Rad groaned dramatically, his face mashed against the cool, worn surface of a long wooden table in the ship’s dining hall. The air was thick with the rich aroma of roasted meats, warm bread, and aromatic spices, but none of it brought him comfort. His skin had a pale tinge, and his arms hung limp at his sides like he’d just survived a battle—or more accurately, Vel’s flight.


    Above him, magical lanterns drifted through the air, suspended by invisible forces, casting a warm golden glow over the feasting passengers. Their soft illumination danced along the wooden beams of the ceiling and flickered in the eyes of chatting travelers. Laughter and the clinking of metal cups filled the hall, but Rad tuned it all out, groaning again into the tabletop.


    “I hate flying,” he mumbled into the wood, voice muffled and pitiful. Across from him, Vel was an unstoppable blur of motion. Piled high with food, the table was her personal battleground—and she was winning.


    Loaves of honeyed bread vanished into her mouth in seconds, roasted poultry was stripped down to bone with cartoonish speed, and her arms moved so fast they blurred, cramming bites into her face like a whirlwind in fast-forward.


    Her mouth, now smeared with crumbs and sauce, widened unnaturally with each bite. Between gulps, she muttered half-sentences like “sooo good”, “more mustard!”, and “blessed be the meat gods!”


    Finally, with a loud “Bwahh!”, she leaned back in her stool, her iridescent wings fluttering to support her as she floated slightly above her seat. She let out a loud, content burp, then rubbed her belly with both hands and smiled dreamily up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded in bliss.


    Rad slowly peeled his head off the table, blinking blearily. His hair was a mess from both the wind and his dramatic collapse. He stared at Vel, who looked like she had just eaten a festival buffet alone. “You eat like a pig,” he grumbled.


    Vel blinked, still in her dreamlike haze, then slowly turned her head toward him. Her content smile faded into offended disbelief. “Excuse me?!” she gasped.


    Rad smirked. Vel sat up straight, her hands slapping the table with theatrical energy. “Fairies have naturally fast metabolisms!” she shot back, cheeks puffed out slightly with lingering crumbs.


    Rad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.” Vel’s eyes narrowed into slits. She looked ready to start throwing dinner rolls at him when a sudden shout echoed across the hall.


    “What do you mean my currency is invalid!?” The lively hum of the dining hall quickly dipped into hushed murmurs. Heads turned. So did Vel and Rad.


    The crowd parted subtly, a ripple of silence forming in its center. At the far end of the hall, Kite stood in front of a shadowy counter where a slaver’s stall had been set up. He had both arms raised in frustrated disbelief, his expression twisted in anger as he waved his faintly glowing tecastick in the air.


    Behind the counter stood a woman cloaked in layered black robes, embroidered with shimmering purple glyphs that seemed to writhe when one wasn’t looking directly at them. She leaned casually on the surface, an eerie calm radiating from her as if she were utterly untouched by the boy’s fury.


    Her eyes glowed violet, sharp and ancient, and a mocking smile played on her dark lips. Golden rings shimmered on every finger, and her clawed nails, tipped in obsidian, drummed against the polished counter, leaving behind faint sparks of violet lightning.


    Behind her, a dozen caged magical creatures thrashed and screeched in runed glass prisons. Beings of wonder and misery—some with fur like starlight, others with translucent, color-shifting wings, and a few with far too many blinking eyes. They clawed and trembled, restrained by the enchanted bars.


    Rad stiffened. So that’s where Kite went off to.


    “That woman…” Vel murmured beside him, her posture shifting. She narrowed her gaze toward the robed figure, then toward Kite, eyes flashing briefly.


    Rad noticed her focus. “What?” he asked.


    Vel froze mid-bite, her eyes briefly flashing crimson. Her wings gave a single sharp flick, like a tremor of tension running through her spine. Then she leaned forward, frowning.


    “That kid…” she murmured, eyes narrowing. “His soul isn’t alone. Two… no—three powerful forces. Twisting around him like barbed wire.”


    Her voice had lost its usual sass. What remained was cold, analytical dread.


    “They’re corrupting him,” she whispered hesitantly.


    Before Rad could respond, Kite’s voice rang out again, angrier than before. “Then maybe I should just take them by force!”


    Rad’s chest tightened. He stood up slightly, heart pounding as he saw the slaver’s smirk deepen.


    The woman chuckled darkly, her eyes lighting with delight. With a snap of her fingers, arcs of violet lightning burst between her claws as she raised both hands.


    “You’re either incredibly brave… or incredibly stupid!” she purred, her voice electric.


    Rad’s heart sank. He clenched the edge of the table, unsure if he should run in or stay out of it. Vel’s wings twitched, clearly ready to spring into motion to subdue Kite.


    But just before Kite could make a move, another figure stepped between them—tall, lean, and confident. He spoke something out of earshot to the woman, his presence commanding, and then turned on Kite with an icy glare.


    With one swift motion, he pressed a firm hand against Kite’s chest and shoved him back a step. Rad blinked in confusion. “Who…?” he murmured. He didn’t recognize the newcomer, but he could see Kite seething, fists clenched.


    Kite and the older boy exchanged a few tense words, the conversation heated but quieter. Eventually, Kite looked away with a feigned smile, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning and walking off deeper into the hall, pushing past the crowd that had reformed.


    Vel exhaled slowly, her iridescent wings flaring once before folding neatly behind her. She looked at Rad, her voice quiet and thoughtful. “Is he a friend of yours?” She asked, noticing Rad’s tense demeanor.


    Rad didn’t respond at first. He simply stared after Kite, his expression unreadable, the storm of tension in his chest coiling tighter with every passing second. “Yeah…” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry before.”


    Vel went quiet for a long stretch, her fingers slowly dragging a crumb across the table as she stared at nothing in particular. She tapped it once. Then twice. Then finally lifted her hand and stroked her chin thoughtfully, her iridescent wings fluttering just faintly behind her.


    Then—with a shrug—she spoke casually. “Eh. I’m sure your friend’ll be fine.”


    She grabbed a roll from the table and took another enormous bite, crumbs bursting from the corners of her mouth like shrapnel from a cannon.


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    Rad raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “That’s not exactly reassuring—” he began, but then—a faint, inhuman scream pierced the air.


    Rad’s words caught in his throat as he whipped his head toward the sound. His eyes widened, pupils shrinking as he saw it. A magical creature—or rather, a person—was being dragged into the dining hall. It was humanoid, but barely. Its body shimmered with faint, crystalline scales, patches of star-metal gleaming beneath torn robes.


    Ragged, scarred skin showed through the seams, glowing softly with ancient magic like fractured glass. It had no mouth, only a jagged hole where its voice still tore from its throat in echoing, mind-splitting wails. Twin horns jutted from its head, one broken at the tip. Its fingers ended in glowing claws, twitching and flailing wildly as it thrashed against the glowing binds that tethered its limbs.


    Its captors—faceless robed figures in dull crimson cloaks—marched forward with cold efficiency, yanking the creature along with glowing whips of binding magic. Each movement triggered a fresh, garbled scream from the creature, filled with a terror Rad couldn’t begin to understand.


    His face paled. His stomach turned. All around them, the dining hall remained disturbingly normal. Conversations continued.


    Dishes clinked. But beneath the surface, you could see it—tightened jaws, lowered gazes, forced laughter. Discomfort woven into every face, every shrugging guest who chose not to get involved.


    Vel, still sitting across from Rad, said nothing. Her mouth was closed. Her green eyes followed the scene with a cold, unreadable expression. But her grip on the edge of the table tightened just slightly, and the glow of her wings flickered as if something within her had begun to burn.


    She was still. Too still.


    Rad finally found his voice, though it was barely above a whisper. “What… what’s going on over there?”


    Vel let out a sigh, slow and measured. She didn’t look at him at first. She simply tilted her head toward the row of magical cages lining the edge of the hall, barely visible in the shadows beyond the dining tables.


    “Captives,” she said quietly. “Mystical creatures, taken from the wild. From their homes. Their villages.”


    Rad’s brow furrowed. “But… why? Why keep them here?”


    Vel was silent for a moment. Her glowing green eyes drifted off, distant, reflecting the ambient light of the lanterns above. When she finally met Rad’s gaze again, they were colder. Older.


    “Because Captain Drassos takes them,” she said evenly. “He travels from land to land capturing mystical beings—creatures like them…” She paused. “Creatures like me.”


    Rad blinked, caught off guard. Vel gave a crooked, bitter smirk and pointed a thumb at herself. “Then he sells us off to traders at certain ports. Ones that call themselves safe havens for the captured.”


    Rad’s frown deepened. His gaze shifted to the cages now—rows of magical beings slumped or snarling in defeat. One had folded wings made of moonlight.


    Another had antlers that flickered like candles, its eyes empty. One small creature—barely larger than a dog—just rocked back and forth, humming a single broken note. “But… that’s wrong,” Rad said, his voice rising with disbelief. “Why would he—?”


    Vel cut him off, her tone sharp but calm, as if she’d already played this conversation out a hundred times in her mind. “Because it’s the only way to keep them alive,” she said flatly.


    Rad opened his mouth, then froze. Vel leaned forward, her wings twitching slightly. “If they were to be set free, they’d get hunted down. The King of Celestia doesn’t just hate creatures like us—he erases us. Sends reapers. Wipes out entire species. You can’t imagine what he’s already done.”


    Rad turned back to the cages. The creatures within them shifted, breathed, blinked—but many no longer struggled. Some had already given up. Rad’s shoulders slumped. His expression softened with helpless sorrow as he watched one particularly old creature—a moss-covered being with glowing mushrooms growing along its spine—rest its forehead against the bars in quiet despair.


    Vel didn’t look at the cages. She looked at Rad. Watched his face. His eyes. The way his fingers curled against the wood of the table. The way his breath hitched but didn’t release.


    Then, softly, as if confessing a truth carved into her very soul, Vel spoke. “No matter what anyone does, nothing will change until the source of all this misery is destroyed.”


    Rad turned to look at her. She slowly lifted her hand, gesturing toward the cages, her face cast in the flickering glow of the floating lanterns.


    “The King of Celestia is the reason for all of this. Every cage. Every scream. Every hunted village and broken spirit.”


    Her voice lowered, almost a growl. “And he must be stopped.” The air between them went still. And Rad… didn’t have an answer.


    Vel stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her wings twitching in agitation as she waited for Rad to speak. Her gaze burned into him—sharp, focused, and just barely concealing the storm behind her glowing green eyes. Rad averted his gaze, his shoulders shrinking inward. He stared at the floor, at the edge of the table, anywhere but her.


    Vel’s foot tapped once. Then again. The silence between them dragged on like an anchor. Her irritation boiled until she finally snapped. “What,” she hissed, “this still isn’t enough for you?”


    Rad flinched. He looked up, guilt flickering across his face. “N-No, that’s not—”


    Snap.


    With a single flick of Vel’s fingers, the world around them vanished. The table, chairs, food, and noise of the dining hall were ripped away—replaced in an instant by a vast, endless abyss. A void so dark it swallowed the light of their skin, leaving only faint glows from their bodies and the shimmer of Vel’s glowing iridescent wings.


    Rad floated helplessly, his limbs drifting as he slowly tumbled through nothing. “Wh-what the—?!” he cried, eyes wide as he kicked his legs in the empty air.


    Vel hovered a few feet away, her wings unfurled and pulsing with a soft crimson light that painted the void in haunting streaks of shimmering stardust. Her expression was tight, her eyes narrowed with frustration.


    With a wave of her hand, the darkness around them began to stir. Tiny motes of fairy dust swirled into form, sculpting glowing, ethereal images that stretched across the abyss like ghostly murals.


    Rad’s breath caught in his throat as he turned in place, watching them unfold around him. There were villages burning, rooftops caved in under torrents of arcane fire. Forests blackened, the trees twisted and screaming. Kingdoms reduced to rubble, castles cracked and sunken into the earth. Islands submerged beneath storms of howling dark magic.


    And everywhere—cages. Chains. Slaves. Magical creatures. Humans. Children. All caught, bound, silenced.


    At the center of it all, rising above the carnage, stood a towering figure cloaked in shadows—The King of Celestia. His body flickered like a tear in the world itself, faceless, skeletal, and crowned with a black, floating crown. Its spikes curled like claws. From his form bled violet flame and coiling smoke.


    Rad’s heart pounded. He couldn’t look away. Vel, her voice quieter now, floated closer and hovered beside him, her eyes locked on the suffering around them.


    “You could help me stop this,” she said, and this time there was no teasing in her tone—just quiet resolve. “You could help me save them.”


    Rad clenched his fists. He didn’t respond. She turned to face him fully, her wings shimmering as they kept her aloft. Her lip quivered slightly.


    “If you accept my deal… you’ll be given power beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed of.” She extended her hand toward him, her fingers trembling.


    “You’ll be remembered—revered—as a hero in every corner of Celestia.” Her hand lingered there, suspended in the silence between them. Her voice lowered, barely audible. “Please… just take my hand.”


    Rad stared at it for a long silent moment. Then at her.


    His eyes flickered between the pleading in her face and the horrors hanging like smoke all around them. A new image began forming—drawn from fairy dust like the rest.


    A boy—the Fairy Prince. And beside him, a fairy girl. The two stood together, hands locked, facing the looming silhouette of the King. They were tiny in comparison, yet they stood tall.


    Vel watched him with bated breath, her chest rising and falling with silent tension. Her hand remained outstretched, her hope held within her fingertips.


    Rad slowly reached forward. His hand trembled. His breath hitched. If I take her hand… he thought.


    Then that means… He looked at her again. Her sorrowful eyes. Her vulnerability. It means I’ll care. I’ll get attached…


    Rad’s mind raced back to his mother, her hardened fists hammering against his helpless body like sledgehammers. Her final, brutal words echoing in his mind like church bells. What if I get hurt again…?


    Vel’s eyes widened as his fingers came close. Crimson sparks leapt between them, dancing in the empty air. Their hands hovered inches apart.


    Then—he pulled away. Vel’s breath hitched sharply, her hand left hanging in the air. She stared in disbelief, her fingers slowly curling inward.


    Rad’s voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m sorry… I can’t do it.”


    Her face twisted. Her mouth opened—but nothing came out. Her shoulders rose as if to scream, but the sound died in her throat. She closed her eyes tightly, her hands clenching against her chest.


    Then the tears came. Vel covered her face, her shoulders trembling as the sobs broke through. Her wings dimmed, and her glow flickered like a dying ember. The illusion around them wavered as her emotions surged—some images fading, others cracking.


    Rad floated there in silence, staring at her, helpless. The pain on his face was clear. He wanted to reach out. He wanted to say something. Anything.


    But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength. So he watched… as Vel cried in the darkness, her heart breaking in the shadow of a crown.