - topped with a luminescent blue crystal - pulses in sync with her agitated emotions, casting an ethereal glow around her.

  "Duke Melvin hasn’t visited this swamp since the day he was born thirty years ago," she spits, jabbing her staff toward us. "Nobody's claimed this wretched place since, and nobody will." The crystal atop her staff flares brighter with each word, responding to her rising anger.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Duncan's hand instinctively moved to a throwing dagger on his belt, but I shook my head slightly. Antagonizing her further would be suicide.

  “I apologize for my words Ms. Gardens. I’ll try to keep it short, I came here to see if you could help me get revenge on the Heroes Party.”

  For the first time the old lady appeared to truly look at me. Her eyes locked onto the hook hand I had and then stared at my face. I had this distinct impression she was seeing more than just my pale skin and blue eyes. Like she was scanning me, which technically should be impossible because only Heroes had the Scan ability.

  Her expression shifts imperceptibly, a flicker of something—perhaps recognition, perhaps calculation—crossing her weathered features. The crystal atop her staff pulses once, bright blue light momentarily illuminating the murky swamp around us.

  Hellene taps her staff onto the ground a single time and the cage pulls back to sink beneath the water. The metal bars descend with the same mechanical grinding that heralded their appearance, disappearing beneath the murky surface with barely a ripple.

  "Revenge," she repeats, the word hanging in the air between us like a tangible thing. "Now that's an ambition I can appreciate."

  Duncan's posture remains tense, refusing to sheath his sword. "Your pets nearly killed us," he says, voice tight with controlled anger.

  Hellene's eyes flick to him dismissively. "I knew you could handle those gremlins and the serpent without issue. I just wanted to annoy Will here a little. Him and me have some issues to settle.”

  She was still pissed off about Elane alright. And in her eyes I was still partly to blame for what happened to her.

  “I figured, you two stay here please. I think me and Ms. Gardens need to have a private conversation in her homy stone tower over there,” I said, glancing at the gloomy structure. There were things which needed to be said. Words that neither one of us wanted witnesses for.

  “Caw! I’m good with staying out here, but no more cages. Or the magnificent Osirus will not be pleased,” warned the raven as he perched onto a tree branch. Hellene didn’t show any surprise at seeing the raven talk. Simply gave a snort as she turned and walked towards her tower.

  Duncan didn’t bother speaking, simply nodded towards me with a intense look. His meaning was clear, if he thought our talk turned violent then he’d be charging into the stone tower in a instant.

  As soon as I stepped on a rug lying right in front of the open doorway, a sudden flash of heat touched my body. The lower half of my body which was practically soaked was now dry and crisp. At least now I understood how Hellene kept dry in a swamp.

  I followed Hellene into her tower, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind us. The interior was dimly lit by glowing crystals embedded in the walls, casting long shadows across the cluttered space. Everywhere I looked were the tools of her craft—massive oak barrels stacked three high, iron-bound crates with strange symbols burned into their sides, and burlap sacks leaking colorful powders onto the stone floor.

  "Watch your step," Hellene muttered as I nearly knocked over a wooden crate filled with what looked like shimmering scales. "Some of those materials took me months to collect."

  Along one wall stood floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with glass jars of every size. Each contained some preserved specimen floating in viscous liquid—a three-eyed frog, the heart of something far too large to be natural, writhing tentacles that seemed to move despite nothing living being able to survive in preservation fluid. One jar held what appeared to be a human hand, though the extra joints in each finger suggested otherwise.

  Without waiting for my reaction, Hellene headed toward a spiral staircase in the corner. Her staff tapped rhythmically against the stone steps as she climbed up the stairs. I quickly followed, trying to match the pace of her steps.

  At the top of the staircase, Hellene pushed open a weathered oak door with her staff, not bothering to hold it for me. I caught it before it swung back into my face and followed her into what was clearly her private office.

  The room was dominated by a massive desk carved from a single piece of dark wood, its surface covered with open books, scattered parchments, and half-finished enchantment diagrams. Two chairs faced each other across the workspace—one high-backed and cushioned behind the desk, the other a simple wooden seat in front. Towering bookshelves lined three walls from floor to ceiling, packed with ancient tomes whose spines were so worn their titles had faded to illegibility. Some volumes were bound in materials I preferred not to identify, their covers seeming to shift and change when viewed from the corner of my eye.

  A small window cut into the stone wall offered a view of the swamp below, the murky waters reflecting the pale moonlight. Through it, I could just make out Duncan's armored form pacing near the tower's entrance, one hand still resting on his sword hilt.

  "Sit," Hellene commanded, dropping into her chair with surprising grace for an old woman. I did as she ordered, feeling a bit more like a dog versus a person. Her violet eyes dared me to look away as she appeared to study me. Once again I had that feeling of being scanned which shouldn’t be possible. But the instincts which have sharpened with my higher Wisdom stat were telling me she was somehow finding things about me which she shouldn’t.

  I decided to take a gamble.

  “You know it’s rude to peek.”

  The gasp she let out as she instinctively jerked back into her chair told me I’d bet correctly. Just like that, the feeling of being spied on disappeared as she muttered a curse.

  “Tell me the whole story of why you want revenge of the Heroes Party,” Hellene said, of course not apologizing for whatever the hell she was doing a second ago.

  And so I told my story just like I did with Duncan, not holding anything back. I had to give it to her, when I reached the part of Patrick confessing to killing Elane, it only got a eye twitch. Did she always know? I suddenly felt more stupid like usual, wondering just how oblivious I was about my former party members.

  I mentioned how Fire-Friend was needed to open the Five Sigil Dungeon, but I didn’t note the murder they did to get it. Or how Duncan was with us to avenge the said murder. That was his story to tell.

  Finally she asked a question I’d been expecting much sooner.

  “Why didn’t you protect her?”

  And since I knew it was coming, I was ready with a response.

  “Why didn’t you make her cash that diamond and get the hell out of this kingdom?”

  Hellene flinched as if I'd struck her. The crystal atop her staff flared an angry red.

  "You think I didn't try?" she hissed, half-rising from her chair. "I begged that girl to leave! Offered her my savings, contacts in Sannindi, even a teleportation scroll I'd been saving for emergencies." Her knuckles whitened around her staff. "She refused every time, spinning the same excuses about how the Heroes Party needed her, how they were her friends deep down."

  The old woman's face contorted with a grief so raw it made me look away. "And where were you during all this? After she gave you Everedge, you never spoke to her again. Not one word!" She leaned forward, her violet eyes boring into mine. "Why would you be so cold to the poor girl who sacrificed her freedom to make you a gift?"

  I stared at my hook hand, the polished metal catching the dim light. The question hung between us, heavy with accusation.

  "She reminded me too much of my dad," I said quietly.

  Hellene blinked, clearly caught off guard by my response. "Your father?"

  I nodded, staring at the hook where my hand should be. "My dad was trapped in a toxic relationship with my mother for twenty years. Every day, she treated him like garbage." The words came easier than I expected, memories I'd buried rising to the surface. "She isolated him—he wasn't allowed to have friends. She controlled every aspect of his life, made him pay for everything without question, and if he ever dared to push back, she'd twist his words until he believed he was the problem."

  I looked up, meeting Hellene's gaze directly. "Sound familiar?"

  The anger drained from her face, replaced by a dawning comprehension.

  "The worst part," I continued, "was watching him convince himself it was love. Creating elaborate justifications for her behavior. Believing that someday, if he just tried harder, sacrificed more, she'd finally treat him with basic decency." I shook my head. "Elane did the same thing with Heather and Jesse. She'd come back from their 'talks' with fresh tears and new excuses."

  Hellene sank back into her chair, suddenly looking every year of her age. "I never knew," she whispered.

  "How could you? I never told anyone." I flexed my hook hand, watching the dim light play across its metal surface. "When Elane gave me that sword instead of saving herself, I saw my dad all over again. Someone so deep in denial they'd rather craft beautiful lies than face ugly truths. I couldn't watch it anymore."

  The silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant sounds of the swamp and the soft pulsing of Hellene's staff crystal, now faded to a muted blue.

  "We both failed her," Hellene finally said, her voice hollow. "You by walking away. Me by not being forceful enough."

  "No," I said firmly. "You can’t save someone who refuses to save themselves. This is a fact of life even your powerful magic of this world can’t change.”

  Hellene's fingers traced abstract patterns on her desk as she considered my words. The crystal on her staff dimmed to a faint glow, matching her subdued mood.

  "You're right," she finally admitted, the words clearly difficult for her to say. "Even with all my power, I couldn't make her see what was happening. My enchantments can bend reality, but they can't change a person's heart." She sighed, a sound heavy with years of regret. "Not even my strongest spells could have saved her from herself."

  I leaned forward, sensing an opening. "Then help me hit them where it hurts. The Heroes Party is after something in the Five Sigil Dungeon. If we get there first, we can take whatever they're seeking."

  Hellene let out a bitter laugh that held no humor. "Stealing treasure? Is that all you want?" She rose from her chair with surprising swiftness, her robes swirling around her. "My vengeance won't be satisfied by petty theft, Will Walton. I want to see them broken. Humiliated. I want to watch as everything they've built crumbles around them."

  Her staff struck the stone floor with a crack that made me flinch. "But yes, denying them the dungeon's prize would be a fine beginning. I'll help you."

  Relief washed through me. "Thank you. We should leave as soon—"

  "Not so fast," she interrupted, her eyes shifting toward the window where Duncan could be seen pacing below. "First, we need to discuss your... companion."

  I frowned, confused by her sudden change in topic. "Duncan? What about him?"

  Hellene's violet eyes narrowed. "You truly don't know what he is, do you?"

  Before I could question her further, a thunderous crash echoed from outside, followed by Duncan's battle cry. We rushed to the window to see a horrifying scene unfolding below.

  At least ten decomposing corpses had emerged from the swamp, their waterlogged flesh hanging in tatters from yellowed bones. They surrounded Duncan, who stood with his sword drawn in a defensive stance.

  "Zombies," I muttered, already reaching for my dagger. "We have to help him!"

  I sprinted for the stairs, taking them two at a time, Hellene following at a surprising pace for her age. As we burst through the tower door, I saw Duncan cleave a zombie's head from its shoulders with a single powerful stroke.

  "Stay back!" he shouted when he spotted us. "I have this under control!"

  I hesitated, dagger in hand, watching as he moved through the shambling horde with unnatural grace. A zombie lunged at his back, but somehow its claws passed through the air where Duncan had been a split second before. Another swung a rotting arm at his head, missing by mere inches as he ducked without even looking.

  Not a single blow connected. It was as if he always knew where they would try to hit him. I could only recall one other time a fight went this smoothly for him, when we faced the zombies at his manor.

  “Why can he predict the attacks of zombies?” I muttered to myself.

  “Because he is the one summoning them.”

  “I- wait what?” I asked bewildered looking over at Hellene who rolled her eyes.

  “For someone who recently lectured me for scrying secrets, you should do it more often yourself. Scan the knight.”

  Normally the only time I used my Scan ability on people was when I was gathering info. Otherwise I always considered it rude to use on people I know. But I couldn’t resist doing so as Duncan chopped the last zombie in half, its rotted entrails splashing into the water.

  [Scan Results] Name: Duncan Lasair Race: Human Class: Fallen Knight Level: 31 Stats: Str 16, Con 16, Dex 12, Wis 14, Int 12 HP: 205/205 MP: 45/45

  “Fallen Knight?”