Brad and his goons loitered in another alley, their voices echoing off the brick walls. “Who was that chick anyway? Some small fry, right?” Brad asked, tossing a crumpled bill between his hands. His goons shrugged, counting their share of stolen money.
“No idea,” one replied with a smirk. “But seriously, who did she think she was, stepping up to us like that?”
Brad chuckled darkly, nodding toward the rest of his gang lounging nearby. “Hope I cracked her skull open,” he sneered, his laugh cut short when he noticed movement at the mouth of the alley. His eyes narrowed as he saw Arid, Elowen, and Jake marching toward them.
“She’s alive,” one of the goons muttered, stunned.
Elowen rubbed her temple, her expression a mix of determination and anger. “I’m gonna beat the crap out of you, take back my black card, and those shoes you’re wearing.”
Brad smirked. “Oh, really?”
One of his goons didn’t wait for instructions, rushing forward and throwing a roundhouse kick at Elowen. She raised her elbow just in time, the top of his foot slamming into it with a sickening thud. The goon yelped in pain, stumbling backward, but Elowen was already moving.
She stepped in, driving her arm into his chest like a battering ram, and slammed him to the ground with a brutal clothesline. Before he could react, she straddled him, pinning his chest with her knees as he writhed beneath her.
“You picked the wrong girl to mess with,” she hissed, her eyes blazing.
Another goon charged at Elowen, but she steadied herself, planting her feet despite her wobbling knees. With a swift motion, she shot up and delivered a clean uppercut to his jaw, sending him sprawling backward, clutching his face and crying out in pain. Elowen staggered slightly, her breath ragged as she rubbed her temple. “I’m not done yet,” she muttered, though her exhaustion was evident.
Arid, watching closely, stepped forward. His sharp eyes took in her trembling form, and he cracked his knuckles as he approached. “You’ve done enough,” he said firmly, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Rest.” Without argument, Elowen sank to the ground, catching her breath.
Two more goons, emboldened by her weakness, rushed Arid. He raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand, conjuring vines that sprouted above him and danced in the air like serpents. With a flick of his wrist, the vines lashed out, smacking both goons squarely in the face and sending them stumbling back. Arid examined his handiwork with a small nod. “I think that’s how Mel does it with his webs,” he muttered to himself.
Brad, who had been observing from the side, finally stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “You Solstice City bastards think you’re so tough with your magic tricks, huh?” he snarled, cracking his knuckles menacingly.
Arid didn’t flinch. Instead, he moved to the side of the alley, giving Brad a clear path. “I’m not your opponent,” he said coolly, stepping aside to reveal Jake standing behind him.
Brad’s scowl turned to surprise as he recognized the boy. “You?!” he scoffed, though his voice carried a hint of unease. Jake swallowed hard, his hands trembling, but before he could say anything, he too moved aside.
Standing behind Jake, calm and unyielding, was Mel. His gaze locked onto Brad with a chilling intensity. “Me,” Mel said simply, his voice low and dangerous.
“I came here ready to kill you,” Mel said, his voice calm but laced with ice. He held up the golden thread he had taken from the ground—the same one Elowen wove into her hair—and carefully threaded it into his own. His gaze never wavered from Brad. “But now? I’ll settle for defeating you and dragging every last one of you to prison.”
Brad sneered, his confidence unshaken as he walked toward Mel, towering over him. “What do you want, huh? You don’t look so—”
Before Brad could finish, Mel’s fist shot out in a blur. Without even shifting his stance or gaze, he delivered a devastating Hidden Cloud Hammer Fist. The impact was instant and brutal—Brad’s face slammed into the concrete with enough force to crack it, his legs comically kicking into the air before falling limp.
The alley fell silent, the only sound the faint groan escaping Brad’s lips as he lay crumpled on the ground.
Mel knelt beside Brad’s unconscious form and slipped the shoes from his feet. He grabbed Elowen’s black card from the pocket of one of the goons, then walked back to Jake, handing them over. “Here,” he said simply before heading toward Elowen.
He crouched down and gently blew a refreshing mist of cloud over her temple. The cooling sensation made her let out a deep sigh of relief. “That’s better,” Elowen murmured, touching the spot tenderly.
Without a word, Mel pulled her into a tight embrace. Elowen hesitated for a moment before hugging him back just as firmly. “I thought you died,” he said softly, his voice heavy with emotion.
Standing up, Mel turned on his heel. “Rue’s going to be mad,” he muttered, already dreading her reaction.
Jake approached Elowen with a sheepish smile, holding out the black card and shoes. “Happy early birthday,” he said, closing his eyes as he smiled—a genuine smile, though the black eye on his face told the story of what he’d endured.
Elowen took the items, her expression softening. “You got a black eye for me?” she asked, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.
Jake’s smile grew, uncharacteristically confident. “No problem. We’re friends,” he said, the words carrying a warmth that made Elowen chuckle.
Epilogue 1 of the scammer arc
Yasmine, leader of the Blades faction, stood with a calm yet commanding presence as her subordinates hauled Brad and his goons into Vrada’s prison. She glanced down at Brad’s unconscious body and gave it a light nudge with the tip of her boot. “Mel called us in for backup, but it looks like he didn’t need any,” she said, almost amused.
One of the goons, barely able to lift his head, gasped in recognition. “Y-you’re the legendary Priestess of the Stars—Yasmine!” he stammered.
Yasmine arched an eyebrow and let out a soft, confident chuckle. She ran her hands over her curvaceous figure, trailing from her hips to her chest with deliberate ease. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me? That was my old title. These days, I’m just Yasmine—the leader of the blunts, a wife, and a mother.” Her tone was light, but her words carried weight.
The goon’s eyes widened. “I—I wish you could’ve helped us… We’re from your home kingdom!” he blurted out, desperation thick in his voice, as if invoking their shared origins might sway her.
Yasmine tilted her head, her smile lingering but her gaze sharp. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice carrying a touch of amusement.
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But as she turned and walked away, her thoughts betrayed the truth: “I wouldn’t have helped you anyway.”
“That Elowen girl wasn’t half bad. Back in my heyday, I’d have asked her to join my gate without hesitation,” Yasmine said with a smirk, her voice laced with nostalgia. She turned and walked away, her hips swaying effortlessly, exuding the confidence of someone who had nothing left to prove.
Epilogue 2 of the scammer arc
A few days later, Mel, Arid, Rue, Renita, and Lincoln gathered around Elowen, singing “Happy Birthday” with an enthusiasm that filled the room. A large cake sat on the table, decorated with golden frosting and intricate designs shaped like swords and stars, a nod to Elowen’s fighting spirit and heritage.
Jake stood shyly off to the side, holding a small, neatly wrapped gift in his hands. Elowen’s cat, perched on the edge of her chair, wagged its tail eagerly, sensing the festive energy.
As the song ended, Elowen leaned forward to blow out the candles, her golden-threaded hair shimmering in the light. “Make a wish!” Renita said, clasping her hands together.
Elowen closed her eyes briefly before blowing out the candles, a confident smile forming on her lips. “No need to wish. I’ve already got everything I want—good friends, good fights, and my black card back.”
The group laughed as Mel handed her a small box. “This is from all of us,” he said with a grin.
Elowen opened it to reveal a bracelet made of shimmering silver, adorned with tiny charms representing each of her friends—a cloud for Mel, a vine for Arid, a shoe for Jake, a dragon scale for Rue, a rose for Renita, and a book for Lincoln.
“This… is amazing,” Elowen said, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
“Well, you deserve it,” Rue said, her tone genuine but quickly followed by her usual teasing.
The group erupted into chatter and laughter, the warm glow of friendship filling the room as the celebration continued late into the evening.
The night after, the soft glow of the moonlight filtered through Rue’s curtains, casting a gentle radiance over the room. Rue and Mel sat together on her bed, their hands intertwined. She ran her fingers along his, her touch tender and familiar.
“I miss this,” Rue murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze lingered on their joined hands. “Just being together like this. It feels... normal.”
Mel chuckled softly, the sound deep and warm. “I told you I’d make time for you. I’m sorry for the fighting.” His voice carried a trace of guilt as his eyes dropped to their hands.
Rue let out a light laugh, shaking her head as she rubbed gentle circles into his palms. “You saved Elowen. You put the bad guys in jail. That’s what heroes do. Fighting’s part of the job.”
She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. Mel stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then his arms circled her, holding her close. His heartbeat was steady, and Rue could feel it under her cheek.
“I miss this too,” Rue thought to herself, letting her eyes drift shut. The warmth of his embrace felt like home, a rare reprieve from the chaos of their world.
Mel rested his chin lightly on her head, his fingers brushing against her hair. “I’ll always make time for you,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
In that quiet moment, words weren’t needed. The connection between them was enough—a fragile but powerful bond that, despite everything, remained unbroken.
The next morning, Mel floated peacefully on a soft cloud he had conjured, drifting beside Rue’s bed as he slept. The tranquility shattered when the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed through Solstice City, shaking the kingdom awake.
Mel jolted awake, slipping off the cloud and landing with a groan. “What the—” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Rue shot up from her bed, clutching her ears as the booming noise reverberated through the walls. “Mel? What’s that noise?!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with alarm.
Still half-dazed, Mel scrambled to the window, his feet hooking onto the windowsill as he peered outside. His heart stopped for a moment at the sight below. An army of knights in gleaming golden armor marched in perfect formation, their polished swords catching the morning sun. His sharp gaze landed on the figure leading them: King Liam of Camelot, the eldest son of King Arthur and Elowen’s brother.
Mel’s eyes widened, and his thoughts raced. Why is he here? Don’t tell me he’s under Lust’s influence, hunting for Fox Bearrington—hunting for me!
Before Mel could process further, Rue hurried to his side, her jaw tightening as her eyes followed his line of sight. “The hell is going on?” she muttered, her voice low with unease. Her gaze shifted to the other side of the procession, where another imposing figure approached.
King Aldara, Rue’s father, stood regal and fierce, flanked by the five wardens. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was undeniable. Beside him, Shenelle who walked by him like his right hand woman. Mel’s stomach twisted into knots. “This can’t be good. Is it because someone stole the Lady of the Lake artifact? Of course it is!” He bit his nails, nerves fraying with every passing second. His eyes darted between the two kings and their entourages.
“If Elowen sees this,” he muttered under his breath, “she’s going to pop a blood vessel!”
Rue’s grip tightened on the windowsill. “Two kings, one city, and this much tension? Yeah, no, this isn’t going to end well.”
Mel nodded, his mind already spiraling through a thousand possibilities. One thing was clear: whatever was coming, it was bound to shake Solstice City to its core.
Mel darted a glance at Rue, then back at the escalating chaos outside, and then once more at Rue. His anxiety was written all over his face.
“Mel, no!” Rue snapped, stepping closer to him. “You’re not meant to get involved in this kind of thing! Don’t be a third party! Just stay out of it!”
Mel nodded nervously, but his fidgeting gave him away. “Don’t be a third party. Don’t be a third party,” he muttered to himself, inhaling sharply, then exhaling as if trying to convince himself to stay put.
But then, in the distance, he spotted Elowen. She was striding toward the scene like a thunderstorm, her expression a volatile mix of rage and determination. Mel’s eyes widened, and panic took over.
“GOTTA BE A THIRD PARTY, RUE!” he shouted, leaping out of the window before Rue could stop him.
“Mel! No!” she yelled after him, but it was too late—he was already soaring through the air.
Mel landed with a graceless crash into a heap of garbage, just off to the side of Elowen’s warpath. Groaning, he scrambled to his feet and hurried to catch up with her. “Hey, Ellie! Best buddy! Remember? The Ancientblood Trio? Me, you, and, uh… the one who shall not be named?” he stammered, coughing a not-so-subtle “Dorian” under his breath.
Elowen didn’t even glance at him, her focus locked on the brewing confrontation ahead. Her pace didn’t falter, her fury practically radiating off her in waves.
Mel bit his fingers nervously before making a desperate move. He dashed forward and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “Come on, El! Let’s just—let’s think about this! You don’t need to go all berserker mode on them!”
But if Mel thought he could stop her, he was sorely mistaken. Without breaking stride, Elowen continued marching, dragging him along like he weighed nothing.
“Okay, cool, this is fine,” Mel muttered, his voice strained as he clung on. “I’ll just—yeah, I’ll be your portable conscience! No ragey explosions today, right? Right?!”
Mel clung desperately to Elowen’s back as she stormed forward, her strides unwavering. “Please, for the love of everything holy! Let us be kids for just one day!” he begged, his voice laced with desperation.
For a split second, Elowen’s expression shifted—confusion flickered across her face, a crack in her determined rage. Then, just as quickly, the fury returned.
“Your expression faltered! That means I’m doing a good job as your conscience!” Mel chuckled nervously, clinging tighter as though it would somehow slow her down.
“Elowen, listen!” he pleaded, his words spilling out in a frantic rush. “If I show up, it’ll be three kings in one place! That’s a recipe for disaster! I’m vulnerable right now—do you know what they’d do to me if this is some kind of summit? They’d rip me apart!”
Elowen didn’t respond, her pace as relentless as ever. Mel’s words seemed to bounce off her like raindrops on armor.
Before Mel could come up with another desperate plea, they arrived. Elowen came to a halt, and the tension in the air was palpable.
Standing before them was King Percival Aldara, flanked by his wardens, and King Liam of Camelot, his golden-armored troops assembled behind him. And there was Elowen—fierce, unyielding, with Mel still clinging to her back like a particularly stubborn backpack.
Mel peeked over her shoulder, his wide eyes darting between the two opposing parties. “Well, this is cozy,” he muttered under his breath.