“We will have plenty of time to catch up later,” Isabella cooed in Nefertut's ear, her voice warm and low, like velvet drawn across stone. “I can see the years upon you. But we have a guest. Will you introduce me?”

  Nefertut seemed stunned at first, his mind visibly reeling. His fingers still hovered near her shoulders as if afraid she might dissolve into mist if he let go. Matthias could understand. The man had lived a small eternity where grief was his baseline—where silence had been his closest companion, and eccentricity his shield against breaking entirely. Now, that grief was bleeding off him in slow, uneven waves. It was not gone—grief does not simply evaporate—but Matthias could almost feel the pressure shifting in the air around him as Nefertut’s mind struggled to build a new normal atop the ruins of the old one.

  The room itself felt caught between breaths. Dust motes drifted lazily in shafts of golden light filtering through high, cracked windows. The scent of old stone and distant ash lingered faintly beneath something softer—jasmine, perhaps—clinging to Isabella like a memory that refused to fade.

  “I am Matthias,” he decided to introduce himself, offering a small, respectful bow. “I am newly ascended. I am technically something between a god and a world spirit. But none of that matters right now. What matters is that this family before me is made whole again.”

  Isabella turned toward him fully now. Up close, the faint translucence of her skin shimmered like moonlight on water, though warmth radiated from her all the same. She gave Matthias a tired smile, one that carried both gratitude and an ache too large for words.

  “That will take time,” she sighed. The sound trembled faintly at the edges. “I feel like I have missed so much. For me, it was a blink. I closed my eyes on that day and opened them here.”

  Her hand tightened in Nefertut’s, as though grounding herself in the texture of him—the roughness of his calloused palm, the subtle tremor he had not yet mastered.

  “Well,” Matthias confessed gently, “you missed so much that much of it won’t matter. History is muddled. There are no ruins or records unless Nefertut kept them. The world decayed to the point that it lost its name. The outside world simply became known as the Barrens.” He let that settle, heavy and dry as dust on the tongue. “But I am working with the world spirit to fix it.”

  “And what of you?” she asked softly, turning back to Nefertut.

  “I gave up,” Nefertut admitted. The words came out raw, scraped thin. “I tried everything I could think of. Rituals. Rebellions. Bargains. But I never found a way to deviate from the system once it was placed upon us.”

  “That was kind of the point,” Matthias said, not unkindly. “It was designed to distract and limit the power mortals could gain. It was meant to ensure no new gods ascended.”

  “Then how did you ascend?” Isabella asked, curiosity flickering beneath the exhaustion.

  “Mostly by accident,” Matthias replied with a small, sheepish smile. “I tend to introspect way too much. Plus, the system was corrupted by the time I got here.”

  “There is no way luck alone did all of this,” she mused, studying him more carefully now.

  “My domains are life, narrative, monsters, hearth, and craftsmanship,” Matthias explained. “I am no grand schemer. I am a father with hobbies.”

  For a heartbeat there was silence.

  Then Nefertut barked out a startled laugh. Isabella’s laughter followed, light and breathless at first, then deepening as something inside her cracked open. The sound filled the space—real, alive, messy. They leaned against one another, shoulders shaking, fingers gripping fabric as if the force of it might tear them apart.

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  The laughter turned jagged. It wavered.

  Then it broke into tears.

  Isabella buried her face against Nefertut’s chest. He pressed his forehead to her hair. The air felt thick with salt and release. Years of isolation, guilt, fury, and longing spilled out in uneven breaths. Matthias waited quietly, hands folded behind his back. The distant wind whistled faintly through the broken stonework, carrying the smell of dry earth and the promise of something new beyond the horizon.

  They had time.

  It was nearly five minutes before they managed to gather themselves, though their eyes remained red and bright.

  “I suspect,” Isabella said at last, voice still husky, “you have a reason you are hanging around?”

  “I can break you out of the system,” Matthias said, stepping forward and presenting his holy grail.

  The cup was simple—almost disappointingly so. Its surface was matte and faintly granular, like polished sandstone. Yet faint veins of luminous order traced through it, pulsing softly like a restrained heartbeat.

  “A cup made from the remains of Order’s Avatar,” he continued. “It strips the system from an individual and will either turn that power into a cultivation core, reinforce the body, or kill you if your body is not strong enough to withstand the sudden change. Xalt survived, so you two should have no problems.”

  Nefertut accepted it as though it were the most fragile relic in existence. His fingers brushed its surface reverently. The faint hum of contained authority vibrated against his skin.

  “What should I fill it with?” he asked quietly.

  “Xalt filled it with fruit juice,” Matthias offered.

  Isabella snorted, the sound sharp and delighted. “Juice? Dear, we should toast properly. Do you have any wine?”

  “Who do you think I am?” Nefertut asked in mock offense. With a subtle ripple of infernal mana, a dark glass bottle appeared in his hand, beads of condensation forming instantly along its surface. He uncorked it with care. The scent of aged berries and oak drifted into the air.

  He poured slowly. The liquid caught the light, deep crimson like heart’s blood.

  “To tomorrow,” he toasted, lifting the cup before drinking half. The power in the vessel ignited as it touched his lips, spreading through him like wildfire contained within flesh.

  Isabella took the cup next. “To tomorrow,” she echoed softly before drinking the rest.

  The change was immediate—and utterly different.

  Matthias watched as Nefertut’s power condensed inward, spiraling toward a single point beneath his sternum. A core formed, dense and violent, humming with newly claimed anarchy.

  Isabella did not condense.

  Her power bloomed.

  It diffused through muscle and bone, through nerve and blood. Her skin flushed faintly with warmth. The air around her shimmered with vitality, not concentrated but integrated. She inhaled sharply, eyes widening as sensation flooded her—heartbeat, breath, gravity, the subtle pulse of the world beneath her feet.

  “Looks like Isabella became a Remnant,” Matthias observed gently as he reclaimed the cup.

  “A Remnant?” Nefertut asked, awe replacing the last traces of fear.

  “She is not a cultivator,” Matthias explained. “Her power diffused through her body instead of concentrating into a core. She will never be able to cultivate—but biologically she is greatly enhanced. Theoretically immortal, though.”

  Isabella flexed her fingers slowly, marveling at the strength in them. “I was never that power-hungry anyway,” she said, voice steadier now. Alive in a way she had not been moments before.

  Nefertut closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, something new burned there—wild and untamed.

  “I think I have a new concept,” he murmured. “When I was a god, my concept was Entropy. This… this is Anarchy?”

  “You were the leader of the infernal faction,” Matthias said. “A rebel with a cause. The face of every movement against those who hoarded power. Now? You are probably going to be king of the demons in truth.”

  “I feel like I am missing a ton of context,” Isabella noted dryly.

  “When we were cast out of the heavens,” Nefertut began, voice steadier now, “it created a new form of energy. Chaos split into celestial and infernal energies. Celestial is orderly but stagnant. Infernal is chaotic but short-lived. All fairies from then on were either celestial or infernal. I led the infernal faction since I was the strongest dungeon core.”

  “You are no longer a dungeon core,” Matthias teased lightly. “Also not god-adjacent anymore. But I do suggest you two take some time and reacquaint yourselves.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “You should absolutely go on dates. Rediscover each other properly. Oh—there is this restaurant in Mirehold…”