Volume 2 - Chapter 20 - The Quiet Before the Storm - Epilogue

Back at the Bernswick manor, the air reeked of rust and blood. Corelight illuminated the stone walls of the dungeon, revealing Quinn chained against the cold masonry. His face was swollen and bruised, breaths shallow and labored. Beside him hung Lana — barely conscious, her skin blotched with dark bruises and streaks of dried blood.

The heavy door creaked open. Hunters dragged in Jack, beaten and bloodied, fighting with what strength he had left. The sound of his boots scraping stone echoed as they forced him down. Chains rattled with each movement.

Sébastien and Charles entered the chamber. Charles pulled up a chair and sat, the old wood groaning beneath him. His presence filled the room like smoke, suffocating and heavy. “Looks like everyone’s finally here. Now then, shard hunter Jack… I was told that little demihuman bitch showed you on a map where she lives. Show me.”

Jack lifted his head, grinning through bloodied teeth. “Go fuck yourself.” He spat blood, but Sébastien intercepted it with his metallic hand, the dull metal gleaming in the light.

A hunter stepped in behind them, dropping a bundle onto the table. “I parked the shard hunter’s wagon and searched it. Only important things I found were his map and some keys.” He unrolled the map across the table — a mess of notes and scribbles, lines and markings scrawled over every inch. Sébastien leaned closer, eyes narrowing at a single fresh mark in a forested area with no label.

He grabbed Jack by the hair and forced him to look. “This mark — what is it?”

Jack said nothing. He just glared, defiance burning behind half-lidded eyes. The hunters beat him until his body sagged, unconscious but unbroken.

Charles stood slowly, brushing the dust from his coat. “Scout those markings and report back,” he ordered. The hunters nodded and stepped out, leaving the prisoners chained to the wall.

A cruel grin crossed Charles’s face as he stared down at Jack, Quinn, and Lana. “I’m getting closer,” he muttered, voice low and venomous. “Soon… I’ll have my revenge.”

The dungeon fell silent again, the only sound the faint rattle of chains and the drip of water from the ceiling.

Deep underground, far from any corelight, a vast cave stretched wide. The air was thick with the scent of iron and damp stone. Rows of stone tables lined the chamber, each one scarred by blades and stained a deep reddish brown from years of use. Chains hung from hooks above, still wet in places where recent work had been done. Carved grooves ran across the ground, forming winding channels that guided dark liquid toward a single drain at the chamber’s center.

Corelight's illuminated the jagged walls. The steady sound of dripping filled the silence between faint echoes of movement from deeper within the tunnels. The place pulsed with quiet menace, every shadow hinting at purpose and secrecy.

Into this grim place, Ren was thrown to the ground, his body reverting to his beast form. His claws scraped the cold stone as a growl rumbled in his throat, amber eyes catching the light.

A tall beastwoman stood nearby, her sleek fur unblemished and glinting faintly in the flickering light. Her sharp eyes held fury as she turned toward him. Beside her, a grey-and-white beastman with broad shoulders and faded scars across his arms loomed in silence, his gaze fixed on Ren like a predator watching prey.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the beastwoman barked, her voice cutting through the thick air. “We’ve kept our operation quiet for hundreds of years, and you almost ruined it!”

Ren snarled back, forcing himself upright. “If we keep following your slow pace, it’ll be another hundred years before the ritual is complete. We’re so close! Because of me, we’re almost there!”

The grey-and-white beastman stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “That may be so,” he rumbled, “but now you’re being tracked. If they find this place, everything could be ruined.”

The beastwoman’s tail flicked in agitation. “Until we gather the remaining sacrifices, you’ll stay down here. Keep out of sight and continue draining the sacrifices. I want every drop of their life taken.”

She turned and stormed out, claws clinking against the stone. The grey-and-white beastman lingered, looming over Ren. “You’ve displeased the Queen. Do something like this again,” he growled, “and I’ll remove both of your legs myself.”

With that, he turned and pulled the heavy metal door shut, the echo rolling through the cave like thunder. The shadows dancing across the blood-slicked floor, as Ren’s low growl filled the silence that followed.

At the cabin, light from the planet’s exposed core filtered through the clouds, washing the clearing in a pale blue glow. The beams shimmered across the grass and reflected off the water trough beside the cabin. In the midst of that tranquil light stood Arcea, her hands raised as Iris watched her closely.

“Now concentrate on your finger,” Iris said gently. “Focus on your mana flow… and call out the spell.”

Arcea nodded, her expression serious as she pressed her lips together and extended her hand. “Flash!” she shouted.

A brilliant flare of light erupted from her fingertip — so bright it engulfed the clearing, forcing Iris to shield her eyes. Birds scattered from the nearby trees as the light faded, leaving the faint smell of ozone behind.

Arcea’s eyes widened. Then she jumped with joy, spinning and laughing. “Mom, Mom! I did it! I did it without help!”

Iris smiled warmly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Good job, Arcea. Keep practicing and you’ll grow strong enough to cast even stronger spells one day.”

“Alright! I’ll keep trying hard!” Arcea replied, her voice full of determination as she pumped her fist.

Time passed as Arcea continued to practice, repeating small spells and bursts of light until sweat dotted her forehead. Her breathing grew heavy, the glow around her hands flickering from exhaustion. Iris watched silently from a nearby stump, pride softening her tired features.

“Arcea,” she called softly, “you should take a break. You look really tired.”

Arcea wiped her brow and grinned. “No, I want to swing Mr. Sword around for a bit before I stop.”

Iris chuckled faintly and turned toward the cabin. “Alright, just don’t push yourself too much. I’ll go make lunch.”

“Okay!” Arcea said cheerfully as Iris disappeared inside.

Arcea picked up her sword, feeling its familiar weight settle into her palms. As her magic grew stronger, she could feel the strange pulse within the weapon more clearly — a quiet heartbeat of power that almost felt alive.

“Mr. Sword,” she said, tilting her head. “I’m going to try something new — I got an idea for a new attack.”

The sword hummed faintly, its spirit curious but silent. Arcea closed her eyes and drew on that same inner magic she had used earlier, focusing on the energy buried deep inside the blade. Slowly, she guided that power into herself, feeling warmth rush through her arms and chest. The air around her began to tremble.

She opened her eyes, gaze fixed on the training dummy. The sword’s edge glowed brilliantly as she stabbed it into the ground. A burst of ethereal energy pulsed outward, and from beneath the dummy, a massive spectral blade erupted from the earth — vaporizing it in an instant. The ground split open, cracks snaking across the dirt as dust and light rose into the air.

“Mr. Sword!” Arcea gasped, eyes wide. “The skill I just—”

But the sword interrupted, its voice sharp and astonished. “How did you do that?! You drew the power directly from me. I can feel it — my energy weakened when you did it. You shouldn’t be able to take the sword’s power into your body!”

Arcea blinked, scratching her head. “I just… took it, like magic, and used it. I don’t really know how.”

Mr. Sword’s tone grew grave. “Don’t do that too often. If you keep drawing from me, I’ll lose all my strength. That attack you made — it was powerful, but it came at a cost.”

Arcea nodded quickly. “Okay! I’ll only use it in an emergency.”

“Good,” Mr. Sword replied with a sigh. “Now, you better fix this mess before your mother notices.”

Arcea froze, eyes darting to the gaping hole in the ground and the cracked earth around it. She gulped, dropped the sword onto the grass, and scrambled to cover up the damage — frantically trying to fix the training grounds before Iris came back outside.