A cold, professional space—its walls lined with reports, holo-screens, and mission logs.
At the center of it, behind a sleek metal desk, sat Asheer Veyin.
And before her, standing with her usual smirk and casual posture, was Sattira Dyn.
"Let me get this straight—"
"First, you defy direct orders and go after the fugitive."
"Then, you return saying she’s ‘gone’?"
"Gone as in—dead?"
"Dead? No."
"She’s very much alive."
"She’s just… gone."
"Gone where, Dyn?"
"I don’t know."
"But there’s no Fiesa anymore."
"Who the stars is Fiesa??"
"Exactly."
"There’s no one left to catch."
"So, Asheer, I’d say it’s time to—"
"—close the case."
"Dyn—what in the—what are you even saying??"
"What happened in Dohi Mand??"
"Nothing much."
"Just a fairy who stopped existing."
"No threat. No case."
"Problem solved."
And with that, Dyn strolled out of the office.
Her mission was over.
She had caught Elysia.
She had been wrong.
But instead of feeling anger or failure—she had learned.
And she had made her decision:
To let Elysia go.
Veyin watched her leave, baffled, confused—yet somehow, she knew she wasn’t getting another answer.
With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair.
And Dyn’s final words lingered in the air.
"There’s no one left to catch."
Outside Dohi Mand.
A quiet, peaceful evening.
The sky burned gold and crimson as the sun dipped behind the horizon.
A soft wind rustled the grass.
And at the edge of a hill, perched on a smooth rock, sat two figures.
Or rather—one.
Elysia.
And Fiesa.
Together.
As always.
"You said you’d tell me later."
"How did I even get there? At the castle?"
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"It doesn’t matter now."
"Excuse me?"
"You owe me an explanation."
"And while we’re at it—you didn’t even thank me for saving you."
"Thank you."
"That was dry. Ever tried saying it with some feeling?"
"Like—‘Thank you, Elysia! You’re amazing! You’re the best! I owe you my life!’"
"No."
"Unbelievable."
"At this rate, Mum will never make you Murito."
"I don’t even like Murito."
"WHAT??"
"You—HOW DARE YOU—"
"I TAKE BACK MY TRUST—"
"I AM NOT TALKING TO YOU ANYMORE."
…
A long silence.
The wind whispered through the grass.
The stars began to peek through the fading sky.
"Are you done?"
"I don’t know."
"Maybe."
"Maybe not."
"Maybe I’ll just stay mad forever."
"You won’t."
"Stars, I hate you."
"So much."
"You love me."
Because Fiesa was her.
And Elysia was her.
They were one.
Forever.
Elsewhere—
In the heart of Mirgeth’s military base, Yarlim—
A council of commanders gathered.
This was not a place of talking.
This was a place of decisions.
The room was dimly lit, holographic projections hovering in the air.
The central table displayed details of a single name.
ATHMORKEE.
A terror to the realm.
A force of destruction.
And now—
A problem too great for Mirgeth’s forces alone.
"Last seen in Rac’jl Uth. She caused more damage than last time."
"I lost 14 Yalzets. It’s a bad report, but it is what it is."
"No battle is without losses.
If we fight, we sacrifice something."
"That doesn’t mean we keep losing our Yalzets.
We need something better."
"Then I propose we involve Savior Ethan."
The room fell silent.
Tension thickened.
The Savior.
The outsider who changed everything.
But before anyone could respond—
Aarthel Laonia spoke.
"And what do we tell Elysin Alara?
That our bravest commanders cannot handle this?
That we need a human to do it for us?"
The two Stegos lowered their heads.
And then—
A new voice spoke.
Firm. Absolute. Commanding.
"We don’t need the Savior.
We need someone equal to Athmorkee."
The room stirred.
Murmurs.
Concern.
Aarthel Laonia’s face hardened.
"Please, Archos.Don’t think of her.
She is not meant for this."
Archos Ardine’s eyes glowed sharply.
A dangerous determination in them.
"Then make her meant for this."
Aarthel exhaled, frustrated.
"We don’t even know if she’s capable of this."
Archos smiled.
A sharp, knowing smile.
And with a flick of her hand, she pulled up a new projection.
Footage played in the air.
A recording of a battle.
Of a lone figure standing against impossible odds.
Of arcane blasts that defied reason.
Of ruthlessness unmatched.
And rage that burned like a storm.
"If she can do this—
Then why not this?"
Aarthel Laonia looked at the footage.
Her jaw tightened.
Her fists clenched.
But she couldn’t argue.
She knew what she saw.
She knew what it meant.
And she knew who they were talking about.
"But Archos…"
- "She has the same dark presence as Athmorkee.
The same level of anger.
The same ruthlessness.
A perfect opposition.
A perfect weapon.
Unless we waste our time debating, she’ll only slip further.
No one is ever ready for anything.
Not you, not me, not any of us when we joined the force.
It’s up to us to decide her fate."*
Aarthel exhaled slowly.
She knew there was no stopping this.
"I understand, Archos.
We will take this matter into our hands."
"Who exactly… are we talking about?"
Aarthel turned.
She swiped through the holographic display.
And then—
She revealed the name.
The face.
The one who had fought against them.
The one who had escaped.
The one who had disappeared into the shadows.
And now—
The one they would turn into a weapon.
"Meet Elysia."