Kandili stood frozen. He could tell the dragon was suspicious of him.More than that, his eyes had caught a backpack resting beside her throne. The aura leaking from it was equally dangerous—at least at his current level. What unsettled him more was that the backpack carried the same presence as the tome she held. He forced himself to ignore it, especially since his companions seemed not to notice.
He wondered why Hazaril had dragged him into such a dangerous place. He cursed under his breath.If it were my prime… even deities would have been no match for me.
"So, what brings you here?"Her words were blunt, the suffocating pressure from earlier now dissipated.
"You know there are many factions. Most have been quiet under that Dragon Emperor's watch. Some fled the central plains, seeking safety." Hazaril spoke without fear.
Darkone's eyes narrowed. It seems he is planning to attack Elnor.To her, it was obvious—he had tried before, and only Elim's intervention had stopped him.
Kandili felt a sudden surge within. The soul of this body was struggling violently. His gaze slid toward Amy. Could it be because of this girl? She was oddly familiar. Perhaps it was just the body's memories—he brushed the thought aside.
Darkone, however, remained skeptical. The shadowy figure behind them was dismissed by most in the hall as an ordinary Night creature. She did not share that blindness.Even though she died, she kept that book safe. Now the only clue lies in Elnor, under Seras's watch. Not that I care… that's not what I want, she sighed inwardly.
Amy tugged at her dress, drawing her attention. The girl's eyes had become pools of eternal darkness. She leaned closer and whispered:
"His attempt is going to fail."
Darkone smiled faintly, then interrupted the conversation."If it's my support you need, then forget it. I have no intention of getting involved. But I won't expose you either. For now."
Hazaril's lips curled beneath his mask. This was exactly the answer he wanted.
"Without troubling you further, we will take our leave."He bowed, turning to exit. But at the doorway he felt a piercing gaze.
"Try not to cause too much destruction. I wonder what will happen if Aby finds out."
He frowned, then laughed manically as he vanished into the passage with Kandili.
"Hmm… space warp." Darkone muttered. "Not teleportation—warp doesn't rely on mana." Her suspicion of Kandili deepened. She had noticed a strange shift in his mind, as if he were wrestling with something buried within. Still, she would not pursue it further—not yet.
Her gaze turned back to Amy. The girl's eyes remained shadowed, her breath heavy, body growing hotter by the minute.
Amy's voice came strained, broken between breaths. She explained why Hazaril would fail, and she spoke a name: Gilly.
It was foreign to Darkone. Even after centuries sealed in her self-made prison, she had never heard it. Amy's voice lowered as she went on—this person she had met months ago in the forest, this Gilly, would decide Darkone's future.
Darkone's brow furrowed. Her fate, tied to a stranger? That was unusual—especially since Amy had refused to perform divinations on her until now.
Amy's words spilled like fragments of a broken mirror: war, disasters, unknown entities descending into the world. Explorers had uncovered hints, ruins, and relics of such beings—but none had ever seen a true otherworlder.
The tome in Amy's hand flared brighter with every phrase, its light pulsing as though forcing the prophecy out of her. Finally, her lips formed the words:
"They are finally watching. MUMBI WANYORA."
Her voice faded as her body slackened into sleep. The tome's glow vanished, and the cave rumbled.
Darkone stiffened. Faint but unmistakable presences pressed against her senses. She patted Amy's head as the girl drifted deeper into slumber, whispering under her breath:"Of all your strange prophecies, this may be the strangest… MUMBI WANYORA."
Far away, beneath the gaze of shifting moons, Gilly opened her eyes. The second moon was gone, the fifth now high above—a sign it was the third night of the cycle.
At the shore, Zin stood with Siel, speaking in hushed tones. Every time they did, unease coiled tighter in her chest. She remembered the voice from before her teleportation—that was where her unrest began.
She turned back to Zenora, who slept soundly. Silver streaks stained her cheeks."Zenora…" Gilly murmured, heart heavy. What sorrow had shaken her so deeply?
By the time she looked again, Zin and Siel had returned to the campfire. Soon after, Zenora stirred awake.
At dawn they set out, leaving the forest and heading south. The trees thinned, and by midday they reached the cliff overlooking the grass plains—the border between Asram and Elador, where the barrier ended. Beyond lay human and demi-human lands.
Gilly's eyes widened. Grass stretched in endless rows, fireflies and other glowing insects drifting in swarms across the plain. Back in Genesis she had never seen such abundance; there it had been only dense forests or endless blizzards.
Their journey continued through the day. The mood lightened, Zenora regaining her playful edge while Siel entertained with stories. He spoke of the southeastern continent, Lior—split east and west. The east belonged to demons, warlike and violent; the west to humans and demi-humans, where conflict was less frequent but never absent.
Gilly absorbed every word. She learned Siel and Zenora were halflings, once slaves in the southern continent before Elim—Zin's mother—had freed them.
By the time their talk subsided, the walls of Loran rose before them. The city dwarfed Elnor, a vast stone barrier protecting layers upon layers of buildings.
Even Zenora couldn't hide her excitement. Together with Gilly, she hurried forward. But the gates were guarded, and since it was night, only few entered. At the sight of Zin's badge, the guards saluted and let them pass.
For only a moment Gilly glimpsed it clearly—gold, etched with a red inscription that glowed faintly.
They stepped into the city.
The streets shimmered beneath the pale glow of the moons, cobblestones glinting like scattered silver shards. Mana-fed lanterns cast long shadows, while faint protective wards hummed at the edges of perception. To Gilly, the city felt alive—every alley a whispered secret, every rooftop a watcher.
Zenora clung lightly to her sleeve, eyes darting between awe and unease. For the first time in days, the weight of loss thinned, replaced by wonder.
But the glow of Zin's badge lingered in Gilly's mind. That red inscription—it felt less like ornament and more like warning.
And though the gates had opened without resistance, Gilly couldn't shake the feeling that the city itself was watching.