The midday sun filtered through the scattered clouds, casting long shadows over the dusty trail cutting through the valley. Rea had ridden most of the night, the wind tugging at her cloak, her body still aching from the purification flames she'd unleashed days before. She'd barely recovered—each movement drew on reserves she didn't have—but the sight below made her blood boil.
She stepped into the open just as one of the Lucreus mages yanked a Sagan girl forward by the arm,
"Let her go!" A man shouted lunging to protect her, only to be struck down by a burst of searing light. While another girl scrambled to gather the goods they'd been forced to surrender grain, cloth, even the girl's pendant, one mage said with a sneer
"Fair toll for protection! Unless you'd rather we leave your village to the creatures of the night."
"This is our land!"the girl cried, yanking against his grip. "We never asked for your help!" Her voice was sharp, precise, and mostly too clever to be dismissed.
Ignorant whore! This land belongs to lord Lucreus ! You are under his dominium... our dominium" the other mage muttered. That's when Rea spoke.
"You're right. This land belongs to the Winstor but the lord has given the sagans full autonomy over the land, Light-bringers."The Lucreus turned, surprised to see a lone figure standing at the edge of the path.
Rea dismounted, her crimson hair catching in the wind, eyes burning like live coals beneath the hood she no longer bothered to raise.
"And who are you supposed to be?"the mages stiffened and the one still holding the girl narrowed his eyes.
"I'm the protégé of Lord Winstor," Rea said, voice low but unwavering. "And you're trespassing."
The mage scoffed. " Ooo... I heard about you! You are the stone our lord took pity on."
Another mage said dismissively. " Go back to your master... Mutt. We're Lucreus. We serve the High Council. You have no right to lecture us on borders and dominion"
Rea removed her gloves as she said
"I think I just did."
Rea's voice then rang out low, and sharp
"You're using your light to take, not protect. That's in violation of everything Lucreus stand for."
One of the mages lit his hand with light.
Rea didn't flinch.
She reached on her side and slowly and unsheathed the black-bladed sword, its edges whispering with a quiet, cursed heat, the hilt warm from old flames. The Lucreus mage paused.
They laughed anxiously. "You're nothing but a mongrel bastard. That sword you are holding, won't save you."
"You're right. It's not here to save me. It's here to punish you." Rea said now ready to unleash hell.
One Lucreus mage lifted his hand and sent a spear of radiant magic hurtling at her. Rea twisted low, the blade slicing through it mid-air, dissolving it with a hiss. She surged forward, feet kicking up dirt, her body moving with precision.
The second mage formed a shield—but Rea's hand ignited with Malvolius fire, and she drove her palm straight through the magic, flame licking up her wrist like a serpent. The shield cracked with a sickening pop as her sword slammed into the mage's ribs, breaking bone. The impact should have sent him down.
but his body surged with light, the Lucreus magic healing the fracture almost instantly.
Rea grinned devilishly. "Good. Let's break them again."
One blast clipped her side, searing through her coat. She bit down on the pain and retaliated with a fiery burst from her sword, the flames wrapping around his leg and toppling him.
With a war cry, she spun her blade, cursed flames trailing its arc like a comet. The air twisted around her as she struck again, shattering a leg, watching it heal, only to shatter it again, this time with a burn that made the mage scream.
The other mage sent out a blinding blast in a desperate attempt to blind Rea. But throwing her sword as a spear, it bit into his shoulder, ripping through flesh and bone. He howled, falling backward, trying to crawl.
"You guys have never seen violence" she growled. "I was born in it."
She was fire and wrath incarnate—her sword cursed with dark heat, her body moving like a shadow and a storm. The mages fought back, but their blows were desperate, clumsy, compared to the cold, ruthless rhythm of Rea's strikes. The cursed flame left marks that didn't fully heal, the light magic faltering under the sheer malice in her power.
One mage lay barely breathing, bones broken in too many places to count, his healing magic exhausted. The others tried to drag themselves into the brush.
"You're out of your league,"Rea muttered, sweat dripping from her brow. "Get out of my sight."
The three mages limped away.
Rea finally lowered her sword.
The Sagan trio stared in stunned silence.
The girl stepped forward first.
She wasn't beautiful in the classic, glass-sculpted sense—not like Annabella nor Yennifer, but there was something about her. Her brown curls were pinned haphazardly, strands already falling around her face. Her amber-hazel eyes, wide and relentlessly observant, narrowed behind small spectacles. There was ink under her fingernails, a folded scrap of parchment tucked into her sash, and the way she looked at Rea wasn't with fear.
It was calculation. And something else she hadn't decided on yet.
"You fight like someone who's had to practice restraint,"she said at last, her voice clipped but steady. "Curious. The sword is blackened. Death magic, Malvolius, if I'm not mistaken. But your form… too elegant. Too disciplined. Not something taught in common barracks."
Rea smiled faintly, but didn't respond.
The boy beside her, a tall, fair-haired lad with the sharp jaw and sharper tongue of someone who'd always been told he was important, scoffed, crossing his arms. "What she means to say," he drawled, "is that you don't scare us. If you're here to shake us down like those thugs… we'll fight back."
Rea turned her back on him and started walking to her horse.
The third one, red-haired and slightly out of breath, grinned as he adjusted the crooked strap of his satchel. His clothes were slightly scorched, and his eagerness radiated like sunlight. "That was incredible, guys! She saved our lives, after all."
He jogged to catch up with Rea.
"Do you take contracts?" he asked, practically trailing her heels. "We're headed to the Sun Castle, and we've had three bandit attacks in two days. Could really use someone with your… flair. And intimidation factor. You'd like it! We can pay you generously!"
Rea ignored him and mounted her horse. Her limbs and rib cage ached more than she let on. Each step felt like dragging chains through ash. The purification flames had carved deeper than even she'd realized.
But she didn't falter. She never did.
The fair-haired lad huffed behind her. "Mages are all the same! She probably thinks she's better than us."
The ginger said brightly, "So that's a yes, then? I'll take it!"
The girl sat in the chariot, frowning in concentration as she tugged a charcoal stub and crumpled parchment from her satchel. The movements were precise, almost reverent, though she tried to hide it with an air of idle distraction.
"I didn't catch your name," the girl said, not looking directly at Rea but watching from the corner of her eye.
Rea didn't answer.
"You're the quiet type, then,"she murmured. "Mysterious. Convenient."
The boy with the blonde hair leaned over to peek at the paper.
"What, are you drawing her now?" he sneered. "Please. Don't tell me you're going to thank her with a portrait."
The girl didn't look up. "It's called observation, Callen. Try it sometime."
He scoffed and leaned back, muttering something under his breath.
Rea's eyes flicked sideways once, just once, and smirked amused by the girl's sharp tongue.
But the girl noticed and blushed.
She smiled faintly to herself and kept sketching, faster now.
The sun had just begun its slow descent behind the golden towers of the Sun Castle when they reached the edge of the city. This was not just a castle. It was a micro-city, built over centuries into the ancestral seat of the Winstor household. Cobbled roads crisscrossed its lower terraces, and citizens bustled between open markets and spiral towers with the rhythm of a capital that never truly slept.
The moment they reached the main gates, two guards stepped forward, spears crossed.
"Halt," one barked. "Papers."
Callen immediately stepped forward with a smirk, presenting a rolled parchment with the Redington seal. "For Redington, obviously. I shouldn't even have to—"
One of the guards was already scanning the paper, ignoring his tone. The other eyed the chariot behind them—and more specifically, the dark figure on horseback beside it.
"You," he said, frowning at Rea. "Where are your travel documents?"
Rea didn't move. "Didn't bring any."
Callen burst into laughter. "Of course she didn't. All that mystery and drama, and she didn't think to carry papers? What are you, a fugitive?"
The guards raised their spears cautiously, uncertain. But then a heavy footfall echoed from within the gatehouse. A massive man emerged, towering in steel-reinforced armor, the kind of mountain only years and war could shape. A brutal scar ran across one brow, cutting through his grizzled features like a blade through old parchment.
He stopped short the moment he saw her.
"Who is this Death Mage?"he growled.
Rea looked up, calm, unimpressed.
"None of your goddamn business."
Gasps from the guards. The tension bristled, a few spears lifted higher.
The old warrior narrowed his eyes. "Repeat that, child."
Rea didn't blink. "I said—are you deaf, old man?"
And then, with a roar, the man charged.
The Sagan trio backed up instinctively. Dean yelped. Callen took a defensive stance in front of Gabrielle who sat frozen, eyes wide.
But instead of steel clashing or magic flaring—
The man swept Rea off the ground like a sack of grain and laughed, full-bodied and booming, before tossing her over his shoulder.
"You little devil!"he bellowed, spinning her once before setting her down with a loud thud. "Still mouthing off like the streets raised you. I missed that!"
Rea, laughing genuinely for the first time in days, shoved his chest lightly. "Put me down, you brute… Hector. You're ruining my vibe."
Hector grinned, a deep scar splitting one eyebrow, his armor clinking with every breath he took. " You smell like blood and travel... Good!"
The moment the guards heard the name Reagan Stone; their demeanour shifted like a gust of wind changing course.
The one who'd first raised his spear straightened, his face paling. "Gods… I—I didn't realize—"
The other stammered, lowering his weapon immediately. "Our deepest apologies, lady Stone. Had we known, we'd never have—"
Rea raised a hand, not out of kindness, but boredom. "Just let us pass"
Hector gave the two a long, pointed look—the kind that said we'll talk later—and the gates creaked open without another word.
As the Sagan trio followed Rea's lead into the threshold of the Sun Castle's sprawling walls, they exchanged confused glances.
Rea turned, her crimson hair catching the late-afternoon light, eyes still burning bright with a wolfish intensity. She looked at the three of them. "Now that you know my Name, May I know yours?"
The ginger, grinning, was the first to speak. "Dean Redington! that one is my cousin." He jerked his thumb toward the blonde.
Callen sighed, straightening his coat. "Callen Redington." He gave Rea a begrudging glance. "Unfortunately, it is true."
Gabrielle hesitated but stepped forward. "Gabrielle Mondego. Daughter of Salvador Mondego"
Rea reached out and shook their hands, curt but civil. Dean got a clap on the shoulder. Callen got nothing.
But when she took Gabrielle's hand, something lingered. Just slightly longer than necessary.
Rea turned, tugging her gloves back on. "Well then. Safe roads."
They watched her walk away, Hector still laughing and talking beside her as they disappeared deeper into the inner ring of the city.
Callen scoffed. "What an awful person!!"
Gabrielle didn't answer right away. She stared after Rea until she vanished through the tall archway beyond the plaza.
Then she murmured, almost to herself, "Interesting... she is really not like my dad described her"