“Lisa!” I yanked her wrist and practically threw us backward.

  The heat from the ining fireball was already lig at my face, the air around us ing like reality itself was residering its existence. I barely pulled mana together, my instincts screaming at me to do something—anything—before we got turned into very crisp adventurer kebabs.

  A meter-thick wall of solid ice smmed ience before us, crag and creaking uhe sheer wrongness of fire that should not be burning this hot.

  It didn’t even slow down.

  The fmes ed the i an instant, not melting it but dev it—like a fire that had long since evolved past needing fuel. The moment it met the ground, the stone shattered from the forpact.

  Lisa and I were hurled backward like discarded dolls, nding in an undignified heap with enough force to rattle my brain inside my skull. My healing spell fixed our bruises.

  “Wait!” I gasped, shoving myself up before he could unch round two of our untimely demise. “I’m here to—”

  “The audacity!” The definitely-not-a-dragon moved, and the world tilted.

  One sed, he erched atop his throne of volic rock, the , he exploded forward, flying with zero effort—his massive wings not even moving.

  He was too fast. Wrongly fast.

  The air itself detonated from the sheer force of his movement, the soniming into us like a titan’s sp. My ears rang as the pressure wave shoved us toward the entrance like we were unwele guests at an aggressive house party.

  “Yes, yes, I’m like that,” I coughed, barely keeping my footing as the ground stopped shakih me. I pointed a very shaky fi Lisa. “But she needs your help!”

  The dragon—non, fine, definitely not-a-dragon—paused. His massive, shadow-swallowing form loomed over us like an impending natural disaster.

  I really wished I could identify him, but of course, the system ulling its usual. I don’t know her act. And refused to work for me.

  Figures.

  Lisa stood her ground, her expression surprisingly posed for someone who had just been nearly ied by an a being of untold power.

  “The Hero of the Fme-God is her nemesis!” I tinued, because apparently, I had no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. “She hates him!”

  That at least got his attention.

  His colossal head tilted, eyes narrowing as he turned his full, suffog preseo Lisa. The heat pulsed in waves from his massive form, every breath he took making the cavern vibrate as if the volo itself obeyed his whims.

  “Iing,” he rumbled, his voice shaking dust from the very ceiling. I still wasn’t breathing properly. He lifted a single, razor-sharp d poi straight at Lisa. “Is it true?”

  Lisa met his gaze without hesitation. Her back straightened, her jaw set, and her hands ched into fists at her sides. “He’s the worst,” she said, her voice hard with vi.

  Something shifted in the dragon’s stance. His molten gaze assessed her for a long, agonizing moment, and then—

  “If you prove your worth, I will train you.”

  Lisa’s head snapped up in surprise, but before she could even sider responding, he turned his monstrous gaze bae.

  “But she,” he said, his voice dropping into something lower, darker, dangerous, “o go.” A single, massive talon jabbed toward me, like the final verdict of a judge passing down aion order. “I don’t want to stain my home anymore.”

  Wow. Rude.

  I didn’t even argue.

  “Of course!” I bowed so fast I nearly folded in half. Then, with the grace of a person absolutely terrified for their life, I began the world’s most dignified backward crawl toward the exit.

  Lisa didn’t look back at me.

  I didn’t bme her.

  I just really, really hoped there wouldn’t be another fireball farewell before I left.

  I staggered for a few moments, still shaking off the holy-crap-I-just-faced-a-non-and-lived daze, before finally finding my feet. My hands scraped against the hot, uneven rock as I pushed myself up, my legs wobbling like I’d just downed aire bottle of whiskey in one go.

  Reag for the ring, I shoved mana into it, feeling the greedy pull of its entment.

  The pri out a huff in my mind, a sound somewhere between irritation aant amusement. “I don’t know if you’re brave or just terminally stupid.”

  I scoffed, stumbling forward as the cavern’s heat tio press down on me like ahusiastic bcksmith’s anvil. “I must say,” he tinued, his tone almost ptive, “you know about pces even our a kingdom didn’t ked.”

  “Heh,” I let out a shaky ugh, the aftershock of barely surviving still thrumming through me. “I’m just full of surprises, I guess. And yeah, stupid fits me like whiskey in my hand.” I wiped the sweat from my brow, wing at the heat still ging to my skin. “Which, by the way, I desperately need after that.”

  The prinorted. “A fittiaph for you, pretender.”

  I finally reached the cave’s exit, gulping in a breath of fresh—or at least less va-ied—air. Outside, the wind hit me like a blessing, hot but at least breathable pared to the oven I had just crawled out of.

  “Where to now, adventurous heroihe prince asked, his thoughts full of sarcasm.

  I shot the ring a gre. “Now, we get the hell away from voloes, dragons, and fireballs. Maybe somewhere with water? Or at least somewhere that doesn’t actively try to murder me the sed I arrive?”

  A beat of silehen, in a tohat was just a little too smug, he said, “Would you like a vacation? Perhaps the seaside? Or are you more of a mountaireat kind of pretender?”

  I groaned. “I hate you.”

  “You love me.”

  “I will smelt you down.”

  He ughed.

  Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the horizon. The sun still hung high, casting long, shimmeri waves across the desote wastend surrounding the volo.

  “How much time do we have?” I asked, gng back at the cavern.

  “A few hours before your mother fi,” the prince replied, his voice suddenly losing its humor. “I feel the disturbance.”

  A chill ran down my spine, despite the blisteri. “Great,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders. “Guess that means I o get moving.”

  “Indeed.” The prince’s voice was quieter now. “And quickly.”

  “Of course, I kly what to dht now—besides smelting you,” I muttered, shoving my hand into one of my many pilfered bags.

  It took a few seds, but my fingers brushed against the smooth surface of something stiff and delicate. I pulled it out with a fliy wrist, revealing an absolute masterpiece of excess—a masquerade mask.

  Fine gold filigree traced swirling patterns across its deep bck surface, with inid gemstones sht they practically screamed “rob me” ieen different nguages. I tur over in my hands, admiring the craftsmanship. Maybe a little too fancy.

  Yeah.

  This was defihe fancy that made people ask questions. The fancy that screamed, This was not meant for you, you filthy thief, and the owners will absolutely look for it.

  Eh. Details.

  With a practiced ease that could only e from years of knowing I should make better life choices, and then, ign that knowledge, I secured the mask over my eyes. The silk ribbons tightened around the bay head, settling the mask into pce like it had always belohere.

  “You still have your clothes,” the prince pointed out, his tone positively steeped in smugness. “Your heist will fail.”

  I huffed, adjusting the mask until it sat just right.

  “Sssh!” I hissed, waving my hand in front of the ring as if I could physically shove his entary away. I felt his judgment radiating through the ented metal.

  Ign him, I focused on my destination. The temple.

  The air shifted around me, magic swirling as the ring hungrily devoured my mana. The sensation was smoother now—less gut-wreng disorientation, mentle pull through the fabric of reality.

  I was gettier at this. Too bad it wouldn’t st.

  The temple was, to put it politely, underwhelming.

  No grand marble statues, ravagant golden altars, no self-important priests decked out in silks and jewels. Just smooth, unadorone walls, worn by time and touched only by the occasional carved inscription—simple prayers in an old imperial, nothing fshy, nothing self-indulgent.

  The air inside carried an eerie stillness, not the weighty, inse-drenched kind found in mious spaces, but something more subtle. Like a hush that wasn’t imposed but expected—as if the very foundation of the pce had soaked iuries of quiet sorrow and made a home of it.

  The people within matched their surroundings.

  No noble robes, no expensive dyes, no unnecessary adors—just pih-toned garments, eae a testament to modesty araint.

  Even the priest, standing at the ter of the gathered mourners, wore only a simple liunic that draped just past his knees, its edges frayed from use rather than any attempt at fashion. His feet were bare against the cold stone floor, toes curling slightly as he spoke, his voice the only thing breaking the stillness.

  At least twenty people had gathered here, standing in silent reverence. Mostly humans, but among them stood a twir—shorter than the humans, but not by much, their lean frame giving them an air of quiet agility.

  I, of course, fit in perfectly.

  Well, not.

  Decked out in my high-quality clothes, a freaking masquerade mask strapped to my face, and probably still radiating residual, I just almost got roasted by a not-a-dragon energy.

  I was definitely an intruder.

  “Uhm, hello,” I waved awkwardly at the group, already shoving mana into the ring like my life depended on it—which, at this rate, probably did. “I just o borrow something, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  The priest, to his credit, barely reacted.

  His calm, expressionless gaze settled oudyih the patience of a man who had spent his entire life listening to people cry about their problems and had long siopped being surprised by anything.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his voice even, measured, and pletely devoid of the what in the absolute hells is this masked lunatic doing here? Then, with all the genuine curiosity of a man asking if I’d like a cup of tea, he added, “Are you searg for the emotional release of grief?”

  I reached for the wall, fingers brushing against its surface—smooth, cold, and absolutely devoid of personality. Seriously, I’d seen more decorative gmour in a ste closet.

  Not even a sad little dle to add some tragic ambiance.

  “Well, ly…” I muttered, tapping my nails against the lifeless stohere’s just something I need.”

  Twenty pairs of eyes bore into me, and I could practically feel the priest’s judgment radiating through his linen-cd serenity. But I ighem because I had priorities.

  I knocked on the wall.

  Owice. Thrice.

  A deep rumble filled the temple, vibrating through the very foundatioh our feet. Dust trickled from above, catg the dim light, and the sound that followed was the kind of ominous meical groan that usually meant one of two things.

  You just unlocked something a and powerful, and you were about to get crushed under something a and powerful.

  Click.

  The stone lowered—not slid, not swung open like some grand door to divine knowledge. It just dropped with a thud so anticlimactic it was almost disappointing. And there, where a totally ordinary wall had oood, was noedestal.

  Elegant. A little dusty. And absolutely screaming loot me.

  I winced and turned back to the priest, who remained unshaken, though I retty sure I saw his eye twitch.

  “…Sorry,” I offered, giving him what I hoped was a charming smile.

  Judging by the way his stare could probably see into my very soul, I was not fiven.