The morning sun didn’t rise over Grenvale—it exploded. Not literally, but the sky cracked open in a golden blast that drenched the mountains in fire-colored light. Rico “The Alchemist” Maldino squinted from under his hood, perched at the peak of Mount Virelin. The peak overlooked three kingdoms and at least seven kingdoms-worth of his problems.His eye twitched as he chewed the end of a licorice root. "Three realms ready to burn, and I still can't remember the spell for non-fat whipped cream."Beside him, a floating turtle monk—yes, floating—turned its wrinkled head. “It’s ‘Whipparius Nonfaticus.’ Try to remember. We’re literally one wrong ingredient away from exploding the timeline again.”“I only did that once,” Rico muttered, fiddling with the glowing green vial at his belt. “Twice if you count the incident with the rabid moon goats.”The turtle ignored him, meditating mid-air like only a three-century-old reptilian sage could. They were on a mission: infiltrate the ruins of the Ol

The ground trembled beneath Rico Maldino’s feet.Not from fear. From marching.Dozens of rogue alchemists, half-dead war experiments, golems, tree spirits, and one sky pirate playing a banjo advanced toward the looming capital—Alchemara, the City of Pure Flame.Rico stood on a high ridge, his cloak snapping in the wind, a satchel of spells strapped to his side. His war council surrounded him.To his left, Zara twirled her blade like a bored dancer, her eyes flicking over a floating hologram of the city’s defenses. “They’ve tripled the wall guards,” she said. “Even the flaming pigeons are armed.”“To be fair,” muttered Stitches, “those pigeons were always suspicious.”To Rico’s right, Shard cracked her glass wings, her silver eyes glowing. “Let me fly over and explode the towers. Or just the people inside. I’m flexible.”“No,” Rico said calmly. “We do this smart. Loud—but smart.”Behind them, the army waited. Sky pirates loaded bomb balloons. Barkclaw howled instructions to the Ironbou

Alchemara was still licking its wounds when the stranger arrived.She came wrapped in desert silk, black boots crushing cinders, a long curved blade strapped to her back, and a look that said “I’ve seen worse than you.” Her face bore two thin scars beneath each eye—perfectly symmetrical. Magical? Decorative? No one could tell.Her name was Solara Vale.The guards didn’t know whether to bow or run.Rico watched from the Sanctum Tower, arms folded. He didn’t like mysteries he didn’t create. Especially not ones that walked in like they owned the city.“Who let her in?” he asked.“She let herself in,” said Zara, clearly impressed.“She’s a mercenary,” Stitches added. “Worked with the Eastern Rebellion. Fought a fire-mage army using nothing but bone powder and arrogance.”“And rumor has it,” Shard chirped, “she once killed a man just by insulting his magical technique.”Rico grunted. “Sounds dramatic.”The doors creaked open behind him.“Rico Maldino,” said a voice like sharp velvet. “You

Zara moved like mist—silent, shapeless, and untraceable. She wore a long grey cloak enchanted with shadowbinding runes, each glyph pulsing faintly as she stepped deeper into enemy territory. The Awakened stronghold, known as Blackspire, loomed ahead like a twisted cathedral, its spires scraping the clouds and its walls alive with runic defenses that shimmered like fireflies in reverse.She crouched behind a crumbled pillar, watching two guards chant in sync, their voices low and haunting. The gate ahead pulsed with necrotic energy. Zara pulled a small crystal from her pouch—a gift from Rico. He had crafted it years ago during his darker days, but it still carried his signature blend of alchemy and magic. The crystal shimmered blue and allowed her to blend perfectly into the stone wall behind her.I will not fail you, Rico, she thought, before slipping past the gate undetected.---Back in Alchemara, Rico stood alone in the underground chamber beneath the city's library—a place where t