Asil sat in the quiet darkness, her back resting against the massive boulder that loomed behind her. She briefly considered meditating, but quickly dismissed the idea. Meditating in my own spirit realm feels a bit redundant, she mused dryly.

  She had realized, after some trial and error, that she wasn’t actually trapped here; instead, she had been pushed into her meditative space while her physical body recovered from the severe toll of using her newfound Berserker ability twice. The boulder at her back, a symbolic representation of her stamina and physical strength, had initially appeared faded and ghostlike, but it gradually solidified as her physical form healed. Once it reached a certain threshold, she'd awaken again in the real world. Until then, there was little else she could do but wait.

  Her senses of the physical world were muffled and distant, like listening through a thick veil. Yet, she could discern enough to know she was safe. Her companions had made it back safely to Fort Hajill, and they’d brought her home. There was comfort in knowing she wasn’t alone, even if she currently felt isolated in this strange, shadowy place.

  In the quiet solitude of her spiritual sanctuary, Asil began to revisit her recent memories, playing them before herself like faded holographic projections. The scenes unfolded hazily at first, gradually sharpening as her focus deepened. She watched herself discovering Abby again in the makeshift prison shack, Abby, fiercely protective, standing guard over the three “children” she had found.

  Children from Earth, she reminded herself, unease tugging at her chest. It still felt surreal, impossible, that three young beta testers from their world had been drawn into this twisted nightmare. She studied their projected images carefully: two elves who appeared to be in their late twenties, tall and slender, with anxious eyes; and a dwarf who, at first glance, appeared rugged, his thick red beard streaked heavily with gray, suggesting the look of a seasoned adult rather than the frightened child he truly was.

  Abby had found purpose and strength in protecting them, her grief momentarily set aside for something, someone, to fight for. Asil felt immense pride mixed with sorrow at this realization, yet she sensed something else, something deeper and unresolved, tugging at the edges of her consciousness.

  Her memory shifted toward the figure who had guided her through the chaos: the mysterious old prisoner, Viktus, the king from their vision. There was something strange about him, a puzzle she had glimpsed but hadn’t fully grasped. She had all the scattered pieces, yet without knowing exactly what she was looking at, assembling them felt impossible.

  At that moment, the holographic memories shimmering before her fragmented, dissolving into literal puzzle pieces scattered around her. Some fragments drifted together naturally, already assembled, Abby and the three beta testers forming a solid, comforting cluster. But the other pieces remained scattered, waiting to be gathered and placed correctly.

  Intrigued, Asil leaned forward and began to pick up the remaining pieces. If this is my mind’s way of sorting things out, I might as well get to work, she thought wryly.

  She carefully began assembling the pieces floating before her, seeking matching edges, colors, and shapes. Slowly, the pieces came together, revealing a larger scene. She paused as the central figure took form: King Viktus, yet not as the broken prisoner she'd known him as, nor as the regal figure she expected from Veronica’s vision. This Viktus was younger, proud, and battle-hardened, more warrior than king.

  Asil continued to connect piece by piece, and the image around Viktus gradually became clearer. He wasn’t alone. Someone stood close to him, gripping his arm in an intimate gesture of affection or closeness, like a partner. Her brow furrowed as she quickened her pace, piecing together this mysterious companion, urgency driving her fingers.

  At last, the puzzle was complete, and Asil took a startled step back.

  “Vee?” she whispered incredulously, staring at the woman standing beside Viktus. It was unmistakably Veronica, though older, with a mid-twenties age at least; her once youthful innocence had been replaced by wisdom, resolve, and sorrow. But there she was, arm-in-arm with Viktus.

  Confusion surged through Asil. Did Vee have an affair with the King? That felt wrong, but there they stood, side by side, clearly intimate.

  Suddenly, Viktus’s words echoed clearly through her mind, gentle yet firm:

  It’s not as simple as that, lass. I know what she did… and what it looked like. But not everything is what it seems.

  Asil studied the image again, scrutinizing Viktus’s face closely. Something tugged at her memory, familiarity hidden beneath the weariness of the older man’s features. Where have I seen you before?

  Then, realization crashed into her like an avalanche, breath catching sharply in her throat. It was his eyes, clear, earnest eyes, filled with determination, kindness, and a quiet, enduring strength. Eyes she’d seen first at a beta-testing office, staring with pride at a younger sister who looked up to him for courage.

  “Holy shit,” Asil breathed, barely believing her own revelation. “Viktus is Mike!”

  In that instant of clarity, her spirit realm dissolved around her, pulling her swiftly back into consciousness.

  Asil’s transition back to consciousness was disorienting, the comforting darkness of her spirit realm quickly melting away into an overwhelming whiteness. Her eyes snapped open, pupils dilating sharply against the intense glare. Shapes blurred and coalesced until finally a face appeared, hovering over her, a face she knew all too well.

  “Vee?” she gasped hoarsely, her voice cracking in disbelief.

  Veronica’s visage shimmered slightly, ethereal yet startlingly clear. She stared down at Asil, her expression urgent and grave. “Listen carefully. You need to hurry,” she warned, her voice soft yet sharp as a blade. “The Dark Wizard approaches the temple.”

  Before Asil could respond or even question what was happening, a powerful vision surged through her mind, pulling her from her body into a dizzying aerial rush. In an instant, her perception soared over Fort Hajill’s familiar walls, racing through an open field now teeming with an army of snarling orcs. She was drawn onward, plunging into the shadowy depths of the Dark Woods along a hidden, winding path. Trees blurred past in a dizzying rush until, suddenly, the motion ceased before a stone temple, ancient and foreboding.

  The heavy rune-carved doors of the temple swung open, pulling her vision forcibly inward. At its heart stood a figure draped in an impossibly dark cloak, so black it devoured all surrounding light. Before the figure stood a pedestal, and beyond that pedestal shimmered a translucent wall, thick like ancient, imperfect glass. Behind it loomed a massive shape, a sinister entity shrouded in darkness, eagerly awaiting release.

  Asil’s breath caught sharply when the cloaked figure turned abruptly, as if sensing her intrusion. Though no face was visible within the void beneath the hood, two tiny points of brilliant starlight, eyes burning with an unsettling awareness, pierced directly into her soul.

  And then, just as swiftly as the vision had gripped her, it vanished, plunging her back into the real world with a gasp.

  Her physical senses reasserted themselves painfully as the blurred shapes around her resolved into a familiar sight: the comforting stone walls of Fort Hajill. At the foot of her bed sat Abby, eyes shadowed by worry, with Lucia curled up protectively against the girl in dachshund form. Beside them sat Geraldine, her face creased in deep concern.

  Asil jerked upright with a sharp inhale, startling Lucia, who scrambled and whined anxiously. Abby’s attention snapped immediately to her, her relief overshadowed by grim tension.

  “Welcome back,” Abby said softly, her tone devoid of humor, handing Asil a small vial filled with a faintly glowing yellowish liquid. “Drink this.”

  Trusting Abby implicitly, Asil took the potion and quickly downed it, bracing herself for an unpleasant medicinal taste. Surprisingly, the potion was sweet and slightly salty, its warmth quickly spreading through her veins. She felt a slow but significant restoration of her depleted stamina.

  “Stamina potion?” she asked, meeting Abby’s weary eyes.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Abby managed a thin, humorless smile. “Exactly.”

  A silence lingered between them before Asil finally spoke the name she had discovered in her spirit realm. “Mike.”

  Abby visibly tensed, blinking rapidly to hold back tears. “I know,” she whispered, grasping Asil’s hands tightly, squeezing for comfort.

  “What else?” Asil asked cautiously, sensing there was more troubling her friend.

  Abby hesitated, then reluctantly shared the grim news. “We’re surrounded. An entire army, more orcs than I’ve ever seen. They haven’t attacked yet, but they’re waiting, just…watching.”

  Instantly, the vision Veronica had sent rushed back to Asil, the fort, the army circling like vultures, and the sinister temple deep in the woods. She swung her legs over the side of the bed with urgency, attempting to stand. “We have to go. Now.”

  But dizziness crashed over her like a wave, and she swayed alarmingly. Abby moved quickly, supporting her friend’s weight. Lucia barked softly, tail wagging anxiously.

  “Asil, you’re not ready, ” Abby protested gently, but Asil shook her head determinedly, fighting through the dizziness.

  “You don’t understand,” she insisted, gripping Abby’s arm tightly. “Veronica showed me a vision. The Dark Wizard is already at the temple, he’s about to release the Demon God. If we don’t stop him now, Aerothane is doomed.”

  Despair flickered briefly across Abby’s face before she quickly masked it with resolve. “But how, Asil? There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of orcs surrounding the fort. Even with all our strength, we’d never get through them.”

  Asil paused, thoughts racing, before clarity suddenly cut through her anxiety. “They’re not here to attack us, not yet, anyway. They’re here to trap us, to make sure no one can leave to stop the Dark Wizard.”

  The realization hung heavy in the air between them.

  “How can we possibly get past them?” Abby asked desperately, her voice cracking with barely restrained emotion.

  A new voice broke through their tension from the open doorway, confident yet gentle. “I might be able to help.”

  All three women turned sharply to find Rowan standing there, his lute strapped to his back. The young bard stood tall despite the exhaustion etched into his face, determination lighting his eyes.

  “I’ve been working on a new song,” Rowan explained, stepping forward. “It should create a distraction, enough to draw their attention and open a gap. I believe I can hold their focus long enough for at least four of you to slip through.”

  Abby looked skeptically toward Asil, but the warrior queen straightened, finding strength in the bard’s steady gaze.

  “Rowan,” Asil said solemnly, placing a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You’re sure you can do this?”

  He met her gaze steadily, unshaken. “We all have our part to play, and this is mine. I won’t fail you.”

  Asil took a deep breath, feeling her strength returning and steeling her resolve. “Then we must move quickly. Time is already against us.”

  The courtyard of Fort Hajill buzzed with nervous energy as the team hastily gathered, foregoing the comforts and privacy of the war room. There simply wasn’t time; an army of orcs surrounded them, a threat that loomed just beyond the gates.

  Rowan stood at the center, his lute strapped firmly across his back. He cleared his throat gently, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “I’ve been working on a new spell,” Rowan began cautiously, meeting each person's gaze in turn. “It should hold the Orcs’ attention long enough for a small team to sneak through unnoticed.”

  Bonvil folded his arms, skepticism plain on his face. “How small is small, bard?”

  Rowan hesitated only briefly. “Four, at most. The spell will take everything I have.”

  A murmur rippled through the gathered defenders. Asil stepped forward decisively.

  “I’ll go,” she said firmly. “Abby as well. We started this, we have to see it through.”

  Abby nodded from her place by Lucia’s side, determination glinting in her eyes. Lucia, curled up in dachshund form, gave a small, supportive growl.

  “I should accompany you,” Gideon volunteered immediately. “I can move silently and strike swiftly. You'll need a scout.”

  Bonvil looked uneasily at his nephew. “You’re sure, Gideon? You’ve just returned, ”

  “We don’t have time for caution,” Gideon interrupted softly, glancing respectfully at his uncle. “Asil and Abby need someone who can move unseen. That’s me.”

  Bonvil sighed heavily but nodded his reluctant approval. Loren placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “We still need one more,” Loren said, scanning the faces around him. “Someone strong, who can hold their ground if stealth fails.”

  Cressa stepped forward without hesitation. “Then it has to be me. I can handle myself, stealthy or not.”

  Eamon quickly interjected, concern evident. “Cressa, your strength is undeniable, but without me, your healer, what if something goes wrong? Let me, ”

  “We need your skills here, Eamon,” Asil interrupted gently but firmly. “This mission requires brute force and speed. Abby has made healing potions, and they’ll have to be enough.”

  Eamon hesitated, looking anxiously at Cressa, then gave a resigned nod. “All right,” he said softly. “Be careful.”

  Cressa gave Eamon a reassuring look. “I’ve got this.”

  Bonvil stepped forward, voice steady with authority. “Then it’s settled: Asil, Abby, Gideon, and Cressa. Gods watch over you all.”

  Loren gave a sharp nod. “Prepare yourselves quickly. Rowan, how exactly will your spell work?”

  Rowan took a calming breath, visibly gathering himself. “It’s a song of enchantment. It will mesmerize and confuse their ranks. It should keep their attention fixed on me, as long as I maintain the melody.”

  Geraldine frowned deeply, worry etched across her face. “And what happens when you run out of strength?”

  Rowan smiled faintly. “Then the spell ends. Hopefully, by then our team will be safely through.”

  Loren gave a brief nod, his voice grave. “Then we waste no more time. Rowan, to the parapet. We’ll open the small gate as soon as your spell begins.”

  As the others dispersed quickly, Abby turned toward Asil, voice quiet but steady. “Do you think this will actually work?”

  “It has to,” Asil replied, eyes narrowing in determination. “Everything depends on it.”

  They gathered at the fort gate a few moments later, Lucia comfortably secured in Abby’s sling. Rowan took his place high on the parapet, lute in hand. Silence stretched out heavily, tension humming through the air.

  Then Rowan began to play.

  His lute sang softly, gently at first, a mesmerizing melody rising on the breeze. His voice followed, clear, strong, and ethereal:

  “Sleep, oh eyes of iron bright,

  Dream beneath the veil of night.

  Ash to wind, and wind to flame,

  Forget your purpose, lose your name.”

  The fort gate creaked open. Asil cautiously peered outside, her heart hammering as she saw the orcs in chaotic formation. Gradually, their growls and murmurs quieted, eyes glazing as they stared entranced toward Rowan’s distant figure.

  “It’s working,” Abby whispered.

  Asil nodded sharply. “Stay close, everyone. Move quietly, but quickly.”

  They stepped onto the battlefield, carefully at first. Rowan’s voice rose, sweetly compelling, hypnotizing the enemy ranks further:

  “Turn and sway, your thoughts unspool,

  March in circles, play the fool.

  Hear the horn that none shall see,

  Chase the sound and set it free.”

  Orcs stood silent, transfixed, oblivious as Asil wove deftly between them. Abby shadow-stepped behind her, seamlessly matching her movements. Gideon moved effortlessly, his steps nearly silent, guiding Cressa with subtle gestures whenever she risked straying too close to an orc.

  Cressa, with her armor and weaponry stored in her pouch, felt vulnerable, but determinedly pressed forward, trusting Gideon’s whispered directions and maintaining pace with Abby and Asil.

  Asil’s pulse quickened as they reached the army’s thickest point. Orcs surrounded them now in every direction, densely packed. The slightest misstep or noise could break the fragile trance holding them at bay.

  Rowan’s voice carried, but exhaustion began to seep into his notes, the edges fraying slightly:

  “The sun is high, your will is low,

  Follow where the morning birds go.

  Step and stumble, spin and slide,

  Let the forest be your guide.”

  The forest loomed ahead, its dark trees promising safety. Suddenly, Lucia gave a faint but audible growl. The team froze instantly as a small orc, unaffected by the enchantment, stared straight at them.

  Abby reached for a dagger, but Asil was faster, hurling her own blade with precise, silent urgency. It caught the runt orc’s throat, and Asil swiftly lowered its body without sound.

  They moved again, quicker now, desperation overriding caution as Rowan’s song weakened further:

  “Whispers hush the battle’s drum…

  You won’t remember where you’re from.”

  The forest edge was within reach. Rowan’s voice strained, his melody fading rapidly. They broke into a sprint, crossing into the shadowed safety of the trees as Rowan’s song abruptly ended.

  Behind them, the Orcs stirred, snapping from their trance. Angry, bewildered murmurs filled the air as the enemy searched in confusion, finding nothing but shadows slipping silently into the depths of the Dark Woods.