Tommy walks down the hall. His own footsteps are remarkably quiet against the tile flooring, but Jack's footsteps disrupt any quietness that might have otherwise filled the air. Additionally, Tommy can hear servants scurry about inside the corridors hidden within the walls, small spaces reserved only for diligent workers who might have been unprepared for the sudden increase in guests staying at the villa. They are either displeased to have to wait on people or they are excited to finally be fulfilling their duties. Tommy would ask, but the looks on those elven faces makes Tommy realize that no matter what the answer would have been they are not partial to taking care of humans. Tommy doesn't blame them. If he was on his own, he might have told them to not worry about him, but he has an image to uphold. He cannot let the elves think humans are inferior, especially a prince of humans.

Tommy's thoughts are interrupted when he notices another pair of footsteps. Actually, it is three different pairs, Tommy realizes as he looks up at another group of people walking in the opposite direction as him and Jack in the hallway. Tommy knows one of them by name, Andor, and the other two he recognizes from earlier when he was people-watching at his window. They are the woman with impressive powers and the man who came to argue with her before leaving with Andor. The three of them are talking to each other, but there isn't any maliciousness on their face. Whatever they were arguing about earlier seems to have been settled.

The group stops when they notice Tommy and Jack. The woman's dark blue-purple eyes widen as she scans Tommy and Jack. Her painted lips rise into a grand smile that brings youthful brightness to her wrinkled face. She moves forward, reaching a gloved hand toward Tommy. "Salutations! My name is Martha. This is my little brother, Helgrind."

Her brother takes a step forward. Compared to Martha, his skin is tanner and his hair, including his long beard, are gray rather than purple. The same applies to his eyes, which are as gray as his hair. Martha's eyes are darker and bluer than her hair, but Tommy would still call them both purple. The one thing the two of them have in common in the aged quality in their faces and their pointed ears. They don't even have the same expressions since Martha is smiling happily and Helgrind looks distrustful at the strangers.

Martha moves her hand to gesture to Andor. "And this is my favorite nephew, Andor!"

"I'm your only nephew," Andor murmurs, his wings twitching behind him as he gives his aunt an exasperated smile. Tommy's back suddenly feels heavier, but he refuses to bring his wings out right now.

"We are also guests of King Xornoth. I hope we can get along," Martha says. Tommy takes her hand, shaking it firmly. She squeezes his hand, her eyes falling shut with how widely she's smiling.

When Martha pulls away, she gestures to the half-open door right beside them that casts warm golden light into the hallway. Tommy looks into the cracked door to see that his other companions are already sitting at the dining table. They are sipping on elven wine or water, but they have not been served their meals. Tommy doesn't know if they arranged for that, or if the servants refuse to serve dinner without all the guests present. Although, Tommy thinks as he glances back at Martha, the servants might be waiting for the actual elves to show up. Tommy doesn't blame them, but he hopes he can improve the relationship between humans and elves during his time here. Martha asks, "Who are you and your friends?"

"I am Prince Theseus of the Antarctic Empire. This is my guard, Jack," Tommy says, gesturing to himself and Jack. The human guard bows respectfully to the other guests of King Xornoth, not as deeply as he would the imperial family or a noble from the empire, but enough to not be considered rude. Tommy moves his hand to point at the different people sitting around the table. "False, a newly appointed minister, and her guards, Jimmy and… Scott. My other guard, Deo, also known as the mercenary Time, and the head of this expedition, Niki. There should also be a dark fairy named Joey, but I do not see him right now."

"What an impressive line-up of people," Martha notes, her tone a little wistful as she looks at everyone. Her eyes linger on a few people, but Tommy is unaware of what emotions swim in her dark eyes. She turns back to Tommy, her eyes frosted over with a foolproof mask. "Might we all eat together as guests of the king?"

"I do not mind," Tommy says, knowing that Martha, Helgrind, and Andor were at the villa first. Tommy feels a little rude for intruding upon their space, but he doesn't have anywhere else to go. He knows he wouldn't be safe inside the city. It could also be seen as rude if Tommy refuses Xornoth's hospitality. Tommy would like to refrain from upsetting the king considering the true nature of his visit to this esteemed city.

Tommy pushes the door open. Niki stands up immediately to bow to Tommy. When Deo doesn't even turn around, Niki grabs his arm, hoisting him onto his feet with a strength Tommy has never seen her display. Deo grumbles underneath his breath, giving Tommy a cheeky smile as he follows Niki's lead. False wears no expression as she watches Tommy and the others file in, and Scott raises an eyebrow at the three people he doesn't seem to recognize. Jimmy's wings lift up when he notices Andor's wings, and the elytrian gives Jimmy a small wave of appreciation. Jack pulls Tommy's chair out for him, and Tommy settles down at the front of the table. Jack sits at Tommy's side for the sole reason that Tommy spent an hour arguing with Niki over prosperity and loneliness. Tommy eventually won the argument, and Niki agreed to let the entire party eat together as long as this behavior didn't keep up when they returned to L'Manberg.

The servants file out of their secret passageway, holding the platters of the first course. As the elves set down each platter, Tommy meets Martha's eyes. He nods at her, "I saw you practicing magic outside."

"Ah, did you? It's a hobby of mine! I am grateful for the guards for letting me practice with them," Martha explains, picking up the fork beside her plate. She waves her fork around, creating momentary sparks of purple magic that doesn't do anything beyond appearing and disappearing.

"Are you a mage?" Tommy asks.

Martha giggles into her hand. When she lifts back, her eyes are sparkling. "Magecraft is for humans, dear prince. I am a mystic, a type of Pathfinder."

"I do not know what that is," Tommy admits, eating the first bite of his salad. He searches his memories for the words 'mystic' and 'Pathfinder,' but he believes he has never heard of either of them. His magic lessons with Kara were fairly rudimentary, though, so maybe he is missing something that everyone else knows.

Martha frowns, a confused look crossing her face without attaching itself to her eyes. "Ah, well, I am someone who derives magic from my patron, a deity that I follow."

"So, a cleric?" Deo interrupts, pointing at Martha with his fork. He leans his elbows on the table, halfway out of his seat to eat the salad with vague disgust. Deo keeps glancing at the secret passageway's entrance, perhaps waiting for the elven servants to hurry out with the next course that will hopefully have more appetizing dishes for the mercenary. Tommy glances over his shoulder, hoping the servants will hurry up. There is no telling what Deo will do if he doesn't have something to distract him.

"Is that what they are called now?" Martha asks herself, putting the side of her fingers against her lips as she thinks. She stares down at her salad with the same attention as a scholar peering over important documents that do not make sense to them.

"Particularly powerful clerics are often called a saint or saintess," Niki pipes up. Tommy knows the word 'saintess,' but he's never heard of a cleric as a magic-user. He wonders if Santa Perla could be considered a saintess since she is actively using the powers of the goddess she was imagined by.

"How fascinating," Martha murmurs, leaning forward to stare intensely at the others at the table. She doesn't seem to be looking at any individual, but Tommy feels a strange energy seize him as he stares back into those blue-purple eyes. For a moment, Tommy thinks he sees someone standing directly behind Martha, their hands on the back of the chair. Tommy feels himself drop into an overwhelming current that tries to carry him away from the table.

"Watch your tongue," Helgrind's voice interrupts the moment, shattering whatever hold Martha held over all of them. She leans back, turning to face the brother that is sitting across from her. Helgrind does not look happy in the slightest as he glares at his sister.

"I am only trying to make conversation," Martha pouts, crossing one of her arms over her chest as she takes another bite of her salad.

"Remember what we were told," Helgrind whispers, his voice as rough as nails on a chalkboard. He takes a bite of his salad absentmindedly. Martha's pout disappears, transforming into a glare as rough as Helgrind's expression. The two of them seem to be having a silent argument, stifling the air around them. Neither of them seem willing to back down unlike earlier in the field.

"What is everyone doing in the days leading up to the festival?" Andor says, breaking the argument between his father and aunt. He smiles awkwardly at the humans and those who fall in the 'other' category. His wings spread outward, making him look bigger than he actually is, and with their velvety purple color, all the attention in the room drifts over to him. Tommy narrows his eyes at Andor, a half-smile growing on his face.

"His highness and I will be visiting the royal library," Niki answers, giving Andor a friendly smile to make sure he knows that his efforts are appreciated.

"I want to weasel my way into seeing the forges! The blacksmiths definitely won't like me poking around, but I want to see how different the elves do things compared to humans or even harengons," Jack adds, his eyes glittering. Andor's expression shifts into the same one of half-familiarity that he was wearing earlier when he demanded to know Jack's name.

"I don't have a specific plan. Scott told me he has some places that he wanted to show me," Jimmy pipes up, leaning closer to brush his shoulder against Scott's shoulder. Scott stares intently down at his plate as the servants come in with the next course. Deo looks excited about the new food, but Scott barely seems to be able to see it. Jimmy leans away from Scott to brush elbows with False who does not show the same level of reaction as Scott to the action. "False can come with us, too!"

False smiles at both of them, resembling something of an older sister or even mother as she lifts her hand up to run it through Jimmy's artificial hair. When her hand lowers back down, she shakes her head. "I would be much calmer hunting monsters outside of Rivendell."

"Oh, I should probably join you," Deo says between bites of the second course, wearing an entirely disrespectful expression on his face. He grins deviously as he continues, "Or… I could go pick fights with the guards."

"Refrain from causing problems," Tommy tells Deo, glaring at the mercenary. Deo wears an innocent expression on his face like he wasn't just talking about picking a fight with their host's protectors.

"You can spar with me! I promise that I'm more of a challenge than the guards," Martha says, the remnants of her argument with Helgrind fading away as a happy smile returns to her face. She reaches a hand up to push a lock of purple hair behind her pointed ear, and Tommy notices a scar underneath her earlobe. Tommy narrows his eyes at it, wondering why the scar seems so strange to him.

"I doubt that's a good idea," Helgrind mentions in passing.

Martha laughs at him. "Come on, Hel! In fact, you should draw your sword and join us! You, too, Andor!"

"As interesting as that sounds, I would prefer going with his highness and Dame Niki to the royal library," Andor says sheepishly, looking up at Tommy and Niki for permission. Niki turns her attention to Tommy, taking his word as law.

Tommy is about to answer when Helgrind pipes up, "You should focus on getting stronger, my boy."

"Well," Martha begins, waving her fork around. She seems reluctant, but she eventually sighs, giving Andor a compassionate smile. "Your father isn't wrong."

Noticing Andor's uncomfortable expression, Tommy finds his mouth opening despite himself. "Knowledge is a kind of strength. If you are good with magic, Martha, and you are good with the sword, Helgrind, it might be suitable for Andor to have a different set of skills. Balance, right?"

Andor's entire face lights up with joy, his wings following suit. Tommy finds himself mirroring the expression, wondering if his empathy for Andor has anything to do with his Origin magic. Tommy would rather not be naturally inclined to helping avians, if Andor is a hybrid.

Martha stares down at her plate, a dark shadow passing over her face. "Do you follow the will of Ianite, your highness?"

"No one should follow that goddess," Helgrind growls, slamming his fist onto the table with enough force to make the vases wobble. None of them fall, thankfully, but it doesn't seem like Helgrind would have noticed even if they all shattered on top of his head.

"Helgrind," Martha snaps, her eyes narrowing. The blue-purple of her irises seeps into the edges of her eyes, bleeding into the white sclera like a watercolor painting. She looks as agitated as Helgrind does, but her hands are held firmly in her lap to keep herself from following the same actions as her younger brother.

"All of this is her fault," Helgrind says, gesturing a hand around. Tommy glances over at the paintings on the wall that show the landscape outside of the wall. Tommy is able to see villages in the distance that might belong to Alfheim. He can also see the night encroaching across the sky. Tommy wonders what is out there that Helgrind is so passionately blaming Ianite for.

"Remember what we were told," Martha repeats what her brother said earlier to dissuade her from speaking further about something. Now, Martha is using it against him, but it doesn't seem to be working with how livid Helgrind's gray eyes are.

"I don't see how my words are the problem. Why are the heavens trying to cover up the truth of this world?" Helgrind asks, rolling his eyes. He seems entirely ready to let go of the matter.

Tommy glances over at False with wide eyes. The lich glances at Tommy with a nonchalant expression. Her eyes slide away from Tommy as she lifts a glass of elven wine to her lips. She takes a small sip for no other reason than proprietary since she doesn't need to eat or drink. False sets the glass down, leaning forward to ask, "Is this about the Taint?"

"How far has it spread?" Martha asks, turning in her seat to stare directly into False's face.

"It has spread to Acherusia," False answers. She amends her statement after a moment, a strange look appearing in her unworldly blue eyes, "Ah, Acherusia is the large lake in the middle of the continent where the kingdom of Drywaters once stood."

"It hasn't spread to Acherusia. The Taint originally came from there," Martha says with a bit of relief in her tone despite the dark look sliding over her features.

"I thought the Taint was locked in Pandora's Vault," Tommy voices his thoughts.

"No, something else was locked up in Pandora's Vault," Martha murmurs, shaking her head softly.

"Someone else, you mean," Helgrind amends, that vivid anger returning to the edges of his expression since no one has allowed him to let go of it.

"Please, stop, Father," Andor begs, reaching a hand out to touch his father's hand.

Helgrind pulls his hand out of the comforting touch, staring at his son with narrowed eyes. "Why can you not face the truth?"

"You don't understand, Father."

"I understand perfectly."

Martha stands up, slamming her hands onto the table. She glares at her brother. "Walk away, Helgrind, before you say something you will regret." Helgrind opens his mouth, and Martha's glare intensifies enough that the rest of the room is plunged into a strange heaviness. "I will make you regret whatever you say next."

Helgrind sighs, closing his mouth. He stands up. He pushes in his chair before leaving the room entirely. The servants come out with the next course. They stutter through the motions, looking strangely at Martha's tense expression and Helgrind's empty chair. The elves shrug to each other as they deliver the main course, persevering through the awkward atmosphere. As the servants leave, Martha sighs, turning to face the group. "I apologize on the behalf of my brother. The past few days have been... difficult for us. Helgrind has simply drawn a conclusion that Andor and I cannot accept, and this has put a strain on our relationship."

"It is nothing to apologize for. I understand what that kind of knowledge can do to the mind," Tommy forgives with a half-smile on his face and a tired look in his eyes. He feels Deo's attention on him. Tommy refuses to look at Deo, however, hoping that the guard doesn't ask questions later.

"Hmm... What do the two of you have in common?" Martha asks, looking between Tommy and False with a strangely foreign look in her eyes.

"Are they who she told us about?" Andor whispers, reaching out to pull at his aunt's robes. Martha looks over her shoulder at him. She hums, turning her attention back to Tommy and False. She scrutinizes them openly. Tommy shifts uncomfortably, but False is unbothered by the strange look she's being given.

"Anyway! How delicious is this food!" Martha says, dropping down into her chair. A cheerful expression appears on her face as she starts eating the food. "What do you all think about it?"

Tommy sighs, but he decides to help Martha. While difficult, the conversation eventually continues, albeit awkwardly.

"He might not make it through the night," Olive says solemnly, not looking up from Tubbo's unconscious form. They keep one hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall in rhythm with his labored breathing.

"What do you mean?" Ranboo says, falling onto his knees beside the bed. He squeezes Tubbo's hand, lifting it up to his forehead. He feels Tubbo's thumb press against his forehead, but his hand is far too cold. Ranboo wraps both of his hands around Tubbo's fingers, hoping to share some of the warmth that flows through him. Unfortunately, Enderians are not known for being warm creatures, and Ranboo fears he's doing more harm than good. If only Eryn were here. Jinns, even half-jinns, run a little hotter than humans.

But Eryn is gone. He's gone, and he's never coming back, and Ranboo really has to stop thinking about him for his own good.

"Scott might have sacrificed himself to seal the miasma, but he only stopped the spread of it. Tubbo was already infected with some of it. The miasma is acting like a poison in his bloodstream. If it was a normal poison, I might have been able to make a remedy, but we don't know enough about the miasma," Olive responds with a heavy sigh.

"What about Silver Elixir?" Beau asks, stepping away from the painted windows to approach the group. She puts her hands on the footboard, placing her entire weight against the carved wood. She looks as sickly as Tubbo does in the pale moonlight, but there is a spark of determination in her eyes that doesn't fade even as clouds start to dilute the light pouring into the room.

"It would only preserve him for a little longer. We would need to actually find a cure," Olive says, putting their head down in their palm. "In any case, where would we find—"

Beau's dagger slides across her palm. Silver blood bubbles from the clean cut, sliding across her fingertips. She wobbles around the side of the bed. She falls to her knees beside Olive, setting her bleeding hand in the sage's lap. Olive's eyes widen, grabbing onto Beau's hand with concern etched in her warm brown eyes. Beau doesn't look the least bit concerned over her bleeding palm as she asks, "You're good with potions, yeah? You can dilute my blood enough to make the elixir."

"Beau—" Olive starts, but cuts themself off when Beau doesn't look like she's going to listen to anything Olive says. The sage turns her attention to the other person in the room, "Ranboo, tell her we can't—"

"Anything to save Tubbo," Ranboo murmurs, closing his eyes as he presses himself into the bed, keeping Tubbo's hand between his own. He has already lost two of his friends. He refuses to lose another.

He refuses to lose Tubbo.

Someone knocks on Tommy's door as he brushes his hair in front of the air and water familiars. He looks up, watching as the door swings open. False stands there, arms crossed behind her back. She tilts her head to the side. "I've relieved your mercenary of his duties tonight."

"You didn't need to do that for the entire night," Tommy says as he sets the brush down on the vanity. He grabs his cloak as he goes. He pulls it around his shoulders as he steps into the dimly lit hallway. He begins tying the cloak as False shuts the door behind him.

"I don't know how long this is going to take," False responds with a shrug. She escorts Tommy through the hallways, opening the door to the gardens outside for him. Tommy steps into the cool night air, looking up at the night sky. The stars twinkle at him like thousands of eyes watching his every move. Tommy frowns, lifting a hand up into the air. He closes his fingers around the north star, Tiberius, trying to catch it in his fingertips. He brings his fist back down to his chest, opening his fingers slowly. Instead of his missing celestial, Tommy finds empty air blowing coldly between each of his spread fingers.

"Come on," False says, grabbing onto his hand to pull him forward. Her hand is lukewarm in the coolness of the night, but Tommy knows that is an illusion created by his senses. False doesn't have a natural temperature, a byproduct of being a soulless lich. Regardless, Tommy doesn't mind holding hands with False. For some reason, she feels as much an older sister to him as she is to Jimmy even though she's known Tommy for less time. Tommy wonders if it's because they're both Transcendents or if False is simply like that.

False stops them both when they get to a gazebo in the garden. Martha is sitting on the railing. She smiles at them, hopping down onto the marble ground. She hops down the stairs, reaching out to grab onto both of their shoulders. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me! I will admit that I need some sort of confirmation that you are who I think you are."

"We're Transcendents," False offers, gesturing between herself and Tommy.

"So, you are!" Martha exclaims, clapping her gloved hands. Her face becomes a little more solemn as she explains. "I have a message for you. What feels like a few days ago for us, Helgrind, Andor, and I were placed in a pocket dimension called Niflheim."

"The timeless prison," Tommy adds.

"Exactly! While we were in Niflheim, we were suspended in time. We haven't aged a day when the rest of the world has changed over the course of thousands of years, if not more than that. We were released recently, but our exit means that the creature the prison was built for will soon escape as well," Martha nods, explaining why she was confused about what a cleric and saint were earlier. That would also be the reason why the relationships between the three prisoners were so strained. They must all be learning more about the world and drawing their own conclusions about what happened a long time ago for everyone else.

"Fenrir," Tommy adds again, starting to know where this story is going.

"It's unfortunate that we met Fenrir first," Martha frowns, sighing deeply.

"Is he evil?" Tommy asks slowly. He hasn't spent a lot of time with Fenrir, but there is some connection between them that exists beyond Fenrir being the protector of Tommy's old world and choosing to protect Tommy and Drista if they stay out of his way. Tommy doesn't know the nature of their connection, but he believes it to be strong enough that he wants to save Fenrir at the same time as stopping him from destroying the world.

"No," Martha says firmly without any hesitation, squeezing her hand into a fist. "But Fenrir is angry and confused, and that makes him just as dangerous as he would be if he had malicious intent. His rampage against his perceived enemies will destroy the world and propagate the Taint. The message for the Transcendents is that one of them needs to help the three heroes defeat Fenrir. That is the only way, apparently, but I don't know which Transcendent or even who the three heroes are."

"I might know. Niki found a mirror in Acherusia that can show visions of the three heroes. Unfortunately, it's a scrying mirror, and none of us know how to scry," Tommy explains.

"Where is it right now?" Martha says, seizing Tommy's shoulders with a wild expression in her eyes. "If it came from Acherusia, I should be able to scry with it. Honestly, that mirror was probably explicitly left for me."

"I'll take you to Niki's room to get the mirror," False says, grabbing onto Martha's wrist to pull the mystic away from Tommy. False nods at Tommy as she leads Martha back into the villa to get the mirror that Niki brought back from Drywaters. Tommy watches them fade into the darkness.

He should be alone right now, but as Tommy turns around, he discovers that he is not. A woman is standing next to him. She has short white hair resting against her pale shoulders with completely white eyes without an iris or pupil. She wears white robes with a cyan sash over her chest. This is complemented by golden adornments like a shoulder-pad, bracelets, boots, and a headpiece. Her ears are pointed, and her form is as translucent as a phantom hybrid. She smiles at Tommy, her form stabilizing as the wind picks up around them.

"Who are you?" Tommy demands, stepping away from the woman. He glares at her, searching for reasons to be wary of her. He knows, objectively, that he should be terrified, but he feels calm around her.

"I am the one that sent you that message. I am the one that built Niflheim," The woman answers, her voice as melodic as a harp playing in the heavens.

"Angrec of Light," Tommy guesses.

The archon startles. She looks down at the ground with a troubled expression. "No one has called me that since... Ah, that must be how you know that name. And how does Fenrir fare?"

"He's imprisoned," Tommy glares at her. How can Fenrir be anything other than unwell considering the fact that he's been in an unchanging prison for what sounds like thousands of years?

Angrec smiles sadly, looking at her pale hands as if she can see something in her palms. "I never wanted it to turn out like this. Darkness and I were made as a pair. We were supposed to watch over Libertas together. I was repurposed, however, and Fenrir was left alone. I had hoped he would find satisfaction, but all he found was loneliness and resentment. These emotions drove him to attack this world and Mojang. To protect Fenrir, I put him in the timeless prison I made for Martha, Helgrind, and Andor. Unfortunately, I trapped myself there, too. I am still getting used to all the changes that the world has gone through since I've been gone."

"What do you want?" Tommy asks slowly. He thought Fenrir was the first inhabitant of Niflheim, but it was made for the other three, not Fenrir. Like Angrec, it must have been repurposed.

"I want what I have always wanted: to preserve the world, to protect my children, and to save Fenrir. For this, I need the help of the Transcendents. It is the fate of this world to fall into the Abyss, for my children to be consumed by their corruption, and for Fenrir to perish. As an archon, I am tied to the fate of this world more than sapients are, so I have to trust in those who can break fate," Angrec explains, staring up at the sky with an expression mired by eternal sadness.

"You might be the only deity that cares," Tommy grumbles, leaning against the railing of the gazebo.

"I do not think that is true. We all have our reasons for staying away from this world and its fate," Angrec tells Tommy in a way that makes him believe instantly. He sighs, this must be the power of an archon. Angrec reaches a hand out, touching his cheek to lift his eyes up to her own. "Speaking of, I have a warning to impart on you. When I return to the Aether, I will be unintentionally unsealing it. I will also be waking someone up, but he will be able to provide more support than I ever could alone."

Angrec takes a step back. She lifts up her skirt, curtsying to Tommy. Her form fizzles out, turning into a beam of light that shoots upward into the heavens in individual beams like the ground shooting spears. Tommy tries to grab onto her, but his fingers slide through the air as if no one was there at all.

Martha and False return, the former holding the mirror that Niki brought from the depths of Acherusia. False looks serene, and Martha is smiling. Their expressions change when they see the haunted look on Tommy's face. He whispers, "I just saw Angrec of Light."

"Ah, Angrec," Martha says with a wry smile on her face. "My warden, my grandmother. What a dichotomy, no?"

Tommy narrows his eyes, processing those words as Martha and False step into the gazebo. False's eyebrows are drawn together as she stares at Martha's back. Martha sets the mirror down on the railing, not saying an additional word. The glass grows misty as if with condensation. Martha places a hand against the middle of the mirror. Her eyes flash with light, and in the next moment, she's gasping and stumbling back. False shoots forward to grab Martha, and Tommy grabs onto the mirror before it can shatter on the ground. Tommy looks up at Martha, asking, "What happened?"

"Nothing, I... I saw someone familiar, but he isn't..." Martha says, shaking her head. She stops, leaning down to grab onto the mirror again. "The three heroes are Jordan Sparklez of Ianite, Tom Syndicate of Dianite, and Karl Handforth of Mianite. They will be helped by Drista the Sibylline."

Tommy looks at False, and they share a knowing look. One must help the three heroes with their goal. They know which one of the Transcendents will be helping the heroes. That narrows down who has what responsibility, at least.

"What's that look about?" Martha asks.

"We were given a prophecy by Terra Sylva," False explains, recounting the prophecy. "The ultimate storm approaches like a distant wave, / The unchained four will choose between bravery and the world's grave. / A monster of the past rises from the ash / The remnants of a soul leak from a mother's cache / The wolf of a timeless prison strikes against his creator / All were shaped by the actions of the perceived traitor / One must fight against the ancient lord / One must kill who they once adored / One must stitch the blight with the soul / One must help the three heroes with their goal / Ascension comes for one and for another comes death / The third will be undone and the fourth will be lost in the fire's depth."

Martha taps her chin curiously. "I'll do what I can. In the meantime, we should get some rest for the night. You all should enjoy your time in Rivendell. I don't know how many more peaceful days are coming."

"This is where it ends for us." She's as far away from Ranboo as the stars are, but he can hear her words right inside his ears. His legs give out as he reaches for her. He isn't able to save her as she puts her staff into the ground, the design on the top glowing brightly. Her scream resonates across the battlefield as the light grows blinding. Ranboo averts his eyes, unable to look at the display. When he looks back, the deed is done...she's gone, but so is Fenrir.