The guard takes over

The Realm was shrouded in an eerie hush—an unnatural stillness that slithered into the bones of every Fate. The skies, once radiant with the dance of light and color, had turned a bruised gray. The orbs—three ancient suns—lingered low, their light dimmed by something more than cloud. It was fear. Fear thick in the air, as if the world itself held its breath.

Inside the marble sanctum of the Grand Hall, torches flickered with green flame, casting elongated shadows against the black-stone walls. The banners that once bore the sigil of the Queen—Destiny's gleaming soul spear crossed with the vine of wisdom—had been torn down. In their place, a crimson flag hung limp, the crest of Torrock burned into the fabric: a serpent devouring its own tail. The false symbol of unity. A lie dressed as heritage.

Torrock stood behind a long obsidian desk, his gauntleted hand clenched into a fist as he struck the polished stone.

“This is your head leader, Torrock!” his voice boomed through the enchanted screens positioned across every district of the Realm. “We are under attack by the traitorous faction calling themselves The Sect!”

His face contorted into an expression of righteous rage, but his eyes—his eyes were dead. Calculating. Cold.

“Never in our long, glorious history has there been such blatant disregard for our sacred traditions! We must not let them tear us apart!” he snarled. “We are one people. One Realm. One Law.”

He took a heavy breath, theatrically pacing. “Effective immediately: there will be no more journeys. No more traveling between dominions. No more gatherings. No more debate.”

He slammed his palm again, rattling the crystal goblets on the war table.

“The Grand Hall is now closed to all who are not part of the Council,” he continued, his tone darker. “The University of Truth and Memory is officially shut down. No Fate is permitted outside their domiciles without authorization.”

His next words dropped like lead.

“Those who disobey will be… reconditioned.”

The threat hung in the air like rot. Reconditioning. The cruelest tool in the arsenal of ancient order. A complete stripping of will, personality, and memory.

“I have established the Guard,” Torrock said. “They answer only to me. They will carry out my every command without mercy.”

The screens all around the Realm faded to black as he concluded, “This is your first and final warning. Once the third orb rises—curfew begins. This is the command of your leader.”

---

A secret chamber hidden beneath the Grand University flickered with soft blue flame, the scent of ancient incense clinging to the stone. This was where the Sect met now. Ragged cloaks covered shoulders once adorned in golden robes. Dust and fear clung to everything.

“He didn’t even consult the council!” Professor E ranted, pacing furiously between ancient tomes and glowing maps. “He’s taken full control!”

“He slit a Fate’s throat in the middle of the courtyard!” Seth growled. “Left him there like trash—joking over his corpse like it was entertainment.”

“He’s mad,” Idris muttered, rubbing his temples. “Worse—he’s hungry. I see it in his eyes. That gleam of a man who’s tasted blood and wants the world.”

Charlene sat quietly, heart pounding, her mind spiraling.

“I have an idea,” she finally said, her voice quiet but resolute.

All eyes turned to her. Professor E. Idris. Seth.

“What is it, Princess?” Seth asked gently.

“If Torrock is using fear to control the Realm… then we can fight back with hope. With connection,” she said. “If we remind the Fates who we really are—if we feel like one again—we can turn this tide.”

“And how do we do that without lighting ourselves on fire?” Idris asked.

“By reaching them when they’re most open. Most vulnerable. When their minds are quiet,” Charlene replied.

“When they sleep,” Professor E whispered. “Of course.”

“I’ll send a message. Through the dreamscape. Grandma told me once—I’m linked to all the Fates. I can reach them.”

“Who’s gonna carry that message?” Idris asked.

Charlene’s eyes narrowed. “Argun.”

---

The Realm between was quiet as death. Charlene stepped through the portal into Argun’s private sanctum and was immediately hit with a strange unease. The air was heavy. Furniture draped in thick gray cloth. Boxes stacked in towers. Weapons packed away. Even the old war hounds sat silent, their eyes tracking her movement with mournful expressions.

“Argun?” she called, coffee trembling in her hand.

He didn’t turn. “Over there’s fine, little one. I’ll drink it when I’m done.”

“Where are you going?”

He kept folding cloth, adjusting straps, packing.

“While the Realm burns and the University’s gates are sealed?” he said softly. “I figured it was the perfect time… for a vacation.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re leaving? Now?”

Still, he didn’t turn. Didn’t look at her. Didn’t face the fire in her eyes or the pain in her voice.

“I need you!” she screamed, tears blurring her vision. “You can’t just walk away—not now! You’ve always been there! You promised!”

He exhaled. A deep, exhausted breath. And then, quietly, “I promised to follow the Queen’s will. And if she asked me to walk into the sea, I would. But this… this war? This isn’t her. This is something else.”

“You coward,” she hissed, running to him. “You’re running because you’re afraid!”

Charlene beat her fists against his back, but he just stood there. Still. Cold. Silent.

“You don’t get to walk away!” she sobbed. “You don’t get to leave us.”

He shifted, gently moving her aside with the sole of his boot. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She didn’t say another word. Just walked to the hounds, hugged each one. They licked her cheeks. She whispered love into their ears. Then she turned to the doorway, placed the coffee on a box, and vanished through the gate.

---

The silence settled in Argun’s soul like frostbite. He wiped his face with a rough sleeve, and then—

“Hello, my friend,” a voice purred from the shadows.

He spun around. Recognition hit him like lightning. Her voice—warm, sharp, like steel wrapped in velvet.

The Queen.

Destiny stood there, dressed in black and gold, eyes like burning stars. “I have a new assignment for you.”

Argun’s breath caught. “Took you long enough.”

She stepped forward, brushing dust from his shoulder. “Those big, round, soulful eyes of yours—they're killers,” she teased gently.

Argun smiled through the pain. “What do you need me to do?”

Destiny stared past him, out through the crumbling glass wall, toward the shifting dunes beyond. “How do you feel about sand?”

Argun grinned faintly. “I’ve always loved the desert.”

“Good,” Destiny replied, her voice low and full of fire. “Because war is coming to the gates of Audubon… and I need a wolf beside me.”