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She turns her gaze on me. I feel it—an overwhelming energy pressing against my chest. I try to communicate both telepathically and verbally, but nothing—no response.

She reaches up, her thumb and middle finger gliding over her lips. Then, she pulls something tiny from beneath her tongue. As she draws it out, it begins to glow, pulsing in her hands. The object expands in a flash, elongating into an ornate, double-sided glaive, gleaming with power. Symbols are engraved along its length, glowing with an iridescent light. I squint at them, but… well, I wasn’t born reading.

“What does that say?” I ask, nearly forgetting the situation.

The Faenin twirls the glaive in her hand, and without warning, she hurls it straight at me. The wind howls as it spins toward my chest.

I act instinctually, diving to the side at the very last second. The glaive whistles past me as the rush of air brushes my skin. But before I can get up, the space around me warps again.

And… she’s gone.

No—she’s with the glaive!

The Faenin teleports in a flash, reappearing mid-spin at the end of the glaive’s arc. She twists and aims the weapon straight at me, ready to strike. Time slows, and my body tenses. I can see it coming—there’s no time to dodge.

But something deep inside stirs, and my hand moves on its own. Suddenly, a reflective aura surrounds my palm. The glaive strikes against my hand, but instead of slicing through, it rebounds. The attack ricochets off my palm, spinning backward toward the Faenin as if reflecting it perfectly. Did I just… mirror that? A mirror power?! Brilliant! Brilliant!

She stumbles back. Her eyes widen in surprise—the first show of emotion—as the force of her own strike sends her reeling.

Something catches my eye as I glance toward the flower. There’s a faint shimmer—a thin, nearly invisible tether stretching between her and the flower. My breath hitches as I realize it. That’s it! That flower is the key.

I smirk to myself. I don’t need to beat her at all; I just have to take the flower, and this whole fight is over.

“I’ve got you now,” I say while I stride toward the flower. She doesn’t even know what’s coming.

But before I get too far, the Faenin shifts her stance. She taps the glaive against the ground, once, twice—not stopping. The space around us hums with an ominous frequency. It feels like the entire dimension is shaking.

The vibration suddenly pierces my head—like thorns inside my body, starting with my bones and ripping through my skull. I drop to my knees, clutching my head as they intensify.

“Gah!” I groan. My vision blurs as the sound keeps pounding in my ears, like a thousand planets smashing against my skull. I can barely think—can barely focus on anything except the agonizing pain. I grit my teeth. Every time I try to move, the pain slams me back down.

But I’ve felt worse—the pain of the Eleven gods had nearly torn me apart once. This is nothing compared to that.

I force myself to relax, steadying my body. The tension in my muscles loosens as I focus on the Faenin. She throws the glaive again, the weapon spinning rapidly through the air. But this time, I’m ready. My eyes lock on the rotation of the blades, the way they move with a rhythm.

Time seems to slow, and I leap. My body moves with the rotation as my hand reaches out. I grab the glaive mid-air, feeling the pulse of its energy coursing through me as I spin it around myself to stop the momentum. The force of it reverberates through my arms, but I hold steady, landing back on my feet with the weapon in hand.

The Faenin’s eyes widen in shock. Her expression doesn’t change much, but I can feel the irritation radiating off her.

I grin while starting to twirl the glaive—it vibrates with power. Every movement feels fluid and effortless. I spin, moving with it, testing its balance as I dance through the space between us. It feels like it was made for me.

But I don’t waste time. Before she can pull any more of her tricks, I charge forward, spinning the glaive, ready to strike.

She’s quick—too quick. The Faenin dodges each of my attacks. Every time I lunge, she’s already moving, using the strange gravity of the barrier to her advantage, slipping through the gaps of my strikes.

I press harder, determined to land a blow. But then, in the heat of the moment, I misjudge my swing. The glaive slices through the barrier with a sharp crack. A fissure ripples through, and my eyes widen—the surface of the barrier shimmers, showing a small but growing crack. Maybe I can use it to my advantage. If I time this right…

But before I can think about it, the Faenin starts adapting. She’s reading my movements now, anticipating each strike before it happens. In a blur, she reaches out and grabs the handle of the glaive. Her strength surges through the weapon, and I feel my grip falter by sheer intensity.

I blink in surprise. “Truce?” I offer with a playful grin, knowing I’m not getting out of this.

Her response is swift and simple—a brutal kick to my chest! The force sends me flying backward, the glaive slipping from my hands. I tumble through the air, groaning as I hit the ground, skidding to a stop not too far from the flower.

I glance back at her with frustration. I’m close to the flower again—almost within reach. But as I move, she taps the glaive against the ground again. The vibrations start up again, ripping through my body.

I groan, clutching my head. “Seriously?! You don’t know how to do anything else?!”

But then, despite the pain, I grin.

It worked.

Behind the Faenin, the crack in the barrier widens with every pulse of her glaive. Eventually, it shatters the iridescent wall behind her. Noticing it, she dodges the water rushing in, flooding the space violently.

The force hits me, propelling me straight toward the flower as my hand is outstretched, ready to grasp its glowing petals. However, the corner of my eye catches a flash of movement that shatters space itself.

The Faenin appears before me, her speed nearly impossible to track. One moment she’s across the barrier, and the next, she’s right in front of me with her glaive raised high. Time seems to freeze as she draws the blade back, ready to slice through me before I can even blink.

I barely have time to react, but as the blade is about to come down, I yank the flower from its place.

The second my fingers curl around the stem, everything changes. The Faenin freezes, the glaive still suspended above me. Her eyes widen, not in shock but… pride?

She softly smiles.

Then, she chuckles—a low, reverberating sound that echoes through the water around us. It sends a chill down my spine, but not from fear. There’s something familiar in that sound—something comforting.

As she starts to dissolve, her form flickers like mist, but her gaze never leaves mine. The smile stays, and so does that chuckle, fading into nothingness as her body breaks apart into the air.

The barrier completely shatters, and the lake floods in, filling the space once more. The rush of water envelops me, but I barely notice. I just stand there, holding the flower as my heart pounds while I stare at the empty space where she had stood. Did I know you?

With the flower clutched, I push off from the lakebed and swim back up. The water around me is cool, soothing the soreness in my muscles as I ascend. The water feels different—tastes different. It’s not contaminated anymore.

Ascending, my mind replays the final moments with the Faenin. That smile—what did it mean?

But as I break through the surface of the water, all of that is drowned out by the rush of air filling my lungs and the cheers that erupt around me.

“Victory!” I yell, thrusting the flower into the air. The Faenins gathered around the lake explode into applause as their voices rise while cheering for me.

I swim to the edge, pulling myself out of the water, still clutching the flower. The moment my feet touch solid ground, the cheering gets louder, and a few Faenins rush over, excited and relieved.

I catch Lara’s eyes in the crowd. She stands off to the side with a look of worry. As I smile at her, she lets out a long, exasperated sigh, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her concern finally easing.

“Don’t look so worried!” I call out to her, still riding the high of the moment. “Told you I have it under control!”

Lara rolls her eyes, but not without that little smile of hers. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” she says.

One Faenin’s voice yells above the crowd: “All hail the new Faenin Queen!” A wave of agreement follows as their voices blend in celebration.

“Hahahaha! Drink up, my friends! From today, we decide how we live!” I say between laughter.

The atmosphere around the lake is vibrant with smiles and joy. Faenins are drinking from the restored water, splashing around, and celebrating their newfound freedom—and especially, their new, beautifully gorgeous, and gracefully powerful queen!

Watching the others, I see Lara walking over with a curious expression. She stops next to me, glancing at the flower.

“So, what happened down there?” she asks.

I hold the flower up, giving it a casual shake. “This little thing was the culprit,” I say with a grin. “Took a bit to get it, but here we are.”

Lara’s eyes widen slightly as she looks closer at the flower.

I can’t help but ask, “Do you know anyone with this flower name?”

Lara studies the petals for a moment before realization hits her. “It’s a Dahlia,” she says.

“Ah, so that’s what it was.” I roll the name around in my head. “Dahlia, Dahlia…” It doesn’t ring a bell. Maybe it’s just a flower name, nothing more.

But Lara’s brow furrows. “There’s nobody named Dahlia in Bitu. At least, not that I know of.”

I shrug, not too concerned. “Well, that’s a mystery for later. But there’s something else.” I pause, glancing at her. “I fought someone down there. She was using this weapon—pretty cool, by the way—but it had some writing on it.”

“Wait, you fought someone?”

“Yeah, but it was easy,” I reply, waving her off. “She wasn’t a match for me, but I need to know what the writing on the weapon said. It looked important.”

Lara looks at me like I’ve said something wild. “Uhm… you can’t read?”

“Nope.” I laugh.

Her eyes narrow as if she’s putting pieces together. “That’s strange. Most Faenins know how to read when fully formed—Yggdrasil transfers such wisdom to us. And you don’t even know basic flower names?”

I shrug again. “Maybe it’s because I broke out early. I skipped all the boring parts from that stupid tree.”

Lara looks like she’s about to ask more, but I kneel and draw the symbols I remember from the weapon in the dirt. They flow easily from my memory, every line and curve clear in my mind.

She kneels beside me, examining the symbols closely before reading them aloud. “15th Tower Greater than Heaven and Hell.”

I jump to my feet, shouting, “What a cool name! I knew it was something awesome!”

She shakes her head, half-smiling. “You’re something else, Nevalyn.”

With that, we return to the others, still drinking and splashing in the newly restored lake. The energy around the lake is pure joy, and I soak it all in as we dance, sing, and have fun competitions. This feels like victory—like freedom. Take that, you eleven idiots.

However, as the celebrations wind down, I find myself thinking of the Faenin I fought. That smile, that chuckle… whatever, I’ve got a kingdom to lead.

As the sun dips below the horizon and the moon rises while casting its silver light over the lake, I feel something strange.

My body starts to change. At first, it’s subtle—like a slight pulling at the edges of my soul. Then, the changes become more obvious. I glance down, and my arms, once graceful and strong, begin to shrink. My whole frame grows smaller, more delicate. My muscles soften, my stature shortening until I barely recognize myself.

What the hell?

The Faenins around me stop what they’re doing as they notice. I look around at them, confused, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

Lara steps forward with furrowed brows. “Nevalyn… what just happened?”

I wish I had an answer. I touch my now petite form, running my fingers along my arms, feeling the difference. I’m smaller—way smaller.

Panic rises in my chest, but I shove it down. No way am I letting them see me unsure, so I smirk and throw my hands in the air. “Guess this just makes me more unique, huh?”

The Faenins exchange glances before nodding, intrigued. They seem to buy it. They smile, murmuring about how ‘special’ their queen must be.

But as I look down at myself, I can’t shake the confusion. This isn’t normal, and I know it. There’s something deeper going on here, something I don’t understand.

Then, I feel my mind shifting too. The energy I had moments ago—excitement and boldness—starts to fade. In its place is something quieter. I feel more… introspective, like a weight has settled over me, pressing me into silence.

For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel the need to speak. I let the quiet wash over me, watching the Faenins as they talk and celebrate. However, their laughter still brings joy to my chest.

The moonlight feels different on my skin, more soothing than the sun’s warmth. My thoughts slow, becoming gentler, more inward. What does this mean? Why am I like this?

Over the next 33 years, I build something incredible in Bitu. I never asked to be a queen, but here I am, leading the Faenins with freedom and compassion. The world feels lighter under my rule—not bogged down by harsh laws or pointless restrictions. I ensure each Faenin contributes unique skills, helping us grow stronger as a community. Everyone’s talents are valued here, and I make sure of it.

I rule with respect, always listening to the needs of my people. The laws we have? They aren’t binding cocoons. They’re just common sense—things that keep everyone safe and happy. The natural law in Bitu is respect for one another. That’s how I lead, and the Faenins thrive under it.

Lara tries to teach me more about the Faenin way of life. She tells me about flowers, customs, traditions—all the things I missed because I broke out too early. Sometimes, I listen, but more often than not, I don’t really care. Why should I? I’ve already built a kingdom without knowing any of that stuff.

But as the years roll by, I start to realize something about Bitu—this dimension of Yggdrasil isn’t as grand as I once thought. The lake, the forests, the meadows—they’re beautiful, sure, but it’s all so… small. There’s not much to explore, not much excitement, not any animals. I’ve been everywhere in Bitu and done everything there is to do.

After all these years, I start to feel restless. This kingdom of mine? It’s perfect. But for the first time, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s more out there.

Years pass by, and soon, the disappearances begin.

At first, it’s just whispers. A Faenin here or there vanishes overnight, and no one knows where they’ve gone. I brush it off as pranksters, but it soon becomes clear that this isn’t a joke.

More and more Faenins start to disappear, and there’s no explanation. No warning. One day, they’re with us, and the next, they’re gone. We try everything—scouting the boundaries of Bitu, gathering everyone close, holding meetings—but nothing works. Faenins keep blinking out of existence, and the fear grows with every loss.

One evening, we’re all gathered for another meeting, desperate to figure out what’s happening when it happens right in front of us. A Faenin, standing near the center of the group, suddenly gasps. His back arches, and in an instant, shimmering wings burst from his shoulders—brilliant, ethereal wings, unlike anything we’ve ever seen.

He's gone before anyone can react—before I can even move. The wings flash with indigo light, and he vanishes in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but silence behind.

The panic sets in after that. Every day, Faenins start growing wings, and every time they do, they blink out of existence, lost to whatever strange force is pulling them away. No one can escape it.

I watch, powerless, as one by one, the Faenins disappear, Genevieve and Lara among them. The moment Lara’s wings spread and she vanishes, the fear of my imminent isolation crashes over me.

I’m the last one left. Alone.

The silence is deafening, and for the first time in 33 years, Bitu feels… empty. Is this another punishment? It’s not funny.

As I am about to swear my vengeance against every god that ever existed, it happens to me.

I’m standing by the lake, staring out at the water, lost in thought, when I feel a soft pull at my back. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see wings sprouting from me, shimmering in a magenta light.

Before I can even process it, I feel myself pulled into the light. The world around me disappears, and just like that, I’m gone.

When I open my eyes, everything is dark. Confined. The walls press against me, familiar in the worst way possible.

Another cocoon.

Rage exploded inside me instantly. The gods—those damn Eleven—did they really just put me back in here?! After everything I’ve done?! After 33 years of freedom?!

I clench my fists, ready to start clawing my way out just like before, but something stops me.

The cocoon begins to peel open on its own.

The folds unravel gently, like the petals of a flower, and soft light floods in. I blink against the brightness, momentarily stunned. As the cocoon fully opens, I see a small creature floating before me, no bigger than an apple, with tiny wings and a mischievous smile.

“Nightshade from Bitu?” it asks with telepathy. I nod instinctively. “Welcome to Terrarium,” the creature communicates. Its voice is cheerful and light, ringing in my head. “From now on, you will reside in Faelyn.”

I look around, and for the first time, I’m speechless. The beauty of wherever I am leaves me frozen in awe. Colors swirl in the air, the ground beneath me feels alive, and everything shimmers with a mystical aura—this is nothing compared to Bitu.

Terrarium… Faelyn…

And just like that, everything is about to change again.

 

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