Ace woke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that comes after something breaks.
The mess hall smelled like ash and iron.
Tables were overturned.
Stone cracked.
The ceiling scorched black.
And in the center—
Vespera.
Sitting upright.
Smiling.
Two clean holes burned through her wings.
Not ragged.
Not torn.
Precise.
Surgical.
Ace didn’t breathe.
Lenora and Lewd rushed in.
“What happened—”
“What happened?!”
Vespera lifted one hand in a weak wave.
“I’ll manage,” she said softly. “They’ll close eventually.”
Her floating rings trembled like they were trying to hold her together.
Ace stared at the holes.
Her core pulsed once.
Pink lightning crept across her skin.
Vespera reached toward her.
“Ace… don’t.”
That word lingered.
Ace’s hands shook.
“You don’t touch my family.”
Her voice wasn’t loud.
That made it worse.
The air around her began to distort.
Pink electricity crawled up her neck, down her arms.
Her pupils thinned.
She didn’t roar.
She vanished.
The wall exploded outward as she launched into the castle halls.
Ace tore through corridors like the castle was made of paper.
Pink lightning cracked against the walls.
Servants fled.
Doors shattered.
She wasn’t screaming.
She wasn’t roaring.
She was focused.
And that was worse.
Hina was somewhere in the stone maze.
And Ace was hunting.
Somewhere in the distance—
the Valley called to her.
Not with words.
With memory.
With blood.
Her core burned hotter.
Vespera’s smile dropped the moment Ace left.
“She’s going to kill someone,” she whispered.
Lenora moved fast—helping Vespera to an intact table, bracing her like she might fall apart if she sat wrong.
“Don’t worry about me,” Vespera said quickly. “Stop her.”
Lewd swallowed hard.
“She looked different.”
“She was different,” Vespera replied quietly. “That wasn’t ‘Ace.’ That was the Valley.”
Lenora’s jaw tightened.
Then she looked at the holes again—too clean, too deliberate.
“Hina,” Lenora said, voice flattening.
Vespera didn’t deny it.
Her rings trembled harder.
“She did it to make Ace snap,” Vespera whispered. “Because Hina doesn’t just want pain.”
She swallowed.
“She wants ownership.”
Lenora didn’t hesitate.
The moment Ace vanished into the corridors, Lenora moved.
Lewd took one step forward—
and froze.
Blight stirred at her side, voice like a knife sliding free.
Something’s wrong with Derpy.
Lewd flinched.
“Not now,” she whispered under her breath.
Blight’s presence sharpened.
You felt it. Something shifted. He’s unstable.
Lewd’s jaw tightened.
I know.
But she didn’t say it out loud.
I’m not ready.
Images flashed in her mind—her and Derpy facing each other, weapons drawn, words thrown like blades.
Not yet.
Lenora’s book pulsed faintly at her side.
There is interference, it murmured. Derpy’s signature is fluctuating.
Lenora brushed it off with a sharp exhale.
“Right now,” she said out loud, voice firm, “we focus on Ace. We deal with Derpy later.”
Lewd nodded too quickly.
“Yes. Later.”
Because later meant not now.
And not now meant she didn’t have to face him.
Lenora bent slightly—
and lifted Lewd without warning.
Lewd squeaked.
“L-Lenora!”
Lenora had her slung easily against her shoulder like she weighed nothing.
Lewd went bright red.
She was half Lenora’s size.
This was unnecessary.
This was embarrassing.
“I can run!” Lewd protested weakly.
“Not as fast,” Lenora replied calmly.
And then she dashed.
Wind magic surged under her feet.
The corridor blurred into streaks of stone and torchlight.
Lewd clutched Lenora’s shoulder, flustered beyond reason.
Blight muttered irritably.
You are avoiding something.
Lewd ignored it.
Ahead—
lightning exploded.
Ace tore through doors like paper.
Then—
they heard it.
A giggle.
Light.
Mocking.
Echoing from below.
Ace turned sharply—
and blasted through a dungeon entrance, stone shattering around her.
Lenora adjusted her grip.
Lewd swallowed.
They dove after her.
In the throne hall, Derpy walked calmly.
Too calmly.
Mia’s three heads snarled.
Sphinx crackled with lightning.
Vemi whispered, “He’s not here.”
Vambasta nodded. “He’s somewhere else.”
Two figures blocked the hall.
One spat at him.
“You froze our sister.”
Magic fired.
Derpy didn’t blink.
“So I was supposed to be your mother’s tool?”
He laughed.
Not amused.
Empty.
Seraphine opened her shadow.
Lyra emerged.
Berserker roared.
Derpy’s eyelids lowered.
Derpy didn’t choose to sleep.
He was pulled.
Celica’s presence tightened around him first.
Then Phantasm.
The world tilted.
His knees buckled.
Before Lyra or Berserker could strike, Derpy’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed.
Darkness.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Derpy stood upright immediately—aware.
Celica hovered in front of him.
Phantasm stood further back, watching like she was deciding whether he was a problem or a weapon.
“You were about to escalate,” Celica said sharply.
Derpy rubbed his face.
“I know.”
Phantasm’s voice cut in.
“Everyone in that hall is either nervous or scared.”
Derpy didn’t deny it.
“I’m aware.”
Celica’s eyes narrowed.
“They see you as unstable,” she said. “And you’re proving them right.”
Derpy’s jaw tightened.
“I’m upset,” he admitted. “That doesn’t make me reckless.”
Phantasm’s gaze sharpened.
“You are closer than you think.”
Derpy looked at her.
And the word slipped out—because he’d heard it once, in a different time, from a dragon who spoke like judgment.
“Mirrathys.”
Silence.
Celica’s wings stilled.
Phantasm froze.
The darkness around them shifted, like the void itself had leaned in.
“How,” Phantasm asked slowly, “do you know my true name?”
Derpy exhaled.
“Vespera told me,” he said. “She said she’d tell me the Calamities. And their true dragon names.”
He didn’t look away.
“So I’d understand what kind of judgment I’m walking toward.”
Phantasm studied him.
“It is not wise to speak a Calamity’s true name,” she said evenly.
“Unless you are prepared to bargain.”
Derpy blinked.
“I wasn’t trying to bargain.”
“That is not how true names work,” Phantasm replied.
Celica flicked Derpy on the forehead.
“Be careful.”
Derpy rubbed the spot, annoyed.
“Sorry.”
Phantasm’s expression softened—barely.
“Intent does not matter as much as invocation.”
Derpy nodded slowly.
He understood that now.
Derpy paced.
“If I can’t let the rage out… and I can’t suppress it…”
He stopped walking.
He remembered.
When he first arrived.
When he was contained.
When the only kindness he was shown came in small, quiet forms.
Food.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Silence.
Routine.
He stared into the dark.
“Fine,” he muttered.
“If I can’t split myself…”
He started naming shapes in the void.
“A cat.”
Small. Fast. Sharp.
“A cow.”
Strong. Steady. Grounded.
“A rat.”
Clever. Observant. Quiet.
“A ram.”
Stubborn. Forward. Leader.
He didn’t know their real names.
So he made them up.
Velra.
Maribel.
Sillette.
Brimelle.
They flickered as silhouettes.
Not formed.
Not real.
Just ideas.
Containers.
Sinister Derpy appeared behind him, smiling.
“Let me out.”
“No.”
Sinister tilted his head.
“You’re going to burst.”
“I’ll manage.”
Phantasm watched carefully.
Celica hovered closer.
And without warning—
Phantasm released a subtle surge of power into Derpy.
Not overwhelming.
Not explosive.
Stabilizing.
Derpy didn’t notice it consciously.
But the silhouettes grew slightly more solid.
The rage inside him stopped boiling.
It simmered.
Controlled.
For now.
Derpy opened his eyes.
The attackers were unconscious.
Seraphine and Vaeloria stood over them.
Vaeloria was trembling.
Derpy snapped his fingers.
The crest vanished from Seraphine’s neck.
The collar dissolved from Vaeloria’s throat.
Vaeloria froze.
Then—
she clutched her neck.
“Put it back.”
Her voice was small.
Derpy blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Put it back,” she repeated.
Her breathing grew shallow.
“It was warm.”
Seraphine stared at her.
Vaeloria’s eyes were unfocused.
“I didn’t have to think,” she whispered. “I didn’t have to choose.”
Something cold crawled up Derpy’s spine.
“I’m not your crutch,” he said quietly.
Vaeloria looked at him like he had taken something precious.
“Give it back.”
Her hands shook.
“Give it back.”
Derpy stepped away.
He had never intended this.
Control was supposed to be a tool.
But some people didn’t want freedom.
And that terrified him more than rebellion ever could.
Inside the kingdom’s dungeon, Ace tore through the corridors looking for Hina.
Pink lightning split the air.
She wasn’t thinking.
She wasn’t listening.
She wasn’t Ace.
Somewhere ahead, a giggle echoed again—light, mocking, inviting.
And Ace followed it like a blade follows a throat.
