James and his squad boarded the flying vessel in grim silence. The boat-like craft hummed low as it tore across the forest canopy, its speed carrying them swiftly toward the place where their lord had last been seen. The night air whipped past them, heavy with tension, none daring to voice the fear that gnawed at their hearts.
As the vessel cut through the darkness, the first thing they noticed was another vessel parked below, half-hidden among the trees. James leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "That’s Lady Racheal’s," he muttered. But there was no sign of her. Just the empty craft, abandoned in the stillness.
"Stay alert," James ordered. His voice was steady, but his grip on the railing betrayed the weight on his mind. They lowered their vessel beside Racheal’s, boots hitting the ground in unison. Weapons ready, they pressed forward on foot.
The deeper they went, the more the forest changed. At first, it was broken branches and torn earth, the usual scars of battle. But soon the air itself grew heavy, the temperature rising until the heat pressed against their skin like an open flame. Residual power lingered in the air, oppressive and sharp, clinging to their lungs with every breath.
Then they reached the heart of it.
The forest simply... ended. The epicenter of the clash was a wasteland, as though scorched by the wrath of some god. The earth had been reduced to black stone and white ash, stretching outward in every direction. Trees had been erased, burned to nothing. It was nighttime, but here the ground glowed pale, the whiteness of the ash reflecting light and making the world unnaturally bright, as though day and night had collided. Orıginal content can be found at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚~𝙣𝙚𝙩
Carl froze at the sight, his voice low, almost reverent. "What happened here...?"
James didn’t answer. His eyes swept the devastation, searching for the figure he wanted to see most, and found nothing. No Leon. No Racheal. Only ruin. A cold premonition twisted in his chest, but he forced it down, refusing to let it show.
"Search the perimeter," James barked, voice cutting through the silence. "Look for any sign of Lord Leon. We meet back here in one hour."
No one argued. They split apart, fanning out across the ruined landscape, overturning rubble, scouring every shadow, leaving no stone unturned. They searched with desperate hands and sharper eyes, calling out, hoping against hope.
But when the hour passed, they returned one by one, their silence saying everything. No Leon. No trace. Only the weight of failure pressing down on them.
James clenched his fists, his voice breaking the silence, raw with desperation. "Lord Leon... where could you be?"
His words hung in the lifeless air, swallowed by the ash and ruin.
A full day had passed since James and his squad had gone after Leon. In Pandora, a day stretched into thirty in the real world. During that time, James and his men combed the forest tirelessly, leaving no stretch of land unchecked. Each cycle yielded no trace of their lord.
But while they failed to find Leon, their searches revealed unsettling truths. The forest, once teeming with danger, was eerily quiet now. The beasts that had stalked its depths, creatures that could trouble even seasoned professionals had all been slaughtered. Not a single predator remained. It was obvious whose hand had done it. Leon’s. Even in his absence, his presence lingered in the devastation left behind.
Now, back in the city, James sat alone in an office that was not his own. Leon’s chambers remained empty, so James had taken to managing things from a separate room. He shuffled through documents with weary hands. Though Leon had never been the one to handle the city’s day-to-day affairs, it still felt different now. Before, James could look to him for direction, for the push that gave meaning to the burden of leadership. Now, there was only silence.
Suddenly the door burst open. Carl hurried in, his breathing uneven, his expression caught between excitement and fear. "Captain, I found something. In the Lord’s chambers."
James froze, a line of tension cutting across his face. Since Leon’s disappearance, he had tasked Carl with searching the manor, clinging to the faint hope that some clue might explain why the imperial guard had come after Leon. But Carl’s words hinted at something else entirely.
James stood quickly. "Show me."
Carl wasted no time, leading his captain through the empty manor, their boots echoing against the cold floor. At last, they reached the Lord’s chambers. James entered cautiously, his eyes narrowing. Then he saw it, open on the chambers floor, a narrow passage had been revealed, leading into darkness.
"A secret entrance," James muttered, his voice low. He turned to Carl sharply. "Have you gone in yet?"
Carl shook his head. "No, Captain. I wanted to report to you first."
"Good." James let out a slow breath, summoning a small ball of fire in his palm. The flame danced, casting flickering light across the chamber as its warmth brushed against the stone. His jaw tightened as he stepped toward the stairway.
"Stay close," he said, his voice steady despite the unease curling in his chest.
Carl nodded, falling into step behind him as the two descended into the hidden depths below, the firelight pushing back the shadows of whatever secrets Leon had left behind.
As James and Carl reached the bottom of the steps, their footsteps slowed, their senses sharpened. The faint glow of James’s fireball spread across the hidden chamber, brushing against stone walls etched with faint markings. But it wasn’t the walls that froze them in place.
He stood in the center of the room, silent, his posture calm, his presence as imposing as ever despite the quiet. James’s heart lurched, and for a moment the weight he’d been carrying these last cycles lifted. "Lord Leon...?" he breathed, disbelief heavy in his voice.
Leon turned his head toward them, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, his form shimmered and broke apart into motes of pale light.
James’s chest tightened. He stood there in the afterglow, the truth sinking in with a crushing weight. "A... a clone," he muttered, his hand balling into a fist. "But why would the Lord leave a clone here?"
Carl’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Captain—look!"
James turned sharply, following where Carl’s trembling finger pointed. On the walls, etched deep into the stone, lines of script and strange symbols stretched out in intricate patterns. At first James’s eyes narrowed in confusion, struggling to make sense of them. But as he stepped closer and the firelight revealed more, his expression changed. His breath caught.
"This..." he whispered, his voice breaking into awe. The fireball flickered in his palm, threatening to go out as his concentration wavered. He swallowed hard, eyes wide as the realization struck him.
"...Is this... an art?"