Some animals can perceive parts of the electromagnetic spectrum that humans cannot—ultraviolet and infrared, for example. In Sehreneti, similar phenomena existed.
The Flare Stone is a rare mineral Daisuke had acquired as a drop from the Armored Arachnid. It reflects sunlight or moonlight in a vertical arc, visible only to specific types of monsters.
Daisuke, of course, was the only exception. Using the Eye of Verity, he was able to perceive the light that the Flare Stone emitted, which is why he had arranged for it to be forged into a pair of hair clips.
No matter the distance, he would be able to track them.
"…Almost there," he muttered, his gaze fixed on a column of multicolored light above the treetops as he darted through the dense forestry. "Please. Please be alright."
In time, the column of light no longer moved, which led Daisuke to believe the kidnapper had made a stop. At this distance, with no interference so far, they likely assumed they were no longer being tracked.
But Daisuke was about to shatter that arrogant illusion—and the consequences were going to be excruciatingly painful.
***
Well off the beaten path, the crumbling remnants of an old church finally came into view. Inside the dilapidated, cobweb-strewn chamber, the statue of a long-forgotten goddess gazed down upon two women.
They lay motionless on the cold wooden floor, their bodies precisely positioned within the intricate lines of a complex transmutation circle.
Lumielle's skin still held a faint flush—a small but comforting sign of life. The other woman, however, was deathly pale, her hands clasped over her chest.
The third individual, the armored bandit, stood within the confines of his own meticulously drawn circle. Except for the defaced insignia on their breastplate, the armor was pristine, their stance poised and confident.
"…I had a feeling you would be making an appearance sooner or later," said the stranger in a cool tone.
Daisuke's golden gaze darkened, a powerful enchantment on the helmet preventing him from ascertaining the bastard's identity.
It was clear he didn't want to be known.
At least, that's what Daisuke thought until the kidnapper slowly clutched both sides of the helmet and slowly began lifting it from their head.
***
Still reeling from her confrontation with the homunculus, Lyndoria forced her trembling body onward through the city streets. Every step toward the gallows felt heavier than the last. Her limbs were sluggish, her chest tight with a pressure she could not name. When the square finally opened before her, she realized at once that something was wrong.
There was no noose.
Instead, a guillotine stood upon the raised platform—its polished blade catching what little light pierced the swollen, bruised clouds overhead.
The crowd gathered thick and restless around it, their low murmurs weaving together into a suffocating hum. Anticipation hung in the air like a held breath, sharp and rancid, as if the city itself knew it was about to witness something it could never wash away.
Lyndoria pushed forward, shouldering past bodies that shifted and recoiled at her presence. Dread pressed down on her spine, urging her to hurry, though she didn't yet understand why. The closer she came, the louder her pulse thundered in her ears.
On the platform, the officiant unfurled a parchment and had begun to read. The forensics team had confirmed traces of mana within the bodily fluids found in Arabelle Lowe's undergarments. The conclusion was delivered without hesitation, without sorrow. The evidence dictated that she had been raped, abused, and strangled to death.
A ripple passed through the crowd. Some gasped. Others nodded grimly, already satisfied.
Lyndoria's breath caught.
Her instincts screamed.
She pushed harder, ignoring the protest of her battered body, but the sea of people slowed her just enough. By the time she reached the front, the sentence had already been pronounced.
"For these heinous crimes," the man declared, his cold voice ringing out over the square, "Hynes Primrose—former captain of the Bluerose Knights—is sentenced to death!"
The world tilted.
Captain… Hynes?
Lyndoria's eyes widened, her vision blurring as the name struck her like a blade driven straight through the chest. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. Confusion gave way to horror with terrifying speed.
The guillotine's blade fell.
The sound was final. Wet. Absolute.
Lyndoria stood frozen, her nails biting into her palms as understanding came too late. She lifted her gaze, numb and shaking—and that was when she saw them.
Several of the men standing upon the platform bore the subtle marks she had learned to recognize all too well. Their posture. Their insignias half-hidden beneath official cloaks. And their smiles—thin, satisfied, cruel.
They were Mhaledictus loyalists.
They did not mourn. They did not question. They had never cared about justice or truth. This had never been a trial. It was an execution meant to rot the Bluerose from within—to weaken the princess's influence, to burn away loyalty through fear, and to draw Lumielle from hiding by destroying one of her most devoted shields.
Lyndoria's chest burned with helpless fury.
Hynes Primrose had died without ever raising his blade.
In his final moments, however, his lips had curved into something gentle. A warm, peaceful smile lingered there as his thoughts drifted not toward fear or regret, but toward his goddess—toward Lumielle. Even as the blade descended, his heart was light. Faith filled him to the end.
Far away, in a courtyard drenched in blood and ruin, another smile mirrored his.
Upon the grotesque, ogre-like face of the homunculus, one of its massive heads twisted upward in something resembling contentment.
Beneath layers of corruption and warped flesh, a final spark of clarity flickered. Despite being transformed into an abomination, despite losing his name, his body, and his future—Stynx, in his last moments, thought of Lumielle as well.
It was almost poetic.
Stynx and Hynes had despised one another. Their clashes had been fierce, their words sharper than steel. They stood on opposite sides of temperament and belief, yet they were bound by the same origin.
Both had been broken.
Both had been saved.
A single girl had reached into the darkness and pulled them back from the brink. In doing so, she had stolen their hearts and become the light that gave meaning to their suffering.
And both had loved her too much.
Their devotion, unrestrained and untempered, twisted inward until it became obsession. What should have been a strength festered into a curse—one that guided them, step by step, toward destruction.
Different paths.
The same end.
As Lyndoria finally sank to her knees amid the dispersing crowd, the echoes of steel and faith and smiling deaths lingered in the air—silent proof that even love, when left unchecked, could be just as lethal as hatred.
***
Natal homing is a remarkable instinct observed in the animal kingdom, compelling creatures to traverse immense distances from their place of birth only to return there as adults to breed. It is most famously seen in species such as sea turtles and salmon.
In its own way, the wyvernling that aided Zephyr in rescuing Fay was guided by a similar pull. Unlike its ocean-bound counterparts, however, the young reptile didn't remember a shoreline or a river, but felt its family's location. Every instinct urged it forward, drawing it toward the promise of warmth, nourishment, and safety.
Perched atop the wyvern's head, Zephyr cast a glance down at the unconscious Fay, who was held carefully within the creature's talons. Thankfully—mysterious as she was—her wounds had already begun to knit themselves back together. The regeneration was slow, unsettlingly so, but at the very least, her life was no longer in danger.
Below them, the Exodian Sea stretched endlessly, its surface glittering like shattered crystal. Before long, the dark silhouette of a continent emerged on the horizon.
Zephyr chose to let the wyvern follow the instinctive path leading back to its mother and siblings. It was the wiser course. As much as he longed to tear Adrian's jugular out with his own fangs, he refused to place Fay in further danger while she healed.
More than that, he would not burden his master while he dealt with the true nuisance staining the kingdom's integrity.
Once his task was finished, Zephyr was certain he would return for them.