The chamber gradually returned to its previous state, the oppressive black frost melting into the shadows as the remnants of the battle faded. Shards of broken ice shimmered faintly, reflecting the soft glow of the chamber’s remaining light. Emma stood in the center, her figure barely upright, her breathing shallow and uneven.
Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, scanned the chamber’s walls. The silence felt deafening after the unrelenting chaos that had just transpired. She swayed slightly, her grip on the Sword of Fate tightening as she steadied herself.
Her thoughts weighed heavily. “I’ve gained too much too easily. Isn’t it... strange?” she murmured, her voice soft, almost swallowed by the chamber’s eerie quiet.
As her gaze fell upon the far end of the chamber, she froze. Something had changed. Behind the pedestal where the Sword of Fate had once been embedded was an object that hadn’t been there before... a large, glowing egg. Its surface shimmered with an ethereal, pearlescent glow, as though it pulsed with life. The egg’s colors shifted subtly, from radiant gold to deep violet, creating a hypnotic display.
Emma approached it cautiously, her boots crunching against frost-rimed stone. The air around the egg hummed faintly, carrying an unspoken promise of power or peril. She hesitated. She didn’t know what lay inside... whether it was a threat or a gift. Yet, despite the uncertainty, a strange pull urged her to take it.
“Dangerous or not,” she muttered under her breath, “it doesn’t matter now.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing against the egg’s smooth, warm surface. A shiver ran through her arm, but she didn’t recoil. With a soft grunt, she lifted it into her arms. It was heavier than it looked, but she held it close, the glow illuminating her weary face. Without looking back, she walked out of the chamber.
When Emma reached the chamber’s center, she set the egg down gently. Her gaze shifted to the frost-slick floor. The dim light cast long shadows, and the air was thick with the remnants of energy she had wielded. Picking up a jagged stone, she began scratching symbols and words into the ground.
Each stroke carried weight, a deliberate and careful motion, as though the act itself was a ritual. When she finally stopped, she dropped the stone and closed her eyes. The chamber grew colder, the air tense with anticipation. Moments passed in silence before her eyes snapped open, the pupils now forming intricate wheel-like patterns that began to spin with a mesmerizing rhythm.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The floor around her glowed faintly, runes shimmering to life. The egg pulsed in response, its light intensifying for a brief moment. Across the chamber, the air distorted, a faint silhouette emerging from the haze. Slowly, the figure solidified... a young boy around Emma's age or older, with raven-black hair and deep blue eyes. His expression was unreadable, as if carved from stone, his gaze holding a quiet intensity.
A faint smile touched Emma’s lips as she gazed at him. Maverick.
The act had taken everything from her, every ounce of strength she had left. As the world began to tilt, she steadied herself, her mind flickering back to the process she had undertaken. Looping Fate.
To save Maverick, she rewound Fate fifteen minutes back. The limit of her use of Looping Fate, allowed her only fifteen minutes at a time. She thought of the battle of Matana’s real form and the countless loops she had endured. Each loop had been fragmented to every fifteen minutes, stitched together to ensure she did not exceed the moment Maverick had fallen. She had fought a war within moments, and now it was over.
Her vision blurred, the chamber’s light dimming further in her eyes. Her legs gave way beneath her, and the floor rose to meet her... but before she could collapse, Maverick arms caught her.
His grip was steady, though his expression was a mix of confusion and concern. He looked down at her as she sagged against him, her weight heavy with exhaustion. His deep blue eyes searched hers, but it was shut close.
He didn’t remember. To him, there was no memory of the battle, no recollection of the countless loops. He wasn’t outside Fate as she was now. The only thing he could recall was the last coherent moment... running from something, though what it was, he couldn’t place.
Gently, he rested her on the frost-covered floor, his gaze drifting to the Sword of Fate clutched in her hands. Its blade seemed to pulse faintly, an unspoken warning or perhaps a grim acknowledgment of its power. He didn't touch it.
His eyes moved to the egg, lying a short distance away, its glow soft and mysterious. Then, his gaze fell to the words scratched into the chamber floor.
The writing was crude but legible.
“Just wait a little. I’d like to sleep for a few minutes. Don’t be mad at me for not telling you anything else. A lady needs to have a secret or two. See you when I wake up... Your first and fast learning student, Emma.”
Maverick read the words twice, his lips curving into a faint smile. This time, the smile lingered, refusing to fade.
For the first time in a long while, warmth touched his expression.
[End of Arc 3: SMILE]