The journey back to the Silver Phantom guild was silent. Darius walked with a pace neither slow nor hurried, but each step landed heavily, as though he already feared what waited for him. Olivia kept her eyes ahead, her usual commanding voice muted. James and Ilyanna exchanged brief glances, both sensing an unfamiliar tension in the air.
When they reached the guild's double doors, Olivia pushed them open. The common room was dim, lit only by the embers of the hearth. The first thing James noticed was the silence—too complete. Joan, who had been resting near the fire when they left, was nowhere to be seen.
Then he saw her.
She lay upon the long couch, wrapped in a white sheet. Olivia stepped forward quickly, kneeling beside her. She pulled back the cloth just enough to see Joan's pale, still face. There was no rise of breath, no faint glow of magic left in her veins.
"She's gone," Olivia said quietly.
Darius froze, his eyes locked on the figure before him. The young Horseman took a step forward, then another, his voice cracking when he finally spoke.
"...No. No, she can't be—" His words broke into a sob as he knelt beside her, gripping her hand as though holding it tighter might tether her spirit back to the living. "I told her I'd come back. I told her—"
Olivia rested a hand on his shoulder, firm yet gentle. "We came as fast as we could. Her time was… already set."
Darius shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face. "She was my teacher, my family. She—she found me when I had nothing. I—" His voice failed him, replaced by raw, shuddering breaths.
The rest of the night passed in a quiet blur. No one spoke much. Olivia made the arrangements. James and Ilyanna dug a small grave in the moonlit clearing just beyond the guild's back garden, the cold earth hard beneath their shovels. Darius carried Joan himself, wrapped in that same white sheet, and lowered her into the ground without a word.
Olivia led them in silence as they each stood around the grave. No prayers, no speeches—just a long, heavy stillness. Ilyanna placed a single arrow in the earth beside the mound, its shaft bound with a strip of white cloth. James laid a small silver coin—enough, he said softly, for the wind to carry her where she needed to go.
Darius didn't move for a long time after the burial. His broad frame was still, save for the occasional tremor in his hands. When at last he turned to face them, his eyes were red, but there was a certain hardness to them now—a resolve forged from loss.
Olivia spoke first. "You have nowhere else to go now." Her tone was not unkind, but it was direct, as always. "Joan entrusted you to us the moment she asked for our help. I'll extend that offer again—join Silver Phantom. You'll have shelter, purpose… and a place to fight back when the time comes."
Darius didn't answer immediately. He looked down at the mound of fresh earth, his jaw tightening. Finally, he nodded once. "If I'm staying, then I'm fighting. For her."
"Then it's settled," Olivia said. "Welcome to the guild, Darius Earthearth."
Meanwhile, far from Iguro, in the upper floors of a lavishly decorated estate, Isaac Arturo lounged in his study, idly swirling a goblet of red wine. The distant sounds of music and chatter from the ballroom drifted through the half-open door. He was half-distracted, flipping through the evening's arena ledgers, when a frantic knock broke the rhythm.
"Enter," Isaac called lazily.
A guard stepped in, bowing quickly. "My lord… Darius is gone."
The wine stopped mid-swish. Isaac slowly set the goblet down and leaned forward, his once-idle gaze sharpening into something cold and dangerous. "Gone? Where?"
"We… don't know. His cell was found empty this morning, the locks tampered with. No one saw anything."
Isaac rose from his chair, his hand tightening on the armrest before he let go. "And you're only telling me now?"
The guard swallowed. "We searched the entire Hollow Pit before reporting. It was… thorough, my lord. Whoever took him knew exactly what they were doing."
Isaac's lips curled into something between a sneer and a grin. "Silver Phantom."
"My lord?"
He waved a dismissive hand, pacing toward the tall window. Beyond the glass, the city spread in quiet order beneath the moonlight, a perfect stage for chaos. "No one else would dare. That fledgling little guild must think they've grown brave. Or perhaps they don't understand the price of crossing me."
He turned, his expression now fully amused in that cruel, cutting way only Isaac could manage. "Put word out to our contacts in the city. I want every guild, every street broker, every rat in the alleys to know—Darius is mine. And anyone hiding him will wish they were dead."
The guard hesitated. "A bounty, my lord?"
Isaac chuckled, leaning back against the desk. "Oh, not just a bounty. A game. Double the prize for bringing him back alive, but…" His smile deepened into something venomous. "If they happen to bring me the heads of the Silver Phantom in the process, I'll triple it."
Back in Iguro, the guild hall was quiet again. Darius had taken one of the spare rooms upstairs, though no one expected him to sleep. James sat at the long table, quill in hand, jotting notes into his spell journal. Ilyanna was near the fireplace, fletching arrows with her usual focus.
Olivia stood near the window, staring out at the still night. Her thoughts weren't on the stars or the street lamps, but on the growing storm she could feel on the horizon. Lortel's doubts, Mayara's shadowy games, Isaac's brewing wrath—Silver Phantom was small, but they were quickly stepping into the territory of dangerous people.
She didn't know yet if they were ready for what was coming.
But looking at James's quiet determination, Ilyanna's unwavering focus, and the fresh spark of rage burning in Darius's eyes upstairs… she knew they wouldn't back down.
Not now. Not ever.