The echoing thud of the throne room doors slamming shut behind the Dragon Lord still vibrated through the cathedral’s massive supporting pillars. Faustus remained frozen where he stood, his arms hanging limply at his sides, as the alcohol burning in his veins fought a losing battle against the raw, sudden sobriety cutting through him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. His eyes darted frantically from the wet shards shattered across the golden floor to the colossal dragon standing before him. It was all too much—the lullaby, the flood of memories, the crushing weight of a past he had so painstakingly buried inside himself.
Valtharion looked down at the broken warrior. The dragon’s deep, amber-gold eyes ignited with an intense radiance, as if an ancient, dormant flame had just been rekindled within his massive chest. The silver scrolls woven into his beard tendrils danced softly through the static air. Then the Dragon Lord spoke, his voice carrying the immense weight of an era forgotten by time.
"ATROX, CICIL, LEAH, LILI, SILARIAS, CALLESTER, AND FAUSTUS..."
The names had barely left his throat when the entire throne room began to groan and creak dangerously. Faustus stumbled, his boots barely catching his balance as the ground shuddered beneath him. The solid stone floor—crafted from ancient tiles and compressed gold—began to shift, fracture, and reshape itself right before his eyes. With the grinding screech of stone tearing against stone, the floor split wide open, revealing a deep, shadowy spiral staircase descending directly into the uncharted abyssal depths beneath the cathedral.
Faustus stared jaw-dropped at the gaping abyss in the floor, sheer disbelief written across his face. "Did she... did she really...?" he choked out, his voice hoarse and trembling.
"Yes, she did," Valtharion interrupted smoothly, his deep, warm tone instantly melting the oppressive chill from the air. "She missed all of you with every fiber of her heart. She described each of you, one by one. From the shy young lady to the absolute troublemakers, that machine of a boy, and, of course, about all of you. But come."
Faustus swallowed the lump in his throat, summoned every remaining shred of his willpower, and nodded. With heavy, deliberate steps, he followed the Dragon Lord down into the darkness of the spiral stairs.
As they descended, the Dragon Lord’s heavy voice filled the narrow passageway. "She was a traveler, Faustus," Valtharion shared, his massive, clawed footsteps leading the way into the deep dark. "A woman with talents that bypassed the comprehension of most mortals. She adored the mysteries of magic, but she wasn’t afraid to dip into the occult, either. She even possessed a soul-bound weapon: Vaznir Void Slash. The legends say that with a single stroke, she could slice through the very fabric of reality to appear wherever she pleased."
The tension in Faustus’s body was reaching a boiling point. Every word about his aunt cut deeper than the last. Halfway down the staircase, he couldn't take it anymore. "How much farther?!" he barked, his voice snapping through the dragon's tale.
"Not far," Valtharion replied, completely calm and unbothered.
Moments later, they reached the bottom of the stairs, stepping into a vast, shadowy crypt-like chamber where the air hung thick with ancient dust and raw magic. Valtharion stopped in his tracks and glanced back at the young warrior. "Clap your hands, Faustus."
Faustus didn't hesitate for a single second. He slammed his palms together. The sharp
CLAP
echoed loudly off the stone walls. Instantly, a hidden, ancient crystal embedded in the high ceiling reacted. With a soft hum, a glittering, magical bird burst from the crystal, soaring upward into the dark. It flew in graceful, sweeping circles, leaving a shimmering trail of millions of dancing light specks in its wake. The dark room lit up with a warm, breathtaking glow, finally unveiling the secrets kept hidden for all these years.
Faustus took a step forward, holding his breath.
There they were. Large, exquisitely detailed statues of the entire group. He spotted Silarias carved into pure marble as a tiny infant, and his eyes roamed across the other figures—Atrox, Cicil, Leah, Lili, Callester—until he stood face-to-face with a statue of himself as a teenager, wearing the exact same rebellious smirk he used to pull back in the day.
In the absolute center of the hall sat a massive, empty war table. It was a map of the world, but its surface was completely blank and unwritten, waiting to be filled. Hanging on the walls were paintings of specific, highly strategic locations, with obvious blank spaces left between them where future paintings were meant to hang.
"She was the brain, the absolute head of the Resistance," Valtharion said, gesturing with an enormous claw toward the weapons and tomes neatly lined up on the surrounding shelves. "She crafted and left all of these goods, these powerful weapons, and these ancient books specifically for you guys. She knew it back then, Faustus. A time will come when an all-consuming war breaks out. And you guys have to be ready."
Meanwhile, far away from the underground slums and the dragon's golden mountains, the festive mood in the Bastion's dining hall was slowly fading away. Stomachs were full, the platters of pork belly were cleared out, but the empty chair at the head of the table hung over the room like a dark shadow.
Silarias set his fork down. The quiet calm that his mother's lullaby had brought him was rapidly giving way to a restless, burning itch. His senses—razor-sharp and hyper-alert from his true form—were strained to their limits. He could feel his uncle's trail. He knew Faustus was out there getting into trouble, or worse, fighting his own internal demons alone.
With a sudden, violent shove, Silarias pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm going after him," he grunted, his broad shoulders tensing up. "I'm not letting him fight through this shit by himself. He's somewhere deep in the slums, and I'm dragging his ass back."
Before he could even take a single step toward the corridor, Nyx slid out of her chair. She stepped directly into his path, slamming her hands flat against his massive chest. She stared straight into his eyes, her expression soft yet completely unyielding.
"Sil, no," she said firmly, acting as the exact voice of reason he desperately needed right now. "Look at yourself. You are completely exhausted. After everything that happened today, after that hit in the cathedral and the total storm inside your head, you need to rest. You can't save the world if you're passing out on your feet."
Silarias clenched his fists, ready to argue back like he always did. His instincts screamed at him to hunt, to move, to be the aggressive idiot he usually was. But as he looked down into her deep, unwavering gaze, he saw the pure sincerity and concern shining back at him. The adrenaline drained away, leaving only the bone-crushing fatigue he had been ignoring. He slumped his shoulders, let out a long, heavy sigh, and silently admitted she was right.
"Fine," he muttered softly. "You're right."
As the Nobodies packed up to leave the dining hall, the group ambled down toward the sleeping quarters. Miki and Ren walked side-by-side down the wide stone staircase leading into the lower residential halls, their chatter creating a bright, funny contrast to the heavy mood of the evening.
"Hey Ren, do you think they're almost here?!" Miki asked, her big eyes sparkling as she wildly flailed her arms around to mimic a freezing blizzard. "The Ice Saints! Juro always said that when they pull up, that's when it starts
really
freezing!"
Ren gave a dead serious nod, his face scrunched up in intense concentration. "Yeah! Our Ice Saints give the official green light for the cold! Juro said you gotta grab like three extra blankets, or your toes will turn into popsicles and someone can just kick them right off!"
Their goofy chatter echoed softly down the hall, providing a much-needed distraction for the exhausted teenagers trailing behind them.
The wall torches burned low, casting long, peaceful shadows over the stone floor. Silarias and Nyx walked as the caboose of the group. The weight of the day still hung heavy in their muscles, but the harsh tension had melted away. Silarias glanced sideways at Nyx, whose hair caught a soft, glowing shimmer in the faint torchlight. No more words were needed between them. The promise of their team, the shared burden of the sun and the void, and the massive road ahead was more than enough.
Stepping in perfect sync, they walked the final few yards toward the bedrooms, ready to let the night wash away the chaos of the day.
The heavy wooden doors of their bedroom were meant to block out the drafty halls, but before Silarias and Nyx could even step all the way over the threshold, the doors slammed shut behind them with a sudden, deafening
CRACK
.
The loud bang echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.
Instantly, every single one of the Nobodies froze in their tracks. The entire group spun around at the same time, trading deep, knowing looks. Everyone knew exactly what this insane day had done to Silarias and Nyx, and the awkward tension shot right back into the air.
To make the situation ten times more dramatic than it needed to be, Nicola and Apollo instantly dropped onto their knees with theatrical perfection. Wide-eyed, they ducked low, hovering protectively over Ren and Miki like overzealous guards.
"Sil... after everything that went down today..." Nicola whispered in a trembling, overly dramatic voice, sounding like he was spilling top-secret government intel. "Please don't lose your respect for him, because what just happened—"
Before Nicola could even finish his stupidly dramatic sentence, he got violently cut off.
Ren was not having
any
of this dramatic nonsense. Face turning bright red, Ren grabbed a heavy stone mug he was still holding and hurled it forward with a wild, furious swing. The mug whizzed inches past Nicola's ear and smashed into a thousand flying shards against the stone wall with a brutal
CRASH
.
"THAT'S PRECISELY WHY HE'S MY BIG BRO!" Ren screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice going completely raspy.
He stood there with his little fists balled up tight, aggressively fighting back the tears brimming in his eyes while trying his absolute hardest to look tough and unbothered. His whole body vibrated with pure, unfiltered pride and loyalty for Silarias. He wasn't about to let anyone put a single shred of doubt on his big brother's name.
Off to the side, Miki watched the whole circus unfold with her head tilted. She shrugged, looking at the sharp shards scattered everywhere and the ridiculous teenage drama unfolding in front of her.
"Man... awkward..." she muttered softly under her breath, scratching the back of her head.
Miki’s dry observation sliced right through the built-up drama. Within a split second, the heavy mood completely flipped, and the whole group burst out into loud, uncontrollable laughter. The lingering stress finally melted right off their faces. With light hearts and quiet giggles echoing between them, the crew turned back around, one by one, finally making their way to their beds for some much-needed sleep.