Rapid knocking rattled the door—rat-a-tat, like a woodpecker’s frantic beak.

Augustus turned his chair to face the doorway, a proud smile like a drawn blade, and said:

“Ibera, is that you?”

Gugwen pushed the door open with a helpless look, like a man lugging a wet cloak.

“Gugwen, think this will fly? How I’ll act when Ibera shows up?”

“No idea,” he said, dry as dust.

Vice Principal Gugwen was mild as spring water. If it were Alpha, he’d be a thunderstorm by now, but Gugwen just wore that resigned look and humored Augustus’s antics.

Compared to their days traveling as adventurers, nothing had really changed—the same dust, the same laughter drifting like campfire smoke.

“Hmm... I keep feeling this act will just anger Ibera. One spark and she’ll flee back to the Realm of Layered Woods. Let’s try something else.”

“Alright.”

Thinking how he was already past his prime yet still dragged into Augustus’s mischief, Gugwen sighed, a thin wind, stepped back out, and knocked again.

“Ibera! I missed you so much! You finally came home!”

Augustus lunged from his chair, a hawk diving; tears glittered at the corners of his eyes like dew.

“Ah... not Ibera,” he groaned, the many-times world-saving Hero crumpling face-down, spirit snuffed like a candle in wind.

Gugwen’s eye twitched, then laughter bubbled up; the wrinkles on his face gathered like ripples in a pond.

When Gugwen first met Augustus, the boy burned with hot blood and grand vows. He’d stumbled on Ibera bathing at a moonlit pool and been chased off; then spent nights slumped like this whenever she didn’t appear.

Thinking back, he’d been the nanny of the Hero Squad: he cooked the meals, cast support spells, and in fights, he took point like a spearhead. Pay got split evenly, yet he often had to bail out Mag, Augustus, and Ankor—broke before every job thanks to drink, coins slipping away like rain.

Wait. Come to think of it, they never paid him back, did they? Debts sitting like stones in his gut.

“Gugwen? You look stormy.”

“Augustus... no, Headmaster, I feel my pension should be doubled,” he said, voice like a cold bell.

“Why the formal tone out of nowhere? And why drop this awkward demand right as Ibera’s coming back?” His words fell like a stone in a still pond.

“Bar tab! The drinks from our adventuring days! Pay me back!” The demand thumped like a drumbeat.

“You’re not short on money now. Why rush?” His brow creased like gathering cloud.

“It still stings being swindled by you three! Pay me back!” The anger pricked like nettles.

“I’m the one short on cash. Damn it, debts still hang over me like chains. How about we get back to rehearsing Ibera’s return?”

“No need. I already heard. Thanks, Gugwen—thanks for always looking after my good-for-nothing husband.” Her voice drifted in like smoke.

Before she appeared, the harsh bite of herbs hit the air like scorched wind.

Most elves love the wild; they hunt under leaf and sky, carrying the gentle scent of flowers and grasses.

But this elven Saint was different—defiant. She favored the acrid perfume of charred herbs.

Ibera leaned in the doorway, chewing leaf-tobacco, her limbs slim and ears long, elf-marked. Not the usual graceful style—she wore bad-girl glamour, a street-spark’s flair—doorway framing her like a painted scroll.

She stepped in wearing revealing, tight leather, but her movements were innately proper, a spine straight as a blade—Saint’s training since childhood etched into bone.

Elves live about five times longer than humans, so the boy was now an uncle, while the girl Ibera—though a mother—looked scarcely changed, only touched by the ripe glow of maturity, time flowing past like a quiet river.

Gugwen greeted his old adventuring partner, shot Augustus a glare like a thrown pebble, and left, clearing the room for the long-separated couple.

“So, you called me back—why? Finally decided to cut ties with your other affairs?” Her words were frost on glass.

“Uh, well... forget that. You can live at the City of Heroes without worry now, because I’ve become a demigod!” His voice rose like a trumpet under blue sky.

“No—hold it! Why dodge the cheating part?!” Sparks skittered in her eyes.

“That’s the heart of it!” Ibera grabbed Augustus by the collar and shook him hard, like a storm rattling shutters.

“None of that matters. I’m strong enough now. I can protect you.” His tone was steady as stone.

Augustus took her hand with fervor and laid a gentle kiss on it, warm as sunrise on frost.

Ibera started furious, kicking and swatting, but her motions softened. Breath unsteady, she let the kiss’s tenderness wash over her like summer rain.

She caressed her lover, touch feather-light, like drifting petals.

“Fine... I’ll forgive you for now!” Her temper folded like a thin veil.

Truth is, cold sweat slicked Augustus, frost along his spine.

Hearing that, he settled, heart easing like a tide going out.

“Right—about becoming a demigod, what happened?”

“It was like when I received the gods’ blessing—an echoing rite. Incense, vows. It made me far, far stronger.”

“But as I know it, the gap between a Divine Being and a person is vast—sky to abyss.”

Ibera circled Augustus twice, eyes sweeping up and down like lanterns. Augustus struck poses to match, playing along like a jester in a court.

“Hmm. Looks the same. Brain still broken like before.” Her jest landed like a gentle tap.

“Ha, kidding. I do have plenty of limits—God-like, but freer than a Divine Being. Put simply, I can do two things: protect Ibera Lingo and Stini Saya; and save the world. Beyond that, I can’t do anything. That’s the shape of it.” Chains named, banners planted.

“Hard to grasp,” she murmured, her doubt a little mist.

“That’s the realm of the Divine Being. You gain sight beyond sight and power beyond power, and you pay a price. Shackled action is a cheap toll,” he said, stars behind his eyes and manacles at his wrists.

“I see,” she breathed, a leaf falling in quiet.

She knew how Augustus loved freedom and adventure, hungered for duels with worthy hands, yearned to find skies unlike any he’d seen—new silk stretched across the heavens.

Now, for her and their daughter, the wild youth was ripening; as a father, he was willing to shoulder shackles, to helm a guard-ship for the ones he loved, anchor steady in storm.

“Stay, Ibera. I did sell our old house... but the Headmaster assigned us a standalone villa. It’s spacious.” His promise opened rooms like clear lakes.

At that, Ibera wanted to turn heel for her homeland, heart yanking like a kite string in sudden wind.

“Who sells the whole homestead? Did you mess up again?” Trouble simmered like stormclouds at dusk.

“Uh... I blew up the academy, so I owed a lot.” The boom still echoed like distant thunder.

Ibera slapped her palm, memory flaring like flint.

She’d thought he’d lost money gambling again and come to borrow; in a fury, she’d refused and had the maids throw him out of the Natural Sanctuary. The matter drifted away like smoke on a cold night.

Turns out it really was an explosion! The revelation cracked like thunder under the floor.

“Wait—what about our daughter? Stini must’ve suffered for this!” Her worry cut like a blade.

Augustus didn’t dare admit he’d injured her by mistake—the truth a thorn in his throat.

“...It was rough at first, of course. But she’s got a boyfriend now...” His words tiptoed like cats.

“...I’m going to her! You irresponsible brute of a father! I’ll raise her from now on!” Her fury blazed like a torch.

“No need,” he said, raising a hand like a shield.

Augustus waved, guileless, like a boy caught in rain.

“She’s working as a maid at her boyfriend’s place and moonlighting as an adventurer. She’s happy. I tried to bring her back; she refused—said she’d found her destined one. Ah, young love—sweet as ripe peaches.”

“Hmm... reliable?” Her doubt pooled like fog over a valley.

“Not reliable.” The truth was blunt as a stone.

“Then how can you let our girl cohabit with some man? If—if Stini gets abandoned, what then!” Fear cracked like thin ice.

“Ah, let me finish.” His voice smoothed like a palm over wrinkled cloth.

Augustus gave a wry smile and patted the hand clutching his collar, trying to cool Ibera’s blaze with a little water.

“As I said, outside those two vows, I can’t do a thing. I can save Stini’s life, but not her heart. So I need someone else in that place, to comfort Stini.” Life is a shield; the heart, a fragile lamp.

Words aren’t enough to comfort someone. You need actions, so they feel—with skin and bone—that someone cares, someone longs for them. Ibera knew this well from her Saint days, pouring warm tea into the troubled, day after day.

He could only appear as the ‘hero who saves the day,’ not walk alongside Stini. That was exactly what pained Augustus—a path broken like a bridge missing planks.

“Mm, so? Didn’t you say that guy was unreliable?”

“Right. He isn’t some proper do-gooder, but I like his way. No macho bluster, not self-absorbed—more like a sage from SkywardCity. Maybe he’s harsh, but he gives people true courage to face trouble, makes them think, and seek their own redemption. If someone is to save Stini’s heart, he’s the best choice.” His praise gleamed like a blade in sunlight.

“You rate the boy high. Fine—sounds like a decent lad, but I still need to meet him, see who he is.” Her gaze was a needle, keen and clean.

“Mm. I watched several of their runs—the purge of the Fallen in the Eastern Mountains, the heresy hunt by the Truth Seekers Assembly. The kid hit my best expectations. Andor Mephy—if he wants to marry Stini, I’ll support it.” His eyes were hawks riding thermals.

“Andor? The heretic who just got arrested?” News fell like cold rain.

“Ha. Maybe a heretic, sure. Or maybe the kind who brings new thought and makes the world better. That’s a trailblazer,” he said, carving new rivers in old earth with words.

“No, I mean he’ll face trial in two weeks. You’re not going to help him?” Scales and gavel hung in the air.

“Don’t underestimate Andor. The kid’s sharp,” Augustus said, a knife-edge in his tone.

Augustus walked to the window and gazed out, eyes casting nets over distant light.

With sight near a Divine Being’s, he saw the city hung above the clouds—SkywardCity—and in two weeks, the trial would be held there, a floating island waiting like judgment.

“Besides, this might be the optimal path. If it’s just a capture, fine; if it’s arranged on purpose, he’s clever to a fault...” Augustus thought for a beat, silence deep as water. “Alright, we’ll come back to that. Do you know why I called you back now?”

Ibera smiled and drew a letter from her chest. Elven builds run slender; Augustus had already spotted the envelope tucked against her modest bust, but he’d kept quiet to please her—letter pale as a fish belly.

“It’s from the Council of Sages in SkywardCity—an invitation to a ‘Peace Conference’ sent to major races and nations. Something feels off, right?” The ink was chill on the page.

“I’ll be frank: many could die. Or none.” A coin hung mid-air, flipping in sunlight.

“Hey! Speak plainly. Don’t half-hide the truth.” She tore at the veil like smoke.

“That’s as far as I can go. Crossing the line has limits.” A border glinted like a blade.

“Then let me ask—now that you’re a demigod, your lifespan should be long, right?” Years rose like mountains stacked to the clouds.

Augustus tapped her nose, affectionate, and kissed her lightly. “On par with yours.” The kiss fluttered like a moth’s wing.

“So that means you’re no longer a Hero?” The title lay aside like a cloak on a chair.

“Right. I’ve shed the title of Hero. The world won’t allow a Hero to stay at full strength forever. Now there’s only one left in the mortal realm—Stini.” The mantle melted like snow in spring.

“Will Stini, who holds the ‘Hero’ seat, go there? Will it be dangerous?” The seat was a high perch above restless winds.

“She could refuse. But for her boy, do you think someone as proud as Stini will sit still under our protection? There’ll be bumps, not mortal danger. Truth is, she’s the key to resolving this. Rest easy—if she truly faces danger—”

I’ll be there. His promise rang like steel.

To Ibera, that line landed like a bell on stone, and it soothed her utterly, warmth purring like embers in the hearth.

Since Augustus had said, “I can’t protect you,” sending her from the City of Heroes back to her home in the Realm of Layered Woods, this was the first warmth like this—home a deep forest, heart a bird returning.

“Here in the Headmaster’s office, it’s alright...” Her voice slipped like silk.

She laughed softly, slid her arms around Augustus’s neck, and kissed him with abandon, a flame finding dry pine.

“Wait, wait... inner room. Not out here...” He glanced at the door, wanting a curtain to fall.