Vivian

The river narrowed as they moved upriver, out of the walls of stone that stretched up on either side of the riverbanks. For what felt like forever, straight, almost sheer mountainsides cradled the river. They rode in silence, awed, as the watercraft glided with no oars and no push of poles—only the soft hum of glyph arrays beneath their feet. Vivian felt it through the soles of her boots, the quiet thrum of mana bent to obedience.

When the cliffs finally retreated, a forest manifested around them—almost as impressive and intimidating as the walled river they had just exited.

The forest was bursting with magic. It was neither temperate nor tropical, but some impossible marriage of both. Tiered ridges bristled with pines, their trunks clean and straight as spears, but threaded between them were broad-leafed giants with crowns so vast they shadowed entire valleys. Their bark shimmered with faint threads of silver-green, like veins of living ore.

Some of them were taller than anything Vivian had ever seen—three hundred feet if they were an inch, wide enough at the base that an entire cottage could fit inside their hollows.

It wasn’t natural. Couldn’t be.

But it was beautiful.

Magic hung in the air like dew. She could taste it on the back of her tongue—sharp, sweet, strange. At one point, a pale shimmer darted through the underbrush ahead of their raft. For a moment Vivian thought it a trick of the light until the creature paused—delicate as porcelain, fur like moonlit snow, nine tails drifting like banners in a wind she couldn’t feel. Its eyes were knowing, bright with intelligence, and it lingered long enough for them all to see before fading back into the trees.

A spirit fox.

The Zhou sisters whispered in awe. Anmei only grinned like it was all a show staged for her amusement.

Vivian stayed quiet, but something in her chest tightened. She had seen many wonders, but this place… this was different.

Eventually, the Princess called for them to stop at a bend in the river that seemed to go on forever. It was a natural inlet that revealed a walking path among the trees. They disembarked with a bit of chaos, and by the time they left the river and began the hike, the terrain had risen into a plateau. Roots thicker than pillars rose across the slopes, knotted into staircases and natural bridges. The deeper they went, the more the world blurred between built and grown.

And then they saw it.

What had once been a fortress—she could still see fragments of cut stone, the hint of battlements, the ghost of a wall line—had been consumed by the trees. No, not consumed. Integrated.

Arches of root bent into gates. Towers rose from trunks that had swallowed whole keeps. A causeway, half masonry, half living bark, stretched ahead like something out of an old painting.

At first glance, she would have suspected ruin or overgrowth—the simple wear and tear that comes from time and neglect.

But what they actually saw was something that had integrated civilization and growth in a way that could only be described as harmony.

It was quite jarring, actually.

It caused everyone to take a second look, stop, and appreciate the seemingly natural integration. Even Sophie paused, her golden eyes narrowing as if trying to measure the scale of it. Elizabeth muttered something sharp under her breath. Marissa flicked her fan open and closed as if trying to pretend she wasn’t impressed.

Vivian only stood there, blade strapped to her back, watching the way light filtered through branches so vast they blotted out the sun.

Before they could do more than gawk, the doors of the massive fortress—because that was what it was, a fortress—opened.

The doors didn’t creak or groan. Just a sigh of air, like the forest itself breathing.

And she appeared.

The woman walked barefoot over living wood, white gown flowing about her like mist. Her hair was pale as bone, falling to her waist, and her eyes—gods, her eyes—were so blue they seemed almost too much. Depthless. The sort of blue you could drown in.

Every step she took was silent, but not because of magic—because the forest bent for her.

When she stopped before them, her voice was soft and clear.

“Welcome, noble friends. Thank you for coming. You are expected and welcome.”

The group stilled. Vivian felt Sophie’s gaze flick toward her, sharp as a blade.

“Expected by who?” Sophie asked first, her tone wary. “No one should know that we were coming.”

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The woman’s eyes were blue and warm and inviting. “Oh, dear children, the goddess knows—and she sees.”

She watched them quietly and the silence that followed was heavier than any blade. Vivian’s pulse tightened. This wasn’t a greeting but something deeper. She just didn’t know why.

“I am Serenya,” she said with a bow. “Please let your retainers set up camp. There are words that need to be spoken—and should only be heard by those who need to hear them.”

She gave the group a smile that was neither coy nor solemn but something in between, as though the sound of it was meant to pull them forward rather than satisfy curiosity. She didn’t explain who she was, or why she had been waiting for them—only that she had been waiting.

“You make it sound like you were waiting specifically for us. But that doesn’t make any sense,” Sophie said, her golden eyes narrowing.

Serenya’s pale hair shifted like silk in a wind that wasn’t there. “The Princess who looks at the logic of the world but fails to see the patterns or the threads that hold it together. You are looking for logic among the Fates, but the Fates rarely make sense.”

Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “Could you be any more cryptic? That’s not an answer.”

Serenya gave her a warm smile. “No, it’s not. Mantles and remits have specific parameters and obligations. Please follow me.”

“So you’re not going to explain the how—can you explain the why?” Elizabeth’s voice was clipped but not unkind. “Why were you waiting for us?”

The woman’s blue eyes softened, though the effect was no less uncanny. “Because the goddess wills it, and we all have a part to play. That is reason enough.”

Marissa snapped her fan open, her tone light but cutting. “That’s also not an answer.”

Serenya’s lips curved higher, almost amused. “It’s the only answer you need.”

Vivian glared. She could already tell this woman was going to bug the crap out of her.

Serenya looked directly at Vivian, and Vivian watched her eyes and face soften.

That smile unsettled Vivian more than any scowl would have. She had stood before generals, before her own mother in fury, before enemies who had sworn to kill her—but Serenya smiled as though all of this—all of them—had already been measured, had already been found wanting.

The Zhou guards shifted behind them, armor whispering. One of the captains finally broke. “This is madness,” he barked. “These women are nobles, not initiates! The Princess and the Young Master’s wife, sisters, and concubine! You cannot just drag them into—”

Serenya turned her gaze upon him. That wasn't harsh or commanding, but held a certain command to them. The words died in his throat.

“This is not about rank,” she said, and now her voice had the weight of ringing glass. “Steel will not decide what comes—but will, fate, and choice.”

The retainers fell back, unsure. Vivian gave them a nod.

The women followed Serenya through the outer doors into a chamber far larger than the fortress exterior had suggested.

The same strange aesthetic was everywhere—the marriage of stone and living bark woven together in seamless harmony. The walls radiated power, but not the kind Vivian recognized. There was traces of a mana, sure. But somethi else was there as well; something deeper. Something older. Was it Divine? Was it Chaos? She wasn’t sure, but the weight of it pressed against her skin like humidity before a storm. It was alive, and it was almost intimidating.

Pale blue flames floated through the vaulted air, dozens of them, bobbing lazily like lanterns. At first Vivian thought them fire, until one drifted close and she realized they were not flames at all but living fae—tiny little things that were so delicate and perfect that they scatter light and hope about equally. The little fairies spoke in voices carried not by breath but by the echo of the wind itself, the intricate voices sung across the spirit-tide. The sound was eerie, uncanny, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

Serenya walked without hurry, bare feet whispering across the polished wood-and-stone floor. Ahead, twin staircases swept upward in elegant arcs, framing a great oak door banded in iron and root. It swung open as they approached; opening with a sigh, as though the entire fortress held its breath waiting for them the arrive.

Anmei whistled, low and impressed. “I’m really glad I followed you guys. My sisters are going to be so jealous when I tell them about this.”

The others gave her a look.

She only shrugged, grinning. “What? They are. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s going to be awesome. I can already tell. The only thing it’s missing is an epic love story.”

To their surprise, Serenya actually laughed. The sound was light, playful, completely at odds with her deposition and the cathedral-like chamber.

The corridor beyond stretched impossibly long, lined with branches braided into ribs overhead, as if they walked through the belly of some great living cathedral. It should have been cold, but instead the air was warm, fragrant with cedar and something faintly sweet.

At last the passage opened into a vast hall that could only be described as a reception room, though it was unlike any Vivian had ever seen. It wasn’t built for formal audiences but for comfort. Plush seating—leather couches and broad chairs—circled a massive hearth. The fireplace itself was a seamless fusion of stone and bark, alive and unmoving all at once. Flames licked from within, warm but not consuming, radiating not only heat but something more—a tide of energy that banished fatigue, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

Without prompting, each of the women sat.

Serenya clapped her hands three times, light as a child summoning play. “Refreshments, please.” At once, attendants—forms of wisps and shadows—appeared, carrying trays of fruit and steaming tea into the circle, placing them at their elbows before vanishing again into the living walls.

She sank into one of the armchairs by the fire, her gown pooling like spilled moonlight. When she spoke, her gaze fixed on Sophie, and the firelight danced in her impossibly blue eyes.

“All right, Daughter of the Empire. What is it that you seek?”

Sophie’s golden eyes narrowed. Vivian could almost see her mind working, weighing what to reveal, what to conceal. She said nothing for a long while.

Finally, Sophie answered with another question. “Why do I have the feeling you already know exactly why we’re here?”

Serenya’s smile deepened. “Because your Insight allows you to discern what is needed, what is wanted, and what must be seen—all within the confines of Fate and Remit. You already know that I know what you seek. But you also know you must speak it aloud.”

Silence settled, heavy but expectant. The others glanced at one another.

Then, in a voice softer than Vivian had ever heard from her, Sophie said:

“I seek a way to save the world from a danger I don’t yet understand. I seek to help a man I know is the key to that saving. I seek divine Moonsteel… though I don’t even know for what purpose.”

The fire crackled, and Serenya’s eyes softened further.

“Then you seek faith. You seek the goddess who lingers here—at least her echo. You seek to reconcile what once was and what will repeat itself if not stopped. You seek…” her lips curved into a smile almost tender, “…to aid the champions.”