The world was fire, light, and deafening silence. Cassie’s consciousness clung to fragments of memory, flickering like a flame about to die. Robin’s voice, calm and resolute, calling orders through the din of battle. Andrew’s laugh echoed faintly, followed by Evelyn’s sharp retort. Then the sound of Evelyn’s blade crashing against her own. Haides’s unyielding detachment, his silhouette etched in fire. And Cera’s mocking laughter.

The memories bled into one another, their edges smudged with the searing brightness of the golden construct.

Then—darkness.

Faint sounds emerged from the void. At first, the distant rumble of explosions. Then something gentler, lighter. A melody of birdsong.

Cassie awoke with a start, the echo of the golden drill still burning in her mind. Her body ached, every muscle heavy and sluggish as if she had been forged anew in a crucible of fire. She blinked against the soft, golden light filtering through a canopy of emerald leaves.

‘Where am I?’

Her hand shot instinctively to her hip, searching for the familiar weight of her blade. It wasn’t there. Neither was her wrist console. Her armor hung in tatters, reduced to blackened shards that clung to her skin. She sat up sharply, her head pounding from the sudden motion. The air around her smelled clean—too clean. There was no acrid smoke, no tang of blood or metal.

The world felt… wrong.

Cassie scanned her surroundings, her eyes sharp and calculating. The meadow stretched out in all directions, its rolling hills dotted with swaying flowers in shades she didn’t recognize. The grass beneath her was soft and cool, not the scorched earth she had grown used to. In the distance, a line of dense forest loomed, its trees unnaturally tall, their branches intertwining like woven threads.

“Okay,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “This is… different.”

She pressed a hand against her temple, willing her thoughts into order. Panic wouldn’t serve her now. She forced herself to her feet, wobbling slightly as her body adjusted. She examined her armor—or what was left of it. Most of it was useless now, the plating cracked and charred. She tore away a jagged piece from her forearm, wincing as it scraped her skin.

‘First things first: survival.’

Hunger gnawed at her, a dull ache that grew sharper with each passing minute. Her throat was parched, the dryness clawing at her focus. She crouched by a cluster of strange, waxy plants, their broad leaves glinting with dew.

‘Never eat what you can’t identify, test first.’

She plucked a leaf, crushed it between her fingers, and held it to her lips. The taste was sharp, bitter. Not poisonous—she hoped. She sucked the dew from her fingertips and moved on, scanning the meadow for signs of water.

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The sound of a trickling stream drew her toward the edge of the forest. Kneeling by the clear, rippling water, she cupped her hands and drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat.

“Better,” she murmured, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She moved methodically, her survival instincts kicking in. Stripping away remnants of her armor, she fashioned makeshift bindings from torn fabric, wrapping them tightly around her forearms and legs for protection. She found a sturdy branch among the underbrush, testing its weight as a potential weapon.

But her surroundings unsettled her more than the aching of her body or the absence of her blade. Small, delicate creatures flitted around her—creatures that looked like birds but shimmered with an iridescent glow. They didn’t shy away as she approached, their gazes curious rather than fearful.

“What are you looking at?” she muttered. The creatures chirped in response, almost as if mocking her.

The world here wasn’t just untouched by war—it felt untouched by anything. No scars of conflict, no signs of the battles that had defined her life. Just quiet.

She hated it.

The quiet pressed against her like a weight, amplifying the thoughts she had tried to bury. Evelyn’s face lingered in her mind—the way her eyes had darkened, her voice cutting through Cassie’s protests like a blade.

“You’re delusional,” Evelyn had said. “You can’t handle the truth!”

Cassie shook her head, forcing the memory away. “Focus,” she told herself.

Her gaze drifted to the forest’s edge, where shadows pooled like ink. If there were answers to be found, they wouldn’t be here in this idyllic meadow. The forest seemed more likely to harbor threats—and threats were something she understood.

She pressed onward, her steps deliberate and silent.

The ridge appeared suddenly, the land dropping away into a valley below. Cassie paused, her breath hitching at the sight. “Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”

Nestled between the rolling hills was a village, its medieval architecture stark against the surrounding greenery.

Buildings of weathered stone and timber jutted unevenly, their steeply pitched roofs layered with dark slate. Wattle-and-daub walls bore the marks of age, and crooked chimneys belched thin streams of smoke into the crisp air. Figures moved through the narrow, cobbled streets below, their forms blurred by distance, lending the scene an air of somber simplicity.

Her stomach twisted. Civilization meant answers—but it also meant risk.

Cassie descended the ridge slowly, keeping to the shadows where she could. As she approached the village, the sound of voices carried on the breeze—soft and melodic, but unmistakably human.

She hadn’t reached the village’s outskirts when a voice stopped her.

“You there!”

Cassie spun, her makeshift weapon raised. A man stood a few paces away, his clothes simple and homespun, his face open and unthreatening. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Easy,” he said. “You look half-dead.”

She didn’t respond, her grip on the branch tightening.

The man tilted his head, studying her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. “Are you hurt? Can you hear me?”

Cassie froze. His words—she heard and understood them perfectly. But the accent, the cadence—they weren’t like anything she’d heard before.

“Yes,” she said cautiously. Her voice was low, wary.

Relief flickered across the man’s face. “Good. Come with me—we’ve got a healer in the village. You need help.”

Cassie hesitated. Every instinct told her not to trust him. But her body betrayed her, swaying slightly as exhaustion pulled at her.

She nodded curtly, following him at a careful distance. Her eyes never left his back, her muscles tense and ready. Whatever this place was, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.

The village loomed closer with every step, its gates open and inviting. But all Cassie could see was the potential for traps, betrayal.

‘Stay sharp,’ she told herself.

The man glanced back at her, his expression kind but unreadable. “You’re safe now.”

Cassie didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she believed him.