Night pressed heavy against the stitched clearing.

  The final circle lay carved into the earth like something sewn into the world itself—thread-pattern runes interlocked with ancient elven sigils. Frost gathered along its seams.

  Lenora crouched low, gloved fingers brushing the carved lines.

  “It’s layered,” she muttered. “This isn’t a doorway. It’s a filter.”

  Lewd stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Mia leaned against her leg, trembling slightly.

  Sphinx crouched near the tree line, tail flicking slow.

  Ace stretched.

  Casual.

  Unbothered.

  Her dragon wings unfurled in a long, powerful arc as she rolled her shoulders. The massive hammer rested against her back.

  “We could brute-force it,” Ace said lightly.

  Lenora didn’t look up. “And trigger every defense spell tied to it?”

  Ace shrugged.

  Her tail flicked.

  When she stretched again, her maid skirt shifted—white fabric flashing briefly beneath. Lewd and Lenora both stiffened instinctively.

  Ace blinked.

  “We’re all female here,” she said flatly. “What does it matter?”

  She flexed her wings again without a care.

  “If anyone tried something, I’d break them.”

  She tapped her hammer.

  “Simple.”

  Lewd looked away, flustered but refusing to show it.

  Lenora cleared her throat and focused on the circle again.

  “Focus.”

  The air shifted.

  Subtle.

  Cold.

  Mia’s body went rigid.

  Sphinx’s ears flattened.

  The stitched circle pulsed—once.

  Then violently flared white.

  A ripple passed through the runes like something inside had detonated.

  The frost cracked.

  The earth groaned.

  Then everything went still.

  Dead still.

  Mia’s thoughts surged.

  Mia (thought): That was him.

  Sphinx’s pupils widened.

  Sphinx (thought): Yes.

  Lewd inhaled sharply.

  “You felt that too.”

  Lenora nodded slowly.

  “That wasn’t the circle activating.”

  Ace’s eyes narrowed.

  “That was something breaking inside.”

  The runes dimmed—not shut down.

  Stressed.

  Like thread pulled too tight.

  Lenora stood.

  “He’s fighting.”

  Mia let out a small whine she couldn’t stop.

  Sphinx stepped closer to her.

  For the first time since Derpy vanished, Lewd felt it too.

  Not magic.

  Not sight.

  Something deeper.

  A bond stretched thin.

  Lenora stayed near the circle, eyes scanning the carved seams like she could read the answer out of stone.

  Ace rolled her shoulders again.

  Lewd didn’t move.

  Her arms were still crossed, but her hands had gone tight—knuckles pale, nails biting skin.

  Ace glanced at her.

  “You’re about to do something stupid,” Ace said.

  Lewd’s eyes cut to her.

  “I’m about to do something necessary.”

  Lenora looked up.

  “What.”

  Lewd held Lenora’s gaze.

  “Teach me.”

  Lenora blinked once.

  Ace tilted her head.

  Lewd’s voice stayed steady, but it had edges.

  “I’m tired of being the one who can only stand there.”

  Mia pressed closer to her leg.

  Sphinx’s tail flicked, slow and uneasy.

  Lewd kept going.

  “I’m tired of watching him get taken. Watching him get hurt. Watching everyone else have something they can do.”

  Lenora’s expression tightened.

  “You can fight,” Lenora said carefully.

  Lewd’s jaw flexed.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Not like you.”

  A beat.

  “Not like her.”

  Ace’s wings shifted with a heavy rustle.

  “You want to spar,” Ace said.

  Lewd swallowed.

  “Yes.”

  Lenora stepped forward immediately.

  “Ace—”

  Ace didn’t look at her.

  “I’m not going to kill her.”

  Lenora’s voice went hard.

  “You don’t have to mean to.”

  Lewd’s eyes didn’t leave Ace.

  “I’m not asking for gentle,” she said. “I’m asking for real.”

  Ace stared at her like she was measuring bone and intent.

  Then she nodded once.

  “Fine.”

  Lenora exhaled through her nose.

  “If we do this,” Lenora said, “we do it away from the circle.”

  Ace pointed with her chin toward a patch of clearing where the frost was thinner.

  “Over there.”

  Lewd followed.

  Her steps were steady.

  Her hands were not.

  Ace planted her feet.

  “No hammer,” Lenora said.

  Ace lifted both hands, empty.

  “No wings,” Lenora added.

  Ace’s wings folded in with a controlled snap.

  “And no lightning,” Lenora finished.

  Lewd’s eyes narrowed.

  “You have lightning.”

  Ace’s stare didn’t soften.

  “Focus.”

  Lenora moved behind Lewd, adjusting her stance with two quick taps—one to her hip, one to her shoulder.

  “You’re leaning forward,” Lenora said. “You’re trying to win with anger.”

  Lewd’s throat worked.

  “I don’t have anything else.”

  Lenora’s voice lowered.

  “You do. You just don’t trust it.”

  Ace lifted her hands, open-palmed.

  “Show me what you do when you’re scared,” Ace said.

  Lewd’s eyes flashed.

  “I’m not scared.”

  Ace’s voice stayed flat.

  “Lie again and I stop.”

  Lewd froze.

  Mia’s ears pinned back.

  Sphinx went still.

  Lewd swallowed.

  “…Fine,” she said, like the word tasted bad. “I’m scared.”

  Ace nodded once.

  “Good. Now hit me.”

  Lewd lunged.

  Fast.

  Hard.

  Determined.

  Ace didn’t step back.

  She turned her shoulder, redirected Lewd’s wrist, and Lewd’s momentum carried her past—off balance.

  Lewd stumbled, caught herself, spun back.

  Ace was already there.

  Not striking.

  Just present.

  A wall.

  Lewd swung again.

  Ace caught her forearm.

  Twisted.

  Lewd hissed and dropped to one knee before she could stop it.

  Ace released immediately.

  Lenora’s voice snapped.

  “Reset.”

  Lewd pushed up fast, cheeks hot.

  “I’m fine.”

  Ace stared at her.

  “You’re not fine. You’re stubborn.”

  Lewd’s hands curled.

  “Again.”

  Ace nodded.

  “Again.”

  Lewd attacked harder.

  And failed harder.

  Ace kept stopping her with small movements—turns, redirects, pressure at the elbow, a foot placed in the exact wrong spot.

  Lewd hit the ground.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Each time she got up faster.

  Each time her breathing got rougher.

  Mia whined softly.

  Sphinx stayed locked on Lewd like he was memorizing her shape.

  Lenora stepped in.

  “Stop.”

  Lewd froze, chest heaving.

  “No.”

  Lenora’s gaze sharpened.

  “That’s an order.”

  Lewd looked like she might argue.

  Then she swallowed it down.

  Lenora moved closer, voice lower.

  “You’re not weak,” she said. “You’re untrained.”

  Lewd’s eyes flicked away.

  “That’s the same thing.”

  Lenora’s hand landed on Lewd’s shoulder—firm, grounding.

  “It isn’t.”

  Ace rolled her shoulders.

  “You’ve got one good thing,” Ace said.

  Lewd looked up.

  “What.”

  Ace’s eyes were blunt.

  “You get up.”

  Lewd’s throat tightened.

  Ace continued, like it cost her nothing.

  “Most people don’t.”

  Lewd stared at the ground for a second.

  Then she lifted her chin.

  “Teach me,” she said again. “Both of you.”

  Lenora exchanged a look with Ace.

  Not agreement.

  A decision.

  Lenora nodded once.

  “Fine,” she said. “But you do it my way.”

  Ace added, “And you do it my way too.”

  Lewd blinked.

  “That’s two ways.”

  Ace’s mouth twitched.

  “Yeah.”

  Lewd’s voice went quiet—dangerously honest.

  “I’m not letting him be the only one who bleeds for us.”

  The air around the circle trembled.

  Lenora’s eyes snapped back to the runes.

  Ace’s wings shifted.

  Mia pressed closer.

  And Lewd—still breathing hard—didn’t look away.

  Lenora didn’t let the moment sit.

  She didn’t let Lewd turn it into a vow and nothing else.

  She stepped in close, lowered her voice, and pointed at Lewd’s feet.

  “Every morning,” Lenora said, “before you talk. Before you argue. Before you decide you’re fine.”

  Lewd’s chest still rose too fast.

  “Every morning,” Lenora repeated, “you do this until your body stops lying to you.”

  Ace folded her arms, watching.

  Lewd swallowed.

  “Okay.”

  Lenora set Lewd’s stance again—patient this time.

  “Feet shoulder-width. Not wider,” she said. “You’re not a wall. You’re a blade.”

  Lewd adjusted.

  Lenora tapped her ribs.

  “Breathe low. If you breathe high, you panic high.”

  Lewd forced the air down.

  Lenora lifted two fingers.

  “Three counts in.”

  Lewd inhaled.

  “Hold one.”

  Lewd held.

  “Two counts out.”

  Lewd exhaled.

  Ace’s voice cut in, blunt.

  “Don’t hiss it out like you’re mad at the air.”

  Lewd’s eyes narrowed.

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Again,” Lenora ordered.

  Lewd did it again.

  And again.

  Lenora nodded once.

  “Now,” she said, “one clean strike.”

  Lewd’s brows pulled together.

  “With what.”

  Lenora’s gaze flicked to Lewd’s hands.

  “Your palm.”

  Lewd hesitated.

  Lenora held up her own hand—open, steady.

  “Not hard,” Lenora said. “Accurate.”

  Lewd lifted her palm.

  Lenora’s eyes stayed on Lewd’s shoulders.

  “Don’t wind up,” Lenora warned. “No story. No anger. Just line.”

  Lewd struck.

  It was messy.

  It was loud.

  It was too much.

  Lenora caught her wrist.

  “Reset.”

  Lewd’s jaw clenched.

  Lenora didn’t let go.

  “Again. Clean.”

  Lewd tried again.

  Smaller.

  Straighter.

  Lenora nodded.

  “Good.”

  Lewd blinked.

  “That was good?”

  “It was honest,” Lenora said. “That’s where we start.”

  Ace shifted her weight.

  “And when you think you’re done,” Ace added, “you do it ten more times.”

  Lewd’s eyes flicked to her.

  “Why.”

  Ace’s stare stayed flat.

  “Because you don’t get to quit when it hurts. That’s the whole point.”

  Lewd swallowed.

  Lenora stepped back, finally releasing her wrist.

  “Fifty breaths,” Lenora said. “Fifty strikes.”

  Lewd’s face tightened.

  “Every morning?”

  “Every morning,” Lenora confirmed.

  Lewd nodded once.

  Hard.

  Like she was locking a door.

  Back at Vemi’s inn, the air was warmer.

  But not safer.

  Riven stood near the hearth, hands at her sides.

  Still.

  Then—

  Her seams tightened.

  Her golden eyes flared.

  She inhaled sharply.

  Seraphine looked up immediately.

  “What.”

  Riven didn’t move.

  Her voice came out low.

  “He broke.”

  The fire dimmed slightly.

  Vespera’s single ring flickered.

  Vambasta shuddered in her human form, cuffs cold against her wrists.

  Seraphine’s fan stopped mid-flick.

  “Dead?”

  Riven shook her head once.

  “No.”

  A pause.

  “He let something out.”

  Seraphine’s gaze sharpened.

  She didn’t know Sinister Derpy.

  But she knew escalation when she felt it.

  “The thread moved,” Riven added quietly.

  That made Seraphine’s eyes narrow.

  “Explain.”

  Riven touched her chest lightly.

  “The stitched ones,” she said. “They reacted.”

  Silence fell over the inn.

  Vespera’s hand tightened around her remaining ring.

  “Then the king pushed him,” she whispered.

  Seraphine’s fan snapped closed.

  “And he pushed back.”

  Dawn came pale and unforgiving.

  Inside the castle chambers, Derpy stirred.

  His hoodie lay folded nearby—repaired. Cleaned.

  Two holes cut for wings.

  One for his tail.

  He reached for it instinctively.

  He didn’t put it on yet.

  He just held it.

  Mk.1 bounded close immediately.

  “Friend awake.”

  Her voice carried something almost relieved.

  Mk.2 stepped forward more carefully.

  Her newly repaired arm flexed once.

  “How feeling,” she asked.

  “A little exhausted,” Derpy admitted.

  Mk.3 stood farther back, studying him.

  “Most of your magic is depleted,” she said evenly.

  She held out a vial.

  “The queen wants you to drink this.”

  Derpy hesitated.

  Mk.1’s head tilted.

  Mk.2 watched him.

  Not as guards.

  As something else.

  Concern.

  Derpy took the vial and drank.

  It burned down his throat.

  Not painful.

  Just strong.

  Vaeloria entered moments later, emerald robes whispering against the stone.

  “I had your clothing repaired properly,” she said calmly. “You will not look neglected under my roof.”

  Her gaze lingered on the dolls.

  Then on him.

  Derpy nodded slowly.

  “Thank you.”

  He meant it.

  She studied him a moment longer.

  Then left.

  Elsewhere.

  Thornevald stood before two pedestals.

  Upon them—two grimoires.

  Not true calamity books.

  Imitations.

  One crackled with volatile lightning.

  The other pulsed with shifting stone sigils.

  Human script stitched into elven binding.

  Unstable.

  Lirael and Sylara stood before him.

  Eyes bright.

  Hungry.

  “You will test them,” Thornevald said evenly.

  “Against him.”

  Lirael touched the lightning book.

  It sparked violently.

  Sylara opened the earthbound tome.

  The ground beneath her feet trembled slightly.

  “Morning,” the king said.

  “Make it controlled.”

  The word held meaning.

  If Derpy snapped again—

  The empire would know exactly what they had.

  Back at the stitched circle—

  The air had gone wrong.

  Lenora stepped back slowly.

  “It’s thinner now.”

  Ace rested her hammer against her shoulder again.

  “We wait?”

  Lewd shook her head.

  “No.”

  Her voice was firm.

  “We don’t leave.”

  Mia pressed her forehead against Lewd’s knee.

  Sphinx sat close beside her.

  They couldn’t see him.

  Couldn’t reach him.

  But they felt it.

  That surge.

  That rage.

  That cold.

  And underneath it—

  Fear.

  Mia’s thoughts drifted quietly toward Sphinx.

  Mia (thought): He’s scared.

  Sphinx lowered his head slightly.

  Sphinx (thought): Yes.

  Lenora looked up at the sky.

  “We move at first light.”

  Ace flexed her wings again, eyes scanning the tree line.

  “If the circle tears again,” she said calmly, “I’ll break it.”

  Lewd didn’t look away from the stitched runes.

  “Don’t miss.”

  The thread between them trembled.

  Inside the World Tree, Derpy was no longer just a captive.

  He was becoming a variable.

  And the dolls were beginning to bend.