The infiltration went smoother than any of them had expected.
With the help of the pirates, their presence was masked among the many crews preparing for the annual expedition. No one questioned them. No one paid them any special attention.
On the deck of a large pirate vessel, the group of five stood quietly, blending into the restless movement of sailors and workers. Around them, ships from the kingdoms began to arrive—larger, more structured, carrying robed mages and laborers.
Soon, the fleet assembled.
And then—
They set sail.
The journey north was steady but tense. The sea grew colder, the winds sharper. Even the most experienced sailors spoke less as they moved deeper into unfamiliar waters.
After two days, the fleet entered a region thick with mist.
It swallowed everything.
Ships that had once sailed side by side now became faint shadows. Voices carried strangely, distorted by the heavy air. Even the waves seemed quieter, as though the sea itself was holding its breath.
Then—
The fleet stopped.
One by one, the ships came to a halt.
From the front, the vessels carrying the mages began to move ahead. A figure stepped forward onto the deck of the leading ship—a mage clad in layered robes, holding an object that pulsed faintly with light.
An artifact.
He raised it slowly.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the mist began to part.
Not drift.
Not fade.
It was pushed back—as though something unseen had been forced open.
And there it was.
The Island of Miradur.
Dense forests stretched across its surface, thick and unwelcoming. The land itself seemed untouched by time. No clear paths. No visible settlements. Only nature—and something hidden within it.
The fleet moved again.
Ships approached carefully, docking only along the eastern edge of the island where the terrain was more stable. The ground sloped upward, allowing space for camps to be constructed.
Crates were unloaded. Tents were raised. Orders were given.
The mages began their work.
And in the middle of it all—
The group slipped away.
Quietly.
Unnoticed.
They moved west.
The deeper they went, the denser the forest became. Light struggled to pass through the thick canopy above. The air grew heavier, filled with unfamiliar scents.
And the sounds—
They were wrong.
Low growls. Distant movements. The subtle shifting of something watching.
They avoided conflict, moving carefully, following the worn map Alex carried. More than once, they froze in place as creatures passed nearby—massive, silent, and unaware of how close they were to being discovered.
Finally—
They reached the ruins.
Stone structures, broken and overtaken by nature, rose from the earth like remnants of a forgotten world. Vines crawled across their surfaces. Cracks ran deep through ancient walls.
And there—
Growing between the ruins—
Were the plants.
Clusters of them.
Exactly as described.
A quiet sense of relief spread through the group.
They began to gather them quickly.
But then—
Voices.
Distant.
Approaching.
The group exchanged looks.
Without a word, they moved.
Into the ruins.
They pressed themselves into the shadows just as a group of mages entered the clearing.
"…Are you sure this is the right place?" one of them asked.
"Yes," another replied. "The records are clear."
They began inspecting the plants.
"But why so many?" the first one asked again. "We don't usually collect this quantity."
A pause.
Then a hushed reply.
"It's for an antidote."
The words sent a quiet tension through the hidden group.
"An antidote?" the mage repeated. "For what?"
The other lowered his voice further.
"I don't know. But it's important."
Silence followed.
"…Then we'll need porters," the first one said. "Let's return with support."
They left.
Only when their voices faded completely did the group move again.
No one spoke.
They finished gathering what they needed.
And left.
—
The return was quicker.
Quieter.
Easier than it should have been.
No creatures blocked their path. No one discovered them.
It felt… too smooth.
But no one questioned it.
Back at the camp, they blended in once more. Crates were loaded. Ships prepared.
And soon—
They were gone.
—
Back on the Land of Fire, the urgency returned.
The plants were handed over immediately.
The physician wasted no time. The leaves were crushed, mixed, heated—transformed into a dark liquid that carried a sharp, unfamiliar scent.
The remedy was ready.
And given.
Time passed.
Short.
But heavy.
Then—
Change.
The captain's complexion, once pale and strained, began to return to normal. His breathing steadied. The unnatural weight around him… lifted.
Relief spread quietly.
The mission had succeeded.
The red-haired boy leaned back, clearly disappointed.
"All that for nothing," he muttered. "Not even a proper fight."
A few chuckled.
Even the captain, upon hearing the story, seemed surprised at how smoothly it had gone.
But that moment didn't last.
His expression hardened.
He turned toward Alex.
"How many times have I told you," he said, his voice firm, "to act like a lady?"
The room fell silent.
Henry blinked.
For a moment, he thought he had misheard.
Eren froze.
Slowly—
All eyes turned.
And in that moment—
Everything clicked.
The voice.
The hesitation.
The secrecy.
Eren—
Was not a boy.
But a girl.
Henry stared, the realization settling in.
The pieces that once felt strange now made sense.
And just like that—
The mystery was gone.
Replaced with something new.