The world was not real. I mean... It was not real around me. That, I knew immediately.

I was standing in a vast, endless field of nothingness. The sky above me was neither dark nor bright, but some strange in-between, a mixed, deep gray that swirled and twirled like flowing mercury. Looking down, the ground beneath me felt solid, yet insubstantial, as if my feet touched something that was akin to a sponge. This was new... Sniffing, there was no wind or strange smells, but there was also no warmth or cold—just a weird stillness mixing with a silence... that was soon broken.

“Leon…?”

"Sasha!"

I turned immediately and saw her standing a short distance away, her eyes wide and uncertain, naked. Well, I realized we both were at that moment. Her toes were curling slightly against the strange, pudgy surface, feeling weird to walk on it as we hurried to embrace each other.

"What happened?" I asked, swiping her red hair away before kissing her lips, but she had no answer for me. She didn't know, so she answered with her own question.

“Where… are we?” she asked, her voice hesitant. Then, with a growing sense of dread I could clearly feel coming off her body, she whispered, “Did we die? Is this how it feels?”

I quickly frowned because even though I experienced it once, this was different. I reached for the sensation within me, trying to remember all of the details of how I felt back then. But no… this wasn’t death. It wasn’t like that at all. There was something else at play here, something strange yet familiar. Familiar as in a feeling, but I just couldn't pinpoint why.

“No,” I answered finally, shaking my head and smiling at her. “This… doesn’t feel like that. For example, back then, there were stars and a long road with millions of others.” I murmured as I looked around at the empty, silent plane that stretched in every direction, its horizon blending seamlessly into the gray sky. “This is for sure different.”

"Maybe this world is different..." She exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady her heartbeat. “If not... Then why does it feel so… distant? Like we’re not really here?”

Before I could respond to calm her down, we both felt a presence brushing against us.

It was a call. It wasn't verbal; it didn't come in words or sound, but in a strange feeling—like a distant pull, faint but noticeable, tugging at both of us. It whispered through the air, becoming a slight breeze, and that was why I also noticed it. Previously, there was only stillness, but now the air has begun moving.

"Um..." Sasha stiffened. “Leon… do you feel that?”

"I do feel... a breeze." I nodded, but something was not right. I already realized I didn't get to feel it like she did. Her gaze was already focused on a certain point of this grey soup, while I was unable to pinpoint its origin. But Sasha… I could see it in her eyes, the way they widened, the way her breath caught in her throat that, for her, this was more than just some sudden tickle against her skin. She took a half-step forward, her hand reaching out as if to grasp something invisible.

“It’s… calling for me,” she murmured, gripping her arms as if trying to hold herself together. “I can almost understand it.”

"Woah, woah, don't answer strangers' calls, especially not in a place like this!" I grunted, holding her hand before she started walking towards it.

"It isn't... strange." She looked at me, blinking her eyes in confusion, "It feels familiar. Somehow. And it isn't... threatening."

"A call...?" I frowned a possible realization dawning on me. “Like the one Arthur heard? Could that be? You ARE his mom and a mage at that.”

"Maybe..." Sasha’s breath fastened a little. “It could be the same… it’s the same feeling, though, that helped me guide Pascal's spell away from us...”

"You mean to say...?" I asked, concerned about the situation we found ourselves in.

"It doesn't want to hurt us, I think."

"Still... This is creepy." I grunted, pursing my lips.

For a moment, we stood there, motionless, listening to the silent pull. Well, she was. I just tried to get the same feeling, but there was nothing. Haaah... No magic for you, Leon... I could do nothing but look at Sasha as she closed her eyes, concentrating, her body swaying slightly as if drawn into the rhythm of something unseen, becoming nothing more than a dandelion in the wind. Which did get stronger... So I watched her, ready to jump if she would be swept up by the growing gale. This was way creeper than how it was after I died, forming a knot of worry in my chest. Finally, I reached out to touch her shoulder, but before my hand could make contact, I felt a strange sensation—

"Huh?" I looked at my transparent hands.

My body was fading.

"What the?!" My form flickered like a candle in this damned wind, and for a moment, I thought I WAS about to die.

“You are waking up.” Sasha opened her eyes, looking at me with a strange, almost dreamlike awareness and a serene smile. “But I think I have to stay,” she added. “I need to… synchronize with it. I need to know what it is. If this is the same thing that is trying to talk to our children...”

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"Be careful!" I reached for her again, but my fingers passed through the air as if she were already slipping away from me, and I could barely make her body out or hear her words. My vision darkened at the edges, climbing over my vision, ready to swallow me whole. “Sasha—”

“Go,” she whispered, her voice already distant, echoing as if from far away. Very far away. “I’ll be fine, trust me.”

Then, the grey world disappeared, and I found myself sitting up, sweating, feeling nauseous and weak... but alive.

...

....

.....

The road was smooth and empty, and it should have been easily traversed. Yet, for the marching remnant army from the South, it was just as hard as if they were passing through a treacherous mountain pass. They have been walking for days, abandoning their post, leaving behind a burning city and a decimated army of the Geth Empire. Knowing that even though their Emperor survived the last spell unleashed, thanks to his artifact, this was not true about most of his army. Even after winning the battle, the losses he suffered were possibly high enough to force him to retreat straight back to his capital city. But... what about them? About Ishillia? About... the Imperial City.

Lucca trudged forward, his robes stinking, caked with dust and blood, his once-pristine cape tattered and barely clinging to his shoulders. Behind him, what remained of his forces, the core of his loyal warriors, marched in a gloomy silence. He knew they had not only lost the South, but they had probably lost everything. He could not contact either Kiva or his Master, Pascal, which meant the Capital had fallen. And he had no strength or army to take the city if it was occupied.

This is the end of it all... All that remained for him to see it for himself before dying.

Then... One day, a buzzing sound appeared, flying over them, high in the sky, scaring even his troops and Lucca himself. He didn't know what it was, but it didn't feel like a beast. But it did sound like one. Whatever it was, he now had a very... horrible feeling swelling up in his chest. Worse than the thought of losing the war.

As they crested the last ridge, the Imperial City came into a clear view. Lucca halted, his hands tightening into fists, his breathing stopping for one moment before being let out in a long, continuous exhale. Smoke rose in thick columns from the heart of the city, which was enough for him to confirm why he couldn't feel Pascal's mind.

Of course, he had known since that always present, single tingle was suddenly silenced. But seeing it meant actual certainty. He had to confirm it with his own eyes, as always. He never believed in rumors, only in facts. He never believed in Pascal either after forcing them to betray Morningstar, but he was smart enough to know there was zero chance of living if someone said no to him by then. Not after his magical seal connected them. It took only a moment for Lucca to realize, through that, they were no longer free men, only puppets of their Master.

"Well... The Capital had fallen." He spoke, his voice reaching all of his men, all the few hundred who remained with him, "The Emperor is dead, and our service has ended. We are free. Go wherever you want." He shrugged once, starting to walk towards the enemy encampment, no hesitation showing on his straight back. But, to his surprise, the others simply followed him.

Lucca didn't say anything as they descended toward the Avalonian lines, a white flag high above them that his soldiers raised while marching. He could see the enemy forces watching, waiting, more buzzing things appearing in the sky. A few others around him raised their swords instinctively, but none of the enemy things did anything to them. Lucca took a deep breath, then suddenly cold-feeling air stinging his lungs, watching as black figures with skull-faced helmets approached them, running almost as quickly as horses would.

“I am General Lucca of the Ishillian Imperial Army,” he declared, his voice steady but suddenly feeling much lighter than ever before. “I surrender.”

For a moment, the world was quiet. Everything felt distant. Then, a sudden prickle... No. It wasn't his Master, but a mind he knew. So... Kiva did survive.

...

....

.....

Kiva was floating in an endless, black ocean.

While bobbing up and down, he knew that he saw Morningstar. She stood before him, not quite real, not quite an illusion, bathed in golden light. Her face was unreadable, her expression distant as if she were looking through him rather than at him. Was this the afterlife? If it was, it did feel strange. Trying to focus his eyes, he watched as her hair shimmered like sunlight on water, and her eyes held a tinge of worry. Which was... unusual. Was this really her? He was not so sure anymore.

“Is this the end?” he asked her, his voice barely a whisper.

"...." There was some kind of answer, but he could not make it out. Then, Morningstar tilted her head, repeating something. “...”

Then the light shattered, and Kiva’s eyes snapped open. His body jolted as if he was shocked, and he gasped, sucking in air as if surfacing from the depths of that black ocean, finally able to breathe.

"...?!" Hearing his rapid heartbeat, he knew... He was alive.

Then, he noticed that a presence loomed over him. Turning his head, blinking against the intense light, he saw a woman standing beside his bed.

"Morningstar?" he asked out of reflex before realizing it couldn't be her. This one was different. Her face was young, but her eyes held the same type of light as Morningstar's did. But the colors didn't match it. Neither did her body, but there was a certain familiarity. Undeniably. For a brief moment, his vision blurred again, but his mind refocused it, forbidding him from falling back into a coma.

“…You’re alive,” the woman said softly, her voice carrying a note of surprise and a harmless giggle. "Good."

"..." Kiva exhaled, his body sinking into the cot beneath him. “Somehow, I am.”

Then, finally, his senses sharpened enough. He looked at the woman again—this time, he really looked. She was certainly not Morningstar. But… something about her… something was very close to her. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her smile, all too familiar.

“Who are you?” he asked in a rasped voice, his throat dry and raw.

"Wife of the Sovereign of Avalon." She smiled, brushing a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Mikan.”

"I see." Kiva’s brows furrowed, realizing he was in the northerner's care now. A captive. And they let their leader's, after a good look, his pregnant wife take care of him? Were they stupid?

Before he could process it, he realized they were not. Suddenly, he noticed the shackles on his ankles and wrists. How they stopped him from accessing any of his magic. Then, finally, he noticed the massive soldiers in the room. Not that he would have tried to do anything. All of it was pointless. Life was pointless. And... he will be executed anyway.

“You’re not the only one we captured today,” she said suddenly, her eyes locked onto his. “Another high-ranking officer surrendered.”

Kiva didn't really care. Those 'officers' were nobodies anyway. It was Pascal and his four disciples who mattered. Everyone else was just a pawn.

“He calls himself Lucca.”

"Oh..." He flinched, blinking his eyes rapidly. Well... at least he, too, survived. But... did it matter? Kiva didn't know, but for some reason, he suddenly felt he was no longer alone.