Hattie was about to start stacking more rocks against the door when she noticed something odd about the staircase.

The entire room was dusty from a lack of occupancy, yet, just at the foot of the staircase was a spot where there was no dust. In fact, the more Hattie looked at it, that imprint on the marble staircase was gleaming. This included the dark brown stain that seemed to cut across and shine with the brightness.

“Silver Star, is that some enemy spell?” Hattie asked, doubting her very question.

“No, but it is powerful magic. We don’t have much time to study it, so touch me to that residue. I can’t store it like Ivy but I’ll be able to remember it for later. We should also collect a sample. We have an empty flask.”

Nodding, Hattie quickly touched the silver-tipped staff to the stain and then to the shining white marble. The staff hummed before a jolt of realization ran up Hattie’s arm.

“Ah, this is intriguing and ominous. We’ll have to discuss this later with Frances and Timur. I think they will want to know this. For now, let’s focus on the defense.”

“Got it,” said Hattie, wondering what exactly was her staff so surprised by. With some difficulty, she managed to use her knife to scrape some of what she was certain was dried blood and the

----------------------------------------

“So uncle, where is this tunnel?” Morgan asked.

Timur ran up to the corner in one of the spare rooms in the mansion. It looked like a typical guest room. Pointing at the corner, the prince snapped, “Well here’s my first guess, blast here.”

Morgan gathered her power, and fired a bolt of violet energy. It thudded into the painted stone floor, shaking the room, but leaving only a crater.

“Hm, alright next one. When did you start calling Frances mom by the way?”

“Just before you got kidnapped.”

“Do you know—”

“That my biological mom’s alive? Yes, is this really the time for this?” Morgan stammered, as she flew after Timur.

The prince paused and pointed at a wall that had a portrait hook on it. Morgan blasted it, only leaving a crater. Timur sighed and continued to run, “It might be the last chance we have a discussion like this, dear.”

“You didn’t want to tell me about her, did you?” Morgan asked as they raced into what looked like had been a library. Dodging through now empty shelves, Timur didn’t answer at first but felt around a corner in the room, before pointing at a spot. Morgan hit it again, sending up a pile of dust and knocking a shelf over, but there was nothing.

Timur winced and sighed. “No I didn’t. Frances did. How did you figure it out?”

“Mom refused to answer me when I asked who wanted to tell me and who didn’t, which could only mean that you and Neria were against it.” Morgan shook her head. “It’s alright, I…I missed you.”

Timur ruffled Morgan’s head fondly. The harpy didn’t resist, and tried not to smile, even as they started running for the next spot.

“Thank you, dear. Hm.” Timur pursed his lips. “Remind me to talk to you when we get out of this.”

Morgan frowned. “Talk to me about what? And why are we heading back to the foye.”

“You’ll see. And you’ll see.” The prince raced into the hall and yelped as he dodged a piece of stone debris that nearly landed on his head.

Hattie, crouched behind a barricade of furniture and rubble, was firing bolts of blue magic with Silver Star as quickly as she could. Musketballs whined over her head, crackling and pinging off stone and plaster.

A crack of thunder boomed from above them. Frances was in her element, hurling magic down on unseen attackers. Yet return fire continued to slam into the area around her and into the already compromised dome.

Hattie ducked behind her barricade. “Your Highness? Morgan? What are you doing back here?” she asked, blinking owlishly.

“Checking one more place.” Timur raced over to just under the spiral staircase that snaked up the dome, to the solid foundation behind the staircase. Tapping the wall where the foundation was with his wand, Timur narrowed his eyes and stepped back. “Morgan, blast here.”

Taking a deep breath, Morgan pointed Lightbreaker at the wall and firing again.

Thunk. The wall shook. Morgan could see a crater in the plaster but a square-shaped outline had also caved into the wall.

“Shit, it was here all along?” Morgan stammered.

“Morgan, language!” Timur stepped forward and gave the door a good kick. It fell in, revealing a long tunnel that curved down deep into the ground. “Morgan, get your mom. Hattie get ready to leave!”

Finding it very odd that her uncle had already accepted that Frances was her mom, Morgan nodded and flew up toward the roof.

“Frances—Woah!” Morgan dodged a bolt of magic and flew back behind cover as musket balls nearly punched her out of the sky. “We got to go! Hold onto me!”

Frances blinked staring at Morgan. “Wait, are you—”

“Hurry!” Morgan hissed. Frances ran toward the edge of the landing and grabbing Morgan’s feet, leapt off.

Morgan couldn’t help but scream. She was flapping as hard as she can, pins and needles stinging her wings as they dropped. She wasn’t the only one. To her simultaneous shock and terror, Frances was doing the same.

“Morgan, we’re going to crash!” Frances wailed as the ground grew closer and closer, whipping out her wand. “Cushion us! I’ll slow us down!”

“Alright!” Waving Ivy’s Sting in a complicated pattern Frances cried out a ditty whilst Morgan bellowed Words of Power.

The ground beneath them rippled as if it’d turned to water. Meanwhile, tongues of violet magic spiralled out from Morgan, grabbing onto the walls like claws. The pair slowed until they set down into the now springy tile. Bouncing across the rubbery ground, the pair clambered to Timur and Hattie, who were trying their best to keep the barricade up.

“Hurry! I’ll cast an illusion,” said Timur. Frances and Morgan tumbled into the cave, followed by Hattie. The prince pointed his wand at the entrance, muttering Words of Power.

The cave darkened. Morgan waved Lightbreaker, bringing up more balls of light as the four ran down the corridors.

“Timur, do you know where this ends up to?” whispered Frances. She could hear voices in the distance getting farther and farther. It didn’t sound like anybody had figured out where the tunnel was, but no sense taking any further chances.

Wincing, the trogre narrowed his eyes into the darkness ahead of them. “I’m afraid I know it leads out of the district and that’s it. Zirabelle did not go into great detail on where the tunnel exited.”

“Did she also talk about how they built it? Particularly how structurally sound it is?” Hattie asked.

Timur shuddered. “No.” The prince dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a compass. “It does look like we are heading into Minairen.”

“Do you always keep a compass on you, uncle?” Morgan asked, blinking.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Yes. Your uncle is a geographer. Though, I believe your sextant is the more important tool—” Frances grimaced as she nearly tripped, but was caught by Timur’s hand. “Thank you, dear.”

“You are most welcome. Keep hold of me. It’s not quite easy to see and the tunnel is quite rough,” said Timur, grinning.

Hattie and Morgan glanced at one another and rolled their eyes at the pair, whilst the adults studiously ignored them.

It seemed like forever, but the tunnel soon sloped upwards until they came across a wooden door.

“Right, let’s see where we pop out in.” Timur unlocked the door and shoved it open.

Sunlight blinded them for a moment as they dashed out into an alley. It was deserted and the entrance seemed to have been built into the foundation of a brick building. As Hattie shut the door, she realized that the door was practically camouflaged with stuckle. The illusion spell took over as they shut the portal and the edges of the door blended into the rock.

Timur patted the door. “That’s impressive. Now, where are we?”

“Very close to our rendezvous. Hurry, let’s get out of here before Thorgoth brings the entire city down on us,” said Frances. She let out a breath and squeezed Timur’s hand. “That was some excellent planning, dear.”

“I do my best. Now who are we rendezvousing with?” Timur asked.

----------------------------------------

They made their way back to Terup’s inn with hoods covering up their heads. Already they could see flocks of harpies starting to scatter across the city.

Yet at the inn, a crowd of soldiers with horses and carts stood at the ready. At their head, a familiar troll.

“Your Highness,” said Tara, bowing.

Timur shook Tara’s hand. “Colonel. It’s good to see you. Thank you, all of you.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Besides, it wasn’t too hard of a decision.” Tara clambered onto her horse. “Thorgoth wants to launch a major attack. He’s been rallying his forces and we’d probably be the first ones to die.”

Frances hesitated. “You still might die if you join us.”

The harpy Danae sighed. “Well, you don’t decimate units.”

“I do find it ironic that my father’s methods more often than not drive people to defect his cause.” Making sure his cloak was till fastened, Timur nodded. “Morgan, Hattie, get on the cart. Just in case this gets rough.”

Hattie and Morgan didn’t object and quickly slipped under the tarpaulin covering the cart. Frances sat on the driver’s seat. The company set off, the soldiers surrounding the cart.

Being with Tara, they were mostly ignored by the citizens of Minairen. Nobody stopped them as they rode to the southern gate of Minairen.

Frances watched as Tara handed the gate guards her papers. They examined them, eyes looking at the cart nervously.

“Colonel, did you not hear about the break in and the princes’s escape?” asked the guard.

Tara feigned a groan. “I have and believe me, I’d be interested in contributing to the search, but as you can see, we have orders to assemble at Breaksword Plain with the rest of the army.”

The guard nodded. “They say it’s the final assault. Is it true?”

“That’s what I heard, but I can’t be sure. I mean, we do have dragons, but they have the Stormcaller, the Firehand and others.” Tara leaned in, hands on her hips. “Now are you letting us through or not?”

“Fine fine, come through you lot,” said the guard waving them forward.

Her heart in her throat, Frances made sure not to meet the guard’s eyes as the soldiers, her prince and her girls passed through the gatehouse and onto the open fields and plains.

She stayed silent, with only the occasional glances as Minairen fell distant.

Only then did Frances pull back the tarp. “Girls, you can come up—Oh.”

Hattie and Morgan were lying side by side facing each other. They were holding each other’s hands, and Frances could see their lips moving as they whispered to one another. The cheeks of both of them reddened slightly as they looked up at Frances.

“Oh dear, sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s alright mom, we were just well, talking,” said Morgan.

Hattie sat up, scratching at her scar. “Frances, would…well, would it be weird if Morgan and I went out? I mean, you’re kinda my guardian and Morgan’s become your daughter.”

So that had been what her girls had been talking about? Giving thanks that she’d actually thought about this topic, Frances shook her head. “It is a little weird, but I’m not too concerned. If you and Morgan grew up together then I’d be a bit worried, but you never really were sisters.”

Morgan and Hattie exchanged a look, with the harpy-troll looking exasperated and the half-human shaking her head.

“Why didn’t we just ask Frances?” Morgan groaned.

“Good question, Morgan. Speaking of…Frances, I found some strange magical residue before we left. I managed to collect a sample and Silver Star said it remembered it, but I’m not sure what’s important.”

“Hmm, let’s inspect it when we make camp.” Frances looked up to find Timur guiding his horse back to her. “Timur…”

Timur grinned. Trying to make it least awkwardly as possible, the pair embraced from where they sat on their horses. They could however, at least still exchange a kiss.

“You madwoman. I love you so much, but seriously, what were you thinking?”

“Mostly just about you,” Frances admitted. She squeezed Timur’s hand. “I’m seriously impressed, dear.”

The princes arched an eyebrow. “Impressed? You rescued me.”

Morgan snorted. “You do realize you kind of made your own escape happen, uncle? You know, talking to Tara and convincing her to defet, packing everything to be ready, and researching the Red House’s secret escape. How did you even know about the secret tunnel anyway?”

Timur took a deep breath. “Oh that, oh we have quite a bit to talk about.”

----------------------------------------

Colonel Tara was the only person invited for storytime with Timur, much to the disconsolation of the rest of the regiment. Frances didn’t blame them. Her boyfriend did tell the best stories.

“Ulania was killed by Zirabelle and Star for her…” Tara shuddered. “And Zirabelle was killed by Ixtar, helped by King Thorgoth.”

Timur’s arm wrapped around her, head resting on his chest, Frances couldn’t feel more content. “I admit, I’m more surprised to find out that Queen Berengaria genuinely loves your father. Though, now that I think about it, it lines up with his past actions. He’s always deployed her to highly critical warzones that he can’t oversee. He’s also shown far more forgiveness for her failures than his other minions.”

“Why didn’t Berengaria just marry Thorgoth at the start, though?” Morgan asked.

Timur grimaced. “She had a political marriage with a goblin clan. I think when her husband died again, other some mysterious circumstances, only then could she marry Thorgoth.”

Frances glanced at Hattie, whose hands had balled into fists. “Hattie dear?”

The half-troll glared at the crackling fire, her dark-blue eyes wet with bitter tears. “This war was launched, my mother died, thousands are dead and suffering, because some bitch hated humans so much she dragged her lovers into starting a war for it?”

“There were other causes, but at least, those were Thorgoth’s motivations for starting the war.” The prince bowed his head. “Unfortunately, we’re nowhere nearer to discovering the source of his power or how to counter it.”

Morgan suddenly straightened. “Hattie, didn’t you find some magic residue at the Red House? Where well…where grandmother died.”

Frances frowned. “Wait, where Ulania died? How—”

“There was a lot of old, dried blood and the residue…it was weird,” said Hattie, fishing the flask she’d used to collect some of the flakes. “I…I don’t know why but I was drawn to it. It felt…familiar?”

“Hold on, it’s been decades, blood can’t last that long,” said Timur.

“You found them on the stairs, though, where it’s been said that Thorgoth held Ulania?” Morgan asked.

At Hattie’s nod, Frances and Timur quickly got up and moved up to the pair.

“Morgan, get me a spare cloak. Timur—”

“Your potioneer gloves. Got it,” said Timur, walking to the cart.

Hattie picked up her staff. “I also dipped Silver Star to the residue, Master. It said that it had some suspicions about it.”

Indeed I do. It’s powerful magic, wrapped in a great deal of positive emotion. I’m not sure how, but I’ve felt this kind of magic very recently and still feel it.

“You still feel it?” Frances asked.

Yes. Young Hattie here has a very similar feeling magic.

Hattie froze. “What do you mean by feeling?”

The source of the spell is different, but the purpose and intent seem quite close. I’m sorry I cannot be precise. I do not have a very good understanding of the mechanics of spells.

But I do. Hattie, take out the sample. Frances, touch me to it.

Her hands nearly fumbling with her flask Hattie shook out the flakes of dried blood onto the cloak. It still shone in the night. Frances, kneeling by the cloak, touched Ivy’s Sting to them.

It’s unlike any other spell I’ve cast, but I know enough to glean the purpose of it. It’s a protection and amplification spell, meant to strengthen the user’s power and also to shield them from harm. But what could be powering it?

“Especially for all this time,” said Frances. She frowned. “I think it’s safe to say Queen Ulania was casting this spell. I think if we answer on who she was casting this spell on, we’ll have a better idea s to its purpose.”

Morgan blinked. “Wait, that’s easy. She had to be casting it on grandad.”

Timur nodded. “You’re right. It’s well documented my father was the first one there after Archmage Zirabelle and Star wounded Ulania motally, but why would she cast a protection spell on my father while about to die?”

A cold chill ran up Frances’s back. She turned to meet Hattie, whose eyes were wide.

“Because it’s a spell that can only be cast before the caster dies,” said the half-troll.

“And it’s a spell maintained for as long as the recipient lives. It’s powered by love, which imparts the magic of the caster to the recipient,” whispered Frances. She sat down ont he grass, hard, pulling off her gloves with shaky hands. “Thorgoth’s power. It’s not some secret or forbidden magic. It’s not a mana battery or anything. It’s got nothing to do with him bein reincarnated from the past. He was blessed by his wife.”

“Wait, so was Hattie! How could grandad be so strong? Strong enough that everybody’s afraid to fight him?” Morgan asked.

Timur snapped his fingers. “Because he may not have been blessed just once.”

Frances turned to her love. “No. That’s impossi—wait, what did Dwynalina tell us about your father’s mother?”

Her prince’s voice was quiet, but it carried around the campfire. “That she died in his arms as well. She was also Thorgoth’s teacher and I learned later from Aloudin and Dwyanlina that she was a skilled mage too. That was one of the reasons why my grandfather King Tagus married her. If she died in my father’s arms, it is highly likely she blessed him.”

Tara buried her head in her hands. “So, the reason King Thorgoth is so strong is that he has not one, but two blessings, on top of already being a skilled mage. What the fuck? Is there any way to beat him?”

Nobody said anything to that question. They just stared at the gleaming magical residue on the cloak, or looked away. Meanwhile, the fire continued to burn down