Mabel's lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line.
"That's impossible," she admitted slowly, though the words came with a reluctant edge. "There's no official record stating Sylvathar can cast spatial magic… at least, not that we've seen."
Liam gave a quiet nod of agreement and fell into thoughtful silence for a few seconds. Then, something clicked in his mind—Mourne.
"What if Sylvathar isn't the one doing the hiding?" he said aloud, almost as if thinking through it in real time.
Mabel's eyes widened slightly, her mind catching up to his implication. "You mean… a hybrid with spatial affinity?"
"Exactly," Liam said, voice steady. "Mourne had spatial magic. When I fought him, Galen said Mourne used a veil to conceal the movement within a specific area. It wasn't just simple invisibility—it warped reality itself in a confined space. And if a hybrid of Mourne's level could do that, then what's stopping a more powerful one from masking an entire portion of the Land of Ruins? Not just hiding it, but making it appear… normal."
Mabel didn't say anything for a moment. Her gaze remained locked on Liam.
'He's making sense,' she thought. 'Painfully solid sense. First, he deduced that a hybrid might be among the Crescent Kingdom's upper circle… and now this—speculating that Sylvathar's entire base could be shielded behind an illusion or mystic veil.'
'He's piecing things together faster than most seasoned knights would. His mind—his instincts—they're sharp. Too sharp for a fifteen-year-old. And I honestly pray he's wrong about the Crescent Kingdom. Because if he's right… then Princess Sheila is already compromised.'
'But this theory—about the veil in the Land of Ruins—if he's right, that's huge. It gives us a fighting chance. Knowing your enemy's location before they make the first move can change everything.'
She crossed her arms, then finally broke the silence.
"Tell me something, Liam," she said with quiet curiosity. "I've been wondering."
He turned his head, acknowledging her without speaking.
"Just a few days ago, you didn't seem to give a damn about any of this. Your mind was all about growth, power, and your own path. But now, ever since you came back from that sweep with Sir Magna, you've been… restless. Like you're seeing the world differently."
She tilted her head slightly, watching his face. "What changed? You've got a thing for Princess Sheila or something?"
Her tone remained even, but her words carried a vulnerable undercurrent she tried to mask.
"Don't take it the wrong way," she added quickly, catching herself. "I'm just curious."
Liam stared at her for a few seconds, brows knit slightly. "A thing? What do you mean?"
"As in… like…" Mabel's voice caught, barely noticeable, but Liam picked up on it immediately. "You know… do you like her?"
He didn't speak right away.
"I'm sorry," Liam said finally, voice plain. "But I genuinely don't understand what you mean by that."
Mabel stared for a moment, then gave a tiny sigh through her mask. "I mean do you like her. Like like her."
Liam tilted his head, his tone blunt and direct. "Of course not."
Mabel blinked. "Well… that was straightforward."
She paused again, then pressed further. "Wait, so if you don't, then what is it? Do you just… care about her and what she's going through?"
"No," Liam said flatly. "Not really."
Mabel frowned behind her mask, clearly not satisfied. "Then why do you keep coming up with all these theories and possibilities? All of them aimed at protecting her. You act like you don't care, but everything about you lately contradicts that."
Liam leaned back into the couch, his gaze distant again.
"Because," he said softly, "my brain has refused to stop working."
"Your brain won't stop working? What do you mean by that?" Mabel asked, a note of confusion in her voice.
Liam let out a slow sigh, eyes focused on nothing in particular.
"Ever since I found out Sheila was tied into Sylvathar's grand scheme, I've been… restless. It started as just curiosity, something gnawing at me. I needed to know why she mattered so much. Why her," he said quietly. "Then I learned about this so-called 'divine light' she carries. That eased the tension in my head… at least for a while."
He paused, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest.
"After my whole 'Aesmirius' incident, the hybrid issue didn't faze me. It was just noise. Background clutter. But the last few hours?" He exhaled. "Too many puzzle pieces dropped at once. My brain hasn't stopped putting them together—piecing through logic, cause and effect, what makes sense and what doesn't."
Mabel remained silent, watching him with unreadable eyes.
"Anyway," Liam added, leaning back against the couch again, "hope that answers your question."
Mabel didn't respond immediately. Her gaze lingered on Liam, studying his face as if trying to see through the emotionless veil he always wore. But like always, it gave her nothing.
'He really isn't the kind of person you can read easily,' she thought. 'Not because he hides things well… but because he genuinely doesn't react to things like a normal person would. It's eerie sometimes.'
Still, what he said stuck with her.
"So, you're saying all this… everything you've been doing, thinking, suggesting—it's just because your mind refuses to rest? No emotions tied to it? No sense of duty or concern?" she asked finally.
Liam cracked one eye open, shifting it lazily in her direction. "Duty? Concern?" He echoed the words like they were in another language. "No. That would imply emotional investment. What I have is a scenario—a series of facts. If I can predict the enemy's movements before they act, that benefits me. If I can prevent a catastrophe, it helps preserve my environment. That's it."
"And Sheila?" Mabel asked softly.
Liam blinked. "What about her?"
"You said she's important to Sylvathar's plans. You've been tracking pieces of the puzzle ever since. That's not nothing."
"No, it's not nothing," Liam admitted. "But it doesn't mean I'm emotionally invested. She's simply the key to a larger equation. If the enemy gets that key, they win. And apparently, they might already have their hands on the key. And I—" he paused, "...I don't like losing."
Mabel frowned slightly, her expression shadowed beneath her half-mask.
'He keeps insisting there's no emotion. But something about the way he acts… about what he chooses to do... it doesn't align.'
"So that's it?" she asked, stepping away from the wall. "This is all just so you don't lose? That's your entire reason?"
She didn't wait for him to answer.
"Because if that's really all it is, I think you're lying to yourself," she continued. "I don't think this is about winning or curiosity. I think you're afraid."
Liam said nothing, only watching her with unreadable eyes.
"I think that deep down, whether you admit it or not, there's something you do care about," she said. "Not Sheila. Not even Amthar. But something—someone—maybe even yourself. You want to make sure that when the dust settles, you still have the chance to chase whatever it is you've buried deep in that mind of yours. That's why your brain won't stop. Because if everything burns… there's nothing left for you to reach for."
Liam's expression didn't change, but his silence stretched long.
"And you know what else?" she added quietly. "We may not know each other well, and I'm not some genius strategist—but I know what vengeance smells like, Liam. I've seen it. Lived beside it. And it's clinging to you."
"I don't think you want revenge against Sylvathar himself. Maybe it's another demon. Maybe something else entirely. But whatever your goal is… you know you'll never get close if everything falls apart."
She stepped closer now, her voice steady.
"So no, Liam. This isn't just curiosity. This battle you're circling around?" Her eyes met his. "Whether you like it or not… it's already your battle too."
Liam met Mabel's hazel-brown gaze with a calm, unreadable stillness, his eyes lingering as if peering past her mask and straight into something hidden—something only he could perceive. The silence between them stretched, unbroken by emotion, yet weighted with unspoken thoughts.
Then, quietly, Liam leaned his head back, eyes shifting to the ceiling. A faint, almost serene smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
'Looks like I just found a new goal... even if I have no clue how to reach it.'
He glanced back at Mabel, and for the briefest moment, there was a softness in his expression—a quiet ease that was rarely ever there. He opened his mouth to say something, but before a word could leave, a flicker of blue light interrupted him.
A portal shimmered open without warning, and two figures stepped through—Mystica and Magnus. As the portal sealed shut behind them, Mystica's sharp eyes immediately found Liam.
"Seems you were right about the Crescent Kingdom," she said without hesitation.
Liam's expression returned to its usual calm. "She's been taken?"
Mystica gave a tight nod. "Unfortunately. I arrived too late."
Her tone was even, but laced with subtle tension. "That said, we can't afford to sit idle and mourn the failure. We need to reach out to the Crescent Kingdom—discussions must begin immediately. Where is Her Majesty?"
"In her study," Mabel answered promptly.
"Then let's move," Mystica said, already conjuring another portal.
Magnus stretched his arms with a yawn and looked at Liam with a grin that sparkled with mischief. "Well, well. Nice to see you finally hanging around a beautiful girl, kid. Gotta say, you've got good taste."
Mabel blinked in surprise while Liam just sighed, eyes half-lidded as he leaned further back into the couch.
"Let's go before you say something worse," Mystica muttered, dragging Magnus along as they disappeared through the portal.