In the grand hall of Camelot, King Liam sat upon his imposing throne, the golden accents of his regal armor catching the light. A flier was clutched between his fingers, the bold lettering announcing a festival in honor of Melanthius. He raised an eyebrow as he read it aloud. “A festival? For Melanthius?” His voice carried an edge of intrigue, though it remained calm. He looked down at the three knights kneeling before him. “Why bring this to me? If you want to attend, I don’t mind. But why involve me?” There was a measured patience in his tone, a disarming contrast to his reputation.

  The three knights, known as the Red Coyotes of Camelot, stayed bowed. Richard Saville, clad in his red and gold armor, finally mustered the courage to speak. “We just… wanted to see what it’s about,” he said hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper as he avoided Liam’s piercing golden eyes.

  Bruno Cunningham nodded quickly, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “Please, sir,” he pleaded, his words shaky.

  Liam’s golden gaze turned to Evelina, who knelt silently beside the other two. Without warning, a sharp wave of pain tore through her body as Liam flicked a finger in her direction. Her eyes widened, and she let out a cry of agony, clutching her sides.

  “Not you, Evelina,” Liam said casually, his voice devoid of empathy. “I need you to stay.” His tone was calm, almost dismissive, even as he continued the invisible assault on her body. “Surely you’re familiar with my magical power—Bone Squeeze.” He flicked his finger again, and Evelina screamed, her entire body trembling as the sensation of bones breaking coursed through her.

  Richard and Bruno glanced at each other, their faces pale, frozen in terror. Neither dared to move, let alone intervene. Richard swallowed hard, his throat dry, while Bruno looked as if he might faint. They could only watch, helpless, as their fellow knight writhed in agony.

  “M-my bones! They feel like they’re breaking! Please, stop!” Evelina begged, her voice strained, tears streaming down her face.

  Liam leaned back in his throne, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course,” he said, flicking his finger one last time. The pain vanished as abruptly as it had begun. “I was merely testing it. Don’t worry.”

  Evelina collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. Her body trembled as she looked up at Liam, her face still etched with pain. “G-good sir,” she stammered, her voice wavering. “Your magical power is… truly the best.” There was a bizarre mixture of reverence and masochism in her tone, her words laced with genuine fear and awe.

  Liam leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist, a predatory gleam in his golden eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

  In Solstice City, Clyde and Lance were busy putting the final touches on the festival setup. Renita stood nearby, holding a checkerboard, her skeptical gaze scanning the scene.

  “Why are you two freshmen trying to pull off a festival all by yourselves again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she inspected their work. After a pause, she tapped a pillar holding up a stand. “Well, it’s up to code, at least.”

  Rue strolled over, casually flexing her fingers in the black gauntlets she still wore. With a laid-back grin, she placed her hands behind her head. “Bottom line? It’s looking good.” She gave them a thumbs-up.

  Arid approached the group next, his usual confidence on full display. “I think I want to perform. Mind if I join in? It is your festival, after all,” he said, looking at Clyde and Lance.

  “Of course!” Lance replied with a nod. He gestured toward Arid’s midsection. “You sure you’re good to go with that stab wound, though?”

  Arid laughed and lifted his shirt, revealing a scar etched into his abs. “Oh, that? It healed a while ago. I just got it tattooed because, well… it’s badass.”

  Renita groaned, rolling her eyes as if the sight of his abs offended her. “You nearly die, and your big takeaway is to get a tattoo? Seriously?” She leaned in a little closer, skepticism lacing her voice. “Are you sure it’s healed?”

  “Yep,” Arid assured her with a smirk. “Fully healed and ready for action.”

  The festival grounds were alive with vibrant energy, a tapestry of colorful banners swaying in the breeze. Lanterns in hues of gold, purple, and teal hung between wooden stalls, each brimming with handmade crafts, exotic foods, and games. The air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet honey cakes, mingling with the laughter of children running beneath strings of twinkling lights. Musicians played lively tunes near a small stage, and the faint hum of a mechanical carousel filled the background.

  Anita approached the group, brushing cobwebs from her hair—likely a leftover prank from Mel. Her presence drew their attention instantly.

  “Hey,” she greeted softly, her voice tentative yet warm.

  The group’s eyes widened in surprise. Rue stepped forward first, her expression softening as she pulled Anita into a hug. “Been a while, Anita,” Rue said gently.

  “Yeah,” Anita replied, hugging her back tightly. “I was just… grieving,” she admitted, her voice heavy with emotion.

  The group fell silent, their expressions somber. Renita nodded, glancing down at the ground. “I understand. It’s been hard for all of us,” she said, her tone filled with empathy.

  Anita offered a faint smile, as if grateful for the shared understanding. “I wanted to come for the festival,” she said, her eyes lifting to take in the bustling scene. “Can’t stay inside all day, you know?”

  Her gaze swept across the vibrant decorations, the cheerful crowd, and the lively music. “It looks… cool,” she added, her smile widening as some of the festival’s lightness seemed to seep into her mood.

  “Yeah, we’re glad you came,” Lance said, his voice warm. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

  The group exchanged glances, their shared grief momentarily replaced by a sense of unity. Among the festival’s chaos and color, it felt like the healing process had finally begun.

  “Alright! Let’s get the Shadowbane Festival started!” Clyde shouted, throwing his arms into the air with unbridled enthusiasm. The rest of the group cheered, their voices ringing out in unison.

  Moments later, they all sat slumped in chairs, the festival grounds eerily quiet. The once-hopeful energy had deflated like a popped balloon.

  “Nobody came,” Clyde muttered, his voice heavy with disappointment as he lazily kicked a can across the ground. It rattled to a stop near a lone tumbleweed that inexplicably rolled by.

  Renita crossed her arms, eyeing the empty stalls and untouched decorations. “Maybe advertising would’ve helped?” she suggested dryly.

  Rue leaned back in her chair. “Or not calling it Shadowbane. Sounds like a goth poetry slam.”

  Jake strolled into the festival grounds, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “Heard you needed some people for the festival?” he said with a grin, stepping aside to reveal the hundred members of the Steel Pact assembled behind him. Their presence was anything but subtle—an army of grinning, restless faces, eager for a good time.

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  “This should be enough, right?” Jake added with a nervous chuckle as the Steel Pact erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable and almost chaotic, like they’d been cooped up for far too long and were ready to let loose.

  Lance shot to his feet, his earlier gloom replaced with a wide, triumphant smile. “Now this is a crowd!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. He took a deep breath and shouted, “Alright! Let the Shadowbane Festival begin!”

  The Steel Pact roared in agreement, their energy breathing life into the once-empty festival grounds. The music cranked up, laughter echoed, and for the first time, the festival felt alive.

  A few moments later, the Red Coyotes, Richard and Bruno, lounged in chairs far from the center of the festival. The muffled sounds of drunken singing and laughter filled the air, but neither seemed particularly entertained.

  “This sucks,” Richard muttered, sipping from his drink. “Just a bunch of drunk adults making fools of themselves.”

  Bruno sighed dramatically and leaned back, tossing his arms over the chair. “Evelina got her bones squeezed for nothing.” He groaned and let his head hang back. “Knowing Melanthius—or, you know, not knowing him—I thought there’d be, like, a fight club or something.”

  Richard snorted, shaking his head. “Quit whining. At least it’s better than King Liam doing his creepy bone thing on us again.” He shuddered, groaning at the memory.

  Bruno cringed. “Yeah, fair point. Never again.” His eyes drifted toward the crowd, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Still, there’s some very nice-looking women here.” His gaze locked on Yasmine, who was sipping beer and swaying lightly to the music.

  Richard raised a brow. “You’re just gonna gawk at her. You won’t actually do anything.”

  Bruno downed the rest of his drink and tossed the cup to the ground with a dramatic flourish. “Oh, yeah? Watch this.” He stood up, brushed himself off, and strode toward the center of the festival.

  Yasmine danced lazily, the flickering lanterns reflecting in her drink. She muttered to herself with a faint smile, “Never been to a party since my priestess days.” Her eyes flicked up as she noticed Bruno approaching, and she raised an amused brow. “Hm?”

  Bruno cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious but pushing through. “Hey, I’m Bruno. And you are?”

  Yasmine chuckled, sipping her beer. “Yasmine. Nice to meet you.”

  Bruno turned and shot Richard a cocky grin, puffing his chest out. Richard groaned, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck.

  Bruno turned back to Yasmine. “So… wanna dance?”

  Yasmine smirked and rolled her eyes slowly, as though sizing him up. “Sure. But close your eyes first.”

  Bruno grinned triumphantly and shut his eyes, holding out his hands. “Alright, I’m ready,” he said confidently.

  The next thing he felt was two large, rough hands gripping his own. A deep voice rumbled, “I’m ready too.”

  Bruno’s eyes snapped open to see Mark, Yasmine’s towering husband, grinning at him with a playful wink. “If you wanna dance with my wife, you gotta dance with me first!” Mark teased, puckering his lips in mock flirtation.

  Bruno’s face twisted in horror as the laughter of the crowd erupted around him. “Nope, nope, nope!” he yelled, stumbling back and bolting away, his retreat met with roaring laughter.

  Richard doubled over, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “Called it!” he shouted after Bruno.

  Perched on a massive hill overlooking Solstice City, Titian gazed down at the lively festival below. One hand rested casually in his pocket while the other swirled a glass of wine. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, even from a hundred feet away.

  “There’s Ethan’s brother,” he muttered, spotting Jake sitting near the festival’s center. Titian tilted his head, studying him. “Doesn’t look anything like him. Jake’s kinda… fat,” he added bluntly, sipping his wine again.

  His gaze shifted, catching sight of Bruno and Richard lounging nearby. His brow furrowed. “Wait a second. Camelot Knights? What are they doing here?” He smirked, noticing how no one seemed to pay them any attention. “Doesn’t look like anybody recognizes them.”

  Reaching down, Titian picked up a handful of pebbles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about we start a little chaos?” he said darkly, flicking one pebble with incredible precision.

  The first pebble struck Richard square in the mouth.

  “Ow!” Richard yelped, clutching his lip as blood trickled down.

  The second pebble hit Bruno on the side of his neck.

  “What the hell?!” Bruno shouted, rubbing the sore spot and glaring at Yasmine, who was seated nearby.

  Titian wasn’t done yet. He flicked a few more pebbles, aiming at Yasmine’s feet, causing her to jerk back in surprise.

  “Hey!” Bruno barked, pointing at her. “I had no idea you were married, but you didn’t have to be an asshole about it!”

  Yasmine blinked, bewildered. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

  Bruno scoffed, still rubbing his neck. “Yeah, sure, and you didn’t almost make me dance with your husband earlier, huh?”

  Richard pressed a napkin to his bloodied lip, groaning. “Seriously, is this some kind of revenge for that? ’Cause it’s working.”

  Yasmine frowned, looking between the two, clearly confused. “I’m telling you, it wasn’t me!”

  Meanwhile, Titian leaned back against a tree, smirking as he watched the chaos unfold. “This is too easy,” he murmured, tossing another pebble into the air and catching it lazily.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Mark approached the group, his brow furrowed with concern.

  Yasmine threw her hands up, exasperated. “These two weirdos are accusing me of hitting them or something.” She crossed her arms tightly, glaring at Bruno and Richard.

  Richard wiped blood from his lip and pointed a shaking finger at her. “We were hit by pebbles, and you’re the only one near where they came from!”

  “I said it wasn’t me!” Yasmine snapped, her voice rising.

  Mark placed himself between Yasmine and the two men, gently holding her back. “Let’s calm down, okay?” he urged.

  Bruno’s hands balled into fists, his temper rising. “She’s lying!”

  Before Bruno could escalate further, Richard tugged at his sleeve, forcing him back down into his seat. “It’s fine. Just… let it go. Be careful next time,” Richard said, handing Bruno another napkin for his bloody lip.

  Bruno hesitated, then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. Whatever.” He took the napkin and dabbed at his face, shooting Yasmine a wary glance.

  Yasmine groaned, muttering, “Unbelievable,” before storming off, leaving Mark to shake his head at the situation.

  On the hill overlooking it all, Titian leaned back with a smug grin, watching the tension unfold. “I’m such a troublemaker,” he chuckled to himself. “But now… I need to figure out how to get closer to Jake.” He yawned and stretched out on the grass. “A quick nap first,” he muttered, closing his eyes and drifting off, snoring softly.

  Meanwhile, within the pages of Mel’s Book, Mel lay motionless on the cold, barren ground, staring up as Merlin’s spectral figure strode toward him.

  “Why are you so small?” Merlin asked, his voice cold and detached. Without warning, he kicked the lifeless Mel into a pile of weapons.

  Mel stared at the figure in awe, despite the brutality. It felt like meeting his father for the first time, except this wasn’t his father—it was just a spell. “I must’ve triggered the spell when I touched the mural,” Mel muttered to himself.

  Merlin launched into the air with a backflip, twisting mid-spin before slamming his feet into Mel’s chest. Though Mel couldn’t feel pain in his undead state, the force left him stunned.

  “We should’ve let you rot,” Merlin hissed, his tone venomous. “We would’ve been happy.” He struck again, his fist crashing into Mel’s face and sending him hurtling into a wall.

  Dazed, Mel’s pale eyes locked onto a parchment nearby. He weakly muttered the spell written there. “Reverso.”

  In an instant, Merlin dissolved into a swirling cloud of smoke, retreating back into the mural. The chamber fell silent again.

  Mel collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. “I shouldn’t have touched that,” he whispered, staring at the mural with hollow eyes.

  A sob escaped his lips as he curled up on the cold stone floor, resting his head on his knees. “Why did you have so many secrets?” His voice broke as he continued. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  Tears streaked his pale face as he gripped the edges of the parchment with trembling hands. “I’m dead because you decided to fight the Renaissance Kings. I’m dead because you were an overlord… and I’m a Shadowbane.”

  For a moment, despair consumed him, his shoulders shaking with grief. But then, resolve began to harden in his eyes.

  “No.” He stood, his weak frame trembling but his gaze fierce. “This is the perfect chance to finally see what you were hiding.”

  He turned back to the mural, his pale, lifeless skin bathed in its eerie glow. His voice was a low snarl as he stared at the image of his father. “I’m going to dig into your thoughts, you sick bastard.”

  With fury blazing in his hollow eyes, Mel stepped forward, ready to uncover the truths buried within the pages of the book.