Titanion Realm, the Northern Sea, Serpent Isle.

Night had fallen, blanketing the continent of Jynx in a deep silence.

But silence did not mean peace.

Beneath that quiet veil, in the deep jungle, on the crumbling walls of ancient cities, and in the unknown shadows of the night, the twin acts of slaughter and corruption played out relentlessly.

The warm, yellow light spilling from the Jynx lighthouse was a mirror of Lysinthia's heart: steady and resolute. She felt no confusion about her enemies or her future. The lighthouse was her anchor, its beam cutting through the darkness, illuminating her path.

"The moonlight in our realm has been incredibly strong lately, almost like it's celebrating something," Lycanor said, her voice a low murmur beside Lysinthia. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the topmost window of the lighthouse, gazing southeast.

"Your man is getting married. Aren't you going back to see it?" Lycanor held a glass of red wine, her eyes on the moon. The question was for Lysinthia, but the words were steeped in an acid she couldn't hide. As another elf, she couldn't help but feel a sting of resentment.

Why did the Moon Elf get a wedding so grand it shook the entire continent, while the Blood Elves got nothing? The jealousy was a bitter taste in her mouth.

"You've seen more of the world than I have," Lysinthia replied, her voice calm. "You understand these things better. A wedding announced across all of Utessar… there are things at play we don't know about. Politics that even the master has to compromise on. Besides, no one but the Mistress has ever had a formal wedding."

A sea breeze drifted through the window, carrying the salt of the ocean and the faint scent of fish. The tiny chime earrings on Lysinthia's lobes tinkled against each other, a clear, pleasant sound.

Lycanor glanced at the earrings, a fresh pang of envy hitting her. She knew they were a gift from Orion. The delicate sound echoed in the lighthouse, a strangely beautiful counterpoint to the deep night.

"You've certainly given it a lot of thought," Lycanor said noncommittally. The intel she'd received indicated the Moon Elf Grand Warden was a powerhouse at the peak of the archlord rank. In the Titanion Realm, that put her at the absolute top tier, just below the demigods.

"I'm just saying," Lycanor pressed, swirling her wine. "Don't you want a wedding?"

"No."

The answer was so blunt, so final, it caught Lycanor completely off guard. She turned and stared at Lysinthia, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"I am the master's slave," Lysinthia said, her voice flat, stating a simple fact. "What I have now is more than enough to satisfy me."

In the distance, waves lapped gently against the reefs. The moonlight and the rhythmic crash of the surf wove together into a soothing lullaby. Lysinthia turned from the sea, her eyes like chips of ice, cold but utterly sincere.

"You want a wedding that grand? It's probably not going to happen," she continued. "The Mistress's wedding wasn't even this big. The Elder of Stewardship didn't get one. You're definitely not getting one."

The words were harsh. Any other woman would have bristled with anger.

"Little snake girl," Lycanor said, her voice dangerously soft. "Do you have any idea how cruel your sincerity can sound?"

But she wasn't angry. After all this time, she understood Lysinthia. She was a simple creature, a serpent with little ambition, easily satisfied. She was Orion's slave, the first woman to follow him. That alone gave her a special, untouchable status within the Stoneheart Horde.

"The master once told me that sincerity might not always be appreciated, but it's hard to hate," Lysinthia said simply. "If someone hates an honest person, they're probably not a very good person themselves."

Lycanor rolled her eyes. She knew the logic was sound, and she couldn't even argue with it.

"I really don't understand you people," she muttered, downing her wine in one gulp. A genuine bitterness was curdling inside her. Anyone who'd been married for such a short time only to be shipped off to a backwater post like this would be in a foul mood.

This continent, Jynx, was tiny. Its landmass could barely support two lords. The current Stoneheart Horde could send a single main army and wipe it from the map in a matter of days. Yet Orion hadn't. He was letting this little snake girl play her games here. And worse, he'd stationed her, a Legendary-level powerhouse, to babysit. It made no sense.

"It isn't fair to you," Lysinthia said, her gaze suddenly sharp. For a moment, Lycanor felt as if her deepest thoughts had been laid bare. The resentment, the feeling of being wronged—it was all exposed in Lysinthia's piercing eyes.

The air grew thick with an uncomfortable tension, a sudden, awkward intimacy.

"But you need the battle achievements," Lysinthia continued, her voice softening slightly. "And you need the time. To prove yourself. Not just to the master, but to his other women, and to all the people of the Stoneheart Horde. You need to show them your sincerity. Your loyalty. Your pride."

Moonlight crept into the lighthouse like a thief, filling the tense space between them with a quiet sense of understanding.

Lycanor turned away, unable to meet Lysinthia's gaze. She stared out at the dark ocean, a vast canvas of stars and waves.

"When I conquer the Jynx continent, I will report it to the Horde in both our names," Lysinthia said. "When that day comes, everyone will look at you differently. Don't refuse. You've earned it. Without you standing guard here, my Gorgon population and I could never have grown so strong, so fast."

Lycanor turned back. She saw that same unnerving sincerity in Lysinthia's eyes.

"Your aura is getting deeper," Lycanor said, changing the subject abruptly. "Are you close to a breakthrough?"

The question seemed to surprise Lysinthia. "I think so. Soon. Once I ascend to the lord level, conquering Jynx will go much faster. You'll be free before you know it."

Lycanor didn't respond. She picked up the glass bottle and poured herself another drink.

"You know, this place isn't so bad," she said, her voice quiet. "Save a spot for me here. Maybe I'll come back for vacations."

A rare, genuine smile spread across Lysinthia's face. It was an olive branch from Lycanor, a continuation of their strange friendship. Lysinthia's eyes were bright, impossibly bright.

"Have a drink with me," Lycanor said, holding out a freshly poured goblet. "This can be your lighthouse, and it can be mine, too."

"Okay."

Lysinthia took the glass, much of the icy reserve melting from her features. She drank, then turned her gaze southeast, toward the distant lights of Stoneheart.

Lycanor was homesick. She was missing her man.

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