Endless Sea—Game Cycle 15, October 27.
Morningstar stared at Ethan like he’d crawled out of a grave.
The words finally spilled out of her. “You’re back…? You didn’t get eaten by the black dragon?”
Ethan set the bag of lemons on his desk. “If I’d been eaten, you wouldn’t be seeing me.”
Morningstar’s shoulders sagged with relief—and then immediately tightened again, like the feeling was dangerous to trust.
“Do you have any idea what happened while you were gone?” she said, voice low. “The black dragon came back. It asked about you.”
Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “And?”
“And I stalled.” Morningstar looked like she still couldn’t believe she’d pulled it off. “I said you were on an assignment. That you would return. It didn’t argue. It just… watched me. Like it could peel my thoughts open if it felt like it.”
That sounded about right.
Ethan didn’t ask what else she’d said. He didn’t need to. If the black dragon wanted him dead, no amount of excuses would have saved her.
“Relax,” he said. “It let me go.”
Morningstar blinked. “It… what?”
“It let me go,” Ethan repeated. “I’m here. That’s all that matters.”
Morningstar opened her mouth, then shut it. She took a breath, as if forcing herself back into the role she preferred—cool, sharp, in control.
“You disappear for two months,” she said. “No message. No warning. Then you walk in like nothing happened.”
“Two months?” Ethan paused. “So it’s already October 27.”
“Game Cycle 15,” Morningstar confirmed. “Six days until the forced return.”
Ethan nodded. Time was tighter than he’d hoped, but still workable.
Morningstar studied him for another beat. “You went to Rustwater Lake Monastery, didn’t you?”
Ethan didn’t bother denying it.
“You’re insane,” she said flatly. “You walked into New Star territory with demigods circling, and you came back alive.”
“I had a plan.”
“Plans get people killed.”
“Not this one.”
Morningstar’s eyes narrowed. “And now what?”
Ethan leaned back against the desk. “Now I need to meet someone.”
Morningstar’s brow twitched. “The Shadow Stranger again?”
Ethan didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
For a moment, Morningstar looked genuinely irritated. “You already made a deal with it. You got what you wanted. Why would you go back?”
“Because the price isn’t paid yet,” Ethan said. “And because it knows things I need.”
Morningstar exhaled hard through her nose. “You’re going to drag the Seven Gods’ attention onto your head.”
“Not if I’m careful.”
She scoffed. “Careful. That’s rich.”
Ethan ignored the jab. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of his stone sword against his back. The body he’d reforged with divine power was steadier now—stronger, cleaner, harder to break.
“I’ll be in the training hall,” he said.
Morningstar hesitated, then nodded once. “Don’t die. It’s inconvenient.”
The Black & White Institute’s training hall was quiet at this hour. Ethan took a lane, drew the stone sword, and went through the forms until sweat soaked his shirt.
Each swing cut cleaner than the last.
The blade whistled. The air shuddered. The stone edge bit into a practice post and left a groove like a wound.
Ethan breathed out slowly.
Good.
If he was going to keep playing in the space between gods and demons, he couldn’t afford to be weak.
Night settled over the castle by the time he returned to his room.
He shut the door, tossed his gloves onto the chair, and sat on the edge of the bed.
He didn’t have to wait long.
A soft silver light bled through the gap beneath the door.
Ethan’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his revolver out of reflex—then loosened. He already knew who it was.
He opened the door.
Two women stood in the corridor as if they’d been waiting all along.
One was moonlight given shape—cold, distant, beautiful in a way that made you feel judged.
The other looked like warmth and threads and patience… until you noticed the way her smile never reached her eyes.
Silver Moon.
Weaver Mother.
Ethan stepped aside without being told.
The two goddesses didn’t bother with greetings. They walked past him, and the world folded.
The corridor vanished.
Mist swallowed everything.
When Ethan’s vision cleared, he was standing on cold ground in a fog-world that wasn’t quite space and wasn’t quite sea.
A figure floated ahead—more shadow than man, edges fraying like burnt paper.
The Shadow Stranger.
It looked up at the goddesses, and its entire posture changed.
Silver Moon said nothing. She simply stared.
Weaver Mother smiled sweetly. “So here you are.”
The Shadow Stranger coughed a laugh. “I was about to call you.”
Silver Moon’s gaze sharpened. “Liar.”
The Shadow Stranger’s head turned slightly—then it noticed Ethan standing behind them.
Its voice rose half an octave. “Why is he here?”
Ethan didn’t get the chance to answer.
Silver Moon and Weaver Mother turned at the same time and looked at him.
The three of them stared as if Ethan were a student who’d wandered into the wrong classroom… and somehow decided to sit down anyway.