Scarlett and the others did not head straight for the Kilnstones after leaving the ruins of Fynn’s village behind. Instead, they turned back to Dimfrost instead — back to his siblings.

They were waiting when the door opened, as if they had sensed his return. The youngest ones, Kelnorin and Inayra, threw themselves at Fynn, talking over one another and demanding every detail of what he had done. Scarlett couldn’t tell how much of it was childish excitement and how much was them feeling a change in him, but Fynn handled it the same either way. He let them climb all over him without complaint, steady like a statue, only scolding them when they strayed too close to bothering Scarlett or the others.

They stayed in Dimfrost for more than half a day. It gave Fynn the time he needed to recount the events at his own pace, and it gave the rest of them a chance to rest after the descent and the lingering strain the third trial had left.

Scarlett hadn’t been sure what version of events Fynn would share with his siblings, but knowing him, she’d expected it to be a blunt, pared-down version of the truth. Something close to what had happened, stripped entirely of ornament. To her surprise, though, he seemed to weigh his words with unexpected care and told it more like an actual story. He was also clearly trying to be extra careful when broaching the topic of their tribe’s death.

Of course, that made sense. They were all children without parents. Their youngest would only have just been born when Olgolzkreh’s Will rampaged. Scarlett simply wouldn’t have guessed it of him.

Was that growth? Had he learned to be more mindful of those aspects of people’s emotions? Or had he always been like this with his siblings? He spent most of his time away from them, so Scarlett had never really seen him properly in this role.

Still, it had always been clear that he cared for them deeply, even if he rarely said or showed it. He was very reliable when it came to being an elder sibling.

Probably more reliable than Scarlett had ever been.

She recalled having had a similar conversation with him once, back after they completed the first trial. At the time, she had shared details about her relationship with Skyler that she hadn’t confided to anyone else until she later revealed the truth of her past to Rosa.

Back then, she’d been surprised when Fynn claimed he had never felt even a flicker of resentment or frustration towards his siblings for forcing him to spend so much of his life for them. She had, and she had been slightly ashamed to admit it. Looking back, though, she knew she had done what she could as the elder sister — both as Amy Bernal and as Scarlett Hartford. She was far from being as perfect a role model as Fynn, but she had worked to protect her sister where circumstances allowed.

And she would keep doing so.

For Skyler.

And…

Well. Probably for Evelyne too.

Of the two, though, Skyler was the one in much more immediate danger. Scarlett had managed not to dwell on it after sending her off on a quest in the Unresting Steppes. Now, though, with the trial done and her mind no longer occupied, she realised she was more worried than she had expected.

Maybe ‘worried’ wasn’t the right word. It was more like she was…anxious. Restless. Irritated at having to entrust her sister’s safety to other people.

There was a part of her—the more controlling, Scarlett part—that hated that.

Then again, hadn’t she felt something similar when Skyler first moved out?

It was funny that, while their relationship had been somewhat strained then, it hadn’t been anywhere near the level of suspicion and guarded distance Skyler had towards her now.

She found that she didn’t necessarily mind that suspicion as much as she probably should.

That was also funny.

Once their time in Dimfrost was finished, evening settling over the village, they prepared to depart. They’d had their rest, and Franka—who looked after Fynn’s siblings—had insisted on feeding them a proper meal.

Before they left, Scarlett pulled Fynn aside to talk about his siblings. Specifically, whether he still wanted them to stay in Dimfrost. They had talked before about arranging for them to stay in Freybrook, but Fynn had turned it down. He had thought they would be happier here, close to the mountains and what was left of their ancestral home. Now, though, with more and more risk bleeding into the empire’s lands, keeping them here might not be the smartest call. They weren’t the only ones thinking it, either. Other residents in the village had already packed up and gone looking for somewhere safer before this place was attacked, as many other settlements had been.

Fynn didn’t brush it off. He actually thought about it, then finally nodded. He didn’t agree immediately, but he said he would talk with his siblings and let them have a say too. Scarlett and the others weren’t heading back to Freybrook for a few days anyway, so if his siblings decided to come, they could swing by Dimfrost and pick them up on the way.

With that settled, their group said their goodbyes and headed back into the mountains, making their way towards the Kilnstone hidden in the range.

A tremor rolled out as a distant explosion thudded somewhere deeper in the tunnels.

“What does that make? Twelve?” Rosa’s voice carried an amused lilt across the cavern, illuminated by a slow-running stream that cut through its centre, its depths crowded with countless bioluminescent mushrooms glowing in pale blues and greens like scattered stars.

“I think thirteen,” Kat replied. “Pretty sure they stopped caring after the fifth.”

Rosa clicked her tongue just a touch too dramatically, like she was a character from a soap opera. “Men.”

“Not sure their gender is the problem here.”

“No, but it’s the simplest explanation. And there are only three men in our group, versus six of us. As the overwhelming majority, it’s our prerogative to single them out as the problem. It’s only right.”

Scarlett glanced over at Rosa. The woman was lounging against a rock, idly tuning her klert while tiny glowing flowers glittered in her hair.

“I’d be worried if I thought you were serious,” Kat said, crouched by a small fire and stirring a pot of thin broth.

“I don’t know,” Allyssa called from a little further down the cavern. She had her back to them, carefully slicing the caps off a cluster of magenta mushrooms growing from a crevice in the rock wall. “I wouldn’t mind if certain men learned when to keep their tongues in check.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Shin looked up from the book in his hands and gave her a flat look. “Yes. Famously, it’s the men in this group who don’t know when to be quiet.”

“See?” Allyssa shot back over her shoulder. “They just don’t know what’s good for them.”

Kat chuckled, shooting Shin a sympathetic smile. “If you say so, Allyssa.”

Another explosion boomed. The ground shuddered.

“So that’s fourteen?” Rosa raised her hand, counting on her fingers.

“Fourteen,” Kat confirmed.

Rosa sighed. “Men. This is why you don’t put them in charge.”

Kat merely shook her head with a small laugh and returned her attention to the simmering pot.

Scarlett kept her eyes on Rosa for a few moments longer, weighing whether there was any point in challenging the woman’s casual misandry. She figured it was most likely supposed to be bait to drag her into one of Rosa’s elaborate rhetorical spirals, so she followed her better judgement and stayed silent, returning her attention to the book in her lap.

A few minutes later, another blast rattled the cavern.

Shortly after, heavy footsteps approached, followed by lighter ones. Carnwedain, Fynn, Slate, and Nol’viz emerged from the tunnel leading deeper into the cavern and stepped into the section they had claimed as a temporary campsite.

All of them were coated in a dense scatter of rust-red spores, the powder packed into hairlines and smeared across clothes and armour. Fynn and Carnwedain were by far the worst. Behind them, small clouds shook loose and trailed in dry, cinnamon-coloured puffs.

Kat took one look at them and burst into laughter. Allyssa joined in. Rosa cranked a jaunty little tune on her klert, as if announcing their ‘triumphant’ return.

Fynn frowned.

Slate and Nol’viz looked between the laughing women and their spore-covered companions, seemingly examining the precise cause of the amusement.

Carnwedain showed no reaction at all. He walked to the centre of the camp and dropped a sack of crystalline, turquoise cores onto the ground with a clinking clatter, then moved off towards the corner where Olgolzkreh’s heart stood, still guarded by the sleeping spectral dragon coiled over it.

Their current location was in a dungeon within the Thornwall Range near Chillburg, one of the empire’s smallest mountain chains. The cavern system was rich with unusual subterranean growth, including several dangerous and odd species.

Such as the explosive fungi Fynn and Carnwedain had been tasked with harvesting after losing at a drawing of lots. The things required careful extraction of their cores. Get it wrong, and they burst in a concentrated—and intense—spray of spores.

Admittedly, letting those two handle it had been a little unfair. They weren’t built for delicate harvesting. Still, Scarlett had figured it would work out. If something went wrong, they were the only ones present who could shrug off repeated detonations without it becoming a problem.

Also, she’d sent Slate along to assist, just in case.

What she hadn’t accounted for was Fynn and Carnwedain never thinking to ask for help — or Slate deciding the entire process was more interesting as an observational exercise, with Nol’viz quietly joining to observe beside her.

“Say, Fynn,” Rosa called as he dropped into a cross-legged seat near Kat and the pot over the fire, “you wouldn’t happen to know the definition of insanity, would you?”

He looked at her. “No.”

She flashed him a grin. “It’s doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Bit like whatever you were up to with those mushrooms.”

Fynn’s frown deepened. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, it absolutely is.” Rosa nodded with exaggerated solemnity.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

The bard shrugged, setting her klert down beside her. “Don’t yell that at me. I don’t make up the words.”

“You frequently do,” Kat said.

Rosa’s grin widened. “No, I just take them out for a spin. Stretch their legs. See what they’re capable of.”

Fynn watched her with a steady seriousness. “If someone repeatedly hunts a deer and fails, you wouldn’t call them insane. There’s luck involved. And they are improving. It doesn’t make sense to use that definition.”

“Mm.” Rosa hummed. “But language is nonsense at heart. That’s the charm. It makes it beautiful.”

“That is incorrect,” Slate said as she stepped over with Nol’viz and seated herself beside Scarlett.

Rosa squinted at her. “Oh? And who are you? The grammar inquisition?”

Slate looked back at her evenly. She seemed to consider for a brief moment, then inclined her head once. “For the purposes of this discussion, that is an acceptable designation. Language is highly structured and internally consistent. The perception that it is nonsensical stems from incomplete or imprecise understanding and limited contextual analysis, not from inherent disorder. The statement you referenced is also not an accurate definition of insanity.”

Rosa pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re breaking my heart. I won’t let you destroy my wonderfully chaotic, beautifully broken relationship with language. I’ll defend it to my dying breath.”

“I lack both the authority and the capacity to meaningfully destabilise a collective semiotic system or construct such as language,” Slate replied. “In addition, your vital signs are stable. I will not be misled into believing you are perishing again.”

Rosa deflated, then turned away with a pout. “I can’t argue with her. She’s too earnest and literal. I’d just feel cruel.”

“Sure you would,” Kat said with a smirk. “Nothing to do with her dismantling your arguments every time.”

“I miss when Scarlett was the only one correcting me,” Rosa muttered under her breath. “She was easier to poke fun at.”

“Excuse me?” Scarlett turned to her.

Rosa simply looked back with exaggerated innocence. “Hmm? Did someone say something?”

“You d—” Fynn started, only to be cut off by Rosa coughing loudly into her hand.

Scarlett held her gaze, eyes narrowing dangerously, but eventually looked away.

She closed the book in her lap and shifted her attention to the crystals Carnwedain had dumped onto the ground earlier, rising to walk over to them.

[Quest Completed: Thornspore Cores collected]

{Skill points awarded: 5}

She barely glanced at the system notification before storing the crystalline cores in her [Pouch of Holding].

They were valuable reagents. Necessary too, if you wanted access to the side boss of this dungeon.

Over the past few days, she and the others had cleared a handful of dungeons like this across the empire. After Dimfrost and the Whitdown Mountains, their first stop had been a Kilnstone hidden in a set of abandoned ruins near Faybarrow — a place Scarlett had visited months ago while they were grinding through lower-level dungeons in the area. This time, they’d cleared two high-level ones there instead.

After that, they’d moved on to the outskirts of the Faywild Basin near Fayrun, the low hills by Kilsfell, a stretch of ancient forest between Silverborough and Rellaria Lake, and now the Thornwall Range. All told, she’d gained over 120 skill points, a respectable number of Epic-tier artefacts, a handful of legendary ones, and probably more rare materials and dungeon resources than most noble houses saw in a lifetime.

For a few days’ work, that was more than respectable.

She honestly wished she’d done this sooner. It had been too long since she’d focused on dungeon clearing without some larger political or existential crisis looming over her shoulder. It was therapeutic to just move from one contained problem to the next and solve it cleanly.

Of course, there was a ceiling to the number of easily available dungeons she could find in the empire. A ceiling she was most likely approaching.

Still, she took what she could get.

The plan was to check a few more locations that she wasn’t entirely certain held anything. If nothing turned up, they would return to Freybrook and begin making final preparations before it was time to head to Elystead. She still had to decide whether she would work together with Mistress and Malachi, among other things.

She was just about to tell the others they should prepare to move once they had eaten when she felt it.

A faint pressure at the edge of her mind.

A scowl touched her brow.

For half a heartbeat, she thought Carnwedain had activated a [Mirror of Communion] and that The Angler Man was trying to pry at her thoughts. But this was different. It was softer. Almost polite, like a request.

It took her another second to recognise that it was a message.

Someone was attempting to contact her.

How, she wasn’t sure. Communication across this kind of distance usually required specialised artefacts.

After a brief pause, she allowed it, loosening the mental safeguards that automatically protected her.

Meaning flowed in at once.

She paused, and her scowl faded as a smile touched her lips.

“Scarlett? Something wrong?” Rosa asked, watching her closely.

The others glanced over.

Scarlett met Rosa’s gaze. “No. Nothing is wrong. Quite the opposite.”

“Oh?” Rosa studied her for another moment, then grinned. “Care to share?”

“Not at all. I have just received a magical message. It appears our next destination has been decided.”

Kat stared. “A magical what?”

“Message,” Scarlett said.

“I heard that. Through what?”

“That, I do not know.”

Allyssa tilted her head. “Does that part really matter?”

Kat gave her a look. “Yes, it does. We’re who-knows-how-deep inside a mountain. You don’t casually transmit messages into places like this without serious artefacts involved. I have one from the Guild. Scarlett isn’t holding anything.”

Allyssa glanced back at Scarlett, then shrugged lightly. “Fine. But I’m more interested in what it says. And where we’re going.”

“Then allow me to inform you,” Scarlett said. “The message was from Senior Wizard Yamina Ward of the Rising Isle. She informed me that she is now prepared to receive us.”

Allyssa blinked. “Oh. Then that means that next…”

“Indeed.” Scarlett nodded. “Our next destination is the Forgotten Tower.”