“It’s a rather splendid notion,” Vlad remarked with a grin, his fangs glinting in the light. “Not merely because we vampires enjoy a certain immunity to corrupted mana and curses, but also due to our notable prowess with mind spells.”

“Stereotypes aside, we creatures of the night do seem to have a specific affinity with corruption, yes?” Bella quipped, her laughter ringing like chimes in the dark. “What say you, Your Majesty?”

Turning to Onulph Sam, the Werewolf Alpha King, she found him nodding in agreement. “I shall lend my assistance. Let us carefully dissect the corrupted items in Princess Shorof’s room.”

“Should nothing alarming present itself, may I bother you to visit Soulnaught Palace and inspect my father’s regalia?” Burn asked.

“Even better, I could dispatch my people to retrieve and quarantine them near the world tree. Surely, it’s safer here,” Onulph replied.

“Do allow us the honor of assistance as well,” Aidyl Navarre, the Merfolk Monarch, said, floating closer with his amorphous blob of water. “We have historians and researchers of artifacts too. And much like yourselves, we possess a commendable resistance to corruption. After all, the ocean is a bigger cesspool of corruption compared to the land.”

Eos Kirmizi trotted forward, a chuckling neigh escaping him. “But while you may bask in your resistance, you’re also more prone to flirt with the dark side. I shall join in the purification efforts, lest you all succumb to the madness.”

“Master Kirmizi, just as we Merfolk can gracelessly plunge to become Sirens, you Unicorns do have the deteriorating option to become Bicorns,” Aidyl quipped. “Do try not to get your sparkly horns caught in anything.”

“Since we’re throwing ourselves into this war fest anyway, count us in,” Selen Blackmantle declared, walking closer with her minotaur husband, Theor, and the ever-serious Adroros Borion, Chief of Centaurs.

“Assuming he’s been using these corrupted items as little death traps for prominent citizens worldwide, hunting them down will be quite the work vacation,” Morgan remarked.

“And our kingdom, with its sanctuary nestled beneath the world tree, shall aid in quarantining and dissecting them,” Tashr Reyrie added. “We’ll learn everything about them.”

Wekkoun and Grumbletoe nodded sagely at Tashr and Morgan, a wry smile creeping onto Wekkoun’s face. “I must admit, I dread the thought of excavating our own tunnels. We might find a veritable treasure trove of such items—or, heaven forbid, they might just be our own artisan’s handiwork.”

Morgan let out a resigned sigh, brow furrowing slightly. She turned toward Burn and Isaiah, the weight of the impending journey evident. “It’s time we go to the moon.”

***

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“There was an incident before?” Yvain shot up from his chair, his anticipation for the first day of school tomorrow now tinged with a hint of dread.

He’d hoped for a smooth intro, but thanks to Burn’s backing, they were digging up information faster than a gopher in spring. Still, diving into the Vision Resonator was like navigating a dungeon system without a guide.

“There was an incident where a volunteer for a test awakened his vision and went on a rampage. Thankfully, it didn’t kill him,” Finn Wilderwood disclosed, his tone grim.

Yvain grimaced. “And the genius behind this ‘marvelous’ contraption?”

Finn shook his head, exasperation tugging at his lips. “The inventor is more elusive than a shadow at midnight—protected like a royal heir and hidden like my last-minute cheat sheet. Even the patent documents are locked tighter than a dragon’s vault. Whoever it was, they either have serious clout or a really good hiding spot.”

“Then, the choice to use the academy grounds for this experiment? I’m really not fond of where this is headed…” Yvain murmured.

“But if the headmaster of the academy, Princess Bianca Lumine, agreed to host this experiment, doesn't that imply…” Finn narrowed his eyes, the weight of the suggestion thickening the air around them.

“For her to acquiesce, safety measures must have been installed,” Yvain sighed, the thought sinking in like a stone. “Which, considering how this device operates… it’s worth nothing at all.”

What could possibly go wrong? A vision-awakening contraption with ‘safety measures’—that sounded like a recipe for a delightful school experience, Finn thought dryly.

Yvain pinched the bridge of his nose, his precognitive dread solidifying. Vulnerable souls like Blair Inkor—and, dare he admit, perhaps even himself—were at peril, perilously close to that contraption. The likelihood of a rampage was unsettlingly high.

Finn contemplated the situation, his fingers tapping a light rhythm on the table. “As I said, we should consult His and Her Majesty, after all,” he suggested.

“No,” Yvain replied, shaking his head with firm determination. “They’re far too occupied at the moment. Today, however, we shall welcome reinforcements from Soulnaught.”

Just then, the door swung open, revealing a pair of knights strutting into the room with an air of flamboyance. The notorious duo of the round table, known far and wide as the Morrois Forest Duo—Tristan and Yvolt.

“Hello, Little Majesty!” Yvolt cheerily waved, resting her elbow on the hilt of her rapier as if it were an elegant fashion accessory.

Tristan followed suit with a grin. “Did you guys order a love potion?”

Finn’s jaw dropped to the ground. “L-L-Love Potion Duo… Tristan and Ysolt…!”

“Hey, it’s Yvolt now. You better not call me that name again,” Yvolt said, her head tilted, short black hair framing her lovely face with a hint of danger.

Yvain chuckled, eyebrow raised. “Of all the people, why did he send you two?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tristan replied, smirking. “It’s because Yvolt and I excel at escort missions.”

“Escort?” Yvain blinked, skepticism dripping from his voice.

“Well, let’s clarify,” Tristan said, cocking his head at Yvolt. “This time, it isn’t an escort mission, is it?”

Yvolt beamed innocently. “It’s a guarding mission instead.”

Finn narrowed his eyes, suspicion etched across his face. “Your fighting style is far too chaotic to handle the finesse of escort or guarding missions.”

“Come on, Wilderwood. Are we still dwelling on ancient grudges?” Tristan teased with a mockingly hurt expression.

“You’ve crossed paths before?” Yvain asked, intrigued.

Finn grimaced, his tone heavy with resentment. “They brutally killed an Inkian diplomat I’d just traded for some royal riches after he was detained at Soulnaught on espionage charges.”

“Oh! You figured out it was us?” Yvolt chirped, a fake surprise etching her face. “We were masked!”

Finn shot an accusatory finger at them. “Who wouldn’t recognize you with that one-of-a-kind fighting style? You might as well have worn neon signs!”

Yvain chuckled. Oh, it’s gonna be fun.