Titanion Realm, the Northern Sea, Serpent Isle.
Night had fallen, blanketing the continent of Jynx in a deep silence.
But silence did not mean peace.
Beneath that quiet veil, in the deep jungle, on the crumbling walls of ancient cities, and in the unknown shadows of the night, the twin acts of slaughter and corruption played out relentlessly.
The warm, yellow light spilling from the Jynx lighthouse was a mirror of Lysinthiaâs heart: steady and resolute. She felt no confusion about her enemies or her future. The lighthouse was her anchor, its beam cutting through the darkness, illuminating her path.
"The moonlight in our realm has been incredibly strong lately, almost like itâs celebrating something," Lycanor said, her voice a low murmur beside Lysinthia. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the topmost window of the lighthouse, gazing southeast.
"Your man is getting married. Arenât you going back to see it?" Lycanor held a glass of red wine, her eyes on the moon. The question was for Lysinthia, but the words were steeped in an acid she couldnât hide. As another elf, she couldnât help but feel a sting of resentment.
Why did the Moon Elf get a wedding so grand it shook the entire continent, while the Blood Elves got nothing? The jealousy was a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Youâve seen more of the world than I have," Lysinthia replied, her voice calm. "You understand these things better. A wedding announced across all of Utessar... there are things at play we donât know about. Politics that even the master has to compromise on. Besides, no one but the Mistress has ever had a formal wedding."
A sea breeze drifted through the window, carrying the salt of the ocean and the faint scent of fish. The tiny chime earrings on Lysinthiaâs lobes tinkled against each other, a clear, pleasant sound.
Lycanor glanced at the earrings, a fresh pang of envy hitting her. She knew they were a gift from Orion. The delicate sound echoed in the lighthouse, a strangely beautiful counterpoint to the deep night.
"Youâve certainly given it a lot of thought," Lycanor said noncommittally. The intel sheâd received indicated the Moon Elf Grand Warden was a powerhouse at the peak of the archlord rank. In the Titanion Realm, that put her at the absolute top tier, just below the demigods.
"Iâm just saying," Lycanor pressed, swirling her wine. "Donât you want a wedding?"
"No."
The answer was so blunt, so final, it caught Lycanor completely off guard. She turned and stared at Lysinthia, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
"I am the masterâs slave," Lysinthia said, her voice flat, stating a simple fact. "What I have now is more than enough to satisfy me."
In the distance, waves lapped gently against the reefs. The moonlight and the rhythmic crash of the surf wove together into a soothing lullaby. Lysinthia turned from the sea, her eyes like chips of ice, cold but utterly sincere.
"You want a wedding that grand? Itâs probably not going to happen," she continued. "The Mistressâs wedding wasnât even this big. The Elder of Stewardship didnât get one. Youâre definitely not getting one."
The words were harsh. Any other woman would have bristled with anger.
"Little snake girl," Lycanor said, her voice dangerously soft. "Do you have any idea how cruel your sincerity can sound?"
But she wasnât angry. After all this time, she understood Lysinthia. She was a simple creature, a serpent with little ambition, easily satisfied. She was Orionâs slave, the first woman to follow him. That alone gave her a special, untouchable status within the Stoneheart Horde.
"The master once told me that sincerity might not always be appreciated, but itâs hard to hate," Lysinthia said simply. "If someone hates an honest person, theyâre probably not a very good person themselves."
Lycanor rolled her eyes. She knew the logic was sound, and she couldnât even argue with it.
"I really donât understand you people," she muttered, downing her wine in one gulp. A genuine bitterness was curdling inside her. Anyone whoâd been married for such a short time only to be shipped off to a backwater post like this would be in a foul mood.
This continent, Jynx, was tiny. Its landmass could barely support two lords. The current Stoneheart Horde could send a single main army and wipe it from the map in a matter of days. Yet Orion hadnât. He was letting this little snake girl play her games here. And worse, heâd stationed her, a Legendary-level powerhouse, to babysit. It made no sense.
"It isnât fair to you," Lysinthia said, her gaze suddenly sharp. For a moment, Lycanor felt as if her deepest thoughts had been laid bare. The resentment, the feeling of being wrongedâit was all exposed in Lysinthiaâs piercing eyes.
The air grew thick with an uncomfortable tension, a sudden, awkward intimacy.
"But you need the battle achievements," Lysinthia continued, her voice softening slightly. "And you need the time. To prove yourself. Not just to the master, but to his other women, and to all the people of the Stoneheart Horde. You need to show them your sincerity. Your loyalty. Your pride."
Moonlight crept into the lighthouse like a thief, filling the tense space between them with a quiet sense of understanding.
Lycanor turned away, unable to meet Lysinthiaâs gaze. She stared out at the dark ocean, a vast canvas of stars and waves.
"When I conquer the Jynx continent, I will report it to the Horde in both our names," Lysinthia said. "When that day comes, everyone will look at you differently. Donât refuse. Youâve earned it. Without you standing guard here, my Gorgon population and I could never have grown so strong, so fast."
Lycanor turned back. She saw that same unnerving sincerity in Lysinthiaâs eyes.
"Your aura is getting deeper," Lycanor said, changing the subject abruptly. "Are you close to a breakthrough?"
The question seemed to surprise Lysinthia. "I think so. Soon. Once I ascend to the lord level, conquering Jynx will go much faster. Youâll be free before you know it."
Lycanor didnât respond. She picked up the glass bottle and poured herself another drink.
"You know, this place isnât so bad," she said, her voice quiet. "Save a spot for me here. Maybe Iâll come back for vacations."
A rare, genuine smile spread across Lysinthiaâs face. It was an olive branch from Lycanor, a continuation of their strange friendship. Lysinthiaâs eyes were bright, impossibly bright.
"Have a drink with me," Lycanor said, holding out a freshly poured goblet. "This can be your lighthouse, and it can be mine, too."
"Okay."
Lysinthia took the glass, much of the icy reserve melting from her features. She drank, then turned her gaze southeast, toward the distant lights of Stoneheart.
Lycanor was homesick. She was missing her man.