Rachel’s grin didn’t twitch, too sharp, too confident, as the weight of the Sultan’s words sank into the void around her. Twist the story itself…

His accusations echoed faintly as she turned her gaze toward the writhing fissure below. The eldritch whispers clawed at the edges of her perception like rusted chains scraping against stone—grating, persistent, familiar.

Suspended in the abyss between sanity and madness, her consciousness a thread stretched taut. She faded into the black. The darkness surrounding her deepened, colors bleeding away into the shadows, leaving only the faint crimson glow of her eyes to pierce the void.

Her ears raised with her twisting soul, a sudden shift, a crack of displaced air, and the world inverted. Rachel stood high above the still sands, below the Black Moon, surrounded by her sisters, with the silence of the fable realm locked in a dimension she was no longer a part of.

She stood there for a moment, three towering rulers of Hell surrounding her in the bone-chilling scene. In a flash of fractured timelines she saw it, the landscape, all reduced to glass, shimmering and blinding, then twisted into the chaotic abyss as the shadows within the Seed Core swallowed everything.

To the blinding, burning light, there’s no use fighting… There’s no one left to save. But now there are survivors, they’re coming home. They float in darkness. They’re not alone. Now here she comes… Now hear, she comes. Now The Light will receive.

The three figures shifted in the 4th-dimensional void of fiction she occupied, their forms luminous and heavy with authority. Izanami fully took shape first, wrapped in glorious, devilish illusions to hide her scarred, decayed, and corrupted celestial body, her presence cold and suffocating, like the polluted haze of a dying forest. Persephone followed, her dual nature reflected in her luminous golden gown, brimming with both life and decay. Hades came last, a towering silhouette of stern resolve, his features cut from marble and shadow.

Rachel’s grin didn’t falter. The gang’s all here. Let me guess—you’ve brought a gift basket of existential dread and soul-crushing power? Don’t keep me waiting.

Izanami’s rosy lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach her flaming eyes. “Such insolence,” she murmured, her voice like brittle glass. “You saw the future just now… Fate’s demand. Did you not?”

Ears lowering, her swirling eyes turned to the fallen Creation Deity, each new one that opened refocusing on every crack in reality she could exploit. Little by little, I see the barriers poked and prodded. The Scarlet Wall warped and stretched. There is a path to escape the golden threads of fate and craft a destiny to be seized.

“Interesting…” The Lady of Hell gave her the smallest, devilish smirk. “Do you truly believe with our power you can reach beyond the seventh dimension? No pantheon has been able to peer past the Seventh Wall. Can your Eldritch soul even sustain this output? Even now, the tides of Yomi churn against you, threatening to rip you into oblivion.”

Rachel shrugged, tapping her temple lightly. I’ve already seen the path, Lady of Corruption. Cerridwen foresaw this inevitability…or at least those who whisper to her through The Mist foresaw it, and used Seed Scarlet’s awakening to prepare the way for this possibility. All I need is the fuel to claw my way through the cracks, and here you are,” she chortled, “scratching your hardest to provide me with that as others stabilize it within my infinitely expanding soul.

Hades stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “You court annihilation,” he stated, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the dimension itself, as if too small to contain it. “If you fail—”

Then I fail, Rachel interrupted, waving him off with a flick of her hand. Yes, I’ve heard the whole ‘eternal suffering’ spiel before. Save the dramatics, pretty boy. I’m not here to debate odds but deliver results.

Persephone’s laughter was soft, almost musical, as she regarded Rachel with a faint tilt of her head from beside her husband. “You were right, Lady Izanami. It’s that stubborn defiance that makes her worth watching and supporting. Tell me, Rachel—do you feel fear as you stand at this precipice to enter realms mortals and gods fear to tread?”

Fear? Rachel’s ears shifted to the side, her wide, monstrous grin turning wry. I’m a walking nightmare, Lady of Hades. Fear’s just another tool in my kit…

Persephone raised her hand, a tendril of golden-black energy spiraling toward Rachel, acting as the binding and controlling force. “I wish you victory…to break this cycle we are all trapped in.”

Hades extended a hand to join his wife, his power a cold, crushing weight that made the air itself shudder. “The triplets would be saddened if their vacation was cut short.”

Izanami followed, her corrupted essence flowing like a polluted river, weaving with Persephone’s light as her body shook with soft mirth. “Even you are worried about our naughty little hare, Lord Hades? Quite the impression you’ve left but we deities cannot help but be attracted toward those who succeed,” she said, ending with a sigh.

The tragic goddess took on a more melancholy note as the three forces mixed and rushed toward her in a cyclone. “I sincerely hope you do not disappoint me… I still have yet to see you bond with my precious princess to enact my will. Do not die, Hare of Misfortune… I am not finished with you.”

The energies rushed in, flooding into Rachel with the force of a dam breaking. Her breath hitched, her body arching as the power coursed through her veins—corrupting, liberating, and binding all at once. Her prehensile ears twitched uncontrollably, her elongated, fluffy tail snapping like a whip as the surge overwhelmed her senses.

Shit… The word slipped through clenched teeth as the unholy lands compressed her from both sides, the restorative bloom of Persephone’s power keeping her from being totally consumed. Yet, her voice, strained as it was, still managed to remain laced with dark amusement. “When I said I wanted a sandwich…this wasn’t what I expected. You guys don’t hold back, huh?”

The world flickered, the very world fracturing under the weight of the energy they managed to pull into this quaking Fable Seed, fissures erupting between the fabric of the quantum field itself. Rachel’s vision blurred, her consciousness splintering into shards of light and shadow. She was falling—falling inward—falling into herself, into the chaos that had always lingered beneath the surface.

Her Yin-Yang Chamber unfurling like a fragmented dream, a black bun sleeping in her lap, encased by a bloody prison—only, she was looking at herself in the center. The black-and-white chamber pulsed, its stone quaking and trembling, fracturing and reforming in sync with her breaths.

Look inside, Rachel muttered under her breath, a sardonic chuckle slipping past her lips. Sliding through the chamber, feeling as if she weren’t moving at all, she settled into the chair, her form languid yet poised, one hand resting lightly against her chest. Is this what it takes to transcend the 7th Wall?

The Yin-Yang Chamber pulsed like a living heart, the rhythm of Rachel’s chaotic essence blending with the ebb and flow of divine and eldritch energies coursing through her. The fragments of light and shadow that composed her essence danced around the broken chamber walls, cracks mending themselves in one instant and fracturing again in the next.

Her gaze shifted toward the three deities within her morphing, continually breaking, restoring, and expanding Core. Nike came into focus first, her presence like a blazing star, fierce and unyielding, the embodiment of victory. The woman’s robe gleamed with an intensity that defied the dark chaos surrounding them, her tiny wings fluttering at her back.

Past her sat Athena, poised with the serious composure of war and strategy that she represented, her owl-like eyes glowing with a sharp, calculated light that pierced through the haze. Selene was last, tranquil yet haunting, the very light of the Blood Moon incarnate, her pale eyes steady and serene.

Rachel puffed out a long breath through her many teeth. So… In the end, my greatest enemy will be myself, she murmured, her voice dripping with dark amusement. Here to see if the hare bites off more than she can chew?

Nike showed a pained smile. “This is an area gods and goddesses do not fully understand, but we have faced ourselves…countless versions of ourselves, and I would not wish that on my worst enemy.”

Athena’s gaze was measured, her tone calm but cutting. “I will not say you are not treading dangerous waters, Rachel. Every victory has its costs. To us gods and goddesses, you dive into a place only meant for the foolish and enlightened to be unkindly blessed to witness the obscure.”

Selene’s voice was soft, almost melodic, yet her words carried a tide. “Are you strong enough to transcend the 7th Wall…are you brave enough to dare to peer beyond the madness, as short as it is likely to be. Do you trust your steps in the dark?”

Rachel leaned back into her chair, the black bun caged in bloody chains still nestled in her lap. Her ears twitched as she processed their words, her gaze flicking to the three hellhounds—the teenage girls supporting her partner.

Nia was evolving, as well, her new adaptation seemingly automatically activating to use that metamorphosis to aid her Living Denier. Two realms of Hell tore them apart to let the power of the three rulers flow unimpeded into her, the energy like lightning, spinning threads that pulsed with the essence of Persephone, Izanami, and Hades.

I told Izanami I had no fear, Rachel muttered, reflecting on why she was here in the first place. Ultimately, I haven’t really ever felt real fear, I suppose… Knowledge of odds, shifting them to my favor, and understanding my limits, yes. But… Perhaps there is something I fear, her mouth curved downward.

Her eyes swept upward, catching sight of the other bun soldiers, newly crafted from the immensely powerful moons, each one a representation of her multifaceted self.

The Blood Bun radiated an eerie, serene intensity, its crimson fur shimmering with an ethereal glow. The Hell: Yomi Bun stood in stark contrast, its corrupted form pulsating with a sorrowful, polluted energy, like a wound refusing to heal.

The Greater Moon of Abundance Bun gleamed with a vibrant, golden light, its presence warm and overflowing, while the Crimson Bun seemed to be in the mid-process of blooming ruby-like petals. The White Bun exuded a soft, logical, calming, and steadying presence amidst the chaos. And the Greater Harvest Moon Bun was a living nightmare, its haunted form shifting and warping like a shadow brought to life.

Each circled above, just beneath the light of their respective moons, their movements synchronized like an otherworldly dance. All but the Black Bun, which remained in her lap, encased and unmoving.

The chamber itself seemed to react to their presence, its fractured walls glowing faintly with the light of the moons. Yet, there was something unsettling about the way the Black Bun’s shadow seemed to stretch further than the others, its chains rattling faintly in a rhythm that echoed the whispers clawing at Rachel’s mind—her own, amused voice.

“I am the secret. I am the answer. I am the end. Your fragile psyche fades with the forbidden world alluring you beyond the Wall of Sleep. I will purge our weakness. I am The Key, The Gate… The Omen Beyond Misfortune.”

I’m quite the edgy girl, it seems… Rachel’s voice was steady, but her tone carried an edge. Makes me feel like the main event at a circus. At least I’ll have a decent fight to warm me up before I reach Neil’scera…

Whatever they said in response, she didn’t hear. Rachel closed her eyes and then they were opened. Her many eyes saw past the fracturing rifts in reality that only opened for her. What did she see? The thing that brought her to this level. That had turned her into this unhallowed avenger of chaos that was necessary to affect things on this scale.

Rachel’s breath caught as her brother’s silhouette solidified, standing beside Eostre. Her sharp gaze locked on Nam, his calm, steady presence radiating unfathomable heat, even amidst the fractured chaos of her mind.

He looked younger, the weight of his pain etched into his charred features but softened by Eostre’s nurturing presence. Her hands hovered near his Core, the shattered fragments of it swirling like a nebula, condensing into a singularity too dense for her to penetrate.

The sight was a knife to Rachel’s gut. Nam… I’m the one who has all the powers. I was supposed to be the one protecting our family… Yet, you’re still fighting, even after all this. I won’t forget this Eostre.

Her chest tightened as Eostre’s serene voice cut through the swirling madness, speaking to him. The 4th-dimensional woman’s words didn’t reach her, though. The ground beneath her dissolved, pulling her down like liquid glass. She fell into a kaleidoscope of reflections, the world breaking apart into an infinite array of mirrors that circled around her, through her, and within her.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

She clawed for stability, but the mirrors reflected fragments of herself—some familiar, others alien—stretching into eternity. Each pane glimmered with the threads of reality. They wove intricate, chaotic patterns that pulled at the edges of her perception.

Rachel glimpsed moments leading to this singular, shattering juncture: the moment Relica twisted the knife in her family’s bonds, her transformation into a Lunar Hare, Twilight’s pained laughter as Veronica was broken from moments Rachel had spun into motion, and her cousin’s death in the car accident that had shredded her mother’s heart. Now…she knew why.

Her fingers curled into fists, the weight of her failure pressing down like an iron brand as that unseen hand slithered between her threads of misfortune. The truth hit her like a grenade to the chest, leaving her breathless—Relica had set the stage on Adele’s orders, Relica’s unseen, plucking threads from beyond the 7th Wall…but her misfortune, her so-called gift, had orchestrated the fallout.

A wrathful tear slid out of her eye to wet her bristling fur. It wasn’t my fault… But someone wanted me to believe it was. Mom knew about my gift…curse of misfortune. It’s somehow connected to our family line…but it should have saved Seo. The Scarlet Hand tried to kill us…but someone else made sure Seo died.

The storm tearing through her life, twisting her path, warping everything in its wake… A deeper Truth that crashed into every person who was connected to her…to her mother. Her family. Her friendships. Herself. There was a deeper Truth further beyond that which clawed at her throat from inside the constellation of mirrors she fell through.

This fate…was meant to attack Mom. Mom, that am I seeing… These threads, they go back centuries…before even the gods and goddesses faced their counterparts… I can’t see how far it goes back. My mind can’t…go that far back.

The mirrors spun faster, casting fragmented light like the shards of a dying star. One reflection burned brighter than the rest, pulling her gaze. It showed the exact moment she became a Lunar Hare—when the darkness she couldn’t see moving around her misfortune was repelled. Cerridwen.

The shadowed woman stood amidst the shattering of the atmosphere during The Oscillation. A solemn depth below those flickering dimensional fragmentations that scattered throughout the whole world. And behind her, something loomed, beyond scale, beyond mental grasp—a swirling mist, alive with something ancient, coiling and unfurling like a formless monster in the dark.

Rachel’s breath quickened. Cerridwen… You set this in motion.

The rise of Twilight came from the strings the Welsh enchantress spun with her caldron, her private discussion with Hecate, who guided Relica to face her. The power and fury she gained from the dregs of wrath that She Who Invites had provided her. Cerridwen loomed behind the godly coalition that surrounded her, her small smile casting a long shadow from every action she’d taken since obtaining her blessing—[Strategic Mind], and its tiny impulses.

And behind her, that massless mist… Not from Neil’scera. No, from something terrible beyond its reflection that sang The Song for all to hear within the Maelstrom.

Staring at it, she couldn’t help but feel a quiver run through her whole body upon seeing those shadows twist… The thing she had to awaken was behind those veils, trapped in darkness, awaiting the light.

What did you find, Cerridwen? What power was buried beneath that chaos?

The mist coalesced into a shape—a vast, indistinct figure with only a single eye, neon-green, gleaming, and a voice that hummed with the resonance of universes collapsing. Its whispers seeped into the marrow of her mind, melding with the tolling of her own heartbeat. Yet, no words came, only substance…action.

The words reverberated through the Mirrorverse, each syllable unraveling threads of her reality and weaving them anew. Rachel rippled with it, clutching her chest as the reflections resonated with the force of unseen hands and an outline of a star, or perhaps a moon… No, something more. A melody unlike anything she’d experienced lifted her, guided her into the reflections.

She saw her mother’s soft smile in the mirrors, now hardened by grief. Her brother’s steadfast resolve, fractured under the weight of his shattered Seed. Veronica, broken and pieced back together by the jagged edges of a life she’d never wanted. All of it connected by the unseen currents of fate that worked alongside her misfortune in the shadows.

Her reflection shifted again with a blinding light. This time, the image burned into her mind: Cerridwen, cloaked in mist, holding something…alive. A glimmer of deep, abyssal power that pulsed like a heartbeat—a fragment of the unknown, coiled and waiting… Placed within her during The Oscillation when granting her blessing.

The Key. The Gate. The answer Rachel sought… Then the revelation came that drained the boiling lava from her veins. The reflection of Cerridwen speaking with someone she should not have been.

Mom… In the hospital, when I was sleeping, you used your powers to meet Cerridwen…through me? No wonder no one else could reach her… Cerridwen was within the mists deep inside my soul this entire time…countering the threads of fate. Why does it always lead to you, Mom? You knew Seo should be alive. Something went wrong. And…the path was laid to put the blame at my feet. What are you trying to hide from me?

Yet, as she searched the mirrors, all she saw was a fireplace, a hearth…their kitchen. Her mother inside of it, laughing as she made dinner and helped her with her homework. No matter how hard she looked, with all the power of Hades and Yomi fueling her, she could not see what her mother hid…as if there were nothing to hide.

You’re my mom…and you love me. But…you’re lying to me. You know the truth beyond what I can grasp with all this power… How?

Her gaze returned to the mist behind Cerridwen as the goddess stood before her bubbling caldron, the figure beyond sight swirling beyond the depths of the Black Moon.

What did it show you that terrified you to such an extent, that you’d give up everything to put me on this path? What’s waiting for me beyond the Wall of Sleep? And…how am I supposed to reach it when Neil’scera is only the First Gate?

The mirrors trembled at her words, their surfaces cracking as if they, too, feared the truth. Rachel’s many eyes glowed crimson, each one a beacon of defiance and fury. She wasn’t done yet. If fate, sentient or not, thought it could manipulate her, twist her into its pawn, it would learn the hard way that her neck was not one to twist strings around.

The mirrored world suddenly stilled, a calm before the storm. Her brother appeared again, his Seed Core now fully reformed, radiating an impenetrable gravity—a singularity—that drew everything toward it. Beside him, Eostre breathed a sigh of relief, Maria doing the same on the dimension below as she fell on her butt, looking exhausted.

Alexa laid beside Nam, cheeks puffy and red, her 13-year-old body hiccuping and trembling, unsure if she should touch him yet or not. Even Aella sat somberly in the corner, looking slightly distraught, but more for the reality that one of the biggest buffers between her and the terrifying hare was out of commission. Plus, sympathy for those who had treated her well now suffering.

However, Rachel’s focus was on the swirling abyss behind Eostre, a presence that hung larger with every passing second—fate’s unseen hands, moving to tighten around the woman’s throat.

I don’t think so. A single tear traced down Rachel’s cheek, not from sorrow but determination. Her fists unclenched, her gaze steeling. Fate, you were my true enemy all along. The real enemy every other faction unknowingly fights against. That’s what Cerridwen wanted to show me… Who Twilight fought so hard against to free herself from. Who Seed Scarlet saw manipulating things in the shadows.

A shift occurred, snatching her eyes that repelled the hands of fate. She saw the Crystal Gateway, its surface shimmering with an almost hypnotic allure. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, each thrum sending ripples through the chaotic energy around her within the mirror-like zone.

Her breath caught for a moment, her sharp, wrathful grin softening as a sense of awe washed over her. Something within it was both terrifying and beautiful, its very existence exuding a power unlike anything she had encountered—perhaps on the same level as what lay within the mists itself.

Yet, there was something wrong—a faint, almost imperceptible taint lurking within its shimmering depths that wasn’t a part of the Spirit of Conquest she sensed radiating within. A flicker of something Eldritch, hidden beneath its folding surfaces, as if the crystal itself was alive and straining against…chains? Lapis lazuli chains slowly emerged, coiling tightly around it, imprisoning it.

The links pulsed, their hold relentless, causing the Crystal’s light to shift erratically as though it were fighting to break free—it was helpless. Rachel’s eyes narrowed, her instincts screaming that this was no ordinary artifact and that whoever was inside would certainly make herself known.

The last thing she saw was a smug, violet-haired young woman’s face—only, so immense that the very fabric of the Mirrorverse shattered the second she appeared, leaving only the mist.

What in the hell are we going to be dealing with… she muttered, her voice trailing off as she still felt the pull of its presence, a gravitational force that seemed to tug at her very soul. But, it was something for the future. Right now, she had a flashlight to turn on.

Well then, Rachel murmured, stepping toward the shadowed mist, let’s begin the path to Neil’scera to find the light I need to spark. Her reflection splintered into infinite versions of herself as she moved. I’ve already died once. What’s a little more madness?

“Madness? You know nothing of the sort, Changeling of Reality…”

Slowly falling into the mass of mirrors and fractured realities within the Mirrorverse, a small smirk lifted the corner of Rachel’s mouth as she slowly turned in her fall. Finding her wrist behind her back, she locked eyes on the Dark Djinn, spotting reflection of the Sultan being kicked into the abyssal crack in the world to contend with the force within.

She flashed her many teeth, swirling, multi-hued eyes narrowing across her black-haired, anthropomorphic body. I know your name now, Ahriman, First Djinn, King of the Fabled Sultanate of Ancient Persia. It seems I’ll need to rescue your great grandchild before your masters turn him into fuel, along with the Sultan. He bought me more than enough time to see what I needed.

Ahriman’s voice rang out, deep and resonant, a blend of human speech and an unearthly hum that clawed at the edges of comprehension. “You invoke my name, Hare of the Mists, but you know not the power it carries nor the doom it heralds. You play at the edges of truths that will unravel all existence. Do you think They—the Endless Renewal—will heed your call for liberation? They do not sing. They devour to remake and redefine. They obliterate to create anew. They consume The Song itself into silence!”

Rachel hovered mid-fall, her many eyes reflecting the djinn’s imposing figure. His form shifted like liquid shadow, solidifying and dissolving with each step he took forward, a burning sigil glowing on his brow, crackling with the weight of ancient power of thousands of his kin, sacrificed to grant him the strength to break the Fable Seed’s Core.

At the same time, Zoey’s image came into view from another mirror, sitting on a chair in the safehouse her parents were at—beside her was another two-tailed feline teen, smiling and eating sardine sandwiches. It didn’t hold her attention long, yet the black-haired Chinese teen’s cat ears perked up and she glanced at her, showing a wide, toothy smile and waving.

Let’s file that for later, she thought, focus returning to the djinn on his approach. Something is happening to Zoey… Something terrifying for our enemies. Interesting.

Ahriman increased in size, the embodiment of sacrifice, his very presence emanating the essence of those he had consumed in his rise to dominion within the fabled era of this fiction world. Her smirk didn’t falter, the story was already written, which meant she knew all his tricks.

You’re mistaken, Ahriman. The Song isn’t what will end us. It’s what will finally break the yoke of Fate. Besides— She twirled mid-air, the fractured mirrors around her refracting the light of her grin. I have a date with myself to get to, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be reaching Neil’scera before your master—eh, Masters’ plan takes center stage. Hehe. After all, you’re just a make-believe puppet on strings.

Ahriman’s form convulsed, the glow of his sigil darkening to a deep violet as his shadow extended, consuming the light around him. “Ignorant child. You tread a path laid with your own ruin. You speak of Fate as an enemy, yet you play directly into Her hands. You cannot comprehend the gravity of awakening them, even to combat Her. The Mists will consume the Red Sea, the Crimson Tide, the dimensions themselves, to be renewed, and the threads of reality itself will be twisted into their likeness. All that remains will be The Mists.”

Rachel didn’t flinch. Her ears twitched, her tail coiling like a whip as she summoned her hammer—a massive, gleaming construct totally unlike it typically was, to a cartoonish degree within the fictitious space.

Fate is a Her, is she? Good to know she has a face! And I think you’ve been lied to, First King, she replied, her voice calm but charged with determination. I don’t need to comprehend everything to know one thing: Fate chose the wrong Bringer of Misfortune to manipulate.

A nearby mirror shimmered, its surface parting to reveal a vast, swirling sun encased within a massive ringed structure—the future that was coming. The structure pulsed with an eerie light, its machinery aligning in perfect synchronicity.

Rachel glanced at it, and recognition flickered in her eyes. A sea of molten glass before oblivion? Hah! I see. The Dyson Sphere. Clever. You’re smarter than your average Eldritch zealot. The systems your people—the ancient djinn—designed to act as a failsafe against your rise… You’re going to use that to fragment and shatter Ali Baba’s Seed to cause a chain reaction…releasing your dark master.

Ahriman’s laughter rolled like thunder. “You see but a fraction of my design. That sphere channels the despair of a dying star, bending its will to the chains of entropy. With each pulse, it feeds its core instability. Soon, it will reach critical mass, collapsing upon itself, igniting a supernova that will rip through every veil of this reality to usher in the Crimson Tide!”

Rachel cocked her head, her grin widening. Your Eldritch masters are the Crimson Tide…while Cerridwen plotted to counter ‘every’ faction with…what did you call them… The Endless Renewal? The cards are set…but I have the advantage. We are not in the 3rd dimension anymore, Ahriman. If you do not force me back… I will reach Neil’scera.

Ahriman’s roar shook the Mirrorverse, his shadow surging toward her. “You will not interfere. The path to Neil’scera—its corruption to the Crimson Tide is essential to my belonging to reality! The Mists shall remain sealed until the Crawling Chaos grows over them. This realm will fall to silence before their awakening…before my awakening.”

Rachel swung her hammer, the motion rippling through the fractured space and colliding with the encroaching shadows. Sparks of Hellfire, raw power, and every other power she held clashed with the darkness, exploding on impact. Shards of broken mirrors spiraling into the abyss.

Her voice rose above the cacophony, fierce and unyielding as she held his blow, arms trembling yet grin wide as a Cheshire cat. The Song isn’t silence, Ahriman—it’s hope. And I’m not letting you snuff it out my chance to prick Her finger.

The Dyson Sphere above them began to hum, its rings spinning faster as enormous beams of concentrated energy lanced into the star. A brilliant cascade of electromagnetic energy erupted, triggering a catastrophic chain reaction in the star’s core. The fusion process faltered, then collapsed, as the star’s mass began to compress.

Rachel’s eyes darted to the mirrors, the reflections showing the sun’s surface buckling inward. Her grin turned feral. Looks like your time’s running out, Ahriman.

The djinn roared again, charging toward her as the Dyson Sphere completed its sequence. Energy spiraled outward, igniting the star into a supernova. Rachel’s hammer caught the light of the explosion, its surface glowing with an intense, otherworldly power—then, it froze… Ahriman with it.

A shiver ran down her spine as a single mirror flickered with movement to her left, a place—no, a rift in space and time—and inside of it, swirling eyes of fathomless color. Her eyes. And her voice quivered Rachel’s ears and tail.

This. This was not what she’d seen. What she’d expected to find. To feel…

Can I…not win?

“Hello, Little Hare. It’s time we meet, at last. I’m Misfortune.”

Before she could so much as blink, the mirror—Neil’scera—rippled, expanded, and swallowed her whole, dragging her into the endless abyss of her own soul.