The cavern slowly began to expand as they ventured deeper, its walls stretching outward into a vast, shadowy expanse. Strange carvings covered the walls, their patterns twisting and shifting as though alive. The energy coursing through him grew stronger with every step—electric, exhilarating, like a pulse of pure vitality. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, flooding him with a heady sense of power.

Henry surged forward, adrenaline urging him on, but Elara suddenly froze mid-flight.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered, her glow dimming as her wide eyes darted around the cavern. Her form flickered, the edges of her silhouette growing faint and translucent like smoke dissolving into air.

“Elara?” Henry’s voice wavered as he skidded to a stop, his heart pounding. Panic clawed at him as her glow faded further, her body now barely more than a ghostly shimmer.

“Don’t just stand there!” she hissed weakly, her voice thin and trembling. “I need—”

Henry didn’t wait for her to finish. He gripped the Wand tightly, willing the energy he’d absorbed from the monster into her. The Wand pulsed in his hands, a faint, sputtering light flowing from its tip into Elara’s fading form.

She brightened slightly, her figure stabilizing, but it wasn’t enough. The Wand’s glow dimmed with every second, the energy draining rapidly. Henry gritted his teeth, pushing harder, until finally, Elara’s glow steadied, though faint and fragile.

The Wand, however, went completely dark, its energy spent. Henry staggered, barely catching his breath when a swirling orange mist began to seep from the cavern walls.

His chest tightened, and his hands shook. The color was unmistakable—the same mist that had trapped him in the suffocating hospital illusion. Memories of that nightmare flashed through his mind: the sterile walls, Sarah’s haunting screams, his own helplessness.

“No,” he whispered, stumbling back, his fear clawing at him. “Not again.”

But before the mist could engulf him, the Wand stirred to life on its own. A faint hum vibrated through his hand as the orange mist was drawn toward the Wand, spiraling into its core. Henry stared in disbelief as the Wand absorbed the mist, its surface glowing faintly with a soft, orange light.

The cavern fell silent, the oppressive energy fading into stillness. Henry blinked, his breaths shallow, his grip on the Wand trembling. It pulsed faintly in his hands, alive and unsettlingly aware.

[Wand of Arraiza Absorption Max Level. Sentience Restored.]

The message flashed in his mind like a mocking reminder that things could—and would—get worse.

“Oh, goody! She’s awake!” Elara shrieked, darting toward the Wand with the manic energy of a moth drawn to flame. She zipped in circles around it, her glow flickering wildly. “Mother, mother, mother! You’ve been so quiet for so long. Did you miss me? Oh, you must’ve missed me. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

A raspy, guttural laugh echoed from the Wand, jagged and unhinged, like a chain-smoker gargling nails. “Miss you? Ha! Oh, sweetheart, I missed you like a hole in the head.” The Wand’s voice dripped with sarcasm, every word rasping like rusted gears grinding together. “If I had hands, I’d wring that pretty little neck of yours right now.”

Elara gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as though physically wounded. “Mother! How cruel! And here I thought you’d be proud of me! I’ve done so much while you’ve been napping in your shiny prison. I mean, sure, I almost got us both killed a few times, but that’s just details.”

“Proud? Of what?” the Wand hissed, its glow flaring angrily. “Of the time you accidentally summoned a demon goat that nearly ate an entire village? Or maybe the time you got stuck in a jar for seventy years because you couldn’t resist poking at a cursed artifact?”

Henry let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples as the two continued their deranged bickering. “You know what? Fine. This is my life now. Stuck with the lunatic fairy and her equally insane mom-wand. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.”

The Wand’s glow flickered, and the raspy voice dropped into a mockingly sweet tone. “Oh, look at him. The boy’s given up already. Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?”

Elara spun toward Henry, her grin stretching impossibly wide. “Oh, don’t mind her. She’s all bark and no bite. Well, except for that one time—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” the Wand growled, its tone dropping to a dangerous rasp.

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Henry stared at the two of them, completely deadpan. “Nope. Go ahead. Finish it. I’ll just stand here. Take your time. Honestly, I’m too tired to care anymore.”

Elara clapped her hands excitedly. “He’s finally breaking! Isn’t this fun, Mother? We’ve got ourselves a new plaything!”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘fun,’” the Wand grumbled. “More like mildly tolerable. But he is better than you.”

Henry’s eye twitched, but he didn’t bother responding. He crouched down, picked up the Wand, and muttered under his breath, “I’m surrounded by lunatics. Can we please just focus on getting the armor?”

The Wand froze, its faint glow pulsing erratically as if processing his words. Henry frowned, staring at it. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“What did you just say?” The Wand’s voice had lost its usual mocking tone, replaced by something sharper—curiosity tinged with disbelief.

Henry hesitated, the exhaustion clear in his voice. “We need to focus on getting the armor and stopping the Red-robed lady. Grellish Stormborn said it’s the only way I’d have a chance of going home.”

The Wand remained silent for a beat, its glow dimming to a faint flicker. When it finally spoke, its voice was low and unreadable. “Grellish Stormborn told you that? The Grellish Stormborn?”

“Yeah,” Henry replied, his tone dry. “Big guy. Stormy eyes. Real chatty for someone dying. He said something about the armor being the key to stopping her and getting me out of this nightmare.”

Elara, who had been unusually quiet, tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Mother, what aren’t you telling us?”

he Wand chuckled darkly, the sound jagged and unhinged. “Oh, it’s nothing, dearest. Just that your little friend here might’ve stumbled into something much bigger than his pathetic little quest for ‘home.’”

Henry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great. Because things weren’t already complicated enough.”

Elara’s glow flickered as she tilted her head, a grin creeping across her face. “Mother, you’re being cryptic again. Spill it.”

The Wand let out a gravelly sigh, its glow pulsing faintly. “Fine. Ol’ Grelly Belly, as you call him, is the last son of the ancient dwarven king Iron Stormborn—ruler of the great forge halls and keeper of the Binding Flame. And if he’s dying, as you say…” The Wand’s voice grew sharper, urgency creeping into its rasp. “Then we need to hurry. He’s the only one standing between this world and absolute destruction.”

Henry’s brow furrowed, the words sinking in like lead. “So, just to recap: the guy I watched cough up half his lungs while talking about armor is apparently the world’s last line of defense?”

“Exactly,” the Wand purred, its tone smug. “And now you see why I said your little ‘homecoming’ quest was pathetic. There are much bigger fires to put out, boy.”

“So, what do we do about it?” Henry asked, his voice edged with frustration.

“We cure him,” the Wand replied flatly.

Henry frowned. “And how do we do that?”

“By killing him.”

“What?” Henry’s voice cracked, his steps faltering as he turned to glare at the Wand. “That’s your idea of a cure?”

The Wand let out a low, rasping chuckle. “Didn’t he explain anything to you? Typical. Dwarves are… peculiar creatures. They don’t procreate like the rest of us. They’re more like phoenixes. When they die, they almost always come back—different, but alive.”

Henry stared, his expression caught between disbelief and disgust. “You’re saying we have to kill him and… hope he just pops back up like nothing happened?”

“Not hope,” the Wand corrected, its glow flickering slightly. “It’s what they do. Their souls are bound to their forges, their halls, their clans. When one form fails, another takes its place. Killing him is the only way to reset the cycle and save him before it’s too late.”

Elara spun in the air, clapping her hands gleefully. “Isn’t it fascinating? Smash the dwarf, get a new dwarf! I love it. So efficient.”

“Efficient?” Henry snapped, dragging a hand down his face. “This is insane. I’m supposed to just walk up and—what—stab him? Hit him with a rock?”

The Wand snorted, a sharp, rasping sound. “Well, you could, but I wouldn’t recommend it. There’s a process to these things, boy. A ritual. A clean death, done properly, ensures he comes back in the best possible state. Otherwise, well…” The Wand’s glow flickered ominously, and its voice dropped to a low rasp. “Let’s just say you wouldn’t like the alternatives.”

Henry started to retort, but Elara interrupted, twirling lazily in the air. “Or!” she chirped, her grin widening with manic delight. “We could just push him into the forge.”

Henry blinked, staring at her like she’d grown a second head. “Push him into the forge?”

“Yes, the forge!” Elara said, clasping her hands as if this were the most brilliant idea she’d ever had. “Big fire, lots of flames, forge-y stuff. It’s very dramatic, and dwarves love drama. He’ll pop right back out! Well… probably.”

The Wand groaned, its voice dripping with disdain. “She’s not entirely wrong. The forge is… acceptable. If he’s bound to it, the fire will renew him. But,” it added with a sinister chuckle, “if you do it wrong, well… let’s just say the results won’t be pretty.”

Henry pressed his fingers to his temples, sighing deeply. “So, let me get this straight: I’m supposed to shove a dying dwarf into a giant flaming forge, hope he comes out alive, and try not to screw it up because he might come back as, what, a flaming horror dwarf?”

The Wand chuckled again, a jagged rasp of amusement. “Exactly. You catch on fast, boy.”

Elara leaned in closer to Henry, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “It’s not so bad! Just give him a good shove. Maybe yell something inspiring as he falls in. Something like, ‘For the forge!’ Or, ‘Long live the dwarves!’ You know, make it epic!”

Henry stared at her, utterly deadpan. “Why am I even listening to either of you?”

“Because you have no choice,” the Wand replied smugly. “Now let’s move. Still gotta find the armor.”