A New Dawn

I woke to warmth that didn't belong to me.

A blanket was tucked around my chest—soft, unfamiliar. My fingers curled around the fabric instinctively as I blinked against the daylight leaking through the cracked stone walls.

When had I fallen asleep?

And more importantly—who had done this?

The answer arrived before I needed to ask.

Scarlette.

The thought settled like a rock in my chest. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. She stood a few feet away, already awake, her attention fixed on the orb floating above her hand like a second sun.

Had she even slept?

"Good. The spell is working," she murmured to herself, tone light, almost amused.

Red mist curled from her palm, entwining with the golden magic encircling the orb. The colors spiraled like smoke—thick, vivid, alive. They pulsed in tandem, as if breathing together.

I couldn't look away.

Then her voice sharpened. "Alright, Veravos. I'll need your dark magic later."

I stiffened. "No."

She blinked. "What?"

"You told me this was a spell for blind loyalty—before we came here. So tell me again. What are you actually doing?"

She sighed, lips quirking in a guilty smile. "I told the truth. Just... the easy part."

My gut clenched.

"The mists," I said, voice tighter now. "They're growing thicker. Why?"

She rolled her shoulders as if brushing off the weight of consequence. "I'm binding loyalty—not from a person, but from the emerald. If we can't trust people, maybe we can make the gem trust us instead."

My pulse quickened. "You're trying to dominate an ancient object that bends reality."

Scarlette didn't even flinch. "The mists absorbed light magic overnight. It's everywhere here. I only took a little."

I didn't think. I reacted.

A surge of dark mist erupted from my hand, tearing toward the orb.

It shattered on impact—dispersing into nothing with a hollow crack and a gust of cold mist.

Scarlette flinched. "Veravos! It's too soon for dark magic!" Her voice cracked with anger and disbelief. "You've ruined it. I have to start over now."

I said nothing.

That was the point.

This kind of spell—ancient, volatile—required precision. One wrong step, and it would unravel. If my magic was the final ingredient, then I wouldn't offer it.

Still, she tried again.

A new orb flickered to life, glowing red, coiled in yellow mist. It floated beside the emerald, which rotated slowly inside the haze like it was watching us.

I stood slowly, dread thick in my chest.

"Scarlette, stop. You don't know what you're toying with. The emerald isn't some trinket you can bind to your will."

She scowled. "What if the Light Guardian's dead? What if there's no scroll left to decode? This could be the only way."

"It's not worth the risk. You don't force reality into loyalty."

Her eyes flicked to mine. For a heartbeat, I thought I got through.

But then she looked away.

I'd heard of this spell once, in whispers and forbidden pages. Magic so old it had been buried on purpose.

And now she was using it like it was just another shortcut.

"Veravos, this is our failsafe," she said. "It's faster."

"But at what cost?"

She hesitated. A flicker of doubt—then gone.

She reached out, maybe for me. Maybe for the orb.

I turned and walked out.

I wasn't doing this. Not again.

As I passed into the kitchen, the scent of soup hit me—rich, earthy, familiar. My anger faltered for just a second.

Real soup.

A pot still bubbled on the stove.

"Oh, Lumera… you really didn't have to…" I muttered without thinking.

But the pot was unattended. The windows stood open. The house was too quiet.

A chill settled in my spine.

I turned off the flame, listening.

Nothing but the hush of wind.

Then I saw it—glitter, hanging in the air like fractured stardust. A faint, musty scent clung to the walls and threaded through my lungs.

"Lumera?" I called.

Silence.

I turned toward the hallway. "Scarlette? Did you see her?"

She emerged from the bedroom, brows furrowed. "No. I thought she was cooking."

Not good.

She crossed to Lumera's door and knocked. Still nothing.

Then golden mist began to curl from beneath it—dense and unnatural.

I kicked the door open.

My stomach dropped.

Lumera lay on the ground.

Or... what was left of her.

Her body dissolved before our eyes, crumbling into yellow dust.

Scarlette stumbled back, horrified. "Ver… Lumera… let's save her," she whispered, voice barely holding together.

She reached for the emerald.

I blocked her.

"She's gone."

The words hit like stones.

Scarlette turned to me, wide-eyed. "What happened?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

The room wasn't just empty—it was wrong. The shadows twisted unnaturally. Claw marks scarred the walls, burned deep with ancient, brutal magic.

Whoever did this hadn't just killed her.

They had erased her.

Scarlette's voice was shaking now. "I can use the emerald—I can bring her back—"

She stood.

Reached again.

But the yellow mist was already moving.

It slipped past us, drifting down the hallway, drawn toward the bedroom.

Toward the new red orb.

Of course she had restarted it.

Of course.

Something in my gut turned cold.

And before I could stop myself, the words slipped out—sharp, cruel.

"Your spell… you did this."

Even as I said it, I knew it was wrong.

This wasn't Scarlette's work. Too sharp. Too clean. Too familiar.

Dark Fairy magic.

But the damage was done.

Her face contorted—shock, disbelief, then anger.

"Your trust in me is underwhelming," she said, voice like frost.

"I didn't mean that," I said quickly, stepping forward.

She didn't reply.

Didn't even look at me.

I stood still as she walked past me in silence.

Back into Lumera's room.

The dust clung to the air, glowing faintly. I knelt and touched it. It stuck to my skin—weightless and eerie, like pollen from a dream.

I looked up at the walls again.

Deep claw marks. Deliberate. Too exact.

Dark Fairy work.

"No," I whispered. "This wasn't you. This was one of us."

Silence.

I turned.

She was gone.

"Scarlette?" I called.

Nothing.

"Scarlette!"

No answer.

The red orb—gone.

She had taken it.

She had left.

The silence felt sharper now. Bitter.

Well done, Veravos.

I'd accused her.

Driven her away.

Now Lumera was dead, and I was alone.

The emerald weighed in my palm—cold, unyielding, indifferent.

She would come back. I believed that.

But the belief didn't comfort me.

Alone had always felt like a punishment I'd earned.

But now?

Now it just felt hollow.

I needed answers.

Who had done this?

Which Dark Fairy could reduce a body to dust, leave claw marks in stone, and vanish without trace?

Judorah? Was she that powerful?

And why Lumera?

Why now?

The golden mist still lingered in the hallway, pulsing faintly, like it remembered everything that had happened here.

The only thing louder than the silence was the weight pressing on my chest.

I had lost something I hadn't even realized I was afraid to lose.

And I didn't know how to fix it.