The sun crept over the horizon in soft streaks of amber, painting the cliffside in gold and shadow. Morning mist clung low to the rocks and seagulls were just starting to wake.

  Camdyn stirred first. His back ached from the uneven ground, and his bandaged arm throbbed with a dull pulse. He rose slowly, each movement measured, so as not to wake Flora. She still slept soundly, cradled in a bed of moss that hadn't been there the day before, her curls lay in wild ringlets, kissed by dew.

  Above them, the Spire loomed. Its form jagged against the soft sky, swaying faintly like a mirage. It seemed both impossibly close and endlessly far, flickering in and out of clarity with each blink. Camdyn frowned, blinking again. The top of the structure leaned subtly left, then right, though the stone itself remained still.

  He rubbed his eyes, swaying slightly with his vision.

  Flora’s eyes fluttered open, immediately sensing Camdyn’s unease. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know…” he answered, distant. “I feel… Weird. And my eyes don’t work. Am I drugged?”

  “The repellant ward.” she said, sitting up. “The Spire knows you’re not welcome here. It knows you can see it and now it will do everything in its power to deter you.”

  Camdyn massaged his temples. A faint pressure had begun to build behind his eyes, dull but growing.

  “Well, I gotta say this is very unpleasant.”

  Her expression mirrored his. “It’ll only get worse.” Flora replied.

  He sighed. “Fantastic.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Is there an alternative?”

  She shook her head slowly, “If my vines carry you up, I fear the effects of the magic would be too great, too quickly… You must follow your own rhythm.”

  “Got it. Acclimation it is.” he took a breath, building up the willpower, “This is going to suck, deeply, but I’ll manage.”

  He gave her a grin and she squeezed his fingers for a moment before letting go, but concern never left her eyes.

  As they began the climb, the world around Camdyn began to warp around the edges. Paths twisted back on themselves. Rocks shifted when he wasn’t looking. Camdyn placed a hand on the cliff wall for balance and immediately recoiled. It pulsed under his palm like something breathing.

  Each step forward brought fresh waves of disorientation. The Spire warped again shrinking to the size of a tower bell, then stretching impossibly tall between one heartbeat and the next.

  Camdyn stumbled, catching himself on a stone that hadn’t been there a moment before. He blinked rapidly. Flora was just ahead of him until she wasn’t. She flickered like a trick of the light, her outline doubling, fracturing into mirrored copies that stepped in different directions.

  “Flora..?” he rasped, panic threading through the nausea swelling in his gut.

  “I’m here.” Her voice rang out clearly, steady and grounded. “Just focus on my voice. Not your eyes.”

  He gritted his teeth. His stomach churned, and sweat broke along his spine despite the morning chill. The ward was working, forcing his senses against him. Designed to repel, confuse, and turn away any who dared climb toward the truth.

  Camdyn pressed forward, one foot after another, his boots dragging against uneven stone. The sickness coiled tighter in his stomach with each step. Shadows stretched where they shouldn't. Voices echoed faintly from the rocks. Whispers that sounded like people he knew. His mother. Raya. Even his brother.

  He paused, chest heaving.

  A flash of movement in the corner of his eye made him turn. Flora, falling off the ledge—

  “Flora!” he called after her weakly, heart lurching. He stumbled forward. Only to find her standing exactly where she had been, brow furrowed with worry. “It will try to trick you,” she warned gently. “It feeds on what you fear.”

  Camdyn dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady himself. “Right,” he replied. “I’m just a smidge… lightheaded.” He struggled to maintain his train of thought.

  They continued climbing in slow silence, the magic clawing deeper into Camdyn’s mind. His vision doubled again, and the cliffside beneath his feet seemed to bend outward like a wave. For a split second, he saw the Spire lying in ruins, overgrown and broken then it was whole again, majestic and untouched. Time and distance refused to behave. The path looped and shifted like it was alive.

  “Are we… Are we walking in circles, maybe?” Camdyn muttered, “I feel like we’re walking in circles...” He didn’t know if he was talking to himself at this point.

  “Not in circles, no.” she assured him, “It’s straight ahead.”

  Camdyn reached out blindly until he found her hand. Her fingers were cool and steady in his. The touch anchored him. Real, solid, and unaffected by the illusions.

  The headaches grew sharper as they neared the upper ridge, like hot needles behind his eyes. His breath came shallow, chest tight. The Spire stood above them, impossibly tall again, but somehow tangibly near.

  “We’re close,” Flora whispered. “Just a little further.”

  “Good,” Camdyn panted. “Because I don’t know how much longer… I can keep going...”

  They reached a narrow shelf of stone that curled around the final outcropping. A twisted archway grown from bone-white roots and fossilized coral marked the entrance to the Spire’s inner sanctum. As they stepped through, the repellent magic slammed into Camdyn like a wave.

  He dropped to one knee, gasping.

  “Camdyn!” Flora was at his side in an instant, her hands on his shoulders.

  “I just need… a second,” he ground out, eyes squeezed shut. The hallucinations surged. Blood on his hands, his brother’s voice calling out in that final moment, the sound of the beast’s roar. But through all of it, he felt Flora. Her presence steadied the spiral.

  And slowly, painfully, the magic began to loosen its grip.

  Only slightly. But enough.

  He opened his eyes. The Celestine Spire loomed ahead of them, no longer wavering.

  Flora helped him up, steadying him. And together they entered, pushing the aged wood of the door. They were immediately greeted by a whisper of incense that lingered in the air, mingling with something sweeter like starlight distilled into scent.

  The Spire’s interior hummed with quiet reverence and subtle magic, steeped in an ancient, sacred presence. Stone walls soared upward, etched with glowing sigils. Constellations,

  celestial runes, and cryptic symbols that pulsed with age-old power. Silken tapestries also lined the walls, embroidered with star-faring beings and drifting cosmic beasts. Some fluttered faintly, though the air did not stir.

  Though dim, the space glowed with a soft, sourceless light, as if the stars themselves breathed through the walls. Smooth stone floors bore the memory of countless footsteps, leading to low, circular tables. Scrolls and ancient books lay scattered across them, some aglow with fresh enchantment, others yellowed and filled with planetary diagrams. Perhaps penned by the Sirins of myth.

  Above, the vaulted dome shimmered with translucent stone, catching the light of the sky beyond. At its heart, an open skylight revealed the constellations themselves, mirrored perfectly in the still pool below. An illusion of being suspended between two heavens.

  Camdyn approached the pool, enamored by it. Curiously, he knelt down and dipped his fingers in its coolness, watching as the reflection rippled.

  Flora stood nearby, alert. She could sense a presence.

  And as if on cue, she saw it–the movement of a nearby shadow. From the dim interior of the Spire, a figure stepped into view. Feathered arms swayed as she walked, not quite wings but limned with earthy plumage that hinted at forgotten flight. Her legs were long and avian, wrapped in fine down that shimmered faintly as she walked, ending in curved talons that clicked softly against the stone. She moved with the silent elegance of something not entirely earthbound.

  Her hair was a halo of feathers. Softest near the crown, growing longer toward the tips, and flaring out at her temples in sharp tufts like those of a horned owl.

  But it was her eyes that truly held power. One blazed amber, sharp and searing, unblinking in its clarity. The other was pale and misted, like a moon behind fog. Blind, perhaps, yet still knowing. Together, they gave her a gaze that felt ancient, as if she saw not just the present, but the echoes that came before.

  “You are trespassing on sacred ground.” The Sirin's voice carried across the stone.

  Camdyn jolted upright as Flora instinctively tensed beside him.

  “Or at least, that’s what I’m supposed to say,” the Sirin added lazily, inspecting her nails. “Personally? Couldn’t really be bothered.”

  Camdyn blinked. He looked at Flora for some kind of answer but she looked just as lost.

  “What? Cat got your tongue?” the Sirin drawled, feathers ruffling. “Are you here to loot the place or something? Because that could honestly make for a nice change of pace.”

  Camdyn finally found his voice. “Uh, no, not here to steal. Looking for answers actually. We were hoping to bump into a Sirin. I take it that's what you are?”

  “Yes, that I am.”

  “So… Can you help us?’

  The Sirin tilted her head, feathers rustling softly. “Hmm. Pass.”

  Camdyn blinked again. “Pass?”

  “Didn’t realize there were two birds here. Me, an owl… and you, apparently, a parrot.”

  Flora’s patience wore thin. “You deny a quest without first hearing what it is?”

  “Yes. And I already know why you’re here. To save the world, right? I saw it in a vision. Your journey through the city, the hike up the cliffside, stumbling into this very place. Granted, I only saw one of you. I suppose the human’s presence barely registered.”

  “Offense taken.” Camdyn grumbled.

  “None intended. Just saying it like it is.” She said evenly.

  “And that is not worthy of your wisdom?” Flora challenged.

  “Saving the world? Worthy? Sure. Worth my time? Now that’s a different question. Who’s to say this world is even worth saving?”

  “You speak with the outlook of a child.” Flora hissed, “That’s not a question anyone who belongs to this world should ask.”

  The Sirin gave her a slow, languid glance. “Hm. Sounds like someone’s never questioned anything in her life. But then again, you forest nymphs have always been self-righteous sticks in the mud.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Flora’s eyes flashed. “We live by a code. A purpose. We are part of this earth. It lives because we protect it. And you, you’re a Sirin. Keeper of insight, yes? Or is that just a myth you’ve conveniently outgrown, Bird?”

  The Sirin’s eyes blinked slowly, unfazed. “So having a different perspective makes me unqualified now? My wisdom only counts if it echoes exactly what you believe?”

  Camdyn raised his hands slightly, attempting to cut through the tension. “Flora—”

  But Flora pressed on, voice sharp and unwavering. “You speak of visions, of the world ending, and yet you sit here, cloaked in feathers and apathy, as if it’s someone else’s sky that’s burning. If you’ve truly seen what’s coming, how can you choose to do nothing?”

  The Sirin’s expression didn’t shift, but her eyes narrowed just a touch.

  “You are a coward,” Flora said coldly, “A disgrace to your kind.”

  That struck a nerve. “Speaking of,” the Sirin said, voice dipping like a blade, “did yours welcome your little pet with open arms? Or did they exile you the moment they saw him?”

  Camdyn stepped between them, his tone gentle but firm. “Okay, let’s all just… breathe for a second. Flora, I get it. This matters. More than anything. But maybe take it down a notch, yeah? Insulting her isn’t going to sway her to help us.”

  Flora folded her arms but said nothing. Her glare didn’t leave the Sirin’s.

  Camdyn then turned to the Sirin. “And you… if you really did see us in a vision, then doesn’t that mean there’s a reason we’re here?”

  The Sirin tilted her head again, eyes unreadable. “I saw her. And visions are like dreams. Sometimes they indicate something larger. Sometimes it's just garbled colors and noises, fragments of the present and past that ultimately mean nothing.”

  “Well, if you’ve seen her before in a vision and now she’s in front of you, how could you justify that as just another garbled fragment?” Camdyn continued. “And if it was a prediction, then maybe we were meant to find you. And maybe, just maybe, you’re meant to do more than sit in your tower asking if the world’s worth saving.”

  A pause. The Sirin’s orange eye flicked to Flora, then back to Camdyn. “Interesting…” was all she said.

  Camdyn took it as a step forward. He smiled. “Let’s start fresh. I’m Camdyn. She’s Flora. And you are..?”

  “Saelune,” she replied. Then, with a flicker of amusement: “How is it the nymph has a name? Unless… I had it backwards and she’s the pet.”

  Flora scowled.

  “Nobody’s a pet.” Camdyn cut in quickly. “Can we maybe try not derailing the conversation every five seconds?”

  “I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

  Camdyn gave her a flat look.

  She gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll try to be civil. Awful as it sounds.”

  “Appreciated,” Camdyn said dryly.

  “So Camdyn and Flora, what is it exactly that you want from me?”

  “Directions—”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Exit’s straight back the way you came.”

  “Directions,” Camdyn repeated, leveling a look at her, “To the Verdant Deep.”

  That got a reaction. The amusement slipped, if only slightly, from Saelune’s face. Her feathers gave a subtle ruffle, not playful this time. Guarded.

  “Well,” she said slowly, “I suppose you’ll want a tour of Atlantis next. Maybe swing by Oz on the way.”

  “Are you saying it’s not real?”

  “I’m saying that it’s only spoken of in myths and lullabies. And if it is real, it’s not meant to be disturbed.”

  “It already is,” Flora cut in, “This sickness is spreading and it’ll only get worse if we do nothing. If we don’t reach the Deep soon, it won’t just be myth that fades. Aurevyn will go with it.”

  “Well, aren't you just a ball of sunshine? Look, even if I could point you toward it, what makes you think you’re capable of finding it? You’re willing to bet your lives on this?”

  Camdyn shrugged. “Well, the end of the world is at stake, what much else is there to lose? Besides, I didn't take you for someone who cared. Unless you’re getting soft on us.”

  For once, Saelune had no rebuttal. She studied Camdyn in silence, her orange eye gleaming with something less mocking, more curious. Appraising.

  “You’d laugh in the face of death,” she said at last. “I gotta say, it’s a bold move for a human. Greater beings have died looking for this very thing. But in an odd way, I kinda respect it.”

  “So, you’ll help us,” Flora asked eagerly.

  “I’ll consider it,” Saelune replied, “He's piqued my interest.”

  Saelune turned, the tips of her feathers brushing softly against the stone as she moved to one of the faded tapestries lining the chamber wall.

  “This place was built long before I took roost. Before our Elders even,” she began, voice more solemn now. “The world was young then, but already crumbling beneath its own weight. And yet, even in that time, they knew this was coming.”

  With a clawed hand, she swept back the tapestry, revealing a mural carved directly into the stone beneath. Time had worn it down and dust clung to every groove, but the image endured. Two figures stood at its center, hand in hand. One bore a head of fire. Its outline flickering, barely contained. The other’s shoulders blossomed with petals and curling vines. Above them, a great owl soared between two twisted trees, black as ash, its wings stretched protectively wide. Surrounding them: water, fire, thorned vines, and a sun split clean down the middle. Beneath their feet, a jagged spiral tunneled deep into the earth, where a single, fragile sprout had begun to grow.

  “It’s beautiful,” Flora whispered.

  “We believed the prophecy was fulfilled when the world ended a century ago,” Saelune said quietly. “But maybe we were wrong. Maybe it wasn’t meant to predict the first end at all…” she paused, “Maybe it was predicting the final one.”

  Camdyn stepped closer, tracing the spiral etched into the stone with his fingertips, following it downward. “What was your vision?”

  “It was vague,” Saelune answered him. “Just glimpses. I saw her come here… then the glint of a blade. Crimson. A tangle of roots. And finally, a single seed.”

  “The sprout,” Camdyn thought aloud, glancing back at the mural.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Do you know what it means?” Flora asked.

  “What part of glimpses do you not understand?” she snapped, feathers bristling.

  “Then at least tell us a way to the Deep,” Flora pressed.

  “Maybe a map?” Camdyn offered, half-hopefully.

  Saelune rolled her eyes. “No, there’s not a map. It’s literally the center of the world—of everything. But…” she hesitated, “there’s this old song.”

  She closed her eyes and recited:

  “Where mist meets wild at water’s brim

  Beauty bright burns dim within

  One must trust more than the eyes

  Pierce the veil or seek demise

  Awaits the garden down below

  Few who know it, fewer less who go

  There lies the balance, there lies the Deep,

  There lies the giant in cavern steep”

  “So… a riddle?” Camdyn replied, jotting it down in his journal.

  Saelune shrugged, brushing dust from the edge of the mural. “Call it what you like. It’s the only thread I have.”

  “I wonder how this connects to your vision…”

  “Visions are… funny. It's like trying to jog your memory about something that's right on the tip of your tongue. Sometimes the only way to recall it is to retrace your steps.”

  “But it's the future,” Camdyn pointed out, “How do you retrace something that hasn’t happened yet?”

  “I kind of just guess? If the vision gets clearer, I figure I must be on the right track.”

  “I don't understand,” Flora spoke, “Sirins are spoken of as great knowers and deeply prophetic beings. Sought out for their wisdom and direction. And you just guess and hope you chose right?”

  “Hey, same as you,” she said defensively, “And you're probably referring to the Elders. They were the wise ones. But they've been gone for a while…”

  “Then why are you here?” Flora asked, almost accusatory.

  “Wish I knew.” Saelune muttered, “I was tasked to be here. And I'm not exactly at their level anyway.”

  “I see,” Flora replied plainly, “You're a runt.”

  “Look who's throwing stones now.”

  “We're getting sidetracked again.” Camdyn interrupted.

  “Yeah, Flora.” Saelune mocked.

  “Saelune, focus.” Camdyn said firmly. “I'm assuming you don't know how to decipher the riddle.”

  “Correct.”

  “Okay, so let's focus on what we do know.” he replied. “We know this Withering has been predicted before. We know how it'll end if we do nothing. We kind of, but not really, know where the Deep is—”

  “About that,” Saelune cut in. “I should probably mention there's an old saying about a key that’s needed to get to the Verdant Deep.”

  “A key?”

  “Not a literal one. That'd be ridiculous.” She snorted.

  “A relic.” Flora said quietly.

  “Something old, yeah. Aurevyn is an entity of balance, so only through balance can the gate be opened.”

  “The Covenant Blade,” Flora answered. “You mentioned a blade in your vision.”

  “True,” Saelune nodded, “I was leaning more toward human sacrifice, but that makes sense too. Although… I suppose we could still sacrifice a human with the blade.”

  “That would defeat the entire purpose of its existence.” Flora reminded her.

  “Hold on. What is a Covenant Blade?” Camdyn asked.

  “It’s a boring old artifact from the before-times,” Saelune said with a dismissive wave.

  “It is an object of power,” Flora corrected her, “A ceremonial knife that once forged peace between our worlds. Only brought out in times of great turmoil to restore harmony amongst us.”

  “See? Boring. It hasn't been seen in ages. Legend says they broke it in two when man got drunk on power. One half remains with the supernatural. The other with the ordinaries. And before you ask—”

  “You don’t know anything, we know.” Flora completed her thought, frustrated.

  “Aw, you’re learning,” she smirked.

  “But,” Camdyn added thoughtfully, “You could know.”

  “Come again?”

  “You could know,” he repeated, “It’s like retracing your steps, right? Like you said. Just because you don’t know now, doesn’t mean you couldn’t know later as we get closer.”

  “Camdyn, that would mean bringing her along—” Flora protested.

  “It would.”

  “It would indeed,” Saelune grinned.

  “Surely, she’s needed here.” she hissed, “Her Elders left her here for a reason.”

  “Eh, they won’t miss me. Besides, how could I miss out on this bond that’s just starting to form between us?”

  Flora scowled. “There is no bond.”

  Saelune placed a dramatic hand to her chest. “Well, I beg to differ. We’re just one mean jab away from becoming the best of friends. I just know it.”

  Flora shot Camdyn a look of desperation.

  He sighed. “We could use someone who sees more than what’s in front of us.”

  “She doesn’t see, Camdyn,” Flora argued. “She guesses. Wildly.”

  “And yet,” Saelune interrupted, “Somehow my wild guesses just happened to not only predict your arrival but also where you’re needed to go next.”

  Flora narrowed her eyes. “Barely.”

  “You can come on one condition.” Camdyn said.

  “I don’t really believe you're in the position to be creating terms—” Saelune pointed out.

  “You can come if you’re actually going to be helpful,” he continued. “Starting now.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” Saelune replied. “Deal.”

  “That’s it?” Flora made her disbelief known.

  “Scout’s honor.” The Sirin crossed her heart.

  Flora glared at her. “Camdyn, you believe her?”

  “Not sure,” He shrugged. “But I want to, so that’s gonna have to be enough.”