Deep within Zone 9, hidden beneath the vibrant city of Veridn, lay an underground chamber constructed during the six months following the war. This chamber hadn’t existed before—it had been built solely for one purpose: to safeguard Liam Hunter as he remained locked in his unyielding coma.
Originally, the idea of keeping him in the Tempest Palace—as before—had been strongly considered. But after the horrifying incident where both Liam and Mabel were abducted from within the very heart of the palace despite its intricate magical barriers and layered defenses, Queen Lucy had made a firm decision. She would not risk it again. Not until the mystery of how the palace’s security had been breached without so much as a flicker of alarm was solved.
Thus, Liam had been moved in secret.
Now he rested in this hidden chamber, on a bed in a room crafted to mirror the very one Queen Lucy had once gifted him in the palace. The walls, the shelves, the minimalistic decor—everything was designed to make it feel familiar, even if Liam couldn’t yet open his eyes to see it.
He lay still, chest rising in steady rhythm, his form ghostly pale. His once short, tousled hair had grown over the months, now stretching to six or seven inches in length. With his long lashes framing closed lids and the softness of his features, any stranger might mistake him for a sleeping girl rather than the warrior he truly was.
A few feet from his bedside, a silent figure stood watch.
She stood against the chamber’s far wall, clad in her full Royal Corps uniform. Her sword was sheathed across her back, the golden etchings on its hilt catching the soft lantern light and gleaming faintly. Her dark hair was pulled into its usual high ponytail, with a few loose strands falling beside her cheeks. A half-mask covered her face from nose downward, leaving only her almond-shaped, hazel-brown eyes visible—eyes locked solely on Liam, yet scanning her surroundings with precise alertness.
Since waking from her coma, Mabel had taken only a single week to reacquaint herself with her newly elevated mystic level. Her recovery had been sharp, controlled, methodical. And once she’d felt confident in her restored abilities, she made her request—directly to Queen Lucy herself.
She wanted to resume her duty.
She wanted to protect Liam again.
Lucy had initially considered denying the request. After all, Mabel had just emerged from a near-death experience. She deserved rest, time to understand the changes within her, time to breathe. But Lucy knew her agent well. Mabel wasn’t asking out of obligation. She was asking because of something deeper—something personal.
And Lucy’s assumptions were correct.
Though Mabel had stood at Liam’s side in the battle against Morenelle within the cursed Land of Ruins, she hadn’t forgotten the decisions she’d made. She had chosen survival. Not hers... but Liam’s. She had chosen his preservation when things had gone south. But what she hadn’t forgotten the most was what Liam did for her.
Liam had willingly used what remained of his mystic strength to summon Nyxie—his monstrous companion—not to protect himself, but to shield her.
She remembered that moment vividly.
She remembered the scream of the demoness, the crimson haze, the final, savage blow that nearly ended her life. She remembered her vision fading, the sanctuary of Sylvathar spinning, her lungs filling with blood.
Until she awoke, reborn. Stronger, transformed, and Ascended.
In her heart, she believed that it wasn’t just fate or luck that brought her back. No. It had been Liam. She was certain of it. His actions, his myst, his will—somehow, they had pulled her back from the brink. She owed her life to him. Possibly even her Ascension. And she knew it.
That debt burned within her like fire.
So while her fellow agents were dispatched across the kingdom, handling new missions and hunting fresh threats, Mabel chose a different path. She remained. Not out of duty—but out of unshakable loyalty.
Queen Lucy saw it and understood it. And ultimately, accepted her request without resistance.
Mabel had become more than a protector.
A shield forged by death and sharpened by gratitude.
And she would not leave Liam’s side.
As she stood silently at her post, her gaze fixed on Liam’s still form, Mabel couldn’t help but drown in a storm of thoughts swirling within her mind.
"After watching him for five whole months, I still don’t get it... How did he manage to bring me back from the dead and defeat Morenelle? And they say he even saved Sheila too. But apparently, he wasn’t the one in control then."
Her eyes remained sharp and focused, but behind them, her thoughts ran deep and layered. Like many others—everyone aside from Mystica and Galen—Mabel had never directly encountered Aesmirius. Yet from all the debriefs, personal accounts, and haunting descriptions passed along by her fellow agents, she had pieced together enough to understand the sheer gravity of that being’s existence.
Aesmirius wasn’t just some higher force or dormant relic. He was power. Uncompromising. Cold. Calculating. And if Mabel’s instincts were right, he was also full of himself. The kind of entity that didn’t save lives unless there was a reason. He wouldn’t have spared her... or Sheila... unless it played into his agenda—or unless Liam had managed to sway him.
Whatever the case may be, Mabel wasn’t foolish enough to believe she was saved out of mercy or goodwill. No. Aesmirius had moved with purpose. And that, above all, made her uneasy.
Caught in her reflection, her thoughts were suddenly broken by the creak of the chamber door shifting open.
Under normal circumstances, her senses would have gone into full alert—but not anymore. Not since her Ascension. Her heightened perception allowed her to detect familiar mystic signatures more acutely than ever. And the two approaching presences? Very familiar.
They had visited Liam plenty of times before.
The door opened wider, revealing two recognizable figures mid-conversation—one with striking white hair and piercing red eyes, the other with shoulder-length dark hair and cold silver eyes. Their voices filtered through the stillness of the chamber.
"You know, you really are a terrible person," came Magnus’s voice as he stepped inside beside Galen.
Galen sighed in response. "Can you not start with your nonsense?"
Mabel straightened slightly, her hand rising in a practiced motion. "Sir Magna. Sir Yaer," she said, saluting them with firm respect.
Galen gave her a side glance, then nodded. "At ease, Agent," he replied curtly, signaling her to relax.
Magnus groaned as he walked closer. "Seriously, girl," he muttered, "how many times do I gotta tell you to drop that stiff ’Sir Magna, Sir Yaer’ stuff? We ain’t in a war room right now."
Mabel blinked, caught off guard.
Magnus leaned forward just slightly, a teasing grin playing across his face. "Loosen up a bit. I know you’re playing guard dog for your boyfriend and all, but you could at least act like you’re human too."
A flicker of red dashed across Mabel’s cheeks. "Liam... he’s not my boyfriend," she said plainly, though her tone lacked conviction.
Magnus squinted at her, mock-serious. "Yeah? Cool. You should tell him that when he wakes up." He chuckled as he moved to stand beside Galen, now at the foot of Liam’s bed.
He looked down at Liam and shook his head with a crooked smile. "At this point, seeing the kid all this time... I’m starting to think ’looking pretty while unconscious’ is some Magna family trait."
Galen shot him a tired side-eye before shifting focus back to Liam. "Any change since I was last here?" he asked without looking up.
"No reaction," Mabel said softly. "Same as before."
Galen gave a faint nod. "I figured." He turned toward the door, the mission in his expression ever unwavering. "I trust you don’t need me to spell anything out for you."
"Of course not," Mabel replied with a subtle nod of assurance.
"Good. Until next time." And with that, Galen headed for the exit.
Magnus trailed behind, tossing out one last jab as he followed. "Uncle Gally really got that stone-cold energy when it comes to his nephew, huh?"
"Shut up, Magnus," Galen muttered before disappearing through the door.
Magnus chuckled, looking over his shoulder to toss Mabel a wave. "Enjoy the alone time, mask girl." He winked playfully before slipping out.
Left alone once again, Mabel stood in silence as the door clicked shut behind them. She let out a quiet sigh and glanced back at Liam.
"Those two," she muttered under her breath, "they bicker like they’ve been married for a decade." She walked closer to the bed, her voice dropping to a gentler tone. "But you... you’re something else entirely."
She stood by him again, calm but alert. "Being the nephew of the strongest knight in all of Amthar... and now having Aesmirius riding around in your soul..." She shook her head, half amused, half wary.
"There’s more to you than meets the eye, Liam Hunter," she said quietly. "And I’m not going anywhere until I figure out all of it."
With that, she settled once more into her role, eyes steady, posture strong, a silent guardian awaiting the return of the one she swore to protect.