In the House of Mystery's cozy bar room, Death wandered among the shelves, her gaze drawn to a distinctive bottle labeled "Dragonheart." She picked it up, turning it over with a curious frown.
"Dragonheart. Never heard of it," she muttered.
Yan Sen glanced her way with a faint, nostalgic smile. "That's something I recreated from my past world. It used to give a burning sensation—if you're strong enough for even immortals, you might even breathe a little fire and smoke. The kick depends on the strength of the brew."
Death grinned with interest. "That sounds intriguing."
She uncorked the bottle, poured two glasses, and handed one to Yan Sen. They clinked their drinks and took a sip. Instantly, Death let out a small, delighted plume of smoke and a flicker of fire. She laughed, eyes bright. "This is very good!"
Yan Sen chuckled, savoring his own drink. But Death's gaze turned inquisitive as she set down her glass. "I hear your new student is clairvoyant."
Yan Sen nodded. "She is. Her powers aren't fully awakened yet, but I plan to help her develop them soon."
Death considered this, recalling stories she'd heard. By Yan Sen's standards, Cassandra would one day see countless branches of the future.
Then Death's tone grew mischievous. "And one other thing—I heard you completely destroyed Set, both physically and mentally."
Yan Sen took a long sip and shrugged. "I didn't mean to. He just happened to cross my path when I was in a particularly annoyed mood."
Death burst out laughing, shaking her head. "Because of your grouchy mood, the whole prophecy about Set and Osiris is finished. Set's so traumatized, there's no risk of it ever coming to pass!"
The two of them were more than a little drunk, laughter lingering in the air. Death swirled the last of Dragonheart in her glass and asked, "Have you ever been in any relationship?"
Yan Sen shook his head drunkenly, a bit sheepish. "Nope. I spent most of my time in seclusion—never really had much of a chance to think about the opposite sex, let alone try."
He looked at Death with drunken curiosity. "How about you?"
Death took a deep gulp and set her glass down. "When you are Death itself, relationships are… complicated. Add immortality and, well, a full-time job guiding souls, and you'll understand why it's hard. And finding a real connection? That's even rarer."
She glanced over at Yan Sen, her gaze lingering just a moment longer. But as she finished, she noticed his head had tipped back—he was already snoring softly, completely out.
Death rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at her lips. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, then slipped away into the shadows, leaving Yan Sen to his dreams.
Yan Sen woke with the heavy silence of a room just emptied. Death had been here—he could still feel the cold shadow of its presence lingering along the walls.
Then, without warning, sparks shimmered before him and curled into flame. A fire-message burst into existence, paper forming out of the smoke. He reached out calmly, as though catching it were second nature, and the burning edges stilled in his grasp.
The script on the paper burned itself across the surface, glowing, fading, then reforming as words. Yan Sen read quickly, his expression hardening.
"So… Amara needs help," he muttered under his breath.
Amara, Queen of the Seelie, ruled one of the oldest fairy factions—a people once bound to human belief. Long ago, when men and fairies shared the same world, faith and stories kept their realms intertwined. But as belief waned, the fairies began to fade, cast adrift without a lasting home.
From that fading came divisions. The Seelie, playful yet cunning, were the first to forge a realm of their own—the Seelie Realm. Across the sea in Ireland, the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Fomorians carved their legends into human memory, radiating such power and mystery that mortals mistook them for gods.
Eventually, the last scattered fairies wove together a fragile refuge: the Fairy Kingdom. Its borders overlapped with the Dreaming, where imagination and reality blurred until one bled into the other. To walk too far in one was to risk stumbling into the other.
But even this home was not safe. At their weakest, the fairies struck a grim bargain with the demons: every seven years, nine of their subjects would be delivered as tribute. A sacrifice for survival. A pact that lingered like a wound—a reminder of what they had lost, and how far they might still fall.
Yan Sen guided his students—Aleksander, Luda, and Cassandra—across the forest's tangled shadows until they reached a sunlit field, dominated by a colossal tree rising at the center. Cassandra peered ahead, curiosity burning in her eyes. "Master, is this the way to the Seelie Realm? Is it a separate realm in the Sphere of the Gods?"
Yan Sen nodded. "Yes."
He produced a key crafted with intricate leaf and vine engravings, its surface catching the filtered sunlight. Technically he can easily teleport or create portal to the relam, but he didn't because he chose respect there rules.
Yan Sen spoke, voice low but clear. "The Sphere of the Gods is a metaphysical reality, far above the worlds mortals know. Its inhabitants dwell on planes higher than anything in the Orrery of Worlds. Within this Sphere are places like Hell, Heaven, the Underworld, and Skyland. The Skyland serve as homes to all gods and pantheons worshipped by Earth's ancient cultures—the Olympians, the Roman gods, Celtic deities, the Taoist immortals, Mexican gods, and countless others."
He gestured toward the massive tree. "Then there are also minor realms, nestled in-between the greater domains. The Seelie Realm is one such place—neither as vast as Heaven nor as feared as Hell, but still woven into the cosmic order."