The journey was supposed to be smooth. A straight path with minimal deviation, I told myself. We had a destination—Shasha's hidden ruin, and the route had been cleared by my ever-efficient aides. But with Albert and Asha in tow?
But smooth became a myth.
It all started with the "Sweet Skunk Drool Soup."
I still don't know who came up with the name—or why they thought it was good for business.
We had just passed a quiet village nestled between twin cliffs when Albert insisted we stop at a tiny tavern with smoke curling lazily from its thatched roof. He marched in with the confidence of a noble on a culinary quest, declaring loudly to the barkeep:
"One sweet skunk drool soup, please! For science."
I almost walked back out.
I stayed only because Asha gave me those wide sparkly eyes of curiosity and wonder that made it impossible to say no.
When the soup arrived—pale green with suspicious slick bubbles—Asha took a dainty sip, blinked twice, and said, "It's… sweet."
Albert spooned a bit into his mouth and—
"GKH—!" he spat it back into the bowl, his face twisted in horror. "What is this? Fermented pond tragedy?"
I, out of morbid curiosity, tried it. "It's not that bad," I said, shrugging. "Still better than that scaly bat meat stew I had that time in the Norrow Fenlands while hunting down those defectors."
Albert stared at me, spoon half-raised, clearly traumatized. "You ate bat meat?"
I grinned, still in my Averan form. "Nearly raw. Not by choice."
He groaned, clutching his chest like I'd wounded him emotionally. "Thank you, big sister. For enduring horrors… so I wouldn't have to."
I patted his back. "Your sacrifices pale in comparison."
Stop 'number two' happened three days later, in the heat of the noon sun.
We stumbled upon a merchant caravan, surrounded by broken wagons and frazzled travelers. They hailed from one of Terah's allied countries, waving colorful banners half-torn from their poles.
Naturally, we helped.
Albert, ever curious, ended up spending hours talking to a fae artisan and somehow learned how to weave fae silk strands into fine thread. He fumbled at first—fingers catching, knots failing—but the third day, he proudly presented Asha with a tiny, glittering pouch.
"It holds warm pebbles," Asha said with awe, hugging it to her chest.
I looked at Albert with narrowed eyes. "You're playing favorites."
"I can't win against her eyes," he declared, dramatic as always. "Even you can't."
I snorted. "No woolymooly meat skewers for you tonight."
He gasped. "Tyranny."
The next morning, a simple bracelet appeared on my pillow—soft, silver-woven thread embedded with sky-colored beads. No note. But I knew.
Asha laughed when I wore it without a word. She's sharper than she lets on.
Then came the dungeon.
It looked ordinary enough—low mana signature, a cool mist at its entrance, half-buried ruins. A perfect detour for a quick loot run. But inside?
Traps. Not deadly ones—pranks.
I stepped on a glyph and suddenly had bright pink glowing eyebrows. Asha laughed so hard she fell over.
Albert opened a chest and got sprayed in glittering oil that made him smell like rose tarts for hours. Every insect in the dungeon adored him.
Asha, lucky child that she was, picked a flower from a pedestal and received a crown made of light that floated above her head.
Of course.
We left the dungeon with zero gold and a dozen cursed trinkets, but hearts lighter than before.
That night, under the stars, I watched them chase fireflies—Albert's hair still faintly glittering, Asha twirling with her glowing crown.
I leaned back against a tree, a warm breeze brushing past me, bracelet cool on my wrist.
This trip was nowhere near what I planned.
But somehow, it was exactly what we all needed.
___________________________________________________
The village near Shasha's hidden ruin was peaceful in the way only faraway places untouched by war or politics could be—quiet streets cobbled with smooth river stones, herb-scented wind drifting from the gardens, and the soft chatter of market stalls selling wood carvings, hand-woven blankets, and local sweets wrapped in banana leaves.
It had taken us two weeks, thanks to Albert's endless curiosity and Asha's insatiable wonder, to get this far. Two weeks of detours, weird food, fae-weaving lessons, and prank dungeons. But now, we were finally here.
The first thing we did?
Bathe. Thoroughly.
Albert may never admit it, but he nearly cried at the feel of clean hot water and the lavender-scented soaps this region was famous for. Asha splashed with glee, bubbles crowning her head like a princess.
After that, we descended on the markets.
"Get anything you think will make Shasha smile," I told them, slipping a heavy pouch of coin to Albert and giving Asha a feather-light kiss on her forehead.
"Anything?" Asha asked with sparkly eyes that spelled trouble.
"Anything," I said. Mistake, maybe.
They vanished down the path of sweet stalls and trinket carts with a whirl of cloaks and laughter.
I wandered in the opposite direction, taking a rare moment for myself.
The village square was old—older than the village, probably. Moss grew between the carved stones, and there was a quiet shrine at its center dedicated to an unnamed spirit. I sat by its edge, breathing in the crisp mountain air.
And that's when I felt it.
A whisper in the air.
A sudden stillness.
Bloodlust.
It wasn't aimed randomly. It was personal, honed like a needle against my skin.
I rose instantly, slipped into a side street, then out into the tree-lined paths behind the village.
Let them think I was retreating.
They took the bait.
Four shadows emerged from the woods, cloaked in dark robes—tattoos humming with cursed ink, blades already unsheathed.
"You're faster than expected," I said, voice low and amused.
"You made too many enemies, Averan," one hissed, "or should I say Lord Albert, Terah's terrifying commander."
So that's how it is.
They finally put it together—that Albert and Averan were one and the same. And now all those grudges I earned in battles fought in disguise… were catching up.
But that's not something I couldn't handle.
If they wanted a fight, then a fight they will have.
______________________________________________
Of course, Albert and Asha were safe in the meantime.
Before we even set out from the academy, I had sent three spirit warrior bodyguards to shadow them discreetly. They wouldn't intervene unless real danger struck—but with how powerful Asha truly was, it might never come to that.
After all, Asha wasn't just a sweet little girl with wide eyes and giggles.
She was a mermaid of ancient bloodline, guardian to one of the last dragon shrines, and a creature born during an era where wars were waged in both flesh and spirit.
I had seen a projection of her once incinerate an entire shadow-beast with a wave of her tail.
So yes—Albert was safer with her than with me, frankly.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
The assassins charged.
I didn't even draw my sword. I didn't need to.
I danced.
A pirouette, a duck, a twist—daggers flew, bones cracked, throats opened like red blooming roses. My movements were swift, efficient—no unnecessary flair.
I cut down the last man in time to feel a hex crash through the canopy of trees.
I spun, barely evading the core of the spell, but the wind shimmered unnaturally—there were casters, hidden and skilled.
Then—
SHHHRRRRK!
The wind sliced through the air like a blade.
The casters never screamed. They simply… dropped.
A soft giggle danced past my ears.
"Sweets later," the wind whispered like a playful child. "Two cakes. At least."
I smiled. "Deal."
A quick rummage through the corpses revealed more than expected.
Seals from different factions. Enemy kingdoms. Rogue cults. A few sigils I didn't recognize, which worried me more than the rest.
So. Not one group.
Many.
Working together.
To bring down me.
They thought Averan—no, Albert—was vulnerable. That I would be unprepared.
I rolled my shoulders, stretching.
Let them come.
They had no idea just how ruthless I could be when cornered.
But for now…
I had two younger siblings to catch up with, and a dragon girl who deserved her gifts.
Later, when the two were safe behind Shasha's enchanted barrier, I'd go hunting.
Smiling, I wiped blood from my cheek and turned back to the path, vanishing into the trees like mist on the wind.
The bath was quick—efficient, but necessary. Blood had dried on my arms, smudged beneath my collar and along the curve of my jaw. I scrubbed it away, letting the warm water take the last of the tension with it, though the fire in my chest remained lit.
By the time I emerged, freshly clothed and disguised again as Lord Averan, I spotted the sound of a clattering wheel and a distinctly smug laugh.
"Oh no," I muttered, half-expecting trouble.
And I was right.
Albert and Asha beamed at me from behind a wagon so full, I thought a traveling merchant had gotten stuck at the wrong doorstep. Trinkets, cloths, sweets, something glowing in a cage (dear heavens), and an entire armful of what looked like—were those enchanted spoons?
"Surprise~!" Albert announced, chest puffed out like a knight announcing his victory.
"Look!" Asha skipped forward with her hands on her tiny hips, radiating pride. "We bargained. And shocked people with money!" she said the word like it was an incantation.
Oh dear spirits… what has she been reading?
"I said, 'Double it!'" Asha puffed up her cheeks. "And the man's eyes popped like a fish! Just like in the stories!"
I smiled, though a small corner of my mind quietly screamed. "Asha… sweetling. What kind of stories are you reading?"
"Stories from the ones you packed for me!" she chirped.
Note to self: vet the books.
Albert smirked beside her, arms crossed, leaning against the side of the cart like the world's most aggravating noble brat. "Your fault, you know," he said, flicking a lock of his own hair smugly. "You spoiled me. Now I'm refined, dangerous, and cunning."
"You're a goblin in noble's clothing," I replied, pinching his cheek.
He yelped and batted my hand away. "Ow! Rude!"
"And you've grown cheeky."
"You made me this way!" he shot back.
Asha giggled so hard she nearly tipped into the wagon.
"I can't take you two anywhere," I muttered, but my heart was warm.
Still, that warmth dulled at the edge of urgency. The memory of today's ambush still pulsed at the back of my mind like a cold, slow drum.
"We have to move," I said, gently. "Tonight. To Shasha's. I need to… handle something, so I'll be leaving you with her for a bit."
Both of them straightened at that. Albert's mischief dimmed. Asha's brow furrowed, small and solemn.
"Danger?" Albert asked quietly.
"Nothing I can't handle," I replied, brushing a hand against his shoulder. "But I'll feel better knowing you two are under Shasha's protection."
Albert nodded. Asha tugged at my sleeve and placed her small, warm hand in mine. "You'll come back?"
I knelt to meet her eyes. "Always."
That seemed to be enough for her. She smiled again, softer now. "We'll keep Shasha entertained!"
"Be a good big brother," I teased Albert. "You're good at that."
He rolled his eyes and pretended to gag.
That night, after securing the wagon, casting protective wards, and ensuring Shasha's ruin was ready to welcome them, I sat by the fire and watched them sleep.
Asha curled like a kitten in her little bedroll, arms around a plush crab someone gifted her. Albert, half-draped in a too-fancy cloak he definitely conned from a merchant, had one foot sticking out like a gremlin.
I watched them, warmth pooling in my chest.
And then… my smile faded.
Because now that they were safe, I could finally let the mask drop.
I rose, silent, walked past the soft glow of firelight, and looked up at the moon.
They dared to come after me.
They dared to dig up old grudges.
They made the mistake of thinking that after these peaceful past year, I'd be weak and complacent.
They had no idea who they were really up against.
Feria Avelia Nightreign of Terah. The Great Queen whose hands built and bled for her kingdom.
And I had been merciful.
Too merciful.
But tonight, that ended.
A cruel smile curled my lips—one that hadn't surfaced in a long, long time.
Let them gather. Let them whisper. Let them hunt.
I'll sweep them all away. One by one.
And when I return, I'll have earned my rest beside these two stars of mine.
Let the storm rise.