"Excellent! That was almost the correct element this time!" he declared, as Circe's fireball flickered out mid-air and dissolved harmlessly into light.
Helga wiped her brow, muttering, "At least it didn't explode."
"Progress!" Merlin said, utterly pleased.
The Fairy Godmother hummed beside him, knitting a ribbon of soft magic that hovered over a cauldron. "Learning takes time, my dears. Even I burned a few drapes before mastering precision."
Circe blinked. "You burned drapes?"
"Very nice ones," the Fairy Godmother said solemnly.
Helios, leaning near the stairwell, smiled to himself. The chaos of spell practice had become a background hum of energy—spheres of flame, frost, and static popping and reforming around the room like mischievous stars. It was peaceful in its own way: proof that creation could thrive even in an endless night.
About thirty minutes later, the door opened again. Skuld entered first, bright and quick-eyed as always, her cloak damp with rain. Aqua followed a moment later—composed, silent, gaze steady but cool as tempered glass. The difference between them was almost gravitational: Skuld carried warmth; Aqua carried discipline.
Helios straightened. "Perfect timing."
"Morning," Skuld said with a small smile. "We heard the noise from outside."
"Noise?" Merlin huffed. "That's the sound of learning."
"Controlled spellwoek," Fairy Godmother added, patting his sleeve.
Helios chuckled, waving off the sparks still dancing in the air. "Call it what you like, but I'm glad you're both here. There's something important we need to discuss."
The tone in his voice drew everyone's attention. Even Circe and Helga stopped casting; the magic in the room dimmed to a quiet hum. Skuld stepped closer, reading his expression, while Aqua's eyes narrowed slightly—as though bracing for whatever was coming.
"Are we heading to a new world?" Skuld asked hopefully.
Helios smiled, faint but genuine. "Yes… and no."
That earned a blink from her and a frown from Aqua. "That's not how yes or no works," Skuld said cautiously.
He lifted a hand, holding up three fingers. "Three worlds."
The room fell still for a heartbeat. Circe's brows rose, and even Merlin looked mildly intrigued.
Skuld tilted her head. "Three? At once?"
"Yes," Helios replied. "We don't have the luxury of time anymore in the case of these three worlds."
He stepped toward the table in the center of the room, where spellbooks and blueprints shared space in chaotic harmony. With a motion of his hand, two glowing spheres appeared in the air—each representing a different world, pulsing faintly with distinct colors: one emerald and the other deep indigo.
"These are the coordinates Maleficent provided," he continued. "Each of these two worlds holds something we need. They must be retrieved or resolved simultaneously."
Aqua crossed her arms. "And why exactly simultaneously? That's unnecessary risk."
"Because if we delay," Helios said, his tone steady but edged, "Maleficent will ravage those worlds until they collapse. Leave one unchecked to go to another, and it will unravel."
Circe frowned. "You're talking about seeing a new world, right? I have no problems with that."
Helios nodded. "Good, just remember that we as travelers must reduce our interference to a minimum. If we shift the destiny of a world too much, the consequences will be too much to bear."
Merlin adjusted his spectacles, eyes narrowing. "A rather extreme claim, though not impossible."
"It's not a theory," Helios said quietly. "I've seen it happen."
That silenced the room. The air grew heavier, the glow from the magical lamps seeming to dim. Skuld studied him, worry edging into her voice. "Then… how do we handle this?"
Helios lowered his hand, the projections hovering above his palm. "We split up."
The reaction was immediate.
"Split—what?" Skuld asked, her tone sharp.
Aqua's brows furrowed. "That's reckless."
Even Circe and Helga exchanged uneasy glances.
Helios's voice remained calm, analytical, as if explaining a tactical maneuver instead of rewriting their fates. "Three teams. One for each world."
He extended his hand toward Skuld first. "You'll go with Kurai."
That drew a visible flinch from Skuld. "Kurai? Why her?"
"Because she's the only one who can move freely through darkness," he replied. "You'll need her to navigate the transitions safely."
Skuld folded her arms, frown deepening. "You could come with us instead."
"I could," he admitted, "but I won't."
Her expression wavered. "Why not?"
He didn't answer her yet. He turned to Aqua. "You'll lead the second group—Thalen, Circe, and Helga."
Aqua raised an eyebrow but said nothing at first. Helga looked uncertain. Circe just smirked faintly, already intrigued by the idea of travel.
"Your team's task," Helios continued, "is investigation and retrieval. If you get me the item, then that thing we talked about in Olympus might work out for you. I trust you to adapt."
"And you?" Aqua asked. "Where will you be?"
"The Realm of Darkness," he said. "Alone."
Skuld's voice trembled with disbelief. "Alone? You promised not to leave m… us again."
Her words hit the room like a ripple through still water. Everyone turned to her, but Helios's expression remained unreadable—somewhere between apology and resolve.
"This isn't the same," he said softly. "I'm not abandoning anyone."
"It feels the same," she said, voice tightening. "You always make it sound logical. But it's always you walking away."
Helios met her gaze for a long moment. There was no anger there, only quiet weariness. "Because I have to. The Realm of Darkness isn't stable enough for a team. The structure there… it's more like a wound than a world."
Kurai's voice echoed faintly from behind them—she'd entered unnoticed through a corridor, her tone low and sardonic. "He means it's more dangerous than the last time you went there with him."
Skuld turned sharply toward her. "And you're okay with this?"
Kurai leaned against the doorway, expression unreadable. "I don't waste breath arguing with inevitability."
"That's not inevitability," Skuld said. "That's resignation."
Kurai's lips curved into something almost like a smile. "Then learn the difference."
"Enough," Aqua said firmly, stepping between them. "If we're splitting up, we prepare now and argue later."
Her authority quieted the tension, but only just. The Fairy Godmother floated closer, her voice soft but carrying. "Remember, dear ones—trust is the thread that keeps the weave from unraveling. Do not tug too hard at it."
Merlin nodded gravely. "She's right. Divide your strength, but not your purpose."