Arrival

"What the hell happened in here?!" Sunflower exclaimed, stepping through the thick, white fog.

Reality was hunched over the sink, her swollen right arm under a stream of cold water. "Ahh, that’s better…" she mumbled, not turning around. "What do you think happened? I burned my hand while cooking."

"Burned it?" Sunflower’s stance relaxed slightly, her muscles unclenching as the fight-or-flight tension drained away. She sighed and sat on the bed.

"Why are you cooking at all? If you wanted something specific, I could’ve told the head chef to make it—or you could try some of our traditional dishes."

"It’s not food. It’s potions," Reality replied with a faint smile.

"Potions?" Sunflower’s brow furrowed. Not because a mage making potions was strange, but because she had assumed Reality came fully stocked, like any capable mage would before deployment.

"I brought plenty," Reality admitted, reading her expression. "Back in the capital, my attendants handled the brewing. But here… I’ve found new ingredients—raw materials in the forest that might improve regeneration, boost stamina. So I figured, why not make more?" She smiled again. "Don’t worry, I’ll make some for you and your team too."

Her golden eyes gleamed with sincerity.

Sunflower stood, brushing off her uniform. "Sorry for barging in like that. I’ll leave you to it."

As the door clicked shut behind her, Reality’s smile curled into a smirk.

As Sunflower made her way down the hallway, a familiar voice called out:

"Hey—Sunflower! Where are you going? Your shift started five minutes ago!"

She turned.

A young man about her height jogged toward her, helmet in one hand and the other resting on the hilt of his sword. His chainmail glinted under the hallway torches. His blue hair shimmered like ocean waves, and his eyes mirrored a cloudless sky.

"Arnold."

"Can you take my shift? Just ten minutes. I need to speak to Chief Dawn. Urgently."

Arnold frowned. "It’s always the same excuse. Talking with the Chief, or running other errands…"

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Sunflower narrowed her eyes.

Arnold hesitated, then spoke with more emotion than expected. "It means you’ve changed, Sunflower. You barely train with us anymore. Julie and Andy… they don’t even want to talk to you. You left us behind."

Sunflower froze. His words stung more than she wanted to admit. After a pause, she placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"You’re right. I’ve been caught up in too many things. But today, I’ll train with all three of you."

Arnold’s eyes lit up. His entire demeanor changed.

"Really?! Alright! Just you wait—I’ve got new techniques I’m dying to show you!" He sprinted off, practically dancing down the hallway.

Sunflower smiled to herself, then turned and made her way toward the garden.

The garden was a masterpiece. Imported seeds, vibrant colors from every corner of the continent, and fruits so rare they were graded as priceless. Some were even poisonous—but beauty, not safety, was Dawn’s priority.

After a few minutes wandering through the floral maze, Sunflower found him.

Chief Dawn sat in a round, open structure shaded by flowering vines, a cup of tea in hand.

He noticed her approach. "Want some?" he offered, lifting the cup.

"Not yet." She sat beside him, the two of them enjoying the peaceful view in silence.

"What’s on your mind?" Dawn asked, taking another sip.

She took a deep breath.

"Is it… is it possible that more than one person was cursed by the Witch?"

Dawn nearly choked on his tea. "More than one?"

He set the cup down and leaned back, deep in thought.

"The curse was delivered by the Witch herself. According to every recorded account, it was placed on a single individual. That’s the only confirmed fact we’ve had for years. As far as I know… Lance is the only one cursed."

His voice was calm, but firm. "You don’t need to be afraid of your allies."

Sunflower visibly relaxed, the weight lifting off her shoulders.

After a beat, she looked at the tea again. "Maybe I do want it, after all."

Dawn chuckled and poured her a cup. The two sat there, sharing the silence, letting the setting sun bathe them in warmth.

Lance lay motionless in a patch of moss and poison-laced grass.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

His heart started again.

Eyes snapped open.

Gasp.

His breathing returned, sharp and immediate.

It was the fifty-second time he had died.

The green tiger’s poison was beyond lethal—strong enough to kill a hundred men. But each time Lance returned, he changed. Grew stronger. Less human.

This time, there was no laughter. No joke. Just silence.

He stood in one smooth, unnatural motion.

Looked left.

Looked right.

Then he smiled.

"I found you."