The young girl, who I assud was ant to be my opponent, glanced back and forth between Synthia and with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
“Do you know him?” she asked, tugging gently at the hem of Synthia’s pale-blue shirt. The movent revealed the sleek, tallic brace strapped from her wrist to elbow, its surface veined with streaks of luminous blue and gold. The glowing lines pulsed and shifted in fluid segnts as though feeding so engine within her.
Synthia’s honey-amber eyes were veiled, her face caught in the sa frozen shock I felt twisting in my chest. The girl tugged again, softer this ti, but Synthia remained motionless.
“H—how are you here?” I finally managed, the breath in my lungs only just returning.
She didn’t respond right away, still suspended in the mont. Her hair had changed, longer now, perhaps out of newfound comfort in being accepted by soone of high standing, or maybe she just didn't need the safety of short hair.
From what I understood, she had been out in the wilds before. Having hair that wouldn't get caught only made sense.
Once her golden strands barely grazed her shoulders. Now, they fell freely, cascading far beyond them.
“I… You’re Peter, right?” she said at last, stepping forward with asured hesitation.
I nodded, easing my expression into a welcoming smile which made her falter mid-step. Even the little girl beside her blinked, both of them visibly disard by my charm.
A soft exhale escaped Synthia’s chest. Sothing I’ll call relief to preserve my own pride, and her rigidness, began to ease. “Definitely you.”
“I’m not fighting him, am I, Ancestor?” my presud opponent asked, retreating slightly behind Synthia. That eerie neon-blue hue saturating this place burned in her gaze as she stared past Synthia and . “His... he seems suspicious.”
Freaking brat.
I resisted the urge to glare at the girl, who hasn't seen her thirteenth birthday yet, and kept my eyes trained on the most unexpected reunion I’d experienced since arriving here. “Weren’t you in Voxter?”
The room remained still, weighted with a shared awareness that this mont needed silence as Synthia gave a nod. “Coming here was my reward for passing—for placing second. It was my request.”
That gave pause. Back in Voxter, I would have wagered on the Princess of Voxter securing that spot after I left the rest. But of course, Synthia had her own strengths. She must’ve found what she needed within the illusion, just as I had.
I didn’t press her for details, though my gaze lingered, quietly asking for more.
Wrrr—
A sharp, chanical hum buzzed from the child behind her, pulling Synthia’s attention in a whip-turn. “Stop that, i!” she snapped.
The air grew suddenly dense, pressing in with weight as the tallic brace on her arm ignited with brilliant intensity. It seed to pull energy, but I couldn't see it. Even when on instinct, I linked my sight to Luna's. Could it be stored in her arm?
i’s bob-cut, midnight-black hair fluttered with invisible force as her eyes deepened into a ghostly blue. The kind of color that would paralyze you if you glimpsed it in a darkened hallway. Seriously, if I ever saw that child waiting around a corner…
So horrors don’t need words.
“If you know him, then he must be one of—OW!”
Flick.
Her words were cut short by a deceptively gentle flick to the shoulder from her friend. “He’s nice. I told you about him. Don’t you rember?” Synthia scolded, her tone firm but not unkind.
i rubbed the spot, stunned rather than hurt. Her wide eyes weren’t teary, but sothing shimred beneath them. “Rember who?”
Before anyone could answer, a voice rose behind , slicing cleanly through the situation.
i. You should be more polite when greeting other champions.”
I turned, catching a low stream of grumbling behind , loud enough to be heard by soone like and... I imagine she knew that.
The kind of words that had no business coming out of soone that age. Not that I’d been any better when I was her size, but still… I decided to pretend I hadn’t heard the string of critiques like “creepy smile” or “can’t have any good intentions.”
Griffith remained sprawled across the floor, completely absorbed in transcribing symbols from one of the glass panels, utterly detached from our unfolding drama. Thanks to his dedication with the… what was it?
The buck-toothed rodents of the electric swamp lands and their fascinating ability in architecture.
Yeah. That’ll co in handy. Definitely.
I slid into a seat beside Serith. Synthia settled next to , and i took the spot beside her.
Ai let out a weary sigh and gestured vaguely in my direction. “Now. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves?” Her tone held all the tired resignation of soone who'd already given up hope for decorum.
I angled my body slightly to peer past Synthia at the girl, who was still muttering inconsistencies under her breath like she was drafting a book of personal insults. She sat so close to Synthia that I had to lean around her awkwardly.
“I’m Peter…” I began.
Nothing. Not even a blink.
Alright. No big deal. She reminded of Macy and Lacy—around the sa age too with the sa look of unimpressed defiance. I should make myself sound impressive.
“I’m the King of the Shattered Isle,” I declared with gravitas, “and Master of the Harmonic Sect.”
From sowhere nearby ca a sudden, loud cough from the mountain masquerading as a scholar. But whatever he choked on, he quickly buried beneath the furious scratching of pen on parchnt.
“King?” i asked, eyes narrowing with blatant skepticism. “You don’t look like one.”
I blinked. “Have you t many?”
She didn’t answer, so I pressed on. “I’ll have you know, I am the proud leader of over—” I held up one hand, then the other, counting slowly on my fingers with dramatic flair. I mumbled the numbers under my breath to build tension. ntioning high and low with no recognizable pattern.
“Over ten whole people!” I finished triumphantly, holding both hands aloft and grinning.
She blinked again. Turned to her ancestor with an expression that scread: Is he for real?
“Impressive, right?” I added, beaming at her without a trace of sarcasm.
A pause. Then, with an honesty that bordered on brutal, she shook her head slowly, a flicker of amusent playing at the corners of her mouth. “No. Not impressive at all.”
I withdrew my hands thoughtfully, stroking my chin in deep contemplation. “Hmm. Ah! How about this?”
I stood, planted one foot theatrically on the chair, and raised my arm as if hoisting a legendary blade toward the heavens.
“I have defeated my greatest opponent. A man who sought to turn into nothing more than a puppet that sat beneath his will!”
I glanced down at i, watching her face shift. There was a flicker of sothing closer to curiosity than skepticism.
“People can be made into puppets where you’re from?” she asked, her voice hushed. Then she turned to Synthia as well, splitting the question evenly between us. “That sounds terrifying.”
She had completely ignored my grand proclamation, and zeroed in on the most unsettling piece. But hey, the grumbling had stopped, so I considered that progress.
Before Serith could cut in with the truth, I answered, tapping into the stories I’d consud before crossing into this world. “There are evils out there far worse than you can imagine. Puppets are just the beginning.”
I twisted in the chair to face her more directly, voice low with dread. “Monsters that crawl through toxic wastelands. Ghosts that shriek at the sight of anything alive. Spirits that press themselves into you, trying to take over your body, to consu you from the inside out.”
Excellent story! Wyrem praised with theatrical enthusiasm. Now tell her sothing even more ridiculous.
I held up two fingers, barely an inch apart.
“Tiny worms,” I began solemnly, “that trap the soul of a beast so imnse, so ancient, it could swallow stars whole. A true dragon.”
The worm stirred in with protest. That’s not what I—
Do next! Luna interjected brightly, cutting Wyrem off mid-thought.
I obliged without hesitation. I raised my right arm, wooden fingers curled, my rose companion nestled against the wrist.
“Mystical Grass,” I said, voice deepening. “Alive. Thinking. A creature that can flourish or devour in tandem with others. A being capable of changing form And I’ve experienced it all.”
With every word, i leaned in closer, her curiosity slowly overpowering her suspicion. She studied Luna with awe as the plant extended her thorn-lined body and smoothed out her dark green leaves. Her petals brightened into a vivid pink as they reached toward i’s outstretched fingers.
But just before they touched, I pulled back.
“Even ,” I added softly, watching Luna coil gently around my arm as if anticipating the cue.
Luna? I called inwardly.
She didn’t answer, but understood. She played along perfectly, coiling up my arm, applying delicate pressure. I summoned a single droplet of water that ford at the tip of my finger. It slid downward in a glistening arc, chased by my own root structures, curling after it like vines. As Luna withdrew, the tendrils weaving around her gently.
“Sothing beyond human,” I said, then gestured toward i’s arm. “Though… we both have that.”
“Ghost?” Serith chuckled behind , breaking the spell. “I get the pageantry, Peter, trust , but a worm hiding a dragon? That’s pushing it. I’ve seen a real—”
“I want to go!” i suddenly burst out, her voice alight with longing. She turned to her ancestor, ignoring Serith entirely.
Ai didn’t chastise her. Instead, she smiled, slow and indulgent.
“If you can make it yourself,” she said with a shrug. “I have no power to take you there for anything but business. And certainly not to play around.”
i slouched back into her seat, not sulking, but contemplative. She turned to Synthia, voice softer now. “I’ll make it one day. If you want to go too… I understand if you don’t.”
Synthia’s smile returned, small but sure. “You know I always planned to return ho. We’ll find a way to go again.”
She glanced at then looked back at her younger companion. “Though, you might discover Peter… slightly exaggerated,” she teased.
“The flower was real though,” i muttered.
I looked down at Luna, now curled peacefully along my wrist like she was performing a quiet dance. Her petals still glowed pink, pulsing with warmth. And in that mont, the thought struck —
My life really was becoming sothing like those characters in stories.
Cosmic dragons and celestial lions. Beings sculpted from pure energy. Unnad horrors with eyes like dying stars, entities with the power to drown worlds in bloodlines that both shattered and uplifted.
Creatures from realms I hadn’t even imagined, drawn by forces they themselves might not understand.
I had experienced it all. Not ghost though.
Luna must have felt the sa rising tide of myth in my thoughts, because her voice rang through with quiet conviction:
We’ll beco like the legends of my tribe, carving mountains with roots.
Reclaiming the true form of my majesty, Wyrem added, his voice pulsing with certainty. If I had never t you, Peter, I would still be shackled beneath that monster’s will.
But you… you will rise from this.
And not as so bedti legend prettied up with lies. You will surpass that. Your goal is higher than any who ca before.
He paused, then added with a weight I’d never heard in his voice:
That thing you faced wasn’t a god. Nothing is permanent.
You will rise above it.
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