Deadly Knight Shade episode 2: Roots

Vivian, Solaris, and Bean continue flying on Cendrillon’s back - a Pegasus. Bean rests on Vivian’s shoulder.

They swoop through a cluster of low-hanging clouds. Vivian yelps in surprise.

It’s so cold!

It is crystallized water vapor, after all.

Vivian stretches her arms out to her sides, wind rippling her sleeves.

Cendrillon, I’m so jealous of your wings. If I had a pair like yours, I’d never come down.

Cendrillon whinnies and flaps her wings with pride.

You still haven’t said where we’re going.

My family’s farm. They don’t know we’re coming, but...

Vivian pictures a stiff family portrait: towering dragonian warriors with solemn faces. Solaris, comically small, is wedged in the middle - helmet slipping over her eyes.

Family?

Not by blood. I was, um... You’ll see when we get there. We should be getting close.

POOF — Vivian’s daydream pops like a bubble.

Oh.

Solaris squints her eyes to search through the forest. She pats down her jacket, sighing.

What’s wrong?

I’ve left my glasses at the castle.

We’re flying blind?!

I know where we’re going, don’t worry. I just need your elf eyes searching for anything suspicious.

My vision’s not that great. Fa—

(flustered beat)

The king... He wears glasses.

Solaris gives a sad smile.

Only to seem more relatable to the shorter-lived civilians.

Vivian sets her jaw as she scans the area.

They pass a clearing in the thick forest with a small cabin - a trail of smoke from the chimney wafts in the wind.

(pointing)

There’s a cabin in that clearing.

Solaris sniffs at the air.

Yes, I can smell chimney smoke.

LYDIA (18) crouches in the shadows, all sharp angles and sharper scowls. Her pinkish-red skin catches the light beneath her hood, with small horns and long hair curling back from her brow. A spade-tipped tail lashes low behind her.

Her eyes glint as Cendrillon flies past.

Cendrillon’s wingbeats slow. She huffs, struggling to stay aloft. Solaris squints at the strain.

Cendrillon, let’s land down there.

As they descend, a PIERCING WHISTLE cuts through the trees and a beam of magenta light, firing straight at them.

Cendrillon rears back with a SCREECH, wings flailing.

Hold on!

Vivian manages to wrap her arms around Bean, who clutches her sleeve with tiny claws.

Cendrillon BUCKS — the trio is kicked into the open air.

Bean leaps from Vivian's arm, his long ears and gliding membrane catching the wind. He spirals and drifts safely toward the trees below.

Vivian spins in free fall, then lands with a bone-rattling tumble into a thick patch of foliage.

Solaris hits a branch hard with a dull CRACK, and crashes into the underbrush, rolling to a stop. She tries to get up, but stops short - her face twists in pain.

(coughing, standing up)

Ow ow ow...

Bean lands near Solaris, offering SQUEAKS of concern.

(gritting teeth)

Vivian, come here, please!

(beat, softer)

I... can’t move.

Vivian gasps when she sees Solaris on the ground. She stumbles toward her side.

What should I do?

(offering her hands)

Help me stand.

Vivian pulls. Solaris winces with a sharp hiss.

This isn’t working. Can’t you use healing magic on yourself?

Short answer? ...No. Do you remember what direction that cabin was in?

I think so. I saw the chimney through the trees.

See if they’re willing to trade...

Solaris winces as she reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a coin purse and offers it to Vivian.

If they charge you more than 20 silver for a healing potion, just walk out.

She takes the coin purse, staring at it like a live grenade.

But-

Think of this as your first mission... Because it is.

Vivian straightens, the coin purse heavy in her hand.

I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Watch your step. In places like this, not all smiles are friendly.

Bean hops onto Vivian’s shoulder as she gives Solaris a nod. She runs down the path and disappears into the trees.

Lydia lies on her stomach, hiding in some bushes. She tears out blades of grass while grumbling under her breath.

Vivian runs past her hiding spot without a second look.

Lydia keeps her distance, tailing the girl like prey.

Vivian reaches the end of the path. A few yards away is a RICKETY COTTAGE with mossy walls and porch steps leading up to a misshapen door.

Patches of blue flowers and weeds threaten to overtake the building.

She scans the clearing.

There’s a steady whisper of the chimney smoke curling straight up. Rusty wind chimes twirl slowly... though the air is still.

(determined)

Let’s do this.

Bean SQUEAKS in agreement. Vivian creaks up the stairs.

Step, step, step—

CRUNCH!

Her foot breaks through the rotten wood, and she loses her balance. Bean tumbles off her shoulder.

She falls forward and slams into the front door, knocking it down with a crash.

Vivian stirs up dust clouds on landing. She coughs, groaning.

A harmless-looking OLD WOMAN stands at her fireplace, attending to a LARGE CAULDRON filled with a bright red liquid. A tea kettle hangs on a chain by the fire.

She barely reacts to Vivian’s dramatic entrance.

Bean hops past the threshold and onto Vivian’s back, shaking dust out of his ears.

Ow... I think your house just tried to eat me.

The old woman gives Vivian a distant smile. Vivian stands and brushes the dust off herself.

(too brightly)

Clara, you’re just in time for tea.

Bean gives a confused squeak.

Sorry, you have the wrong per-

The old woman darts to Vivian and snatches her by the arm.

It’s been so long, I insist!

She drags Vivian over to a rickety table and pushes her to sit on one of the mismatched chairs.

I guess... it has been a while.

The old woman rushes back to stir the cauldron, humming.

Vivian hesitates, unsure if she’s saying the correct thing.

I’m here to... purchase a healing potion.

The old woman turns back to Vivian with a GASP.

Purchase?! Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t charge my little Clara a single copper.

Cut to:

Lydia belly-crawls through tall grass with her eyes locked on the cottage. She pauses, and her brow creases.

The cottage swells and shrinks, creaking rhythmically. Beneath the cottage, the mossy ground stirs.

She tiptoes closer to get a better look.

LYDIA’S POV:

Two MASSIVE, SCALY CHICKEN LEGS twitch under the foundation, folded like a spider preparing to pounce.

Back to scene:

She wrings her hands as her anger flares. She punches the ground, leaving behind a fist-shaped burn as she decides...

(gritted teeth)

Stupid princess can’t even die right.

She scrambles to her feet and bolts toward the cottage.

The old woman locates a vial, ladles red potion inside, and uses a cork to stop it in an almost graceful dance. She holds it out for Vivian with a motherly smile carved on her face.

(shrugs)

Can’t argue with a deal like that.

Vivian’s fingers hover before the vial. Her eyes flick to the old woman’s kind face, then back to the vial. She takes it.

The old woman’s eyes darken, her smile sharpens.

(raspy)

That’s my girl.

Bean SQUEAKS, then lowers his body and puffs up like a scared cat. His head turns toward the shadows behind the old woman.

Vivian looks back at Bean, head tilted in confusion.

What’s wrong, Bean?

Strange CRACKING sounds come from the old woman, like wood splintering. Her flesh peels back — revealing iron fangs, glowing yellow eyes, and a crown of writhing worms.

Vivian takes a step back, head whipping toward each new sound. She spots a FIRE POKER by the hearth. She snatches it up with both hands, brandishing it like a sword.

The old woman lunges - Vivian yelps and swings wide. The poker slams into the old woman’s face, sending her spinning and shrieking across the room.

Vivian grips the poker tighter, jabbing it out in front of her like a fencer.

S-Stay back, or I’ll-!

CHICKEN LEGS erupt from underneath. It lifts into the air with a shriek of wood and earth.

Bean SCREAMS and leaps onto Vivian’s face. She stumbles back, swinging the poker blindly — smashing jars and dried bones. Sparks fly as the cauldron bubbles over with thick red sludge.

Oh no, no no—!

HEY!

A sharp whistle outside grabs Vivian’s attention.

(turning her head)

Huh?

GET OUT OF THERE, you idiot!

The cottage LURCHES. Vivian and Bean tumble through the broken door, potion still clutched in Vivian’s fist.

Lydia runs in, grabs her arm mid-sprint, and yanks her into the forest.

This way!

Behind them, the HOUSE SCREECHES out a chorus of rusted hinges and unholy laughter as it begins the chase.

Lydia sprints through the underbrush, dragging Vivian by the wrist. Bean hangs onto Vivian’s shoulder with his front paws.

The cottage is hot on their trail, but Vivian’s legs can’t move fast enough to keep up.

Your nails - they’re hurting me!

There’s a HOUSE that wants to eat you! Stop whining!

Lydia skids to a stop at the crumbling cliff’s edge. Vivian bumps into her from behind.

Lydia’s boot slips. Dirt slides into the abyss.

She pinwheels her arms, balance gone. Vivian reaches out, grabbing Lydia’s hand with both of hers, and pulls her back.

Now steadied, Lydia rips her hand away like she’s been burned.

(snapping)

What are you- Don’t touch me!

Vivian steps aside, eyes wide.

Lydia turns to face the house barreling toward them.

(sighing to herself)

...Fine.

She sticks her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and lets out a piercing, three-tone WHISTLE.

THE EARTH TREMBLES. A pillar of rock erupts, slamming into the underbelly of the monstrous house.

The shrieking structure lifts off its clawed feet, flips, and plummets off the cliff. CRASH, then silence.

Vivian falls to her knees, still clutching the potion vial. Bean rolls off her shoulder with a dusty sploot.

Wha- what was that?!

A Baba Yaga.

(snide)

You’re lucky I saw the legs, or you’d already be dead by now.

Vivian’s eyes linger on Lydia’s small horns, wild hair, long tail, and pinkish-red skin as she steadies her breath.

Thank you, I-

(grimacing)

Don’t. Don’t thank me. Don’t look at me. Just—

She balls her hands into tight fists and takes a deep breath.

Follow the river upstream. You’ll find a healer there.

She turns, retreating into the brush.

Wait, who *are* you?

Lydia hesitates, shoulders tense, but doesn’t look back.

Me? I’m... I’m no one.

She bolts into the shadows. A moment later, her voice calls back through the trees:

And throw out that potion - it’s red!

Vivian stares at the cliff, then at the potion in her hand.

The bright red liquid dances in the vial.

She hurls it into the abyss. A faint shatter echoes.

I guess not all scowls are scary either, huh, Bean?

Bean tilts his head in confusion. She gathers him up and limps toward the river.

cut TO BLACK.

Dorian sits cross-legged on his cot. The air in the tiny room shivers with a dim green light. His breath is sharp as he clutches himself for warmth.

A sharp, dissonant tone slices the air. He looks up.

THE chord - PSYCHIC realm

An endless rehearsal hall with no doors or windows. Black floors polished like ice. A cobwebbed chandelier sways above, its crystals humming a chord that refuses to resolve.

You’re late.

Lydia flinches.

The gold dragonian is still with her. She’s injured, but I can-

(sharp)

No. Even wounded, she would turn you to ash before you finished casting a spell.

(amused)

And the girl?

Stupid. Stubborn... Soft.

(lower)

She held my hand.

(smug)

You save her life. She saves yours. How charming. Let’s hope her... stubbornness doesn’t influence you.

The chandelier swings harder, stretching shadows across the floor. Lydia grits her teeth, fists tightening.

I need more time.

Dorian stirs. A weak blue light pulses to Lydia, tethering their left pinky fingers together like a thread.

Lydia-

With a sharp wheeze, her breathing matches his. She drops to her knees, grasping at her chest.

The humming note spikes, and Dorian coughs. Blood drips down his nose, spattering on the mirrored floor.

Time... is a luxury we no longer have. Your anchor is drifting away.

The tether’s light fades. Lydia shudders as she stands, her airway finally clear again.

The Conductor’s smug smile sharpens, reflected in every warped echo.

Stray again, and I will send Dorian into the snows for his final encore. You will take his seat in my hall.

Dorian’s eyes squeeze shut. Lydia’s voice spikes.

NO! I’ll follow them. I’ll tell you everything, I swear it.

Good.

(voice softens)

Your next performance will be one she’ll never forget.

The chandelier freezes mid-sway. The note hangs in the air, then SNAPS into silence.

Dorian gasps, slammed back into himself. He wipes his bloody nose on his sleeve, trembling.

(low, calculated)

I’m no anchor... just dead weight.

Fade to:

A warm, quiet room frays at the edges with tension. Gold-trimmed curtains stir in the breeze. A decanter of wine sweats faintly on the table.

Castien stands by the tall window, rigid.

Below, in the courtyard, a stable hand leads a soot-dusted Cendrillon back into her paddock. Her wings are singed at the tips, and the saddle is empty.

Alma lounges in a velvet chair, draped in red silk, wine glass half-full.

(low)

She came back alone.

(sipping)

Yes. That’s what horses do - when they’ve been abandoned.

But where did they go?! She could be hurt, or—

(chin tilting, dry)

I don’t see any blood. Do you?

Castien turns away from the window, jaw tight.

Across the room, Mila and Greta stand — hands folded, eyes on the floor.

(quiet, unsure)

We didn’t know she’d gone until this mornin’, Your Majesties.

And no one saw her leave? An entire stable was set on fire!

The enchantment knocked everyone out. By the time we woke up...

(to no one in particular)

Solaris always was a little too theatrical for my tastes.

She takes another sip of her wine.

(to the room, tight)

You two, out.

Mila and Greta bow and retreat, looking grateful. The door shuts behind them with a click.

(quietly)

It’s too soon. She isn’t ready.

(picking up her glass again)

She was born ready. You just don’t like what that means.

(quiet, strained)

She is still my daughter. I promised I’d keep her safe.

Alma swirls the last of her wine, considering.

A caged bird never sings, my love.

Castien presses his fist against his mouth. His hand trembles once before he forces it down.

I’m checking the grounds myself. Those fools don’t know what they’re doing.

He turns for the door.

(barely above a whisper)

You don’t know what you’re doing either.

Castien halts, staring ahead. He sighs, then he exits.

Alma watches him go, then reaches for the decanter. She sighs, setting her empty glass aside instead.

Her gaze lifts to a trophy on the wall: a gilded whip mounted above a velvet banner, embroidered with a ruby crest. The whip’s handle is cracked with use, the velvet banner faded but kept immaculate.

Her lips curve in a thin line.

(wryly to herself)

She’ll be fine... if she’s anything like her mother.

Alma settles back into her chair, watching the clouds drift by.

Thick carpet muffles the sound of approaching boots.

Castien strides down the corridor. Tension winds tight beneath his collar.

Suddenly—

Help! Help me!

(sharp, alarmed)

Victoria?

He runs toward her voice.

Castien throws open the nursery door.

Before him, a wooden slide tips against a pillow mound. At the bottom, Victoria lies belly-down, arm flopped out in mock distress.

Above, Valerie crouches dramatically in a too-large feathered scarf and a floppy red sash. A jump rope trails from her waist like a whip.

(hushed intensity)

Don’t worry, Ruby Princess! I’ll save you!

She flings a scarf over her shoulder. Victoria grabs hold.

The monster’s got me, help!

Noooo!

With a mighty effort, she pulls Victoria up the slide.

Castien releases his breath, and color returns to his face.

(standing quickly)

Apologies, Your Majesty. We ran out of storybooks, and I found this in the mailroom. The addressee’s... unavailable today.

She hands him a copy of *Sasha Sidewinder and the Rouge Rogue*.

It’s an advanced copy.

Castien opens it to an illustration: Sasha, whip in hand, holds one end from a battlement as a woman in a red dress dangles from the other, castle towers and harpies around them.

(stiff)

Yes. I can see that.

Giggling, Victoria tosses a jump rope like a lasso at a stuffed animal. They both collapse into laughter.

He watches, his fingers twitching at his side.

(gently)

We’re keeping them indoors. No contact with anyone outside staff.

Castien nods slowly. He turns to go, then pauses.

You mentioned the addressee. Who was it sent to?

...Solaris, sir.

Castien glances back.

The twins reset the slide together.

Now I’m the Ruby Princess, but *you* fall off the tower!

I want the whip this time!

(sighs)

Then I’m sure she won’t mind.

Castien presses the book shut, hands it back to Nanny. He lingers in the doorway, watching his daughters tumble over each other in laughter.

Outside, the wind rattles the nursery windows.

match cut to:

A wind-rush of wings rips through the sky.

VINT (26), a male, crane-like aviar with long legs and sharp eyes, soars above the trees in lazy, gliding loops. His sleek plumage catches the sunlight, a streak of white and blue against the forest canopy below. He preens a wing mid-glide.

He coasts downward, eyes scanning the trees below. Then—

A FLASH OF MOVEMENT.

VINT'S POV:

Vivian stumbles through the undergrowth. Bean clings to her shoulder. She pauses to look up and waves at him.

Hey, down here!

Her hood slips, and her ears catch the light.

With a cocky smirk, Vint dives down to Vivian like a dart.

Vint lands dynamically before Vivian, talons crunching into the earth. He jabs a finger toward her.

Trespassing? Or just lost?

(eyeing her scratches)

You look like you rolled through a bramble patch.

At the sight of the tall crane-man, Vivian takes a step back. Bean hides in her hood.

I need help, please. My friend needs a healer. She’s badly hurt.

Bean peeks out, nose twitching nervously.

How’d you get out here, anyway? This is private land, y’know.

He eyes her, sharp and suspicious.

Someone said I could find a healer if I went this way.

Someone?

Vivian looks around, hesitating.

She didn’t-

(stern)

Who sent you? I need a name, or-

S-Solaris. Her name’s Solaris.

Vint’s posture shifts, folding his wings with a sly grin.

(grinning)

Solaris? Ha, then it’s your lucky day. I know just the weirdo for the job. I’m Vint, by the way.

Vivian watches him warily.

I’m Vivian.

Then let’s get going, Vivian!

Vint springs into the air in a burst of feathers. A streak of white and blue vanishes into the canopy.

Bean squeaks in awe. He scrambles onto Vivian’s head and LEAPS. His limbs catch the wind as he glides after Vint.

Fade to:

Vint gives a loud, rattling bugle call.

Ruuskel, Solaris decided to drop in for a visit!

From a nearby pond emerges RUUSKEL, a merman with pale aquamarine skin, faint opalescent scales, and reflective, deep-sea eyes. His enchanted bracelet glows muted teal.

On land, he leans on a coral cane, skin glinting like wet glass in the dimming light.

Good afternoon, Vint. Did you say Solaris? Oh my, that is unexpected. She normally sends a letter before visiting.

Vivian walks ahead quickly, then stops to look back.

Ruuskel strides slowly behind her. He leans on his coral cane, wincing on occasion, but his pace is steady.

Vivian pauses for Ruuskel to catch up and walks beside him.

Vint flutters between low glides and short bursts ahead of them, occasionally doubling back.

We crash-landed a little farther this way.

How did the injury occur?

We were on a Pegasus until something spooked her. I got lucky, but Solaris hit a tree on the way down. I heard a snap... and I don’t think it was just the branches.

(flatly)

That tracks.

Vivian flinches.

(softening)

Don’t worry. Dragonians are sturdy, even ones who pretend they’re not.

They pass a cluster of glowing mushrooms. Ruuskel taps one with his cane, and it glows brighter, illuminating the path.

You care for her. That is good. Solaris does not make it easy... but she needs it all the same.

I haven’t exactly made things easy for her either.

Ruuskel nods.

For her entire life, Solaris only shows up when she cares. You cannot make her do anything.

(flapping back down to them)

She still acts like that.

Wait, you knew Solaris when she was little?

Ruuskel gives her a sidelong look and laughs.

Little? I was there when she hatched! Well, not *there* there, I was in the other room. Merriweather was, though.

What was she like back then?

(grinning)

She was a wild child. I fixed a broken tooth for her when she was 6. Still have the battle scars.

It’s true, I’ve heard Merri’s stories. She bit him. Three times.

Ruuskel shows the bite scars on his left hand.

(to Vivian)

Now you’ve got her wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?

Vivian giggles.

She’s never mentioned that.

That’s how you know it’s true.

They crest a small hill.

Ahead, Solaris is visible through the brush, on the forest floor, half-sitting up against a tree.

Ah! There’s our wishing star. I knew she wouldn’t go quietly.

Solaris gives a weary wave.

Solaris!

Vivian sprints ahead.

Lydia crouches behind a thick tree trunk, hidden by low-hanging branches. Her breath catches as she watches Vivian jog ahead to Solaris.

LYDIA’S POV:

Vivian kneels beside Solaris.

Hey, I’m back with help.

(bleary)

You’re bleeding... What happened?

She reaches out, taking Vivian by her claw-marked hand.

Let’s worry about you right now.

(cheeky smile)

Besides, I bashed her with the fire poker before she could get me.

A few steps behind, Ruuskel approaches, calm and focused.

Hold still, Sunny-Scales, Uncle Ruuskel is here to help.

Bean hops near Solaris’s leg. Vint folds his wings nearby.

Lydia sneers.

(grumbling)

And the pretty little princess saves the day again.

Vivian wipes Solaris’s brow, then takes her hand.

Lydia wrings her hands. Pink sparks flicker at her fingertips, then fade.

(quieter)

What’s the point?

She watches Vint lean in toward Ruuskel, stage-whispering.

I’ll let Merri and Thorn know we’ve got a surprise visitor. And that she brought along a beautiful companion.

Vint winks and bounds off through the trees, half-gliding.

Lydia’s eyes follow a blushing Vivian.

Solaris grits her teeth as Ruuskel kneels beside her. The forest light catches in his scales. He rolls his shoulders and flexes his fingers.

Bean huddles near Solaris’s ankle, ears lowered.

Ruuskel gently touches Solaris’s back, assessing the injury.

(measured)

It’s worse than I thought. I’ll need to do it here.

(To Vivian)

Healing magic repairs the body all at once. Every injury is relived - rewinding time on the flesh itself.

Vivian looks at Solaris with alarm and takes her hand. Solaris takes a steadying breath, then nods.

Just get it over with.

Ruuskel places his hands on Solaris’s lower back, directly over the injury.

Step back... this next part won’t be pleasant.

Reluctantly, Vivian moves back.

Lydia averts her eyes, ducking further behind the brush.

BACK TO SCENE:

The glow sharpens as his fingers dig in. A yellow-orange liquid metal emanates from his hands. He slowly melts and restructures bone, muscles, nerves, and scales.

Bean SQUEAKS in alarm.

Use your diaphragm to breathe through-

Solaris’s body arches violently. A half-choked ember bursts from her throat.

Insert quick cuts - memory-like flashes

- Snaps of tree branches breaking.

- Her back hitting the ground - blinding pain.

- Bones crackling as they’re forced back into place.

- Vivian running to her side, distorted by adrenaline.

BACK TO SCENE:

Vivian’s eyes brim with panic, but she stays put.

The orange light pulses faster. Solaris shudders - a feral growl escapes as her claws rake the dirt.

You’ve got this. I’m right here.

Bean covers his own eyes with his little paws, trembling.

The light fades. Solaris collapses forward into Vivian’s arms, unconscious but breathing evenly.

(strained)

Ah, Solaris, you’re so heavy...

Ruuskel exhales, hands shaking.

Hidden in the brush, Lydia watches the aftermath.

LYDIA’S POV:

Vint swoops back into view. He’s followed by:

— THORN (65), a broad-shouldered dwarf with one arm ending with an iron prosthetic. His presence is a stoic wall.

— MERRIWEATHER (60), a silver-furred kobold in a herb-stained apron. There’s weariness in her eyes, but her smile glows as she kneels beside Solaris.

(motherly)

We need her up right away, or her intestines will stiffen.

She reaches into her apron pocket to take out a handkerchief, then wipes Solaris’s brow with practiced gentleness.

(to Vivian)

I’m Merriweather, but you can call me Merri. That grump over there is Thorn.

Thorn holds out his good hand to Vivian.

(gruff)

You did good finding us, kid. We can take her from here.

Vivian hesitates, holding onto Solaris.

No, it’s fine. I’ll take her.

She works Solaris’s arm over her shoulders, struggling to stand. Vint sighs dramatically.

C’mon, we don’t have all day.

Vivian relents and passes Solaris to Merriweather and Thorn.

They walk ahead, supporting Solaris over their shoulders. Vint strolls alongside them.

Vivian hangs back and walks alongside Ruuskel.

I didn’t find you alone. There was a girl who told me where to find you. Maybe you’ve seen her around? She had horns and a tail.

Ruuskel’s stride falters. He studies her with sudden intensity before speaking.

No, I haven’t. If you do see her again, notify me immediately. I’ll deal with her myself.

What do you-

(serious)

Firebugs and forests don’t mix.

Vivian swallows hard.

Oh, umm— Wait, I remember now! She said she was just passing through. Guess I got lucky.

She forces a shaky laugh. Ruuskel studies her for a moment before looking ahead.

Yes... Lucky indeed.

He continues walking in uneasy silence. Vivian glances over each shoulder before following.

BACK TO LYDIA:

Lydia peeks out from behind the bushes, her sneer gone. She turns away, tail lashing. Fire ignites at her fingertips.

(quiet, pained)

Why is she so... warm?

The forest wind whistles a familiar song. Lydia makes a fist, extinguishing the flames.

A faint mist clings to the earth. The trees here are unnaturally still — like they’re listening.

At the center of a sacred glade stands a monument of white stone, veined with silver and pale green — a stylized tree carved into its surface, roots twisting into the soil.

Thin, hairline cracks have begun to bloom at the base.

Castien kneels before the monument, gloved hands bare now. A silver dagger rests beside a basin of water.

The only sound is the slow drip of water from a leak in the stone.

He slices a shallow cut into his palm and lets blood fall into the basin.

The water ripples, tinged with red. Nothing happens.

He presses his palm onto the monument.

(quiet)

You always answered before.

He waits, but there’s no change.

This is for her. I’ve kept my promise.

(beat)

She’s not ready.

A deeper CRACK forms beneath his hand. Something writhes under the stone, shifting the earth around him.

He stands, almost staggering, wiping his hand against his sleeve. The basin tips, spilling water onto the mossy stone.

Castien stares at the fracture, now widening. He forces his expression into neutrality, but his hands tremble.

Behind him, the horizon dims into an amber glow.

Barefoot, blanket pulled close, Vivian drifts down the narrow hall. Bean twitches in her arm, whiskers brushing her wrist.

Photographs crowd the walls — crooked frames, faded smiles. She stops at one: a surly teenaged Solaris wedged between Thorn sans prosthetic, a black-furred Merriweather, and an ageless Ruuskel.

Vivian’s smile is interrupted by hushed voices bleeding through a half-open door.

(hushed)

Have you considered that she’s Celeste’s child, and not-

(flat)

No. She was unmarried. The royal line would never allow—

She was the queen. Who’d say no to someone like her?

(gruff, uneasy)

If she’s really Celeste’s...

(beat)

Maybe that’s why Shades are back.

But then who’s the f-

Suddenly, Merriweather shushes Vint. The room goes silent.

Vivian’s eyes go wide, frozen in place. The fire pops.

(calling softly)

You can come out now, dearie. Your heartbeat’s louder than Thorn’s hammer.

Vivian steps in, eyes glistening.

The hearth glows across mugs, boots, and tired faces.

Thorn adjusts his prosthetic. Merriweather holds her cup like it might slip away. Ruuskel extinguishes the orbs of light crawling across his knuckles. Vint sits up, wings restless.

Solaris hunches, shadowed, her mug untouched.

How long were you standing there?

Vivian clutches her blanket tighter, Bean’s tail coiled around her wrist.

Long enough.

Her voice trembles, but her gaze doesn’t. No one moves.

(gruff, uneasy)

No use pretending she’s just passing through now, is there?

(flat)

Sorry. Guess I should’ve asked permission before existing.

Solaris starts to rise, hand half-extended —

Vivian-

But Vivian turns on her heel, blanket swirling behind her, and storms out the back door. The silence is broken only by the slam that follows.

Vivian paces down a stone path, breath fogging the dark. The farmhouse glows faint behind her.

She sinks onto a stump, blanket wrapped tight. Fireflies blink faintly in the tall grass.

Hoofbeats crunch closer, followed by a soft wheeze of a harmonica.

(southern drawl)

What’s a pretty little filly like you doing in a place like this?

Vivian jumps and turns back.

PICKNICK, a talking horse with a fitted harmonica rig and forest-green scarf, chews a sprig of hay.

Vivian stares, dumbfounded. Bean freezes.

...You can talk?

Guess that makes two of us.

Vivian sighs and turns away slightly.

It’s a long story. You can call me Picknick.

(snorts gently)

You got a name, kid?

Vivian. Just Vivian.

She curls the blanket tighter around her slumped shoulders.

Hold on. I got somethin’ for that slump in your shoulders.

He trots back toward the stable, then returns balancing a plate carefully in his teeth. He nudges her shoulder with it.

(teeth clenched)

Here, take it.

Vivian takes the plate. A single oatmeal cookie rests on it.

Merri’s baking’ll cure anything from heartbreak to homesickness.

She takes a bite. It’s simple, but still warm and soft.

Thanks, Picknick.

No problem, Vivian.

He settles nearby, harmonica sighing a slow, smoky tune.

Vivian finishes the cookie. Bean curls asleep in her lap.

Above, Lydia clings to a branch, eyes hollow. Her stomach growls, raw and loud. She grits her teeth, then slips away.

Fade to:

Solaris sits on the couch, half-drowsy but alert, cradling a cold mug.

The door creaks open, and Vivian tiptoes in, Bean drowsing in her arms. She startles at the sight of Solaris still awake.

Oh, you’re-

(trying for lightness)

Did the horse try to get you to join his band yet?

(smiles faintly)

No, but I probably would.

Solaris shifts, making room. The couch creaks as she pats the cushion.

Vivian hesitates, then drops onto the seat, curling her knees beneath her.

Solaris starts to speak, hesitates, then tries again.

With the late Queen Celeste, her story never had an ending. It just... ended. People spin their own stories. The kind that thrives in whispers and rumors. Some of them point to you.

Is that what you think?

(quiet)

I don’t know, truly. But whatever the truth is, it won’t change who you are to me.

Mo- I mean, the queen always did treat me more like a doll than a daughter.

She’s... never been the maternal type.

(wryly)

If I’m honest, the twins were the real surprise, not you.

Vivian glances at Solaris, then averts her eyes.

But what you heard earlier was just old folks gossiping. That’s all.

If you say so...

A few more breaths pass in the hush.

Get some sleep. Merri says we’re on chore duty tomorrow.

Yes, ma’am.

Vivian rises, starts toward the hall, then pauses.

(soft)

Thanks for waiting up.

Always.

Vivian disappears into the hall.

Solaris lingers, eyes on the hearth’s embers. She sets down her mug and rises, hand pressed to her back with a grunt.

(grumbling)

And my back will never forgive me for it.

She lowers back onto the couch, eyes fixed on the ember’s glow. A log shifts, the wood splintering with a sharp POP.

The air hums like a tuning fork struck too hard.

The Conductor looms before a music stand, blindfolded, baton poised.

Let’s see how my instruments are playing today.

The void fractures like glass, spiderweb cracks glowing pale. Two shimmering windows ripple into view: one fiery red, the other icy blue.

INTERCUT:

Lydia crashes through the underbrush, branches snapping under her fists. Thorns rake her skin, but she doesn’t slow.

I do everything right. And it’s never enough!

She claws at her horns, tearing strands of hair loose.

It’s not fair!

With a guttural scream, she smashes her forehead into a tree. Bark scorches under the impact, leaving a blackened dent.

Blood streaks down her forehead. She sags against the trunk, sobs muffled against the burn mark she left behind.

Pale light filters through a grate. Dorian curls in the farthest corner, knees to chest, tail wound tight. His eyes are raw, but dry.

Across the cell: Drake, frozen in stone, locked in a kneel of defiance. A shiver of dust slides from his arm.

Dorian’s breathing quickens. The sound of falling ash echoes in the quiet.

(to Drake)

You’d kill me without a second thought, wouldn’t you?

A cough tears through him. He wipes blood across his sleeve.

(smaller)

If I were you... I would.

The cell swallows his words, pressing in until his body shakes. He hides his face and wraps his tail tighter around himself.

The Conductor paces between the two windows, listening like a maestro attuning to his orchestra. His baton glints as he grips it tightly.

The RED window flares — Lydia’s fury burns wild.

The BLUE window dims — Dorian’s despair seeps deeper.

Rage, resentment, retreat... Suffering is the stone that sharpens any blade.

He lowers his hand. The windows rattle, then slam shut. A sour chord swells, shrieking, then dissolves into...

A thin veil of fog clings to the dew-covered earth. Morning light seeps through the trees in fractured shafts.

Castien kneels near a circular patch of soil — the site where the Misery Fruit landed after the Shade captured Drake.

His cloak is damp. His gloves are stained from digging. He digs a little deeper, then stops.

A faint pulse flickers from the earth. A seedling with serrated leaves that quiver like they’re breathing.

(murmuring to himself)

No seedling should grow this fast.

He reaches into his satchel and removes a glass jar and a pair of enchanted tongs. With clinical precision, he extracts the seedling and lowers it into the jar.

The moment the jar is sealed, the pulsing light fades.

He examines the spot again. The soil still faintly glows.

(grim)

It’s not just a fruit. It’s a root system...

He removes a journal from his pocket and hastily scrawls a single phrase: “The soil remembers.” He looks up.

The morning sun rises.

The horizon glows a blush-pink. Birds chirp gently.

Merriweather places two mismatched mugs on the porch railing. Solaris, tired and heavy-eyed, accepts hers with a groan.

(teasing gently)

You’re too tense, Sunny-Scales. You’re taller, sure, but you’re coiled tighter than a whip.

She gives Solaris a hearty pat on the shoulder.

(grimaces)

Comes with the job.

Don’t let the job swallow the girl. Besides, the proper grown-up look doesn’t suit you.

Solaris lets out a long breath.

Would you show Vivian the plants around here? She listens better when it’s not me talking. ...Also, my back is killing me.

(tail wagging gently)

Thought you’d never ask.

From inside the house:

(confused, awed)

Is this real?

Solaris and Merriweather turn toward the open farmhouse door.

Vivian stands barefoot, Bean snoozing on her head. She holds a colorful flyer, eyes sparkling.

FLYER TEXT:

MIDNIGHT RELEASE FESTIVAL!

*Sasha Sidewinder and the Rouge Rogue*

Costume Contest – Live Performance – Free Signed Posters

Pendragon’s Hoard Bookstore, This Friday at Midnight

She holds the flyer out like a treasure map.

Solaris, look! Can we go? This book’s supposed to reveal Sasha’s real family!

Solaris, taken aback, raises a skeptical eyebrow.

You remember all of that?

How could I forget? The crystal bell only rang for her, after all.

(dryly to Solaris)

I wonder where the author got that idea.

Vivian continues to ramble about her other theories about the *Sidewinder* lore. Solaris sips her tea, tail twitching.

We don’t have to stay long — just through the performance?

Solaris opens her mouth to deflect, but a door creaks open. Vint enters, feathers ruffled from flight.

(casual)

Hope nobody’s planning a city trip without checking the news.

He tosses a rolled bulletin on the table. Solaris takes it and smooths it out.

BULLETIN (crude ink, stamped seal):

Shade disturbance reported near Zore.

Heavy structural damage. No captives/survivors reported.

Travelers are advised caution.

(sharp)

That’s near Pendragon’s.

(shrugs)

Other scouts think they’re looking for something.

Or someone...

Solaris glances between the Shade report... and Vivian’s excited face.

(sighs, pinching her brow)

Fine. We’ll go.

(shocked)

Wait, really?

(sipping her tea again)

Consider it a tactical detour. Knowing him, Pendragon must have information about that Shade.

(amused)

And here I thought you wanted to enter the costume contest.

(winking)

You could always get a poster.

Solaris rolls her eyes, then picks up the bulletin, claws tightening around the page as she scans over the words again.

Vivian, now dressed and bright-eyed, steps outside.

Picknick grazes nearby, his harmonica holder clinking against his chest with each movement. His ears flick toward her.

(low, amused)

The country life suits you.

Better than dealing with royalty and rules all day.

(snorts)

Don’t I know it. I was a show pony once.

(winks)

Wanna see my trick?

He rears up on his hind legs, taking a few shaky steps.

I could do this all day!

He stumbles, but rights himself. Vivian bursts out laughing, clapping.

Cut to:

Montage (Song played by Picknick’s harmonica)

Vivian rides bareback on Picknick, sketchbook open on her lap. Merriweather plucks a cluster of blue flowers.

These are blue moonflowers — good for calming fevers and countering most poisons.

Vivian sketches their fluffy petals.

(pointing)

What about that red one?

A single red moonflower blooms in the sea of blue.

Merriweather’s nose twitches. The softness in her expression fades.

Some call it the Red Queen... or the Red Reaper. Only one grows per cluster.

She hesitates, then clears her throat.

(brighter)

They’re easy to spot, though. They reek of old iron and turn any potion bright red.

Vivian’s pencil stills mid-sketch. She looks up at Merriweather, brow furrowed.

Red?

(wincing)

Just... don’t eat them.

You don’t have to tell me twice.

Vivian writes beside her drawing:

“Bright red = poison!”

On the corner of the page, she adds a pair of angry eyebrows to a cartoonish doodle of the horned girl she met earlier. She exhales softly before going back to her sketch of the flowers.

Vivian tests the tension of her bow while Vint twirls an arrow between his feathers. Picknick grazes on a patch of tall grass behind them.

A beaten-up target board waits across the field.

Archery’s like breathing. You draw back, then release.

With a flap of his wings, he leaps into the air, then fires at the target. Bullseye!

He lands with a theatrical flourish.

Use distance and momentum to your advantage.

Vivian turns back to Picknick.

It’s our turn now, Picknick!

He whinnies in amusement.

If you fall off, it’s not my fault.

Vivian mounts a saddled-up Picknick. As he trots forward, she fires an arrow.

It flies wide, knocking the head off a scarecrow.

Vivian groans in frustration. She reaches into her quiver and fires another arrow.

It lands with a satisfying THUNK on the edge of the target.

Yes!

Vivian throws her arms up and cheers. Picknick laughs, cantering around Vint.

(teasing)

Watch out, everybody, killer princess on the loose!

Ruuskel watches Vivian, hands folded across his cane.

Her fingers splay with intent as four small orbs of light hover in her palm like sleepy fireflies. One orb wobbles, then the rest die out with a faint pop.

(heaves sigh)

I almost had it!

You must breathe fully. Holding it will only choke the flow.

Vivian nods and closes her eyes, taking deep breaths.

A single orb blooms in her cupped hands. It flares with a white FLASH.

Vivian stands before Thorn as he drags out a rack of weapons with ease. He steps beside Vivian, crossing his arms.

(gruff)

Pick one out.

Thorn watches her, eyebrow raised.

Vivian chooses a broadsword, its hilt nearly reaching her shoulder. She grips it with both hands and heaves it up.

(gritting teeth)

I can do it—

The blade slams into the dirt with a heavy thud, throwing her off balance. The recoil rattles her.

Thorn shakes his head and plucks the sword from her grasp like it weighs nothing. He sets it aside and gives her a simple rapier.

Vivian takes it in one hand and makes a few wild practice swipes.

QUICK CUTS:

– Thorn adjusts her posture with a nudge at her back.

– Vivian lunges at a training dummy, her blade darting with a flash in the sunlight.

– A faint smile tugs at Thorn’s scarred mouth. Her balance is sharper, her movements cleaner.

He gives a satisfied nod and turns into his workshop without another word.

Vivian breathes hard. A determined gleam sparks in her eyes as she follows after him.

Vivian hunches over the workbench. Thorn stands nearby, sorting through different kinds of blades. He sets a broadsword in front of her.

Broadswords are like hammers with edges. Strength and restraint are used in equal measure.

He selects a long, unsharpened steel tang and inspects it in his hands.

But rapiers? You win by striking first.

Vivian's fingers brush the cool metal of a broadsword. She flinches with a light gasp.

Begin FLASHBACK:

A distorted SCREECH. Shade smoke glows on the horizon.

Drake stands between her and Sir Leon. Sunlight flares along his blade.

Stay away from her!

Dissolve BACK TO scene:

The sound of hammering pulls her back. Vivian blinks, frozen.

(noticing)

You alright?

Just... thinking. I’ve only used broadswords before.

(beat)

Wooden ones, I mean.

Then let’s get to work.

Vivian nods with determination.

Lydia crouches among the branches. Her pinkish-red skin glows faintly beneath the shifting canopy light.

Below, Vivian thrives — drawing smiles from each mentor.

Lydia extends a hand. Four orbs of light swirl in her palm, effortless. She grimaces and clenches her hand into a trembling fist, extinguishing them.

She exhales, then leans back into the shadowed branches.

Vivian and Picknick stand on a grassy ridge, golden light spilling across the valley below.

She leans to the side, cheek pressed against his neck. Picknick’s harmonica holder jingles as he shifts his weight.

(quiet)

I never realized how... warm it was outside the palace. After the Shade took my friend, Drake, even the gardens felt... wrong.

Tears leak from the corner of her eyes. She wipes them away, but her sniffles betray her.

(imitating Ruuskel)

The best way to keep warm is to pack your own firewood... That’s something Ruuskel would say, at least.

Vivian exhales, lips curled into the ghost of a smile.

Ever think about what kind of crowd you want listening to your music?

(chuckles)

Millers, thieves, nobles... the weavers and their wives. Anyone with a little rhythm in their soul.

She steps back, brushing a hand along his mane.

You should come with us. Not just for the music... I think I’d miss you too much if you stayed.

Picknick tilts his head, as if weighing the wind.

Sounds like trouble.

(grinning)

I’ll have to free the horses in every stable we stop at. You know that, right?

I’m counting on it.

Picknick flicks an ear, glances toward the horizon, then back at her.

(snorts)

Alright, princess. Let’s give the world a show to remember.

They look out over the land, the horizon glowing.

Picknick’s harmonica hums a familiar strain from earlier, now slower, carried off by the wind to the shadowed trees... where someone listens.

The harmonica drifts into silence. In the underbrush, Lydia kneels beside a tree.

A red thread glows from her pinky, tethered to Dorian. He sits across from her, hollow-eyed, exhausted.

Lydia reaches out, but her hand passes through him as if he were a ghost.

The shadows thicken and the wind hushes.

THE CHORD – PSYCHIC REALM

An endless rehearsal hall. Black floors polished like ice. Rows of broken chairs stretch into darkness. Dust motes hang midair, frozen.

The chandelier sways, its crystals humming a sharp, echoing note that never resolves.

(snide)

So, the stray dog returns.

Lydia doesn’t flinch.

They’re heading to Zore. There’s a festival tomorrow night for some book.

Of course. Masks, crowds, illusion. Convenient... And the girl?

She’s sharp. More focused than I expected.

The Conductor shifts, voice curling toward her. She averts her eyes.

She carries the Bergeron name and the Red General’s curse. With her blood as the sacrifice, Bliss will return to the orchard.

Dorian meets Lydia’s gaze, pained but steady.

(hushed)

He’s lying. He has to be.

She looks up at the Conductor, eyes narrowed.

(snarling)

I’ll kill her before you get the chance.

The Conductor chuckles in amusement. A wicked grin creases his remaining features.

(cold)

Then your brother will rot in her stead.

Dorian’s eyes go wide. He shrinks back.

(pleading)

No. Please, no. You can’t.

Lydia’s hands curl into fists, but she drops her head.

Fine.

(quiet)

What do I have to do?

Follow her. Win her trust. Smile when she looks your way.

(colder)

Besides... Solaris can’t resist fixing broken things.

Dorian coughs, spitting out blood on the ground.

(hoarse)

She’s not broken.

(velvet, final)

Once her true power blossoms, take her to the orchard... Alive.

The Chord snaps, painfully sudden.

Lydia jerks back, gasping as if plunged into cold water. She growls in frustration, ready to cream, but sinks her teeth into the hand Vivian once held instead.

Her wrist trembles. She holds it there, breath caught, until the pressure shakes loose.

She pulls away. Pale crescent indents bloom across her thumb, darkening quickly into a bruise.

(to herself)

I’m nobody’s shadow.

She tucks the hand into her sleeve, then disappears into the darkness.

A cluttered study. Stacks of parchment, maps, and alchemical diagrams sprawl across the desk. Castien flips through dusty research notes, muttering under his breath as his eyes dart across the margins.

“Bliss is fabled to increase courage, creativity, strength... It cannot exist in its purest form while Misery reigns.”

He scoffs as he turns the page.

(reading)

“Misery numbs pain, dulls anxiety, slows poison. Dependence rots the spirit, until only a husk remains.”

Faint gold ink in elegant penmanship glimmers in the margins, catching his eye:

“If I can refine it into Bliss, the orchard might become balanced again.”

Castien sets the book down, rubbing his temples.

He crosses to the bookshelf and pulls free a small, clothbound volume of fairy tales — pages yellowed, illustrations faded.

He flips until he finds it: “The Orchard of Serenity.”

In the illustration, a woman with a silver circlet kneels between two trees. One carries with pale, shimmering fruit, and the other bears dark, thorny apples.

(trance-like)

“She loved him more than she feared Death. So she stole a life from Time, but Time is jealous...”

Vines from each tree wrap around her neck, climbing past her chest and shoulders. Below the image, the story reads:

“With Harmony united, Time could not find them.”

A second note in the same familiar gold ink catches his eye, this one nearly illegible:

“***Two becomes one.***”

A shaky arrow points to the circled phrase: “Harmony united.”

What were you chasing, sister? This isn’t balance.

His thumb brushes over the annotation. The gold ink glows warmly in response.

The moon is high. Crickets chirp. A breeze rustles the trees.

Vivian is curled up on the porch bench, sound asleep — hair messy, boots still on. Merriweather sits nearby, watching the stars.

Bean is nestled between them, mimicking Vivian’s position: a paw slung out, the same side smooshed into the blanket.

Solaris stands at the railing, already dressed with her pack slung over one shoulder. Her tail swishes with impatience.

(low, urgent)

We should go while the roads are quiet.

(softly)

They’ll be quiet in the morning.

Solaris glances back at the sleeping pair.

Vivian’s chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. Bean twitches in his sleep.

Her expression softens, but she covers it with a sigh.

(quiet)

She’s gonna be sore in the morning.

Then you’ll be in the same boat together.

Solaris relents. She steps away from the railing and settles onto the porch steps, back against the post.

Fine, but we leave at first light.

(pause, rubs her shoulder)

Before my back locks up forever.

(smiling)

I’ll pack breakfast.

The night dims, leaving the hum of the night echoing a chorus of crickets lulling them to sleep.

FADE to:

A fog clings to the ground. Most of the farm is still asleep.

Vivian kneels in the dirt near the barn, sleeves rolled, using a short spade to re-dig a crooked irrigation line.

Bean sits nearby on a stump, grooming one paw lazily.

It’s clear she’s already done most of the work. Her movements are tired but methodical.

From the shadows of the forge awning, Thorn watches, silent and arms crossed.

She fits the final stone into place, smooths the earth, then stands and brushes off her hands with a sigh.

Bean SQUEAKS a greeting to Thorn as he steps out into the light.

(gruff, quiet)

You should still be in bed.

(wiping her brow)

Wanted to fix it before I left.

...Hmph.

He gestures toward the forge.

C’mon, still got more work to do.

A sliver of dawn creeps across the dewy fields. A bird calls. The wind blows gently.

Vivian sits on the porch step, a mug of something warm in her hands. She’s dirt-smudged, a little sore, but glowing. Bean naps in a little loaf next to her.

Thorn emerges from the forge.

In his hands is an elegant rapier with a red gemstone set on the pommel and curling vines etched into the guard. He holds it out to her.

(somewhat awkwardly)

This one turned out decent. You should give it a name.

Vivian’s brow furrows, then her eyes widen in surprise.

Wait, I can keep it?

She takes it, testing the weight. It fits in her hand and her stance.

(gruff)

It’s a little long, but you’ll grow.

She beams anyway.

I’ll treasure it.

Don’t treasure it, use it.

She stands and offers a salute.

Yes, sir.

He nods. She sheathes the blade with quiet reverence.

The cart is packed. Solaris adjusts the straps on her pack, glancing at the rising sun with a restless energy.

Bean is curled up in the crook of her antlers, ready to go.

Picknick plods nearby, his harmonica clinking with each step.

Merriweather hands Vivian a small leather pouch.

Here’s some dried moonflowers, chamomile, and fire-root. Keep ‘em separate unless someone’s got a fever, or you’re out of tea.

(laughing)

How will I know which?

Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

Merriweather gives her one last, grounding hug.

Vint swoops overhead and lands in a tree with dramatic flair.

If you don’t write, I’ll assume you died in an impressively tragic way.

That’s... comforting.

(innocently)

Wasn’t talking to you.

Ruuskel steps forward and bows slightly to Vivian.

Trust your instincts. When in doubt... keep yourself grounded.

Vivian nods.

Got it.

She approaches Thorn.

I’ve come up with the perfect name.

He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

She unsheathes her rapier - the morning light glints off its sharp point.

“Thorn.”

(hesitates)

...Is that ok with you?

He blinks, looks away, and clears his throat.

(hoarse)

Hmph. If that’s what you want.

Alright, time to go before traffic picks up.

She steps onto the cart. Picknick trots up beside it.

Vivian walks up to him.

You coming or not?

Of course! I’ve got my bags packed and tunes ready for the road.

With Picknick hitched up, Solaris takes the reins. The cart creaks forward.

Don’t you go starting revolutions in any more stables.

I make no such promises!

(shouting after them)

Try not to die!

Vivian turns for one last look. The porch. The garden. The forge.

She lifts the rapier in salute, echoing Thorn’s words.

I’ll use it well.

Then she faces forward. They ride toward the rising sun, a jaunty tune from Picknick’s harmonica keeping pace.

The light filtering through the stone grate is a faint, cold blue. The walls press inward with silence.

Dorian sits on the floor. Shivering, eyes vacant.

The psychic tether from his pinky finger glows dully — a thin red thread, humming with magic.

Across the cell, Drake remains stone.

The tether flares in a faint ripple of heat. Dorian flinches, then pulls on it.

(faint, involuntary)

It isn’t fair!

The echo lingers. Dorian’s breathing steadies as he holds his tethered hand to his chest, cradling it like a wound.

(quietly)

All’s fair in love and war, remember?

The tether pulses a bright blue, carrying his cold voice to her. The heat dulls into a soft purple.

(whisper)

Which one is it?

(soft, cracked)

I don’t know.

The tether fades. He presses his forehead to the stone wall.