[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

The journey through the forest continued in near silence.

Ma'krai hung limp between Grimm's fingers, no longer thrashing and no longer protesting. The fear had drained whatever strength he had left. His small body trembled faintly, shivers running through him in, the sort that came from the certainty that escape was no longer an option.

Al'tari kept glancing down.

Not openly and never long enough to be obvious, but her gaze was constant. Each look carried the same fear, as though she half-expected Grimm to suddenly decide that patience had run its course. That he might crush Ma'krai without warning and without ceremony.

Grimm noticed every glance.

He ignored them all.

Puck, however, was different.

Her gaze did not carry the same raw fear. There was agitation there, yes—unease and some caution—but through that there was something else. Something perhaps more dangerous to indulge.

Curiosity.

("Odd how that one doesn't have wings,") Grimm noted internally as his eyes followed her hovering form. It wasn't difficult to spot. In a group where flight seemed natural and instinctive, she stood out by the very absence of it.

That alone would not have held his interest.

("She carries a sword too…") His gaze drifted briefly to the small blade at her side. ("If you can even call it that.") The thing was scarcely longer than a toothpick by his measure. Decorative, perhaps. It was hardly practical. ("What exactly does she expect to do with it?") Then his attention sharpened. ("…However.")

There it was again.

("She reeks of mana.")

Not in the crude, overflowing way of a mage swollen with borrowed power, this was a rather dense pressure. Refined also. Far more than the other two.

("She's definitely different.")

He caught her glancing back at him again as she floated ahead.

"You look like you want to say something, fairy," Grimm said suddenly.

Puck startled, her body jerking as she whipped her head forward again. Al'tari turned sharply, eyes turning between the two.

"I-it's nothing," Puck muttered quickly, her voice smaller than she intended.

Grimm watched her for a moment longer.

"Still," he said evenly, "I am curious." A pause. "Why don't you have wings like these two?"

The question was too unceremonious. Delivered as casually as one might ask about the weather. Puck blinked, clearly caught off-guard. She slowed slightly, then turned just enough to look at him.

"That's not for you to know, human," she said at last, a small huff in her voice. "You can't expect answers from someone you threatened in our own home."

"Well," Grimm replied without missing a beat, "you plebes attacked first."

Her brow twitched.

"Besides," he continued calmly, "you're intrigued. I can see it. And I like to consider myself a scholar before a warrior." A slight tilt of his head. "So how about a trade of answers, hm?"

Puck hesitated.

That hesitation was answer enough.

"We've nothing to say to you, human," Al'tari cut in sharply. "We are already complying with your demands."

"The offer wasn't for you," Grimm replied flatly. "I find your wingless friend far more interesting."

Al'tari stiffened, bristling at the remark, but said nothing more. She turned her gaze forward again, jaw set tight.

Puck slowed slightly, her eyes turning back to Grimm. She frowned, clearly wrestling with something.

Finally—

"Why…" she began, then steadied herself. "Why do you lack any mana?"

Al'tari's head snapped toward her in disbelief.

Puck ignored the look entirely, her attention fixed on Grimm.

"I suppose," Grimm said after a moment, "you could say it's because of what I am." His voice was unguarded. "I can't truly be classified as human, despite living as one."

Both fairies stilled.

"We're referred to as Descendants," he continued. "My kind derive from different Greater Dragons."

Al'tari' spun around fully.

"You're a dragon?" she blurted out.

"I suppose you could view it that way," Grimm replied. "Most of my kind can assume the forms of the Greater Dragons they descend from."

Puck stared at him now, open intrigue clouding her expression.

"So you're not human," she murmured. "I've… never heard of such a thing."

"Your turn," Grimm said, his gaze settling on her. "Why don't you have wings?"

Puck hesitated—then answered far more easily than she expected.

"I keep them hidden."

The words surprised her as much as they did the others.

Almost as if she wanted to answer him.

"I see," Grimm said simply.

And he left it at that.

There was no pressing or any follow-up.

Meanwhile Al'tari and Puck drifted closer together as they moved, their voices lowered to the barest whisper, wings—or hidden wings—beating just enough to keep pace.

"That's impossible…" Al'tari murmured, her eyes turning back despite herself. "Descendants? Greater Dragons? Something like that should be something common to most. Yet I've never heard of such a thing."

Puck swallowed. "He didn't hesitate as he spoke, though. Not even a little." Her gaze lingered on Grimm's now silent form. "And there's no mana in him. So perhaps he is telling the truth."

"True," Al'tari whispered. "And that's what frightens me."

They floated in silence for several heartbeats.

"If he's lying," Al'tari continued, "then he's doing it flawlessly."

"And if he's not…" Puck trailed off.

Neither finished the thought.

Caution still wrapped around them like thorns. Yet beneath it something still stirred in Puck's chest. Curiosity, yes—but also the sense that she was standing at the edge of something vast. Something she did not yet have words for.

They slowed.

Then stopped.

The forest ahead subtly changed, enough that it could be felt. The air grew denser as though space were folded thin. With that sound dulled and the light of the sun softened.

Al'tari exhaled through clenched teeth.

"This is it," she said quietly. "A boundary." She gestured forward, reluctance evident in every movement of her wings. "Cross it, and you'll enter our home."

Grimm said nothing.

He simply stepped forward.

The boundary did not flare or resist. There was no force or any recoil—only a sensation like passing through cool water, a brief feeling.

And then space opened.

The forest fell away behind him, replaced by a vast, luminous clearing that stretched farther than the eye could comfortably follow. The ground was lush, filled with soft grasses and bioluminescent moss that glowed beneath his sabatons. Sunlight bore down through gaps in an unseen treeline.

Fairies filled the sky.

Hundreds—no, thousands—of them, drifting freely in open space. They came in countless shapes and sizes: some small enough to perch on a leaf, others nearly as tall as a human child. Some bore wings like glass, others had intangible one's, others still with forms so alien they defied standard comparison.

Homes clung to the trees—if they could be called trees. Massive trunks rose from the earth, wide enough to house entire structures carved directly into their bark. Windows glowed and bridges of vines connected platforms high above the ground. Elsewhere, independent structures floated freely: spiraled dwellings suspended in the air, pods held by what seemed to be solid beams of light and root-wrapped halls.

Below, Deseruit Beasts prowled.

Small ones, mostly—sleek, unfamiliar creatures with glowing eyes and strange limb configurations, some furred and some scaled. They moved carefully, coexisting rather than threatening anything, moving naturally through the civilization.

Grimm's grip loosened.

Ma'krai slipped free, sobbing openly now as he bolted upward in a blur of wings, disappearing into the crowd of fairies without looking back.

Grimm did not stop him.

He stood still instead, his helmeted looking slowly from side to side as he took everything in.

In the distance—far beyond the homes, beyond even the tallest structures—rose a tree that dwarfed all else. Its trunk pierced the horizon, vanishing upward into the sky, its leaves glowing with a shifting lights.

("A central anchor…") Grimm assessed silently. ("But it wasn't visible prior to entering the area. Fascinating.")

Al'tari hovered beside him, her expression guarded.

"This is our domain," she said tightly. "Now you've seen it."

Puck watched him closely, waiting to see how he would react.

Some of the fairies had begun to notice him properly now.

It started with hesitations mid-flight, conversations cutting short, wings beating just a little faster as eyes drifted toward the tall, armored figure standing at the heart of their domain. Those with discernible faces showed it plainly: tight expressions, furrowed brows and flashes of unease. Others, more abstract in form, reacted in their own ways—light dimming, colors shifting or movements growing erratic.

A handful floated backward, creating distance without openly fleeing. Others clustered together, whispering in hurried tones that rippled through the clearing, it was a spreading disturbance.

Grimm did not acknowledge them directly.

"Interesting…" he murmured instead, his gauntleted fingers lifting to tap thoughtfully against the chin of his helm. His unnatural red hair seemed to especially draw in attention. "Then the boundary isn't merely a ward. It's closer to a displacement phenomenon—forced relocation into a separate spatial pocket." He tilted his head slightly, gaze roaming across the structures, the fairies and the beasts. "Which makes this even more curious."

He paused.

"Before entering the forest, the leylines were bled nearly dry," he continued calmly. "Yet here, life is abundant. Excessively so."

Al'tari frowned, the crease between her brows deepening. For a moment, she said nothing. Her wings slowed, betraying her hesitation. Every instinct screamed that answering him further was dangerous—yet provoking him with silence felt worse.

"Our Queen sustains this forest with her own energy," Al'tari said at last, her voice taut. "That alone should tell you what kind of being she is. This is no ordinary woodland. Its reach extends far beyond what you can see." Her eyes hardened. "You walk here at your own peril."

Grimm gave an almost amused hum. "A single entity maintaining an ecosystem of this scale… impressive." His tone carried no mockery—only his own genuine assessment. "Then that explains the artificial vitality."

He turned his helm slightly toward her.

"And where is this Queen of yours?"

Al'tari stiffened. "That's not for you to—"

"She's not here," Grimm cut in, his voice almost idle. "If she were, I would have felt her presence the moment I crossed the boundary. It would be potent, no?"

Al'tari's lips pressed into a thin line. She did not deny it.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Puck shifted, hovering closer despite herself, her eyes never leaving him. "What are you planning to do now?" she asked quietly.

Grimm folded his arms across his chest, the armor of his alloy clinking together. He regarded the clearing once more—the wary fairies, the prowling Deseruit Beast and the distant, impossible tree.

"I'd like to study this place more thoroughly," he said. "But first…" His head turned back toward them. "I have questions."

Al'tari and Puck waited, tension thick between them.

"Tell me," he said. "Is it possible to traverse to different realms?"

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