The Sanctuary of Tides was unlike any healing chamber Paola had ever seen. A vast space, its ceilings vaulted and decorated with intricate murals of ocean waves and serpentine creatures, echoing the essence of the Leviathan. The walls seemed to pulse with life, bioluminescent tendrils of seaweed-like carvings that cast a soft, blue-green glow over the room. A gentle, constant sound of water trickling from unseen sources filled the air, adding to the serene atmosphere. The room smelled faintly of salt and clean, fresh air—like standing on a beach at twilight, the coolness of the ocean breeze kissing your skin.

In the center of the room was a massive pool of water, its surface undisturbed and mirror-like, surrounded by healers in flowing robes. People sat or lay in cots around the pool, some immersed up to their waists, others having their wounds treated with soft-spoken words and healing hands. The Leviathan’s influence was everywhere, from the strange yet calming motifs of underwater creatures to the occasional ripple in the pool, as if stirred by some unseen force.

It wasn’t difficult for Paola to find Selene. In a room full of ordinary mortals, Selene stood out like a beacon. Her obsidian horns, tipped with a cosmic hue of purple, curled gracefully back over her silver-white hair. One side of her head was shaved, a striking contrast to the rest of her long, flowing locks. Her skin was a healthy shade of ashy grey now, far different from the pallor she’d had after the battle. She sat up in her cot, wrapped in several black robes, her combat boots neatly placed on the floor beside her.

Next to her was... Edison? No... Edgar? Paola’s mind fumbled over the man’s name. He was talking animatedly, completely unaware of her presence until she was practically standing next to them. When he turned and smiled, greeting her warmly, she felt a pang of guilt for not remembering his name.

“Hey, Paola!” the man said cheerfully, flashing her a bright smile.

Paola smiled back, though it was a little awkward. “Uh, hey... you,” she stammered, avoiding saying his name outright. Her eyes shifted to Selene, who was already looking at her, clearly not expecting to see Paola. Selene’s thin brows shot up in surprise, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The demon woman’s amethyst eyes held Paola’s gaze, the marbled edges of her irises blending into the whites of her eyes in a way that made them look otherworldly. Paola couldn’t help but stare, momentarily lost in those strange, beautiful eyes.

Selene smiled hesitantly, her voice low and slightly raspy as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Hi,” she said softly, her discomfort at the sudden encounter evident in the way she avoided eye contact.

Paola gave her a half-cocked smile, sensing the awkwardness between them but also feeling the warmth of the moment. Selene looked so much better than she had before. There was color in her cheeks, and her posture was more relaxed, even if there was still some tension in her shoulders. Paola wasn’t sure if it was physical recovery or emotional, but it was clear that Selene was on the mend.

“She’s looking good,” The man said with a grin, oblivious to the unspoken tension between the two women. “I was just saying my goodbyes. I’m fully healed and eager to get back to my family.” He clapped Selene on the shoulder. “You take care of yourself, alright?”

Selene nodded, offering a small smile. “I will. Thank you, Edwin.”

He turned to Paola, giving her a friendly wave. “Good to see you, Paola. Stay out of trouble, yeah?”

“Edwin,” Paola repeated, suddenly grateful she hadn’t called him Edison or Edgar. She smiled at him, still feeling bad for not remembering sooner. Paola managed a weak laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

With that, Edwin left, leaving Selene and Paola alone in the quiet sanctuary. Paola took the chair he had vacated, sitting down beside Selene’s cot. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, not uncomfortable, but filled with the weight of things unsaid.

Paola’s mind raced with thoughts, memories of the last time she and Selene had crossed paths. In the wagon, Selene had returned the belt she had stolen from Paola’s lifeless body, a small gesture of repentance after believing Paola had been dead. She had given Poca back the feather she’d stolen as well, trying to make amends for the wrongs she had done. Paola knew Selene was trying to do right, trying to atone for the things she had done in her past. And Paola understood that—more than Selene might realize. After all, Paola had done terrible things too, back on Earth.

The memories flashed through her mind in quick succession, the moments they had fought together, Selene’s role in the battle against Ta’huka and the River Lurkers. So much had happened, and here they were, sitting quietly in the aftermath, trying to find their footing.

Selene finally broke the silence, her voice low and soft. “I... I wanted to apologize again. For everything.” Her eyes flicked up to meet Paola’s, then quickly looked away, her discomfort clear. “I know I’ve caused a lot of trouble. I’ve made mistakes.”

Paola smiled gently, feeling the sincerity in Selene’s words. She could see the guilt eating away at her, and Paola knew that the apology was more for Selene’s peace of mind than anything. “It’s okay,” Paola said softly, leaning forward a little. “Really. It’s Poca you need to show that to.”

At the mention of Poca’s name, Selene winced slightly but nodded. “Yeah... I know. I will. I owe her that much.”

The two women fell into another silence, but this time it was a little lighter, the tension between them easing. Paola watched Selene, the demon woman’s cosmic horns catching the soft light of the sanctuary. There was a fragility to her now, something that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t weakness, but a kind of vulnerability, the kind that comes after a long battle—both internal and external.

Paola could relate.

And in that moment, she realized just how much she wanted to get to know the woman sitting in front of her—not just the warrior, not just the one who had fought beside her. She wanted to understand who Selene was, what she had been through, and where she was going. There was so much more to this woman than the scars and the battles.

Paola leaned back in the chair, her eyes softening. “We’ve all made mistakes, Selene. But you’re here now. That counts for something.”

Selene glanced up at her, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—gratitude, maybe even hope. “Thank you, Paola.”

Paola just smiled.

Paola leaned back in her chair, feeling more relaxed now that the awkward tension had passed. She smiled at Selene, giving her a shrug. “Well, I’m free until this evening. Maybe we could talk, get to know each other a bit until I have to head to the Arcane Forge for a meeting?”

Selene blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. "You sure?" she asked, hesitating. "What about... you know, Poca?"

Paola waved it off with a laugh. “Oh, Poca and Ayla are out gearing up, grabbing whatever product they can from Windmere before we head back to Valarian. They’re on a shopping spree or whatever, so I’m off the hook for now.”

Selene still looked unsure. “Are you... sure? I mean, what about Oso?”

Paola chuckled, her eyes lighting up at the mention of her mischievous familiar. “That little troublemaker? He’s with Carter outside the city, doing... well, Carter things. You know how it is.”

Selene raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Carter and Oso together?” She tilted her head, clearly picturing the odd duo. “Why are they even... hanging out? I mean, doesn’t Oso usually cause chaos wherever he goes?”

Paola burst out laughing, leaning forward as she slapped the arm of the chair. “Oh, it’s a long story, trust me. Let’s just say that Carter has a... unique way of dealing with Oso’s brand of trouble. He’s weirdly good at keeping him in line, which is terrifying if you think about it.”

Selene’s other brow shot up this time, clearly trying to process the idea of the eerie wooden puppet with the too-big grin babysitting Oso. She blinked, staring at Paola in disbelief. “So... Carter. The creepy wooden puppet... and your familiar. Just... hanging out?”

Paola grinned, clearly enjoying Selene’s confusion. “Yep, that’s the gist of it. Honestly, it’s probably safer for everyone else if those two are together. It’s like... the chaos cancels itself out, or something.”

Selene just stared, blinking again. She seemed to struggle to find the right words, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she settled on a simple, "Okay."

Paola waved her hand in a dismissive but playful gesture. “Look, the important thing is I’ve got nothing else to do today but sit in my room and overthink everything. So, I figured, why not get to know each other instead?” She settled deeper into her chair, her grin wide. “What do you say?”

Selene blinked again, clearly trying to catch up with Paola’s whirlwind of explanations and laughter. Finally, she let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re... something else.”

Paola grinned mischievously. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

***

Lady Marcelline stood on the far side of her office, a figure of regal composure, gazing out the tall windows into the sprawling night. The moonlight, filtered through the glass, cast her in a faint, cold glow, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her pale hands rested lightly on the dark wood of the windowsill, fingers gently drumming as she waited. The Leviathan's Covenant pulsed in her mind, a distant yet familiar hum, as if it were breathing in unison with her thoughts.

Her office was a room steeped in power, designed to intimidate. Dark, polished marble floors reflected the flickering light from the low-burning hearth, while shelves lined with ancient tomes and relics surrounded the room, artifacts of forgotten empires and dangerous deals. The heavy scent of incense lingered in the air, a delicate mix of sandalwood and something darker, more potent—an almost suffocating reminder of the presence that hung over all who entered this space. At the heart of the room, her grand oak desk dominated, scattered with silver-bound books and scrolls detailing the many contracts she had woven into the tapestry of her influence.

Behind her, the sound of the door opening broke the silence. Gwenore, always precise, stepped in with her usual crispness, her sharp gray eyes meeting Lady Marcelline’s for only a moment before she spoke.

"Yucca Ivetta has arrived, my Lady."

"Show her in." Marcelline’s voice was smooth, an instrument finely tuned to its purpose—inviting, warm even, but with a sharpened edge that always cut deep when necessary.

Gwenore stepped aside, and Yucca entered the room, moving with the quiet grace of a predator in unfamiliar territory. Lady Marcelline turned slightly, appraising the woman before her with an appreciative eye.

Yucca Ivetta was a vision of controlled power. Her silvery blonde hair fell straight down her back, with the softest of waves curling at the ends. Under the dim light of the room, her hair shimmered like glass spun from the finest sand. Her eyes, those strikingly clear orbs that seemed to shift between blue and green, caught the ambient light in a way that made them look like polished glass, reflecting not just the room but, perhaps, the depths of her soul. Marcelline could see the conflict there, the hesitation.

But it was Yucca's wings that truly captured the Lady's attention. They were delicate, far more refined than her sister Yasmin's. The wings resembled stained glass, swirling patterns of light blue and silver casting soft, ethereal reflections on the stone floor as they moved gently with each breath Yucca took. They were beautiful, intricate, a testament to the rare and deadly precision of their owner. Marcelline knew at once that she had been right to summon this magist—one whose command over glass, fire, and sand had earned her a reputation within the Arcane Forge. Yucca's ability to strike with deadly accuracy while her enemies bled slowly, helplessly, was exactly the kind of skill Lady Marcelline required for her next task.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But Yucca’s resolve, as beautiful as her appearance, would need to be broken. Gently, of course, as Marcelline preferred.

"Yucca," Lady Marcelline said, her voice soft, welcoming, as if she were greeting an old friend. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Yucca inclined her head respectfully, but there was wariness in her posture. She wasn’t a fool. She knew the gravity of this meeting. "Lady Marcelline," she replied, her tone polite, measured.

Marcelline moved gracefully from the window to her desk, her dark gown whispering across the floor like the shadows themselves. "I know you are wondering why I called for you," she began, sitting with a practiced ease that belied the weight of the conversation to come. "But I assure you, the task I’m offering is one that only someone of your exceptional talents could handle."

Yucca stood there, silent, waiting. Marcelline admired that. No false pleasantries. No unnecessary questions. Just focus. But beneath that calm, Marcelline could sense the unease. Yucca didn’t trust her, not yet.

The Lady gestured to the chair opposite her. "Please, sit."

Yucca hesitated for a fraction of a second before moving forward, her wings folding delicately behind her as she lowered herself into the chair. The robe she wore shimmered with protective shards of glass, an enchantment that aligned with her movements. Simple, elegant, but clearly effective. She was dressed for precision, for defense. She was prepared for anything—except, of course, for what Lady Marcelline was about to offer.

"I have heard much about you," Marcelline said, leaning forward slightly. Her gaze softened, almost motherly. "The Arcane Forge speaks very highly of your abilities. Your reputation for precision is unmatched, and your control over glass is... extraordinary."

Yucca’s face remained calm, though a flicker of uncertainty passed through her eyes. "Thank you, my Lady. But I’m curious. What exactly do you need from me?"

Marcelline smiled. There it was. That hesitation, that flicker of doubt. It was time to plant the seed.

"You see," Marcelline said, her voice lowering to a more intimate tone, as though she were sharing a secret, "I require someone who can execute a task with the utmost discretion and skill. Someone who can understand the delicate nature of power. And I believe you are the perfect person for the job."

Yucca’s brows furrowed slightly. "What kind of task?"

Marcelline rose from her seat, pacing slowly around the room, her presence filling every corner. "A dangerous one. An assassination, if we are to speak plainly." She allowed the word to hang in the air, watching Yucca's reaction.

Yucca’s expression didn’t change, but there was tension in her shoulders now. "I’ve handled assassinations before. What’s different about this one?"

Lady Marcelline circled behind Yucca, her voice slipping into something smoother, more compelling. "This contract is bound by the Leviathan’s Covenant," she said, letting the weight of the words settle over the room. "An ancient agreement that ensures success—no matter the odds. In exchange for your loyalty and execution of the contract, you will be granted power beyond imagination. The Leviathan’s Breath itself will flow through you, sharpening your magic, fortifying your strength."

Yucca turned slightly in her chair, her crystal-clear eyes narrowing. "You’re offering me power... in exchange for my will?" Her voice remained calm, but Marcelline could hear the unease, the wariness creeping into it.

"Not your will," Marcelline corrected smoothly, "your trust. You will, of course, be bound to the contract. If you fail to fulfill its terms, the Covenant will... compel you to do so. But as long as you carry out what is required, you will retain your autonomy. And the rewards... well, let’s just say, they will be beyond anything the Arcane Forge could offer."

Yucca stood, pacing to the center of the room. Her wings caught the light, casting shifting patterns of blue and silver across the floor. She was conflicted, Marcelline could see that clearly. The promise of power was tempting, but Yucca wasn’t a woman easily seduced by such things. She valued her independence too much.

"You understand what you’re asking, right?" Yucca said, her voice firmer now. "You’re asking me to surrender my freedom if I fail to carry out this task. It’s more than just power. You’re talking about control."

Marcelline’s lips curled into a soft smile. "I wouldn’t offer this to just anyone. I know what you’re capable of, Yucca. I know you won’t fail." She moved closer, her presence looming over Yucca like a shadow. "But what I also know is that your sister, Yasmin, is important to you. Very important. You would do anything to protect her, wouldn’t you?"

Yucca froze, her eyes darkening slightly. "What are you implying?"

"I’m implying nothing," Marcelline said, her tone gentle but unyielding. "I’m stating a fact. You care for Yasmin more than anything else. You’ve spent your life protecting her, ensuring she stays safe. But the world is a dangerous place, Yucca. Without the right kind of power, how can you be certain that you’ll always be able to protect her?"

Yucca’s silence was all the confirmation Marcelline needed. This was her opening. She could feel it—the weakness, the crack in Yucca’s otherwise unbreakable armor. And like a predator sensing the vulnerability of its prey, she moved in for the kill.

"The Leviathan’s Breath can give you the power you need to ensure no harm ever comes to her," Marcelline said, her voice like velvet. "Imagine it, Yucca. No more fear, no more uncertainty. You would have the strength to shield her from anything. All I ask in return is your trust. Your commitment to fulfilling this contract."

Yucca’s breath was shallow now, her wings trembling slightly as she weighed the words. Marcelline could see the war raging inside her—the desire for control, for independence, clashing with the need to protect her sister.

"It’s a simple decision," Marcelline said softly, standing directly in front of Yucca now. "You sign the contract, and you gain the power you need. Power that will allow you to protect the ones you love." She paused, her gaze holding Yucca’s. "You want to keep her safe, don’t you?"

Yucca looked up, her crystal-clear eyes flickering with a mix of anger and fear. "And if I refuse?"

Marcelline smiled, a cruel, knowing smile. "Then you walk away, weaker than you are now. And you hope that your current abilities will be enough to protect her... from the threats you don’t even see coming."

For a long moment, the room was silent. The only sound was the soft crackling of the fire, the shadows on the walls dancing in time with the unspoken tension. Finally, Yucca exhaled, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

"And what happens if I don’t follow through?" she asked, her voice quieter now, resigned.

"The Covenant will compel you," Marcelline said, her voice as soft as silk. "But it will not take your will unless you resist. If you do as required, you will find it no different than any other task."

Yucca hesitated for a moment longer, and then, almost reluctantly, she nodded. "Fine," she said quietly. "I’ll sign it."

Lady Marcelline smiled, producing the contract as if it had been waiting in the shadows all along. She unfurled the silver-edged parchment and set it before Yucca, the Leviathan’s sigil glowing faintly on the bottom.

Yucca reached for the quill, but paused just before dipping it into the ink. "Who’s the target?"

Marcelline’s smile deepened, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "A Void Borne..." She let the moment of silence hang just a beat, "named Paola Juderías."

Yucca’s hand trembled. But a moment later, she dipped the quill into the ink and signed her name, sealing her fate.

***

Yucca walked beside Evan through the busy streets of Valarian, but her mind was a million miles away. The hum of the market, the distant calls of merchants, the smell of spices and roasted meats—none of it registered. Her thoughts were trapped in a loop, replaying the events of her meeting with Lady Marcelline. The Leviathan’s Covenant, the contract she’d just signed, the name of her target: Paola Juderías. It was all too much.

She had been careful her whole life, avoiding making deals that bound her in ways she couldn’t control. And now, in one reckless decision, she was trapped. She felt like the walls were closing in, like the weight of her choice was pressing down on her, suffocating.

Evan, walking next to her, had noticed her silence. Though his hood was drawn low, his skeletal face hidden from view, he could sense her mood. She hadn’t said more than a few words since they left the meeting, and her usually sharp wit had dulled into quiet contemplation. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this—she was always the calm, controlled one, always in charge. Seeing her stuck in her own head didn’t sit right with him.

“You okay?” Evan asked, his voice cutting through the bustle of the market. He glanced at her, but Yucca didn’t respond.

He tried again, this time nudging her lightly with his elbow. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Which, you know, coming from me… is saying something.”

That earned him a half-smile, barely noticeable, but it was there. Yucca looked at him, her eyes clouded with worry. “It’s nothing,” she said softly. “I’m just… processing.”

Evan wasn’t buying it. “Come on, I may be new to this world, but I know when someone’s in a funk. What’s going on?”

Yucca sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s this mission. I… I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.”

“Ah,” Evan said, nodding sagely. “Big, life-changing decisions, huh? Yeah, I’ve had a few of those lately myself.”

Yucca shot him a look. “You don’t even know what I’m dealing with.”

“True,” Evan admitted, holding up his gloved hands in mock surrender. “But I know what it’s like to be stuck in your head, replaying things over and over until they drive you nuts. Trust me, I’m a pro at overthinking.”

Yucca stopped walking for a moment, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “You don’t exactly strike me as the deep, contemplative type.”

Evan grinned—or at least tried to. “Oh, I’m a thinker. Just, you know, my thoughts tend to be things like ‘What the hell am I doing?’ and ‘Why am I still breathing when I don’t have lungs?’”

That finally got a laugh out of her, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Yucca’s shoulders relaxed a bit. She started walking again, this time with a little more life in her step. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” Evan said with a chuckle. “Look, I know I’m not the most qualified to help you with whatever you’re dealing with, but if you need to talk… I’m here.”

Yucca looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening. “Thanks, Evan. Really. I appreciate it.”

They continued walking through the market, and Evan could tell that her mood had lightened, but there was still a lingering heaviness in her gaze. He needed to do more. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

“You know what?” he said, his tone brightening. “I’ve been in this world for, like, several days not, and I haven’t tried any of the food yet. Let’s get something to eat.”

Yucca raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even have a stomach. How do you plan on eating?”

Evan shrugged. “I have no idea, but I figure it’s worth a shot. Come on, you gotta eat something too. You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

Yucca hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, fine. But don’t blame me if you choke on something and can’t cough it back up.”

Evan snorted. “What, are you saying you wouldn’t save me if I started choking?”

“I’d consider it,” Yucca teased, a glimmer of her usual humor returning.

They found a small food stall selling grilled meats and roasted vegetables, the air thick with the savory aroma of spices and charred meat. Evan ordered a skewer of lamb, his bony fingers clutching the stick awkwardly. Yucca grabbed a plate of roasted vegetables, sitting down at one of the nearby tables.

Evan stared at the skewer in his hand, then slowly lifted it to his mouth, trying to figure out how this was supposed to work. He didn’t have a tongue, or a throat, or even a stomach… so how was he supposed to eat?

He took a tentative bite, the lamb disappearing into his mouth. For a second, nothing happened. Then, to his surprise, he tasted it—rich, savory, perfectly seasoned lamb. The taste was so vivid it almost overwhelmed him. But as soon as he tried to swallow, the meat just… vanished.

“What the hell?” Evan muttered, staring at the empty space where the lamb had been. “Where did it go?”

Yucca raised an eyebrow, watching him. “Did you… taste it?”

“Yeah, I tasted it,” Evan said, still bewildered. “But then it just disappeared. Like, poof. Gone.”

Yucca smiled, taking a bite of her vegetables. “You really are an enigma, aren’t you?”

Evan shrugged. “Hey, at least I can still taste. I was worried I’d be stuck eating nothing but misery and dust for the rest of my... well, whatever this is.”

Yucca laughed again, and for a moment, the weight of her mission seemed to lift. She looked at Evan, really looked at him, and couldn’t help but find something endearing about the way he was handling everything. Here he was, a guy from another world, stuck in a skeleton’s body, trying to figure out how to live in a place he didn’t understand. And yet, somehow, he was still trying to cheer her up.

“You’re a strange one, Evan Morrow,” Yucca said, her voice soft but teasing.

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly normal either, glass-winged magist,” Evan shot back with a grin.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the noise of the market surrounding them but feeling distant, like it was a world apart. Evan tried a few more bites of food, each one disappearing into nothingness after he tasted it, which baffled him to no end. He kept making faces every time the food vanished, which only made Yucca laugh harder.

“You know,” Yucca said after a while, “I never thought I’d be sitting here, eating dinner with a skeleton from another world.”

“Life’s weird like that,” Evan replied, popping another piece of lamb into his mouth. “One minute you’re driving off a cliff, the next you’re sitting in a magical city trying to figure out how to digest food that you can’t actually swallow.”

Yucca shook her head, smiling. “I still can’t believe you can taste it, though. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me about it,” Evan said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m pretty sure none of this makes sense.”

For the first time since she signed the contract, Yucca felt a little lighter. She didn’t know what it was about Evan—maybe it was his laid-back attitude, or the fact that he just accepted the absurdity of his situation without letting it drag him down. But whatever it was, she was grateful for it. He had managed to pull her out of the dark thoughts that had been consuming her all day.

“Thank you,” Yucca said quietly, her eyes meeting Evan’s. “For... everything.”

Evan waved a hand dismissively. “Hey, what are skeleton friends for?”

She laughed, genuinely this time, and for the first time since their journey began, she felt like maybe things would be okay.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the marketplace, Yucca stood and stretched her wings, glassy reflections shimmering in the fading light. “We should probably get going,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Evan nodded, standing up as well. “Lead the way, oh wise magist. I’m just here for the ride.”

Yucca rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re hopeless.”

“Yeah," Evan gave a light chuckle, "probably."