Back to the Mystic Realm~ Back to the Mystic Realm~

With business wrapped like a scroll tied shut, they’d heard the Elvenfolk were about to arrive, and the little one had no roots left in the Underworld, like a kite that wouldn’t land. She grabbed Alicia and tugged her homeward, brushing off the Beastfolk’s tear-bright pleas like rain off a cloak.

Well then, we’ll take our leave first. As for linking the worlds, we’ll handle it ourselves, so don’t trouble yourselves, she said, her tone light as a breeze over reeds.

Alicia laced fingers with Ling’s small hand, and with one stride they stepped through the very Underworld gate they’d used before, like retracing footfalls in sand.

Vmmm—

Familiar ear-ringing, like a cicada behind the skull. Familiar sway of dizziness, like a boat tilting on a dark lake. Familiar sunlight, sharp as a blade across the eyelids.

She’d just gotten used to the Underworld’s twilight, a cave of cool shadow, so the sudden blaze pricked Alicia’s eyes like needles, and she couldn’t even pry them open.

Ling felt none of it; her gaze adjusted like a cat’s at dusk, flipping between worlds as smooth as water slipping from stone.

But Ling accounted for Alicia’s discomfort, her eyes sweeping the plain like a falcon’s, searching for a perch and finding none, and her brows knit like a drawn bow.

She pinched thumb and forefinger, raised them to her lips, and blew a ribbon of air.

Fweee—!

A knife-bright whistle cut across the open plain, and a distant great tree shuddered like a woken ox; a tumble of lush leaves shook loose an Edmund.

Edmund hit the grass, blinked like a startled deer, then bolted toward Ling, face blazing with a gratitude that said, Thank heaven I wasn’t left like a broken toy.

Sit!

His body was already a fired arrow, but the command struck like a bell, and Edmund dropped on reflex, spine straight as a spear.

His backside skidded, grinding earth into sparks—red as embers, gold as sunflecks—until he slid to a halt at Ling’s feet like a thrown shield.

Don’t move!

He froze mid-reach, hands inches from his burning backside, and his broad frame blocked the sun, casting a clean slice of shade over Alicia and Ling like a sheltering fan.

Without the sun’s spear-point glare, Alicia let her hands fall, the cool shadow a cup of water to tired eyes, enough to face the mirage of the living world again.

Well… thanks for the trouble, Edmund, she said, voice soft as silk, knowing the little tyrant beside her had pressed him into service.

She offered only an ordinary thank-you, a pebble tossed into a pond, and yet Edmund’s eyes brimmed like clouds about to rain—surely not for the sting in his rear.

Alicia didn’t need long; she adjusted like pupils narrowing at dawn, and the outer light no longer cut so deep, so she refused to waste daylight for her own comfort.

The two of them climbed onto Edmund, and like riders returning along a familiar river, they set their course for the Mystic Realm.

—A maiden folds her hands in prayer—

They called on the Crimson King again and again, shaving travel time away like carving curls from wood, and after five or six blinks they were back in the Mystic Realm.

No one asked why; time had slipped like sand through fingers, and the crowd behaved as if the hourglass had never turned.

Welcome back.

Flan had guessed Alicia’s return; she stood at the gate early, fingers snug around her elder sister’s hand, like two petals on one stem.

But when Alicia truly arrived, only Flan gave the greeting, like a bell struck once; Remi merely dipped her waist in a bow and let silence be her veil.

If I’m right, that silly Remi thinks, With my head lowered, no one can tell if my mouth moved—like hiding behind a fan with painted cranes. Does fooling herself really work, or does a dignified elder sister just not care?

Well, I’m back, mission accomplished~ Alicia chimed, her voice a bright ribbon cutting through the lull.

Thankfully no one pressed Remi’s little act; Alicia’s words rolled over it like a warm tide.

Mm, congratulations, Miss Alicia, Flan said, and then, about the Elvenfolk—her business tone as calm as tea steam at the threshold.

The Elvenfolk ran into trouble? Alicia asked, a small ripple under still water.

No, it’s that the Elvenfolk are coming to the Mystic Realm, Flan answered, each word placed like a stone in a garden path.

Alicia nodded; that had been said already, like a drumbeat heard from afar.

Ah, I know that—soon, right? she said, casual as a cloud’s shadow.

Not soon. Now.

As the word fell, the sky thumped with a heavy Thoom—! and a silver magic circle lit like a moon carving itself above the eaves.

Thick mana pooled around it like storm clouds gathering; the rotating ring blinked in pulses, and unreadable runes flew inward like startled birds to the circle’s heart.

It’s just a teleport, right? Why the parade? Alicia muttered, annoyance sharp as vinegar. The Daemon affair had barely set like a sun, and now the Elvenfolk bang drums again—when’s the Empire’s brass supposed to sleep?

The colossal array didn’t last long; a whole forest, roots sunk in real soil like teeth in bread, pushed out of the circle as if the world were a sleeve.

But it didn’t emerge below the ring; it rose above it, like a mountain lifted on a platter, and the puzzle pinched Alicia’s brow.

When the floating forest showed itself trunk to crown, the circle didn’t fade; it flickered, shifting from pure blue to seedling green, as if spring had washed it.

It cradled the floating island like a tray under a teapot, bobbing now and then like a boat, yet never hinting at a fall.

Alicia tipped her head back and stared at the sky-borne forest, a headache blooming like a tight knot; she had no idea what to do with that hanging garden.

At least it didn’t block the sunlight gracing the Mystic Realm; if it had thrown a lid over their sky, Alicia would’ve found a reason—any reason—to push it aside like a stubborn cloud.