The council room in Ashen was silent. No flickering torchlight. No scribbling quills. Just the slow, rhythmic tapping of Ethan's fingers on the edge of the war table.
The parchment lay before them all, still stained with blood.
"Let the rebel king think he's won his battle. He has not yet met my blade."
—Signed with a name Ethan had never seen before: Vaelen Drakar.
Lyra broke the silence. "The High Serpent Lord."
Mira nodded, her voice grim. "He's real, then. Not just a name they whisper to scare children."
Ethan stared at the signature. It burned into his mind like fire. "Vaelen Drakar. We need to know who he is."
As fate would have it, they didn't have to wait long.
That same night, a stranger arrived in Ashen. Cloaked in green, face hidden beneath a wide hood, she demanded to see Ethan.
"I have news of the High Serpent," she said, her voice like smoke and silk. "But I speak only to the one who walks between worlds."
Ethan froze. "Who are you?"
She lowered her hood. Her hair was braided in silver threads, her eyes gold like polished amber. And her ears—long, curved slightly—marked her as one of the Elari, the hidden race of Avalon's mountain woods.
"My name is Selene," she said. "And I know who Vaelen Drakar truly is."
In the council room, by lanternlight, Selene told the tale.
"Vaelen Drakar was once a man. A scholar. A visionary. He believed the Tree of Realms could be awakened and bent to human will. Not revered—but controlled."
Tavren frowned. "That's forbidden knowledge. Even the ancient kingdoms feared it."
Selene nodded. "He ignored their warnings. He found part of the Tree—a root fragment—deep beneath the mountains. He bonded with it."
"Bonded?" Ethan asked.
"The root didn't just grant him knowledge," she said. "It corrupted him. Or perhaps revealed what was already inside. Power. Hunger. He became something else—neither man nor god. He created the Serpent Court from exiled nobles, criminals, and fanatics who believed Avalon should belong to those strong enough to seize it."
"And what does he want?" Lyra asked.
Selene looked to Ethan, her gaze piercing.
"The same thing you've already begun to find," she said. "A way to cross worlds. A way to unlock the Tree's full power."
That night, Ethan walked the path to the forge, hoping to clear his mind. But instead, he was pulled again into the space between.
Floating.
Weightless.
Time twisted around him, like threads of gold unraveling in darkness.
Then, a vision.
He saw Vaelen Drakar, cloaked in obsidian armor, standing in a ruined temple lit by blue fire. In his hand, he held a sword made of root and metal, pulsing with energy. Behind him, a gate—circular, runed—hummed with power.
Ethan's heart stopped. That gate looked like a mirror.
A mirror between worlds.
He woke with a gasp, lying on the floor of the forge, sweat pooling at his back.
The God of Creation's voice echoed again, just faintly:
"If the Serpent reaches the Tree before you do, the worlds will bleed into one… and neither will survive."
The next day, Ethan called a private council.
"We have two goals now," he said. "Fortify Avalon—and find the Tree of Realms before Vaelen does."
"But how?" Mira asked. "Even the oldest maps speak of it like legend."
Selene stepped forward, retrieving a scroll from her satchel.
"I can take you there," she said. "I know the path. But it is long. Dangerous. And guarded by the Ancients."
Ethan looked to Lyra.
"If I leave," he said, "Ashen will need a leader."
She straightened her shoulders. "Then I'll be that leader."
Tavren nodded. "And we'll keep building the alliance. The Serpent won't wait."
Ethan turned back to Selene.
"Then let's find the Tree."