Three days later, Gray woke up feeling more rested than he'd ever felt in his life.
The wisps had stayed with him the entire time, their light keeping the room warm and cozy. When he opened his eyes, they danced around his head as if saying goodbye—some of them even floated down to rest on his shoulders, as if they wanted to come with him.
"I wish you could," he said, gently lifting one off his shoulder and setting it on the silk pillow. "But it's going to be dangerous. You're safer here in the valley."
He got out of bed, pulled on his dark robes, and walked outside. Aldric was already up, packing the last of the supplies into the cart. Luna was perched on the rock near the stream, watching them with her amber eyes, and her chicks were flying in circles above, letting out soft chirps.
"Ready to go?" Aldric asked, wiping his hands on his tunic.
Gray nodded, yawning. "As ready as I'll ever be. Let's just get this over with so I can come back and sleep."
They set off up the winding path out of the valley, the cart creaking behind them. Gray looked back one last time at the small house, the silver grass, and the twinkling stars in the daytime sky. He'd be back. He promised himself that.
The journey down the Whispering Mountains took two days. The path was steep and slippery, and Aldric had to pull the cart carefully to keep it from tipping over. Gray walked beside him, his eyes half-closed, trying to nap while walking—though this time, he was careful to watch where he was going so he didn't trip over any roots.
"Told you sleeping while walking was a bad idea," Aldric said, grinning as Gray stumbled over a rock.
"It's not my fault the rocks are in the way," Gray mumbled, steadying himself. "Who puts rocks on a mountain path?"
"The mountains," Aldric said, laughing. "Same people who put roots on back roads."
On the third day, they reached the foot of the mountains and entered the forest that led to the Black Spire. The air here was different—darker, heavier. The trees were tall and twisted, their branches blocking out most of the sun. There was no birdsong, no rustle of animals in the undergrowth—just the creak of the cart and the sound of their footsteps on the dirt path.
"This place feels wrong," Gray said, his eyes finally fully open. He could feel it—a faint, familiar pulse of chaos in the air. The Weavers of Chaos had already been here.
Aldric nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his lion-headed sword. "I noticed it too. They must have passed through here a few days ago. The locals say they left a trail of destruction—burned trees, dead animals, magic that feels… twisted."
They walked on, the chaos pulse growing stronger the closer they got to the Black Spire. After a few hours, they reached a small village that had been raided. The houses were burned, the crops were destroyed, and the streets were empty. Gray felt a flicker of anger in his chest—anger at the Weavers of Chaos for destroying innocent people's homes, anger at himself for having to leave the valley to fix it.
"Stay here," Aldric said, drawing his sword. "I'll check if anyone's still alive."
He walked down the empty street, his armor gleaming in the dim light. Gray stood beside the cart, his mana stirring in his chest, ready to act if needed. A few minutes later, Aldric came back, his face grim.
"No one," he said. "They either ran away or… well, there's no sign of bodies, so I hope they ran."
Gray nodded, his jaw tight. "Let's keep going. The faster we get to the dungeon, the faster we can stop them."
They walked on, the Black Spire coming into view through the trees. It was a tall, twisted tower of black stone that jutted up into the sky, its top hidden in dark clouds. Even from here, Gray could feel the chaos pulse coming from it—stronger now, more twisted. The Weavers of Chaos were already inside.
As they approached the dungeon entrance, they heard voices—loud, arrogant voices. They hid behind a cluster of twisted trees and peered around the corner.
There were five of them. Four men in dark robes embroidered with red runes, and one woman who stood in front of them, her hair black as night, her eyes glowing with a faint red light. She held a staff made of black wood, with a red crystal at the top that pulsed with the same chaos energy as the spire.
"The vault door is just ahead," the woman said, her voice cold. "Once we open it, we'll have the power to rewrite reality itself. We'll be gods."
"The legends say the door is guarded by an ancient mage," one of the men said, his voice trembling. "The Lazy Mage. What if he's still alive?"
The woman laughed—a harsh, cold sound. "The Lazy Mage? He's just a myth. A story parents tell their children to keep them from wandering into the woods. Even if he was alive, he'd be too lazy to stop us. Now, let's go. I want that power for myself."
Gray felt his eye twitch. Too lazy to stop them? He'd show them.
He stepped out from behind the trees, Aldric following close behind him, his sword drawn. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Gray said, his voice loud enough to carry to the Weavers.
The woman turned around, her eyes narrowing when she saw him. "Who are you?"
"Just the myth you were talking about," Gray said, grinning. "The Lazy Mage. Though I prefer 'Star-Sleeping Mage' now. It's more poetic."
The four men stepped back, their faces pale with fear. But the woman just smiled—a cold, cruel smile. "The Lazy Mage. Interesting. I was hoping you'd be alive. I want to see if your power is as great as the legends say."
She raised her staff, and the red crystal at the top glowed brighter. "Attack."
The four men drew their own staffs and charged, red magic crackling from their fingertips. Aldric stepped forward, his sword flashing in the dim light, and blocked the first man's attack. Gray stood back, his hands in his pockets, watching as Aldric fought off the four men with ease—his movements quick and precise, his sword cutting through their magic like it was nothing.
"You're one of the Sixteen Greatest Swordsmen," the woman said, her eyes widening slightly when she recognized Aldric. "I should have known you'd be protecting him."
"He's not protecting me," Gray said, yawning. "I'm protecting him. Well, and the world. But mostly me. I just want to go back to sleep."
He finally pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them up. A soft silver light began to glow from his fingertips—brighter than the light he'd used to build the house, but just as gentle. He didn't chant, didn't draw runes—he just thought, and the magic obeyed.
Silver ropes of light shot out from his hands, wrapping around the four men who were fighting Aldric. They pulled them back, their staffs clattering to the ground. The men struggled, but the silver ropes were too strong.
"Let us go!" one of them yelled.
"Not until you promise to leave the dungeon alone," Gray said, his voice calm. "And never use chaos magic again."
The woman laughed again. "You think you can stop me with a few silver ropes? You're mistaken."
She raised her staff, and the red crystal pulsed with a wave of chaos magic that shot toward Gray. He just stood there, his eyes half-closed, and held up one hand. The silver light from his fingertips wrapped around the chaos wave, twisting it and turning it until it dissolved into nothing.
"Chaos magic is just unrefined magic," Gray said, shaking his head. "You're wasting your time with it. Magic should be used to build, not to destroy. To bring peace, not chaos."
The woman's face turned red with anger. "You don't know what you're talking about! Power is everything. With chaos magic, I can make the world what I want it to be."
"Like you made that village what you wanted it to be?" Gray asked, his voice turning cold. "Burned and empty?"
He stepped forward, the silver light from his hands growing brighter. "I've had enough of people who think power is the answer. I've had enough of people who want to destroy the world just to get what they want. It's time you learned your lesson."
He held out his hand, and a silver beam of light shot out from his fingertips, hitting the woman's staff. The red crystal shattered into a million pieces, and the staff crumbled to dust in her hands. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock.
"No," she whispered. "My power… it's gone."
"Your power was never real," Gray said. "It was just chaos. Now, get out of here. And don't come back. If you do, I won't be so nice next time."
The woman looked at him for a long moment, her face pale with fear. Then she turned and ran, the four men following close behind her, still wrapped in silver ropes that Gray had loosened just enough to let them walk.
Aldric sheathed his sword, looking at Gray with awe. "That was… incredible. You didn't even break a sweat."
Gray yawned, letting the silver light fade from his hands. "Like I said—simple. Chaos magic is easy to stop when you know how. Now, let's go to the dungeon and seal the vault door for good. I'm getting tired, and I want to go back to the valley."
They walked into the dungeon, the familiar smell of dust and stone hitting Gray's nose. It had been thirty years since he'd been here, but it still felt the same—quiet, dark, and full of memories. The runes on the walls were still glowing with a soft silver light, but he could see that the Weavers had tried to scratch them out.
"They didn't get far," Aldric said, looking at the scratched runes. "Your magic is stronger than they thought."
Gray nodded, walking toward the vault door at the end of the corridor. It was still closed, the silver runes on its surface glowing brightly. But he could feel a faint flicker of chaos energy coming from the other side—proof that the Weavers had tried to open it.
He walked up to the door and placed his hand on its surface. The silver light from his hand merged with the light from the runes, and he could feel the seal he'd made thirty years ago—still strong, but slightly weakened by the Weavers' attempts to break it.
He closed his eyes, focusing his power into the door. This time, he didn't just mend the seal—he strengthened it. He wove new runes into the door, runes that would keep anyone from opening it, no matter how strong their magic was. Runes that would only respond to his touch.
It took longer this time—about ten minutes—but when he was done, the vault door glowed with a bright silver light that filled the entire corridor. The chaos energy from the other side was gone, sealed away forever.
"It's done," Gray said, opening his eyes and pulling his hand away. "No one will ever be able to open that door again. The space between worlds is safe. The realm is safe."
Aldric grinned, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Then let's go home. Back to the valley. Where you can sleep to your heart's content."
Gray smiled, turning and walking back down the corridor. "Finally. That's all I've wanted this whole time."
They walked out of the dungeon, the sun setting behind the Black Spire, painting the sky orange and pink. Gray looked back one last time at the spire, then turned his face toward the Whispering Mountains—the direction of the Valley of Starlight.
He was going home.