Jade glanced at Zay and Rin. Both had closed their eyes, and their heads turned away in silence.
Her fingers trembled as she peeled away the last of her frozen garments, steam rising from her skin where ice met warmth. The black tunic draped loosely over her frame, sleeves too long, the trousers a bit wide at the waist, but they fit well enough. She tied them tight.
"You can open your eyes now," she said softly, her voice raw, barely above a whisper.
Zay and Rin nodded, still worn from the explosion. They dressed quietly, each movement slow and tense as fabric met the raw patches of scorched skin. The enchanted threads gave a gentle warmth that eased the sting, but didn't mask the pain completely.
Zay grunted as he pulled the tunic over his back, the charred remains of his old clothes forgotten in the corner of the carriage. Rin, still breathing heavily, leaned back into the cushioned seat, his shoulders sagging from exhaustion.
The man across from them opened his eyes.
They were steel-gray and sharp—unblinking, observant.
"We have a medic where we're headed," he said, folding his hands over his knee. "She'll tend to your burns. And any other injuries you're hiding."
He paused for just a beat, then added, almost offhandedly:
"She's contracted with the Goddess Lyorna. The goddess of Healing."
Jade looked up, her brows narrowing slightly. Zay didn't respond, but his gaze sharpened, eyes flicking across the carriage interior. Rin stirred beside them, his lip twitching with silent thought.
Zay blinked a few times, struggling to stay aware of his surroundings. But then his eyes slipped closed, and his body slumped forward, resting heavily against Jade's shoulder.
She jolted at the sudden weight, startled by the touch. Her heart jumped in her chest before slowing slightly when she realized it was just Zay. She glanced over—Rin had already passed out, his head leaning quietly against the window.
She tried to fight the exhaustion clawing at her limbs, but it overtook her in seconds. Her eyes closed. Sleep claimed her.
The coachman sighed, lighting a cigar with a match. Smoke curled upward into the misty air.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, voice low and calm.
The man in black turned toward the small window separating them, the rain tapping steadily on the roof.
"Wanderers… unpredictable," he murmured. "But yes. I'm sure."
A pause. The only sound was the wheels clattering on the wet road.
The man in black rested an elbow on the window, his crimson-ringed eyes staring at the rain-soaked trees.
"You know what's coming," he said quietly. "Like I have. I don't trust them. I trust Zay's strength."
The coachman chuckled softly, tapping ash from his cigar. "Might show up tomorrow… or thirty years from now. I've only seen him twice—both by pure chance... or was it?"
The man in black exhaled slowly, a faint chuckle escaping his lips as silence settled between them.
"…Still calling them 'Wanderers,' huh?" the coachman murmured. "Thought you hated that word."
"I do," the man replied. "But that's what we are."
Then, glancing at the coachman through the small gap in the window, he said, "…Mike."
The coachman stiffened, then gave a low grunt.
"So, you actually remembered."
The man in black turned back toward the road as the carriage veered left, the trees growing taller and the light dimming.
"I remember everything, after all... it is the world." he said softly.
The wheels rumbled on, disappearing into the shadows.
An hour passed in near-total silence. The only sound was the soft clatter of wheels over stone and the occasional crack of distant thunder. The forest grew thicker, older, its trees gnarled and towering—branches like skeletal arms clawing at the gray sky.
Then, just ahead, two massive golden gates appeared from the mist.
They loomed at least fifteen feet high, polished so cleanly they shimmered even in the rain. Intricate carvings ran along their surface—interlocking symbols, faintly glowing as if reacting to the approaching carriage.
From a small, stone archway beside the gates, a woman stepped forward. Her dress was stark black, pressed to perfection. Long sleeves ran tight along her arms, with silver trim at the cuffs. A white corset with obsidian buttons cinched her waist, and a layered underskirt brushed the tops of her boots.
Without a word, she placed her gloved hand to the gate. The symbols flared brighter. The doors creaked open.
The horses moved forward, hooves echoing over a broad stone pathway. The road led directly into a covered section of the mansion—a massive overhang supported by obsidian pillars, designed to shelter incoming carriages and animals from the storm.
The carriage slowed to a halt.
The coachman climbed down first, tossing his cigar onto the soaked ground where it hissed and went dark. The man in black followed. Together, without speaking, they reached into the carriage and gently lifted Zay and Rin—both still unconscious—and carried them toward the entrance.
The woman turned, stepping toward the carriage. She reached inside and lifted Jade into her arms, and followed close behind.
The heavy front doors opened without touch.
Rain roared behind them, but inside, the air was warm and silent. Red carpet lined the black marble floors, extending across a grand atrium. Twin staircases curved upward from both sides of the room, spiraling into darkness. Between them stood a wide hallway, straight and deep, with gold-trimmed lanterns glowing dimly along its walls.
They moved straight ahead, beneath the staircase, and down the corridor.
The walls here were darker—deep gray stone veined with silver. Strange paintings, abstract and chaotic, hung in gold frames. A weapon rack stood on one side, where a single spear rested horizontally. It pulsed faintly with aura—its shaft of jet black wood, the tip shaped like a fang, and glowing sigils spiraling along its length. They shimmered with enchantments no common Arbiter could ever read.
Finally, the hallway ended at a wide door and it creaked open.
Inside were five beds. Silk sheets. Low lighting. A basin of clean water in the corner.
The man in black set Rin down gently. The coachman lowered Zay into place. Jade was lowered into a third bed near them.
The man in black exhaled and raised one hand.
Snap.
The maid turned toward him immediately.
"Call for Ember," he said.
She bowed without a word, the ends of her dress swaying slightly, and disappeared back into the mansion.
As she moved through the corridors, the structure revealed itself more—towering ceilings held up by onyx columns; chandeliers shaped like blooming thorns, dripping soft amber light; velvet curtains covering massive glass windows that stretched two stories high.
She turned a corner, passed beneath a hanging tapestry woven with silver threads, then stopped at a wooden door tucked between two tall, black pillars.
She knocked once.
A pause.
Then the door creaked open, and warm orange light spilled into the corridor.
Inside, Ember looked up from a thick, leather-bound book. The cover read: Winged Marvels: A Collector's Guide to Rare Butterflies. Her legs were tucked beneath her in a large armchair, cushioned so deeply it nearly swallowed her whole.
"The master called for you," the maid said gently, bowing her head.
Ember blinked once, then slowly closed the book, brushing a lock of soft pink hair behind her ear. Her eyes lingered on the title before she set it aside on a nearby table stacked with scrolls and tiny vials of ink.
She stood, stretched lightly, and nodded.
"…Alright," she said, voice quiet but steady.
The maid stepped aside, and Ember stepped out, her footsteps silent as the two vanished deeper into the mansion's shadowed halls.
The maid led Ember back through the winding corridors, their footsteps echoing faintly beneath the towering arches. The soft glow of the chandeliers caught in Ember's hair as they walked.
Finally, they reached the door. The maid opened it with a small push and stepped aside.
Inside, the man in black stood at the center of the room, arms folded. The coachman lingered in the corner, half in shadow. Rin, Zay, and Jade lay motionless on the beds, their breaths shallow, skin raw where the explosion had kissed them.
The man in black turned to Ember, his crimson-ringed eyes steady.
"Can you heal all three of them?" he asked.
Ember's gaze moved across the beds. She hesitated.
"…Do I really need to?"
He gave a single nod.
Ember swallowed hard, lips tightening. Then, with a weary sigh, she stepped forward.
She moved to Rin first.
As she raised her hands, glowing green sigils shimmered to life across her arms, spiraling like vines across her skin. The light rippled through her veins, washing upward until it reached her hair, bleeding from pink into a brilliant, leaf-like green. The air shifted.
Then—she placed her hand gently over Rin's chest.
A wave of luminous green light surged across his body, illuminating every corner of the room. His burns faded like mist in sunlight. The raw patches of skin smoothed, hair regaining its color, breath growing fuller. Even the tension in his brow eased. Within seconds, he looked as if he'd never been touched by flame.
She moved to Jade next.
With a flick of her wrist, the sigils pulsed again. The green light surrounded Jade like a slow tide, soaking into her skin as Ember placed a hand to her shoulder. The damage faded with each heartbeat. Blisters smoothed. Scars vanished. Her fingers, once trembling and raw, stilled—resting calmly at her side. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat, then evened into a quiet, steady rhythm.
Finally, she reached Zay.
Ember hesitated for just a breath before placing her hand over his heart. The glow erupted once more—brighter this time, almost blinding. The burns across his chest and arms vanished in streaks of light, leaving clean, unmarked skin behind. The faint wounds from past battles disappeared too, as if the light reached beyond the present and healed what time had long buried. His breathing deepened. His jaw unclenched. The boy who had fought through storms and bloodshed now looked… peaceful.
When the last of the light faded, Ember stumbled back slightly, the green bleeding slowly from her hair as her sigils dimmed.
She exhaled.
"It's done," she whispered.
Ember took a shaky step back, her breath shallow, eyes fluttering.
Then the sigils sparked to life again—this time a deep, pulsing red. They flared violently across her skin, crackling with restrained power. Her green hair dulled back to pink in an instant, and with a quiet gasp, she collapsed backward.
The maid was already behind her, catching her gently before she could hit the ground.
"Should I bring her back to her room until the cost is paid for?" the maid asked, voice even.
The man in black gave a solemn nod.
Without another word, the maid turned and carried Ember from the room, her arms steady despite the limp weight in them.
The room fell into silence once more—soft and heavy, like the lingering breath after a storm.
'The cost of being able to heal anything...' the coachman mused, watching them go. 'It leaves her in a dead-like state for twenty-four hours due to how powerful the contract is... and how weak her body is compared to the contract... though, with how powerful it is, she's indeed very powerful when it comes to healing, and even in combat.'
He chuckled under his breath, the sound rough but warm, before lowering himself into a nearby chair and stretching out his legs.
The man in black glanced over his shoulder at him, eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned and exited the room, his coat trailing behind him as he disappeared down the corridor—returning to his office, footsteps echoing quietly behind him.