[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

"Traversing realms?"

Puck echoed the words before she seemed to realize she'd spoken at all. Her small body drifted a little higher as she tilted her head, slowing unconsciously, eyes narrowing with genuine confusion.

Al'tari felt much the same—but where Puck's confusion leaned toward curiosity, Al'tari's hardened into something else. Grimm had been like this since entering their domain. Focused, observant… and then suddenly elsewhere, his attention snapping away as though the world had tugged on a thread and pulled his thoughts with it.

It unsettled her.

He had shown interest in the fairy lands—real interest, not the shallow fascination outsiders often carried—but the question itself had nothing to do with the forest, or the Queen, or even them. It was too broad.

As if he were already thinking beyond this place.

Al'tari's gaze turned outward, scanning the clearing. Most of the other fairies had retreated now, giving the trio a wide berth. Those who remained hovered at a distance, pretending to be busy while their eyes never quite left Grimm. His presence was wrong, in a way that was difficult to articulate. Not hostile or aggressive.

Empty.

Within a domain saturated with life, mana, and other energies, he was an absence—a gap where energy should have bent and pooled. It was unnerving in the same way silence could be unnerving when it fell too suddenly.

Grimm, for his part, appeared unconcerned. He stood where he was, arms loose at his sides, waiting with patience. Seemed he understood that answers would come eventually, whether they wished to give them or not.

Al'tari frowned despite herself.

("No matter…") she told herself. ("Our Custodes Firmi will have felt him cross the boundary. His presence will not go unnoticed.") Her thoughts hesitated, drifting somewhere more dangerous. ("But if he truly is a Dragon… like Albion. Like Ddraig…") Her jaw tightened. ("Would it be wise to offend him? To drive him away? Albion's kin are not to be taken lightly—and we owe Albion a debt that cannot be repaid with rudeness.")

Puck was the one who broke the silence.

"Why are you interested in realm travel?" she asked, her tone careful but not fearful. She hovered a little to the side now, watching Grimm from the side, as though trying to see what lay beneath the helmet.

Grimm considered her question longer than strictly necessary. His voice was still thoughtful.

"Suppose it's simply unfamiliar to me," he said. "Most of my studies focused on… grounded things. Systems that obey rules. Structures that don't like being bent." He paused briefly, then added, almost offhandedly, "And earlier, the two of you were speaking rather freely about nine realms."

Both fairies froze.

"W–wait," Puck blurted out sharply. "You heard that?"

Grimm gave a small shrug, already turning his gaze forward again. "I've got good ears."

Al'tari felt her wings bristle instinctively, the filaments along them stiffening. Still, she forced herself to remain composed.

"The nine realms," she said slowly, choosing her words with care, "are interconnected. Think of them instead as… channels. Tubes running through one another, touching at points where the barriers thin." She exhaled. "But traveling between them is exceedingly difficult and dangerous. Only outliers manage it."

"I see," Grimm murmured. The acknowledgment was brief—as though he had filed the information away somewhere far more important than idle curiosity. "Well then," he continued, already stepping forward, "show me around."

And just like that, the topic shifted again.

Puck stared at his back. "What is with him…?" she whispered.

"I…" Al'tari hesitated, following after him despite herself. "I do not know."

They trailed him as he moved deeper into the fairy lands, hovering a respectful distance behind. Grimm did not rush as he observed.

A clear river cut through the terrain ahead, its waters pristine, reflecting the open blue sky above like. Along its banks drifted clusters of glowing sprites—small, radiant beings that glowed softly with color. Blues shimmered beside greens and golds, their light waxing and waning.

Grimm's gaze lingered only a moment before shifting again.

Further on, he noted smaller, more humanoid figures darting about—childlike fairies with androgynous features, pointed ears, and sun-kissed skin. They wore loose brown tunics and baggy pants, mismatched shoes, and bright red hats that bobbed as they skipped and laughed together.

He slowed slightly, watching two of them chase one another across a path.

"Those are Brownies," Puck said, drifting closer now despite herself.

Grimm glanced sideways. "Another species of fairy?"

"Yes," she replied, rolling her eyes. "And particularly annoying ones. They love pranks. Especially if you're lazy."

"I see," he said, tone neutral. "Then what kind of fairy would you be?"

Puck shifted, folding her small hands behind her back. "Just… a 'normal' one, I guess." She hesitated, then looked up at him. "But… are you really like a dragon?"

"I have no reason to lie," Grimm answered calmly. "Deception isn't necessary when you're strong."

"Ahem." Al'tari moved closer, lowering her voice. "Puck," she whispered, "perhaps don't speak so casually—"

Grimm kept walking.

Behind the thick roots of a massive tree, Grimm spotted thin, hunched gray creatures watching from the shadows—short, gremlin-like beings with beady eyes and tattered clothing. Elsewhere, taller figures stood openly: fully grown women with lush black hair, patches of scale breaking through pale skin, their expressions unreadable as he passed.

("I never spared much thought for the sheer variety of fairies…") Grimm reflected. ("Lucky the Vel'ryr Empire never got their hands on a place like. Ethics were never their strong suit. Not like I can talk though.")

He had taken no more than a few steps further when he stopped.

His gaze lifted settling on a tree ahead of him. It was ordinary. Almost disappointingly so. Shorter than the towering giants around it, its trunk neither twisted nor old enough to feel noteworthy.

Which made the thing lounging on one of its thicker branches all the more jarring.

"A cat?" Grimm said aloud.

The creature was larger than any normal cat had a right to be—long-limbed, comfortably sprawled, its body draped over the branch as if gravity did not exist for it. Gray fur clung to it, broken by uneven black stripes. Its eyes—vast, empty pools of azure—stared down without blinking. And its mouth…

Its mouth was wrong.

Too wide and too full of teeth. A grin permanently carved into its face, as though it had forgotten how to close its jaw.

The cat watched Grimm watch it.

"This a fairy too?" Grimm asked, tilting his head, more intrigued than anything.

Before the cat could answer, Al'tari hovered forward sharply, her posture stiffening. Her eyes narrowed.

"No," she said, voice tense. "That is not a fairy." Her gaze locked onto the creature. "Who are you? State your purpose."

The cat did not move.

It did not even look at her.

"A visitor with a message," it replied lazily, its voice deep and gravelly—far too heavy to belong to something so languid. "Do not mind me."

Al'tari bristled. "What?" Her eyes widened slightly. "How did you pass the boundary? Answer this instant!"

Still, the cat ignored her.

Instead, it shifted its gaze—slowly—until those hollow blue eyes settled fully on Grimm.

"Hm," it murmured. "This iteration of you is quite interesting."

Grimm tilted his head.

"…Could you not spout such cryptic things?" he said plainly. "I mean, you're a talking cat. That's already odd enough." He studied the creature more closely. "So what exactly are you?"

Something twisted in his gut.

Not fear.

("Deja vu… no. Nostalgia, maybe. Fascinating.")

The cat's grin widened perceptibly.

"A mere messenger," it said. "For now. Labels are such temporary things, don't you think? Today a cat. Tomorrow a smile. Yesterday a memory you forgot you remembered."

"That doesn't answer my question," Grimm said flatly.

"It answers one you haven't asked yet."

"I see."

The cat stretched, claws digging lazily into bark that did not dare splinter.

"Little Alice," it continued, "invites you for tea… upon a slumber."

Grimm snorted. "That Alice kid again, huh?" He folded his arms. "I'm not really in the mood for tea parties. I've got enough on my plate, and things are finally getting interesting."

"Ah," the cat hummed. "Ever one to shrug off even the most horrifying beings."

The phrasing was strange—backwards almost, like it had been spoken from the wrong end of the sentence.

"A good quality," Grimm replied easily. "Keeps life lively."

From behind him, Puck and Al'tari exchanged a glance—equal parts confusion and unease—as the two continued speaking as though the world around them had stepped aside.

Grimm looked back up at the cat. "You still haven't answered something. So I guess I shall rephrase," he said. "What's your role in all of this, exactly?"

The cat tapped its tail against the branch, once. Twice.

"A role implies a script," it said. "Scripts imply endings. I find endings terribly restrictive." Its eyes narrowed, just slightly. "Observer, perhaps. Witness, if you're feeling generous. An aspect left behind when the story turns its back."

"That's not reassuring."

"Reassurance is a kindness," the cat replied. "And kindness, like sanity, is but an option."

Grimm hummed at that.

The cat leaned forward, its smile casting a shadow too large for its face.

"But," it continued softly, "here's a little warning, free of charge. Quite a few beings have taken an interest in your particular story, Grimm. Not just those tiresome Keepers of Order. Not just little Alice."

"I'm guessing that's not because of my good looks," Grimm said dryly.

"Oh, those help," the cat said. "But no. It's because you stand at a crossroads that refuses to admit it's a crossroads. Because you walk forward while insisting there is no forward. Because you break rules by pretending you never noticed them."

Grimm shrugged. "Sounds like a problem for 'them'. Not me."

"So you say." The cat's grin sharpened. "Still, I'll be watching."

Its body began to blur at the edges, dissolving like smoke tugged apart by wind.

"And Grimm?" it added, voice echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once. "Don't you dare lose your sanity. It's far more entertaining when you know exactly what you're ignoring."

With that, the cat faded—first the body, then the stripes, then the grin last of all—until even that dissolved into nothing more than drifting air.

Grimm stared at the empty branch for a long moment.

"…What a weird guy," he finally muttered.

"Grimm…" Puck said the name softly, as if testing the sound of it in her mouth. She drifted a little closer, her eyes lifting to him with curiosity. "Your name is… Grimm?" she asked again, quieter this time, as though saying it too loudly might invite consequences.

"That it is," Grimm confirmed simply.

There was no pride in it. No mystery added for effect. Just a statement of fact, delivered with the same tone he might use to acknowledge the mundane.

Al'tari studied him closely, her expression turning more serious.

"And that… being?" she asked after a moment. "You spoke to it as though you were acquainted. As though this was not the first time it had crossed your path."

Grimm gave a small, dismissive tilt of his head.

"I don't recall ever befriending a talking cat," he said. "If I had, I imagine I'd remember." A pause. "Just another oddity, I suppose. This place seems full of them."

Al'tari did not look satisfied.

("That is not an answer.") Her thoughts pressed in on themselves as her gaze turned back to the now-empty branch. ("How did it cross the boundary?") she wondered. ("I felt nothing. No presence or even pressure. There was no warning at all.") That unsettled her more than the creature itself. ("And yet it spoke to him as if it knew him. As if it had been waiting.")

Her eyes returned to Grimm's armored back, to the movement of his wild red hair where it slipped free behind his helm.

("Just who are you?")

Before she could pursue the thought any further, she heard it. A loud sound came, it was synchronized. Armored boots striking earth in rhythm.

All three turned.

Grimm was the first to fully register them: a dozen figures advancing in formation, their movements crisp, spears angled forward as one. They were roughly human in size, clad in pristine emerald armor chased with gold filigree. Their helmets obscured the upper halves of their faces, shaped in a design Grimm didn't recognize—neither fully martial nor ceremonial, but something in between.

Every one of them was androgynous, their features sharp and symmetrical, long pointed ears visible beneath their helms. Lush golden hair spilled down their backs, bound neatly to avoid obstruction. In their hands: golden spears and round green shields.

They halted several paces away.

One stepped forward.

The spear leveled directly at Grimm.

"Wsams ayrspolir!" the guard shouted, voice ringing sharp and clear. "Eaara lhol spsadvmie ur gala msarlc! Rie loysaff loyricu eaara ru dirte!"

Grimm glanced sideways, thumb hooking back toward the spear aimed at his chest.

"What's it yammering about?" he asked mildly, looking to Puck.

Puck blinked, then sighed. "They're saying you're to halt immediately," she translated. "And asking how you dare walk freely through our land."

Al'tari moved forward before the tension could escalate. The lead guard noticed her instantly.

"Al'tari?" they said, surprise breaking through their rigid tone. "Wyne hol eaara rayxiy xiyaur human? Bierl eaara mrianol xiyied zorel?"

Al'tari straightened, wings stiffening behind her as she answered without hesitation.

"Xiyie dsasadp aur… tudvmaytsaadl." Her voice was firm. "Xiyaur dsar… ssarie colie xiysas wie msatrc Albion. Wie wsac rurie sas saff, wie tmauidc su gie sa liecienrlsars uf sa lpsahur. Rie rieau su bsamaylsaad ays… ayf wie aur rayr su samgayur xiyier rie tsar col gie pietrmieel."

The effect was immediate.

Whispers broke out among the guards, hushed but urgent. Several shifted their grips on their spears, surprise evident even through their disciplined posture.

Grimm tilted his head slightly, glancing back at Puck.

"She told them what you told us," Puck murmured. "About being a descendant of a dragon."

The lead guard stepped forward again, lowering their spear just a fraction.

"You… are you truly—" They stopped, recalibrated. Their tongue now familiar. "Are you truly a dragon's kin?"

"Technically a dragon?" Grimm replied, tone unchanged. "Sure."

That was all.

The guard exhaled slowly, some of the tension bleeding from their stance.

"This requires confirmation," they said carefully. "You carry no mana signature. That alone proves nothing." A pause. "Nevertheless, you must come with us. Our commander must be made aware."

Grimm considered them for a brief moment.

Then he shrugged.

"Lead the way."

Puck and Al'tari exchanged a glance—surprise alight between them at how easily he agreed.

Neither of them said it aloud, but the thought was the same.

("Someone who moves this freely… either understands the danger perfectly… or does not fear it at all.")

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