The celebration carried on into the next day. Yevlan's body had not yet been buried. Selina's crew had performed a preservation spell—something subtle but powerful—that kept his corpse from decomposing. For now, the mood among the people remained focused on relief, recovery, and hope.

That night, while the crew slept and the fires of celebration burned low, Leo decided it was time to begin something new—something he had been planning since the battle ended.

Within the solitude of his private domain, he watched over the others first through his mirror. Each of them was in a secure place, alone, beginning to drift into rest. That was enough. With nothing more than a thought, Leo summoned them.

One by one, their forms materialized within the vast chamber—a space Leo had decided to name the Gathering Hall. The room was expansive, with high white stone walls lined with faintly glowing obsidian lines. At the center stood a long table made of the same white stone, surrounded by chairs. Leo stood beside the one closest to the staircase that led into his throne room.

"Welcome, my friends," he said calmly.

The three newly arrived figures blinked and looked around in confusion, still shaking off the remnants of sleep. Leo gave them a moment to adjust before continuing.

"I know you must have questions about what happened two days ago," he said, gesturing toward the seats around the table. "Before we begin, choose your place at this table carefully. The seat you choose now will be yours in this hall—forever."

Without another word, he sat on the chair beside him. As he did, the back of his chair shimmered briefly, and a glowing symbol appeared—an intricate mark representing the Path of Illusion.

The others hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. Then, one by one, they began to move.

Alina was the first. She stepped forward and took the seat to Leo's immediate right. As she settled in, the back of her chair lit up with the emblem of a hooded, cloaked figure—a symbol of an assassin or perhaps something older.

Marco followed, choosing the chair directly across from hers. As he sat, a blazing sword emblem ignited on the backrest, representing warrior.

Liam took his time. Eventually, he selected a chair two seats away from Marco, not adjacent to anyone. When he sat, a symbol representing Conjuration flared into view.

With everyone seated, Leo leaned forward slightly and spoke again, more seriously this time.

"Two days ago, the Creator stirred," he said. "Another fragment of His power awakened. And when that happens, it doesn't just change him—it changes us. Each time He stirs, we grow stronger, whether we're ready for it or not."

The room fell quiet.

"So it really was because of the Creator," Marco murmured, brows furrowed in thought.

Leo nodded. "Yes. But receiving this much power when your soul isn't prepared... it's dangerous. If you're not ready, it can consume you."

He looked at each of them in turn, his expression firm.

"From now on, your focus must be on growth. Strengthen your abilities. Choose your path, if you haven't already. And walk it with purpose."

"Path?" Alina echoed, her voice laced with confusion.

Leo turned toward her. "It's a concept tied to the world outside the Shadowland."

Her eyes widened. "There's really a world... beyond this darkness?" she already guessed that but hearing it was something else.

Marco and Liam exchanged glances, clearly startled. Until that moment, neither of them had realized Alina was from the Shadowland. In fact, they hadn't believed anyone could survive there, let alone live a life.

Leo nodded once more. "Yes. And if you follow the guidance I give you, you'll see it with your own eyes one day."

He leaned back slightly, gesturing to the table around them. "Every Wednesday night, we'll gather here. We'll share knowledge and grow, and we'll prepare for what's coming. This group is more than a circle of allies. You are a new family now—and betrayal is not an option. This bond is sacred."

There was a short silence, broken only by Leo's calm voice.

"To begin, let's introduce ourselves."

Marco leaned forward first. "I'm Marco Grabner. I come from Stillwood Village, in the Kingdom of the North. I haven't formally chosen a path yet, but I've trained as a warrior since I was a kid. I'm twenty-one."

Next was Liam, sitting upright and composed. "My name is Liam Hans. I'm eighteen, and I'm a conjurer. I live in Flesa, in the Kingdom of Light."

Then, Alina spoke, a hesitant but hopeful note in her voice.

"I'm Alina," she said quietly. "I don't know where any of the places you mentioned are. I was born and raised in the Shadowland. I've never seen anything beyond... the shadows. The only world I've known is the one drowned in darkness."

Emotion flickered across her face—joy, disbelief, even awe. "But if there really is a world with sunlight, then the stories were true. I trained with daggers from childhood. I also... I think I'm a diviner, if that's one of the paths."

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"It is," Leo confirmed with a small nod.

Alina turned her gaze to Marco. Her voice was softer now, almost childlike in its wonder.

"Is there really a sun? One that shines golden light, like in the old tales?"

Marco blinked at her question. "Yes," he said, smiling faintly. "It's real."

A slow, radiant smile spread across her face—a kind of smile that only someone who had never seen the light could truly give.

She was about to say more, but Leo raised a hand gently.

"That's enough for tonight. I know you have questions—many of them. Save them for next week. Use this time to prepare. Reflect on what your path truly is. And when you return, bring the question that matters most to you. These gatherings won't last forever, and the time we have must be used well."

He stood, placed a fist over his chest, and bowed slightly.

"May the Creator protect us all."

Liam rose next, mirroring Leo's gesture. Marco and Alina followed, one after another.

Then, as silently as they had arrived, they began to fade. One by one, their forms vanished from the Gathering Hall, returning to the waking world—changed, and no longer alone.

After the others disappeared, Leo stayed in the Gathering Hall a while longer. The room was quiet and still, with the soft glow of the obsidian lines on the walls.

He watched through the Mirror of Truth.

Marco had already returned to sleep, slipping easily back into his routine. Liam remained awake, sitting in silence, his expression thoughtful. He was processing what he'd heard, weighing it, trying to understand where it all fit.

Alina hadn't moved much. A small smile rested on her face as she lay curled in the familiar cold of the Shadowland. Leo guessed she was still thinking about the world beyond the dark—the one she now knew was real.

There was more he needed to learn. The truth about the Shadowland, how it was formed and why. But not tonight.

He got out of his domain, leaving the hall behind him. For now, sleep was enough.

…

Next day, the two pirate crews decided to finally set sail.

The morning was heavy with sea mist, clinging to the jungle trees and draping the shoreline in silver. Both camps had been busy since first light. Crates were being closed, supplies counted, sails checked, and ropes coiled with practiced efficiency.

On the western beach, the Avalon crew worked in coordinated silence. Their ship, had already been repaired after the battle, though damage marks still darkened parts of the hull. Arthur stood near the gangplank, giving orders with sharp gestures and a tight jaw. His voice was calm but direct, cutting through the murmurs of the crew.

"Wilfred, check the powder barrels again. I don't want another wet fuse incident mid-sea."

Wilfred, covered in soot and sweat, gave a quick nod without looking up. He was already halfway through the fourth crate of gunpowder, his sleeves rolled high, fingers stained with oil and ash.

Laid, shirtless and sunburned, was dragging a sealed chest across the sand with a rope slung around his shoulder. He grunted with effort but didn't stop until it hit the wooden ramp with a dull thud. Leo stood nearby, helping secure the heavier boxes of rations and dried meat, occasionally glancing toward the other side of the cove.

On the opposite shore, the Red rose crew was moving slower—but not due to lack of skill. Their movements were quieter, more deliberate. The loss of Yevlan still hung in the air like a stormcloud. Even in the sun, there was a shadow in their camp.

Selina oversaw the process with a stern expression. She stood beside her ship, its black sails with a red rose on it, furled tight, her gloved hands clasped behind her back. Orders came less frequently from her—her crew already knew what needed to be done.

Miriam, barefoot and focused, moved through the cargo with a checklist carved onto a thin slate board. "Two crates of mandrake wine. One missing—check the jungle perimeter," she muttered, waving a young crewman to the treeline. Her red scarf fluttered behind her as she moved from crate to crate, ensuring nothing was left behind.

A small wrapped bundle sat at the foot of the ship's gangplank—Yevlan's sword and cloak, folded neatly. No one touched it.

Back on the Avalon side, Leo helped tie down the last barrel of salted fish. He exchanged a few words with Laid, then climbed the gangplank to speak with Arthur.

"Red rose looks almost ready," he said, nodding toward the other ship.

Arthur followed his gaze, his expression unreadable. "Good. We've stayed here too long."

Further down the beach, the Red rose crew finished loading their final crates. Selina took one last walk through the camp, her eyes sweeping over the ground to be sure nothing important was left behind. Satisfied, she gave a single nod and stepped aboard.

Moments later, the sails on both ships began to rise. Ropes creaked, masts groaned, and the sea winds caught the cloth with a sudden snap.

The Avalon' ship pushed away from the shallows first, cutting through the tide with ease. Selina followed, the back of her ship catching the sun as it curved out into open water.

The two ships sailed side by side across the open sea, their bows pointed toward the distant shores of Arestin. The ocean was calm, the sky clear—an unusual peace after the chaos they'd left behind.

On the deck, Leo stepped out from below and walked toward the bow. He found Arthur standing with arms crossed, gazing across the water at the Redo rose as it cut through the waves beside them.

Leo reached his side, about to speak, when his head suddenly turned heavy. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled. He dropped to one knee, gripping the railing for support.

Arthur turned sharply. "You okay?"

Leo blinked hard, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "I think so... Just felt a sharp pain in my head."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I told you to rest more."

Leo gave a faint smile as he stood again, brushing off the concern. But then the world shifted.

A heartbeat ago, he was standing on the deck in the sea breeze. Now, he was somewhere else—somewhere cold, silent, and dark.

A whisper came through the gloom, frail and desperate. "You have to save him."

The shadows around him parted, reshaping into a vast chamber with a black throne at its center. A pool of thick, dark liquid seeped beneath it like oil. Seated atop the throne was Lilith—aged, weary, her silver hair loose and falling over her face. Her eyes held no malice, only exhaustion.

"You have to save him," she said again, voice thin and broken.

Leo stepped forward cautiously. "Who?"

"The Pope. They're going to kill him."

His eyes widened. "What?"

Lilith looked at him with hollow eyes. "If he dies, the light will push back my shadows. And the betrayer will reach the gates of Hell. This world will end."

The weight of her words hit harder than any spell or vision before. He had expected danger, yes—but not this.

'The Shadowland... Lilith created it to stop the god of light?'

The thought struck deep, unraveling so much of what he thought he knew.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Leo's expression hardened. "I'll go as soon as I can. But you owe me an explanation."

The vision shattered. In an instant, he was back aboard the Avalon, the wind tugging at his coat. Arthur stood in front of him, hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," he said again, concern etched across his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Leo looked him straight in the eyes. "Arthur, we need to go to your father. Right now."

Arthur blinked, stunned. "What? Why?"

"They're going to assassinate him," Leo said, voice firm. "If he falls… the world will fall with him."

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