“Couldn’t you do this inside your Domain?” Sophie shouted through the bathroom door. I could barely hear her over the shower. My body needed hot water after last night. My lower back was still irritated from the tattoo, my arms, legs, and chest were lightly bruised, and my feet had been pierced in one place, clean through.

  It wasn’t from my travel through Suburbia toward Ideworld’s version of Lebens’ house. That part went pretty smoothly, and yes, Malik did find that house to be his home. According to the memories he left behind, his soul’s space moved with him the moment he was accepted into that household along with Bonnie. Apparently, his heart was where his grandma was. He was a good young man.

  All I did to get there was hitch a ride. I asked a passing shadow in a car where he was going, and after a bit of sweet talking, he was more than happy to drop me close.

  The bruises came from the training session that followed in the concrete jungle. I wanted to keep getting stronger no matter what. The threats looming ahead of me weren’t sitting idle either. I might have slightly overestimated my ability to handle a horde of trolls on my own at one point, which ended with me teleporting away and mowing them down with a laser. Not before they got their chance to use me as a punching bag for a second or two.

  The hot water helped. A lot. I was actually enjoying myself, right up until she started getting nervous that we wouldn’t make it in time.

  Crazy, right? We had four hours to spare, and she was already pacing back and forth like a woman possessed by some spirit of Christmas past. She was starting the evening with me at Lebens’, then after an hour or two she’d go meet her parents and her brother at some fancy restaurant downtown.

  Peter was already at Zoe’s house, helping her and her mother prepare their own traditional supper.

  Which, of course, meant that at some point I’d be left without any of my closest friends, stuck with Jason, all the Lebens, and Bonnie. Not the best mix of people when you’re trying to take your mind off unpleasant things. But Dam had forced me to come, and I wasn’t about to turn down his invitation.

  “I’m almost done!” I shouted back at Sophie.

  “You better be! There was a courier with a gift for you!”

  A gift? For me? Oh. Right.

  “I’ll be right there!” I yelled, hurrying out of the stall and drying myself off as fast as I could. I pulled on my underwear and rushed out to find Soph standing there with her arms crossed, one finger tapping against her forearm in a very clear display of impatience.

  “You were in there for half an hour and now you’re even putting on makeup?” she said, pushing past me with a goofy smile.

  “What can I say? Today I wanted to go as myself.”

  “There’s a box by the door,” she said, shutting herself inside the bathroom.

  I walked over slowly. It was about the size of a microwave, wrapped in festive black, reflective paper with silver tape and a card attached on top. Since it could very well have been a bomb, I touched it lightly and teleported it into my Domain, picturing the outskirts outside the base building. With the roof already gone, I figured that wouldn’t be an issue.

  Well. I was right that I could do it. I just didn’t expect the changes to reach outside as well.

  I appeared beyond the walls of my abode, but instead of barren, scorched earth, I found myself standing in a grassy field. Hills and valleys rolled out into the distance, all the way to the horizon. Rivers flowed through it, larger stones jutted out here and there, casting long shadows. Patches of forget-me-nots dotted the grass, their unusual blues and yellows breaking up the green.

  As I knelt beside the box, Liora came hopping over, looking springy and cheerful as he bounced between the blades of grass.

  “Is this your doing?” I whispered.

  Instead of answering, he leapt into the air and flew off, becoming as much a part of the wind here as he was the only dragon in the place.

  “Would I survive a bomb blast in here?” I asked aloud.

  [I have no idea,] Anansi replied.

  “Probably not,” I said, picking up the card and turning it in my fingers to read it.

  For A. May.

  – Joan

  They really weren’t a person of many words when it came to letters.

  **********

  I was lying in front of my soul core now, waking up as the world spun around me. My head hurt, my body trembled, but my soul was stitching itself back together.

  I’d opened the thing very carefully over two hours ago. And by that, I mean I painted a hole in it, gently slid an eye card inside, and once I was sure it didn’t contain a bomb, I tore through the paper and the box to see what it was with my own eyes.

  There were two items inside. The first one was obvious to me. Another fragment of some poor mage’s soul core, containing what remained of their Domain. An essence I absorbed right away, with the same care and pain that had accompanied the last process.

  That was what knocked me unconscious for a while.

  “How am I standing right now, Anansi?”

  [You are at 76%. You need 24% more essence of Authority to initiate growth.]

  “I’d say that’s pretty good. Almost two stages in a week. That’s got to be a record, right?”

  [Yes. But I don’t believe they have an unlimited supply of those fragments, and each stage will require more and more of you.]

  “Yeah. I talked with Nick and Dam about it some time ago. They said the first stage usually takes two to three months, the second about half a year, and the next one up to two years. But that doesn’t take into account a crazy person like me, who spends most of his time using abilities and fighting monsters, right?”

  [And receiving gifts from archmages.]

  “And that,” I replied, as I remembered the other item.

  I turned around and looked at it again. I’d left it on the couch after moving the fragment to the core. I picked it up, letting my aura brush over it, trying to feel what it was.

  It was a partially translucent robe woven from some material unique to Ideworld itself. It settled over me perfectly the moment I drew it on. The fabric was cool beneath my fingers and moved with a liquid grace, like the unbroken surface of a still lake. When the glow of my soul core touched it, the light scattered and shimmered, dancing across the folds the way sunlight plays upon water. Three simple buttons allowed me to close it fully, and a hood rested at the back, ready to be drawn over my head whenever I wished.

  Just like with the tattoo on my back, I could feel that I could feed it my Authority, letting the ability stored within it express itself.

  “It could be useful, right?”

  [In the right circumstances. It does look good on you, though.]

  “It does, doesn’t it?” I said aloud, twirling in place in a see through robe and my underwear.

  Which promptly reminded me that I had an event to attend.

  **********

  I hesitated for just a fraction of a second at the threshold between the training hall and the dining room. The sounds reached me first—soft clatter of cutlery being set down and the low murmur of voices trying very hard to sound festive. Then the smells followed, rolling over me in a wave so dense and layered it almost felt physical.

  Roasted meat, rich and herb-heavy—basted patiently and lovingly. Caramelized onions and garlic, sweet and sharp at the same time. Something citrusy and bright—maybe orange peel or lemon zest—cutting through the heavier scents. Warm bread, yeast and butter and a faint hint of honey. Spices too: cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, used with restraint, Ariana knew exactly where the line between comfort and excess lay and refused to cross it.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Lebens’ version of Christmas it was.

  I felt Sophie straighten beside me, smoothing down the front of her dress with a nervous little gesture. She looked just right for the occasion. She’d chosen a deep forest-green dress, modest in cut but elegant, the fabric catching the light with a soft sheen every time she moved. Long sleeves, a high collar, a thin belt at the waist in a muted gold that echoed the delicate jewelry at her throat. Her hair was braided and pinned up in a way that spoke of care and time, a few rebellious strands framing her face, that I’d bet were each carefully set that way by her.

  And me?

  I was dressed more carefully than usual too. My dark, tailored coat-dress that skimmed my knees. Underneath, a simple black top, no unnecessary adornment. Thick tights, polished boots. My hair was down for once, brushed until it shone, falling over my shoulders because I’d decided—consciously—to let myself be seen tonight. No suit. No hood. No borrowed face. Just… Alexa. For better or worse.

  “About time,” Nick said.

  He stood just inside the entrance from the training hall, as if he’d appointed himself greeter. He was wearing a soft and light-colored sweater, with a subtle pattern knitted into it, and a pair of dark, fancy pants that looked like they’d never seen chalk dust or sweat in their lives. His hair was neatly styled, his face freshly shaved. He looked domestic. It was deeply unsettling.

  “You look… festive,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s a dinner Alexa, not an ambush,” he replied dryly, stepping aside to let us pass. His eyes flicked to Sophie and softened. “You look lovely.”

  Sophine smiled as we stepped fully into the dining room.

  A large roasting pan sat at one end of a table, juices still bubbling faintly around a beautifully browned cut of meat. Nearby, bowls of potatoes whipped smooth and pale, the surface swirled into peaks that held little pools of melted butter. A platter of roasted root vegetables glowed in shades of amber and crimson, edges crisped just enough to promise sweetness beneath. There was a salad too—something fresh and green with pomegranate seeds scattered like jewels—and a loaf of bread so fresh it still steamed slightly where it had been torn.

  And soup. Of course there was soup. A deep pot set off to the side, lid half-open, releasing fragrant bursts of broth thick with vegetables and herbs. Lebens didn’t do anything halfway. I bet it was a healing imbued one too. It smelled exactly like it.

  Jason was near the center of it all, sleeves rolled up, looking faintly overwhelmed but determined. He was handing Ariana a stack of plates with exaggerated care, while Dam hovered nearby, stirring something and offering commentary that Jason was clearly trying—and failing—not to take personally.

  “No, no, not that one,” Dam said, peering into a pot. “That’s the gravy. You don’t taste-test gravy with a serving spoon.”

  “I was just checking consistency,” Jason shot back.

  Ariana laughed, nudging him gently out of the way with her hip. “You’re doing great. Really. Just… maybe focus on letting us do the cooking.” I laughed at that comment.

  Jason glanced up then and saw me. His smile flickered and disappeared. He gave a small nod and moved aside.

  And then there was Bonnie.

  She sat on the couch a little apart from the table, hands folded in her lap, shoulders drawn inward. She’d dressed for the occasion too—a dark cardigan over a simple blouse and a string of pearls at her throat.

  Her eyes were tired. Red-rimmed. Broken open by a grief that hadn’t even begun to scar over yet.

  Malik should have been here.

  The thought hit me with the dull force of a bruise being pressed. He should have been arguing with Nick, stealing food before it was ready, rolling his eyes at Dam’s dramatics. Instead, there was an empty space that no amount of food or noise could fill.

  I watched Bonnie’s gaze drift, again and again, toward Jason. Not openly. Just little glances, stolen when she thought no one was looking. There was something in the way he moved, I realized. The angle of his shoulders when he leaned. The earnest concentration on his face. Some echo of Malik that lived on purely by coincidence, and yet was enough to hurt.

  Sophie leaned in closer to me. “It smells incredible,” she whispered, awe threaded through her voice.

  “It always does,” I replied softly. “That’s how they get you.”

  Dam clapped his hands once. “Alright. Everyone’s here. Or… as here as we’re going to get. Let’s sit before it gets cold.”

  “It can’t get cold, honey. I preserved the warmth.” Ariana said sweetly.

  “What else what I was supposed to say.” He asked laughing in his deep, bellowing voice.

  It felt awful to be here where the death still lingered in the air, but it also felt… nice to be a part of a family built on love and support.

  **********

  We were all full, and just as I’d guessed, the soup healed any physical harm done to me. It did nothing for the lingering mental trauma though. Maybe that part was so deeply ingrained in the soul itself that no magic could touch it.

  When the talk about the food, how it tasted, and how nice everything felt finally died down, an awkward silence settled over our small gathering. I decided it was time to offer the gift I’d prepared for them yesterday.

  “I’d love to show you something, guys,” I said.

  “What is it?” Jason asked. His tone was hard to read. There was warmth there, but also a kind of guardedness, if I wasn’t mistaken.

  “It’s something you’ll probably appreciate the least out of everyone here. And no, I’m not saying that to hurt you or belittle you. It just… concerns Malik. But you can come too. I owe it to him, so you two can finally meet.”

  “What?” Bonnie asked, tears already forming. “My… boy… is he back?”

  “Alexa,” Dam said sharply. He was trying to stop me. To keep me from giving false hope.

  “Damian,” I replied, “I found his Domain last night. I can take all of us there. I think it would be in the spirit of Christmas to meet him like that, one last time.”

  “Oh,” he said quietly, lowering his eyes.

  “I’d love that,” Ariana said at once, moving closer to Bonnie.

  “Me too,” Nick added, pulling himself away from Sophie.

  Dam took it upon himself to gather everyone together, wrapping them in his wide arms. I stepped closer as my spellbook materialized, chained to the belt at my waist.

  I focused on a recent page and then moved toward Bonnie.

  “I’m sorry for Malik’s death,” I said. “It was me he wanted to save. That’s why he died.”

  The words had caught in my throat every time I’d seen her before. This time, they finally came out. She cried, but reached up and placed her hand on my cheek. I took that moment, that gesture, and used it to transport all of us.

  The first thing I registered was light.

  The room was vast and enclosed, its walls rising smoothly in every direction, carved from white crystal so pure it almost looked unreal. No seams. No corners sharp enough to hurt. Just clean, faceted planes that caught and bent the light.

  At the center of it all floated Malik’s soul core.

  It hovered a few feet above the ground, almost perfectly spherical, its surface made of countless crystalline facets that slowly shifted and rearranged themselves. Blue dominated, deep and steady like a winter sky, but veins of purple threaded through it, and flashes of warm gold pulsed from within, brightening and dimming in a slow, breathing rhythm. Every beat sent color spilling outward, painting the white walls in gradients that felt less like illumination and more like emotion.

  Bonnie gasped.

  The sound tore out of her, and then she was sobbing. Her hands flew to her mouth as if she could hold herself together by force alone. Her knees buckled, and Dam caught her just in time, easing her down onto the crystalline floor.

  “Oh—oh my baby,” she choked, eyes locked on the core. “Oh Malik… my sweet boy…”

  She reached out, fingers trembling, stopping just short of touching the light.

  Then everyone around me looked at the walls.

  They stirred with scenes.

  One to my left showed two boys, younger, much younger, running across a sunlit street. Malik couldn’t have been more than six or seven, all limbs and laughter, his hair a wild mess. His brother chased him with exaggerated fury, tripping over his own feet, both of them shrieking with the kind of unrestrained joy only children seem capable of.

  “Don’t cheat!” his brother yelled.

  “I’m not cheating, you’re just slow!” Malik shot back, glancing over his shoulder with a grin so wide it bordered on reckless.

  Jason sucked in a quiet breath beside me, his eyes glued to the same scene.

  Bonnie, Dam, and Ariana were focused elsewhere.

  They were watching a younger version of Bonnie, though not by much, standing at a kitchen counter while Malik, older now, maybe thirteen, carefully dried dishes beside her.

  “You don’t have to help, you know,” she said in the memory, fond amusement in her voice.

  “I want to,” Malik replied simply. “You cooked. It’s only fair.”

  He bumped her hip lightly with his own, grinning when she pretended to scowl.

  In the present, Bonnie let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. She pressed her forehead to the crystal floor, shoulders shaking.

  “I remember that,” she whispered. “He always insisted. Always…”

  The walls answered her with a shift.

  Now she was sitting in an armchair, a comic book open on her lap. Malik leaned against her side, his head resting on her arm, listening intently as she read aloud. She stumbled over a ridiculous villain name, and Malik burst out laughing, correcting her with mock gravity.

  “No, Grandma. It’s Mechanized Organism Designed Only for Killing. Get it right.”

  “Well, excuse me,” she replied in the memory, rolling her eyes. “Some of us didn’t go to villain school.”

  The room filled with his laughter. It echoed of the walls, wrapped around us with warmth and devastation.

  Bonnie reached up toward the wall as if she could smooth his hair one last time. Her fingers passed through the image, leaving ripples of gold light in their wake.

  Nick stood rigid, eyes glassy, jaw clenched. Sophie had one hand pressed to her chest, the other gripping his sleeve. Ariana wiped her eyes openly, not bothering to hide it. Even Dam, usually so composed, looked like he was bracing himself against something too heavy to carry.

  Jason had gone very still.

  He watched Malik with an intensity that felt unusual for him. When the memory shifted again, showing Malik older still, bent over a desk littered with books and scribbled notes, frustration etched into his face as he wrestled with something unseen, Jason’s lips parted slightly.

  “He looks… happy,” Jason said quietly.

  “He was,” I answered, my voice low. “And he was scared. And kind. And heroic. All of it. He wanted to save you, me, his brother, and the world.”

  The soul core pulsed brighter at that, gold flaring warmly through the blue and purple, almost like it agreed.

  Bonnie lifted her head then, eyes red but burning with something fierce beneath the grief. She looked at the core, not as a crystal. She knew instinctively who it was.

  “You didn’t die,” she whispered. “You’re still here.”

  The light swelled gently, bathing her in color.

  Around us, Malik lived again and again in fragments. Small, ordinary, precious moments, stitched together by love and memory, lasting for as long as his soul core could hold.

  “This is the crystal you told me about?” Jason asked, as the others focused on a different set of echoes playing out for them.

  “Yes. Each Domain has one. It’s what remains of your shadow when you awaken it, or when it joins the one that was already awakened,” I whispered, as we walked closer to Malik’s.

  “So it was a version of him once. I got that right?” he asked, studying his reflection in the tiny facets of the crystal, broken by its edges.

  “Yes. It will crumble slowly. This whole universe of his, until it remains no longer.” I briefly wondered if I should have bound it with the necklace I’d gotten in my Domain, but I’d decided against it. It didn’t feel right. Probably my own soul core’s resident advising me against it.

  “You were wrong, Lexy,” he said. “I do appreciate it. A lot, actually.” He added that last part with a small smile, which made me smile back. “I just wonder—” he continued, reaching out toward the crystal.

  And then he disappeared, swallowed by golden, blue, and purple shadowlight.

  Act Two has reached its end.

  Act Three, I’ll be taking a short hiatus of about 2 weeks (was supposed to be one month, but I am way ahead of a schedule, so it will be shorter). This time will be used to rest, plot, and write ahead, so I can return with a strong and cohesive continuation of the story.

  Act Three: Persona Grata, on 13th March 2026.

  P.S. I want to share a big personal dream of mine. One day, I would love to release this story in a proper book format. To make that possible, it needs to reach at least 3,000 followers on Royal Road.

  If you’ve been enjoying the story and haven’t hit the follow button yet—or if you feel it deserves a rating or review—it would be a tremendous help if you did so. As always, please only do this if you genuinely feel the story earns it. Your honesty matters to me just as much as your support.

  Last but not least! Sneakpeak with upcoming chapter names for the curious: