At school, Jake trudged through the hallway, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Normally, I’d get bullied or at least hear some snickers,” he muttered to himself, “even with black card friends. But now that I’m the acting leader of the Blades and the Blunts—the Steel Pact—everyone stays quiet.”

  He glanced to his side, where Lucy walked beside him, her brown hair pulled back as she secured it with a tie she held between her teeth. “It’s been ages since I’ve set foot in a school,” she muttered, adjusting her hair.

  Jake fiddled nervously with his fingers, his voice soft. “You should know… I’m not really great at leading. I’m more of a follower.”

  Lucy smirked, her fingers trailing lazily along the wall as they walked. “I see,” she replied, her tone teasing yet sharp.

  Jake hesitated before speaking again. “So… what happened to your brother? Logan, right?”

  Lucy’s smirk vanished, replaced by a scowl as a growl rumbled in her throat. “That bastard ran away from the gang,” she spat, her voice low and brimming with contempt.

  “Ran away? How do you know?” He asked. “You don’t go MIA unless you wanna run away.” She responded and Jake flinched a bit. “O-okay.”

  Terrence approached Jake with a somber expression. “Jake, I want to offer my deepest condolences for your friend Melanthius. And as for Goldman,” his voice hardened, “I wish him a thousand deaths for what he’s done. The way Mel died—it was cruel, unforgivable. The other sophomore black cards feel the same way.” He paused, studying Jake’s reaction before continuing. “But there’s something else. We’ve heard that Fox Bearrington—the protector of Atlantis—had a connection to Melanthius. Did you know that?”

  Lucy’s eyes widened at the mention of the name. Her mind raced as she pieced it together. “I thought Mel was Fox Bearrington. He said it himself,” she thought, trying to make sense of it all.

  Meanwhile, in Atlantis, Bimoth stood at the kingdom’s entrance, donned in the Fox Bearrington costume. His posture was resolute as he gazed out at the ocean, honoring the promise he had made to Mel: to protect Atlantis from any who dared threaten it.

  Meanwhile, Lance and Clyde sat in Lance’s room, both reclining in chairs, deep in thought. The room was quiet except for the faint creak of wood as they leaned back, lost in their own musings.

  “We should plan something to honor Mel’s legacy,” Lance said, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a pencil. “He loved festivals, but what kind of event would feel right for him?” His brow furrowed in concentration.

  Clyde stretched, wincing as he rubbed his sore muscles from training. “Big bro loved training, but he hated actual fighting,” Clyde said slowly, as if testing the thought. “Maybe we could put on a performance or something—show everyone his style. It’d be a way to celebrate who he was without the violence he despised.”

  Lance tapped the pencil against his notebook, his face brightening at the suggestion. “A performance… something meaningful, something to him. That could work.”

  “I can cover the fees. Now all we need is a way to kick off the festival,” Lance said, his voice brimming with determination. “We can host it in Solstice City—I bet tons of people would want to come. The theme should be black and gold to symbolize the battle between Mel and Goldman. It’ll be meaningful and stylish.”

  Clyde’s eyes lit up as he grabbed a sketchpad and started scribbling. “What if everyone wore black and gold masks, tilted to the side of their faces? That’d be so cool!”

  Lance leaned over to check Clyde’s sketches, a grin spreading across his face. “Perfect. It’ll give the festival an air of mystery and unity. Mel would’ve loved it.”

  The two kept working, their excitement growing with every detail they added, turning their idea into a tribute worthy of Melanthius’s legacy.

  In the heart of the Magisterium, Titian stood before the council: Silver Cross, Franky Arbutus, Aubrey Primrose, Gail Kelpis, Christopher Hatch, Howard Pegas, Axel Candlelight, Emmett Fingerling, and Judas Olive. His presence was thunderous, his voice like a storm ready to break.

  “Your seven deadly kingdoms have been busy, sure, but not united!” he growled, glaring around the room. “Charles Pierce of Lust and Carter Angelo of Pride are still at each other’s throats. Ethan of Sloth? Still outsourcing his every move like a coward. And little old Althara? Still off the damn radar.”

  With a roar, Titian smashed his fist into the table, shattering it into splinters. “YOU LAZY, ARROGANT WIZARDS HAVE BEEN PLAYING CARDS WHILE THE KINGDOMS ROT FROM DISUNITY! DOUBLE OUR NUMBERS! FIX THIS MESS!” His voice echoed like cannon fire.

  Without warning, he swung and punched Axel Candlelight square in the face, sending blood dripping from the man’s nose. Axel whimpered as he clutched his face.

  Titian’s expression softened slightly, and he stepped forward, gripping Axel’s head and pulling it against his chest like a disappointed father consoling a child. “I’m not mad at you,” he said with a chilling calmness. “I’m mad at all of you.” Axel nodded weakly, trembling under Titian’s grip as the room stayed silent in fear.

  Titian released him and turned back to the shattered table, unfurling a large map of the kingdoms. His voice carried an ominous edge. “Althara isn’t invincible. I’ve dealt with her before. She’s strong, yes, but not untouchable. The medallion of Merlin Shadowbane is engraved into her very body, making her a threat—but fear doesn’t excuse inaction.” He stabbed a finger at the map, his eyes blazing with intensity. “Get it together. Now.”

  “You’re telling us to get it together?” Aubrey Primrose scoffed, her voice sharp and unyielding as she stepped forward. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a new table where the shattered remains once lay. Her piercing gaze met Titian’s, unwavering.

  “Face it, Titian,” she continued, her tone dripping with defiance. “The real reason you’re barking orders instead of handling it yourself is because you’re terrified. Terrified of him—Raphael, your dear cousin, ruling over the Kingdom of Wrath.”

  The room went silent, a palpable tension settling in the air. Even the other council members exchanged uneasy glances, some too afraid to speak, others watching Titian for his reaction. Aubrey’s words hung heavy, daring him to deny the truth.

  “I won’t deny it—Raphael and Leonardo are incredibly strong,” Titian admitted, his voice calm but laced with calculation. “Trying to take Wrath, the strongest kingdom, is no small feat. It’s terrifying, I’ll give you that. But let’s be clear—Raphael hates Michelangelo, not me. As for Leonardo? No one can even find her. Raphael, though…” He paused, rolling a piece of chocolate between his fingers thoughtfully. “I just need to find his weakness. Or better yet…” A smirk crept onto his face. “I can use someone else to handle the dirty work for me.”

  The council exchanged wary glances, unsure of where he was headed.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Say,” Titian continued, his tone almost casual, “Ethan has a little brother, doesn’t he? He was friends with Melanthius, wasn’t he?”

  Axel nodded hesitantly. “Yes, sir. Jake Knight. But… what are you planning?”

  Titian chuckled, biting into the chocolate and savoring the moment. “Don’t worry about it. Not yet.” The cryptic tone in his voice sent a chill through the room, leaving the council members uneasy as his plans began to take shape.

  Back in Auroria Dominion, Lance and Clyde jogged through Solstice City, sweat dripping down their brows. “You really think Princess Rue is gonna be okay with us just showing up like this?” Clyde asked, glancing at Lance with a hint of nervousness. The memory of his brother breaking Rue’s spine a year ago wasn’t easy to shake.

  Lance panted, keeping his pace steady. “Yeah, she’s cool. We’re friends.” He came to a halt in front of the castle, craning his neck to take in its towering presence. “Mel used to just barge in there, but… maybe we should knock. You know, manners and all.”

  With a shrug, Lance knocked on the heavy door. It creaked open almost immediately, revealing Queen Ruecrix. She stood tall and regal, her sharp eyes scanning them both. “Ah, Mel’s student and his brother—unrelated,” she said smoothly, her voice dripping with elegance. “What brings you here?”

  Lance quickly bowed and straightened up, fumbling slightly. “We had a proposition for Princess Rue.”

  The queen raised an eyebrow but gave them a faint nod. “My daughter is in the forest training,” she said simply before closing the door with a decisive click, leaving the boys blinking in confusion.

  “To the forest, then,” Clyde said with a shrug, and they jogged off toward the outskirts of the city.

  When they arrived, they spotted Rue, though she looked entirely different from the person they remembered. Gone was her formal royal attire. Instead, Rue wore a crisp blue Atlantean button-up shirt tucked into high Atlantis-style shorts, paired with simple blue flip-flops. Her neck and wrists gleamed with Atlantean jewelry, and draped over her shoulders was Mel’s robe. She also wore Mel’s black gauntlets, which seemed almost like extensions of her own body as she trained.

  Before the boys could call out to her, Rue delivered a sharp kick to a sturdy tree. The trunk split clean in half, only to regenerate itself moments later, as if nothing had happened. She turned slightly, revealing a look of determination and strength they hadn’t seen before—a reflection of her growth since Mel’s death.

  “Oh, hey guys,” Rue said, wiping the sweat from her brow as she leaned casually against a tree.

  “Princess Rue? You seem… different,” Lance remarked, his eyes drifting to her arms. “Are those… Merlin’s gauntlets? Isn’t it dangerous for you to wear them if you’re not Mel? He only used them to maintain control when wielding powerful weapons.”

  Rue chuckled softly and slid off the gauntlets, revealing intricate cybernetic wiring running through her arms. “Don’t worry,” she said, holding out her arm for them to see. “The tech integrates with my dragon scales. Watch this.”

  She focused, her hands glowing faintly before releasing a vibrant ball of green dragon flames at a nearby tree. The flames engulfed it, burning fiercely for a moment before the tree regenerated itself, good as new. Lance and Clyde exchanged wide-eyed glances.

  “W-what are you training so hard for?” Clyde asked hesitantly.

  “To save Elowen,” Rue replied simply, dropping to the ground to start doing burpees.

  Lance and Clyde looked at each other, uncertainty in their expressions. “Do you even know if she’s in trouble?” Lance asked, skeptical.

  Rue shrugged mid-burpee. “Mel died trying to save her. She was kidnapped, so she must be going through something awful. I want to get closer to her,” she said, her voice firm.

  As she stood up and wiped her forehead again, a flicker of emotion crossed her face, one she didn’t voice aloud: But I was jealous.

  Lance nodded slowly and pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “We’re planning a festival to honor Sensei,” he began. “I can cover the fees, but if we had a guest of honor like you, it’d make people even more eager to come. We’re also putting on a performance to show everyone Mel’s way of fighting—how he used it to protect people.”

  Rue took the paper and examined the sketches thoughtfully. “Guest of honor? Sure, why not?” she said with a small smile.

  Lance and Clyde started to relax, but her next words left their jaws hanging. “Except… I don’t want to represent the Auroria Dominion anymore,” Rue declared.

  “What?” the boys blurted out in unison, their shock palpable.

  “I don’t want to represent the Auroria Dominion anymore,” Rue said, her voice steady but laced with frustration. “I love my dad, but… ever since Uncle Thaddeus died, he’s been acting like an inexperienced king. It’s like he’s lost his way. And honestly, I sometimes wonder if he knew that the Jester was Uncle Thaddeus’s child. Maybe that guilt is weighing on him, making him question everything. Whatever it is, it’s making him a bad king.”

  She adjusted her collar, her eyes distant. “But for now, I’m an Atlantean. That’s where I belong.”

  Lance pocketed his notebook, looking at her with a furrowed brow. “So, you’re not the princess anymore?”

  Rue paused, her gaze hardening. “I don’t know. But until my father figures out how to lead, I’m not speaking to him. I can’t follow someone who can’t even stand on his own.” She crossed her arms, her stance firm.

  For a moment, Rue’s smile stayed bright and confident. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t come. I’ll help with the stands and make sure everything’s set up,” she reassured them.

  Lance and Clyde exhaled in relief, grinning. “You’re the best, princess!” they called out before jogging out of the forest, their spirits lifted.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Rue’s smile wavered, then broke entirely. She sank to her knees, her body trembling. “How did Mel do it?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “How did he just… smile when everything was falling apart?!”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed her hands to the ground. “Liam has Elowen trapped—or worse. Mel is dead. Dorian’s still a dictator. Father’s acting like a stranger. And there’s a killer out there!” Her voice rose with every thought, her grief spilling over.

  She wiped her tears with the hem of her shirt, her breath hitching. “How am I supposed to keep smiling through all of this? It’s too much. I can’t—I can’t save Elowen alone.”

  Her voice faltered into silence as she stared at the ground, tears slipping freely down her face.

  In Anita’s room, she lay curled up on her bed, facing the wall. Her thumb rested near her lips as quiet sniffles filled the space. Yasmine sat beside her, gently rubbing her back in soothing circles.

  “You haven’t eaten yet,” Yasmine said softly. “Come on, you need to take care of yourself.”

  Anita shrugged, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about Mel.” She wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks with the corner of her sleeve.

  Her voice cracked as she continued, “It’s just so strange. A man came here, stole a girl, and killed a boy. People tried to help, but it didn’t matter—it was useless. The only one who could really stand up to him… he’s gone now. And the girl? Kidnapped.”

  Her shoulders trembled as another sniffle escaped. Yasmine stayed silent, offering her presence as Anita let the pain spill out.

  In the grand throne room of the castle, King Percival Aldara sat solemnly on his throne, his gaze distant. Across from him, Benjamin, Chandler, Allynna, Victoria, and Aegis sat in tense anticipation, while Draven, Kai, and Jasper stood at the king’s back, their postures rigid with readiness.

  Victoria broke the uneasy silence, bowing respectfully before speaking. “Your Majesty, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. What’s on your mind?”

  Percival exhaled deeply, his thoughts drifting to his late brother, Thaddeus. What would Thaddeus do in my place?

  Finally, he spoke, his voice subdued but firm. “I think… I want to get Elowen back.”

  The room froze. Gasps rippled through the group as the weight of his words settled. Chandler’s face paled, his fists tightening. “Your Majesty, are you serious? Retrieving Elowen from King Liam is no small feat—it’s a suicide mission! We still don’t know if Goldman is under his control, and we all saw what happened the last time. Goldman nearly killed us when he took the boy’s life and abducted Elowen!”

  Chandler leaned forward, his voice rising with worry. “And Liam’s forces—his gate isn’t manned by just any knights. His army is overwhelming, stronger than we’ve ever faced. Camelot stands as one of the largest and most powerful kingdoms in Aurora for a reason! If we launch an assault, we won’t just risk failure—we’ll all face King Liam’s wrath!”

  The tension in the room grew thick, and all eyes turned back to Percival, waiting for his response. The king’s expression remained calm, but the fire behind his gaze hinted at an unshakable resolve.