(POV Dorcha)
"Wake up, you half-bred orc! I don't need trouble because of you!"
I slam back into my body just in time.
The guard is already hauling me upright like I'm nothing but a dirty rag.
Astral travel drains you in ways no one warns you about. My limbs feel hollow. My bones ache.
"You just woke up and you're already swaying? Move! To the post!" he snarls, striking me with the flat of his finned tail.
Another day begins.
Please… let the elves succeed. I can't hold out much longer.
(POV Fheall)
Inside my cavern, I float cross-legged in midair, absently stroking the tiny head of one of my bat companions.
Across from me, Baelkers and Aeltiàfisar hover in their astral forms, mirroring my posture, teacups in hand as if this were an ordinary visit.
It isn't.
What they're telling me twists something tight in my chest.
I barely had time to know those two youngsters… but I grew fond of them anyway. The thought of them trapped like this—
And Aeltiàfisar… he's exhausted. I can see it.
"So," I say at last, "what's the plan?"
Baelkers gives me that gentle look of his. "Can you teleport here, Fheall? Or should we have Adalberto bring you by sea?"
Teleport?
I burst out laughing.
"Do you think I've gone soft like you, old man?" I shoot back. "Of course I can. Travel and arrive."
The air folds.
A heartbeat later, I stand before them in flesh and bone.
"Here I—"
I don't even get to finish. The two of them wrap me in a crushing embrace like we've been apart for centuries.
And suddenly—
There's a knot in my throat.
"Hey, hey… since when did you two turn sentimental?" I grumble, pretending annoyance.
But I'm smiling.
Gods… it feels good to be here.
I squeeze their hands, blinking away the sting in my eyes.
"Back together again. So—what world are we saving this time?"
We look at each other.
Some things don't fade. Not even decades.
We were young once. Reckless. Burning.
Terrible things happened in those years. We never stepped back. Not once.
We didn't have the mastery we have now. Not the absolute control of our gifts.
But we had fire.
The hunger to live.
To fight.
To protect.
To love.
Those were dark years.
Glorious ones.
They forged us.
They stripped us down to what we truly were.
Us.
Known across the Great Kingdom as the Knights of the Golden Light.
We may carry a few more wrinkles now. A thread of silver in our hair.
But our eyes?
They still burn the same.
"We're not as young as we used to be…" Baelkers murmurs, almost shy.
I snort.
"Thank the stars. Now we're older, wiser, and far more dangerous. Isn't that better?" I wink.
(POV Baelkers)
Fheall.
Radiant, impossible Fheall.
Even as children she was extraordinary. A gnome apart from the rest.
No one understands herbs and spellcraft the way she does. No one blends heart and strategy so seamlessly.
In war, her instincts saved us more times than I can count.
She settles into a chair and looks between us.
"Well? Ideas?"
"We restore Dorcha's strength first," I say. "Body and magic."
"And," my brother adds carefully, "we were considering whether to inform the Chromatics and the Vorticants. The pact has been broken. Given what's unfolding… that's dangerous."
Fheall grows thoughtful.
"The first priority is obvious," she says. "As for the other Sirens… I think we notify only the Vorticants for now. Queen Silèna is Selìna's mother. They haven't spoken in years—but it's time."
"And if they don't reach an understanding?" Aeltiàfisar asks.
"Then we involve the Chromatics and the Oceanids. But knowing Silèna and Niùt… once they learn what's happened, they won't sit idle."
"I agree," I say—perhaps with too much eagerness.
Fheall catches my tone. Smiles.
Then she's already moving.
"Crystal Shore," she declares. "From there it'll be easier to channel strength to Dorcha. We'll use Adalberto as our catalyst. The sea's current will amplify our gifts for that charming young fool."
We join hands.
The world blurs.
In the next breath, we stand upon the Crystal Shore.
Adalberto waits.
Fheall presses her palm to his muzzle, stretching one arm toward Aeltiàfisar, the other toward me, forming the apex of a living triangle.
We mirror her.
Eyes closed.
Breath steady.
We sink into alignment—four currents becoming one.
And then—
"O ancient, wondrous force—converge within us and reach him."
We whisper it once.
Twice.
The words grow stronger each time, rising like a tide.
By the seventh invocation, Adalberto's tail erupts in blinding light.
We open our eyes.
The spell holds.
A translucent streak tears across the horizon—swift as lightning—
Racing toward Dorcha.
(POV Aileen — Alisea)
I open my eyes and find myself wrapped in Anam's arms.
It still feels unreal.
How did I deserve something like this? How did fate hand me a miracle so perfect?
He's beautiful in the quiet light. A rebellious lock of silver hair has fallen over one eye.
I brush it aside carefully, trying not to wake him.
He stirs anyway.
I can't resist.
I lean in and kiss him.
He smiles against my lips, soft, warm.
"Good morning, love," he murmurs.
Then he pulls me closer.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Mm. Yes. And I'm starving."
He laughs. "Then let's go."
He takes my hand, and together we leave our chamber.
(POV Anam)
The moment we enter the Dining Hall, my Alisea lights up.
"Father! Mother!" she almost shouts.
She swims straight into their arms.
The Queen embraces her so tightly it's as if she fears letting go even for a second.
And Alisea—she's happy.
Radiant.
"Well?" King Nèilos asks. "Are you comfortable in your quarters?"
"Oh, yes, Father. They're magnificent. Thank you," I answer.
Alisea shifts slightly in her mother's grip—just for a heartbeat. The embrace is… intense. Almost desperate.
She slips free with a playful smile, gliding toward her father.
"The finest chamber you could have given us!" she teases, pressing a kiss to his nose.
The Sovereigns look at peace.
I have never seen them like this.
(POV Selìna)
My daughter.
At last… she has returned to me.
No one—
No one will take her from me again.
Never.
(POV Dorcha)
I don't think I've ever felt this humiliated.
Of course this had to happen too.
Word has spread. Aileen—engaged to that triton.
Abandoned by a clouder girl for a creature of the sea.
I've become a joke.
But that's not even the worst part.
Now that I'm "available," the sirens have apparently decided I'm irresistible.
They're insane.
Especially the younger ones.
They shriek. They cry. They cling.
Hands everywhere. Kisses I don't want. Laughter that grates against my skull.
Here comes another.
Gods, she's hideous. And those rabbit teeth—
And she smells like sea garlic.
No. Please. Not another—
Disgusting.
I want to spit. I can't even do that.
Wait.
…What is this?
A surge.
Sudden. Sharp.
Strength floods my limbs. My lungs expand like I've been breathing shallow for weeks.
The elves.
They did it.
Finally.
Are my powers back too?
No. Careful. No mistakes.
I'll test it tonight.
(POV Adalberto)
"Well, I'd say he received it!" Fheall exclaims, pushing herself up from the sand, spitting seawater from her mouth.
She looks utterly ridiculous.
"I believe so," I reply, laughing as I watch her and the two brothers wringing out their soaked garments.
We stayed here, all four of us, waiting for a sign.
That abnormal surge in the current a moment ago—
That was it.
"Next stop: Silèna," Aeltiàfisar says.
"Meet you there?" Fheall asks me.
"At your command, dear Fheall," I answer with a grin.
She nods.
"While you travel, we'll notify Fayrin. Only a fairy bound to Aileen since childhood might reach her mind."
"Let us hope so," I murmur.
Then I dive beneath the surface.
(POV Dorcha)
Finally.
Back in my cell.
"Here. Eat." The guard shoves the usual bowl of bland sludge into my hands.
I stagger slightly and offer it back.
"No, thank you. I'm too tired tonight."
The triton stares at me.
"Hard life, having that pretty face," he sneers. "You didn't even get whipped today. Our young sirens wore you out more than any beating could. You're not one of us. If I were in your place, I wouldn't be tired at all."
Clearly. You like the garlic.
He drifts into his own thoughts, almost wistful.
I say nothing.
I pull the blankets over myself and pretend to sleep.
"Are you asleep?" he asks after a moment.
Silence.
Eventually, as always, he leaves.
Perfect.
Now.
Slowly, I move a single finger.
Barely breathing, I whisper:
"Light."
Beneath the covers—
A spark ignites.
Small.
Bright.
Alive.
Yes.
My power has returned.