“And you might just find a whole new kettle of fish at the Silver Armor Pack,” Healer Cruz added promptly.
Timothee, catching on to that, paused for a moment and then sighed, glancing into my eyes as if fishing for an answer. “What do you think, mate?”
“Let’s just roll with what Healer Cruz has laid out. Perhaps, on the flip side of guzzling potion after potion, we should simply instruct them to take a dip in the serum waters,” I shared my two cents.

“What if they go bananas like Prilly and Griffyn?” Timothee glanced between me and Healer Cruz.
“We’ve got to give it a whirl, Timmy. Oh, and by the way,” I turned to Healer Cruz, “could you please sift through some of the remaining flowers or materials that can still be cultivated here? We’ll need more of those for preparation and further research.”
“Understood, Luna,” Healer Cruz nodded, acknowledging my request.
A tense silence fell as we digested Healer Cruz's ominous words. The Silver Armor Pack - it was a name I'd heard whispered only in the most hushed of tones, spoken of like an urban legend or ghostly folk tale. But now, faced with the harrowing reality of what our missteps had wrought, it seemed we may have no choice but to delve into those shadowed, forbidden reaches.
"You're sure about this?" Timothee's voice was low, tight with barely restrained apprehension. "Dealing with...whatever this Pack represents? After what just happened with Prilly and Griffyn?"
I could hear the uncertainty thrumming beneath his words, the fear that we were about to careen from one catastrophe straight into another, potentially even darker morass. My own trepidation matched his - every instinct screamed to retreat, to lick our wounds and regroup before plunging further into the festering unknown.

But even as those doubts swirled, another part of me - the part that had been forever changed by Altairs' loss, by the escalating shadows engulfing our world - knew there could be no turning back now. Not when we teetered on the brink of unraveling a wrong that could hve apocalyptic consequences.
Meeting Timothee's troubled gaze, I felt my resolve harden into something unyielding yet again.
"We have to try," I stated, keeping my tone measured yet inexorable. "You saw the state Prilly and Griffyn were in. Whatever...ancient awakenings we've triggered, we can't just leave that lie. Who knows what further calamities could be unleashed?"
Timothee's jaw tensed, but he gave a fractional nod - the smallest admission that he understood the gravity of our predicament. That we were, indeed, committed to this path now, however fraught with peril it may be.

Drawing a fortifying breath, I turned back to Healer Cruz. "Tell me more about this Silver Armor Pack. What sort of...forces are we likely to encounter? What should we expect?"
The wizened healer's expression grew even more grave, if possible. "They are...most ancient of orders, Luna. Borne from the primordial essence of our world's creation, they stand as the first and last line of defense against existential threats."
A leaden knot formed in the pit of my stomach at his ominous words. Existential threats...it sounded every bit as apocalyptic as I'd feared.
"But why now?" Timothee demanded, his brow furrowing. "Why have they been roused after...Maker knows how many centuries of slumbering?"
Healer Cruz shook his head, a somber cloaking of silver rings jangling softly. "That is a question for which I have no answer, I'm afraid. All I know is that our transgressions - however inadvertent - have clearly disrupted wards and seals far beyond our understanding."
"Bloody hell," Timothee muttered beneath his breath, running a frustrated hand through his tousled hair. I could relate to the impotent aggravation, the bitter taste of being mere pawns in a game of cosmic proportions.
But even as that churning morass of dread and doubt swirled within me, one harsh truth kept surfacing - a razored truth I'd sworn to myself in the wake of Altairs' death.
We could not afford to shrink from this madness, no matter how dangerously the stakes were escalating. Not unless we were willing to abandon our world to these resurgent, malignant forces.
Not on my watch. Not after everything we'd endured, everything we'd lost.
Lifting my chin, I met Healer Cruz's solemn stare head on. "Tell us what we need to do. Lay it all out, every gory detail and ritual requirement."
Because one way or another, we would cut through this tangled, arcane morass and enact whatever countermeasures were needed. If that meant rendering ourselves unto the Silver Armor Pack, unlocking dimensional pathways, offering up pieces of our very souls as celestial barter...then so be it.
Timothee seemed to read the naked resolve in my expression, the refusal to be cowed. His jaw clenched, but his eyes burned with that same kindred determination.
"You heard her," he growled at the healer, already turning to prepare. "Start talking. We'll handle the rest."
"Well, I'll get to it now." The healer promptly left the room, but shortly afterward, someone approached us from the opposite direction. It was Fae Aurora, carrying a tray of roasted chicken.
She seemed to have planned to meet me, as we hadn't seen each other since my return. "I'm thrilled that you both returned right on time, my dear."
“Welcome back,” Fae Aurora said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve been waiting for you both. The feast is ready!”
I glanced at my companions. Healer, who had returned from attending to some urgent matters, looked equally delighted. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Timing is everything,” he murmured, and I wondered if he meant more than just our punctuality.
We gathered around the table, the wooden chairs creaking under our weight. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the significance of this moment. Fae Aurora raised her goblet, filled with ruby-red wine, and spoke a soft blessing in a language only she understood. The words hung in the air like a delicate veil, connecting us to the past and the future.
The first bite of the chicken was divine. Juicy, succulent meat with a hint of herbs and spices danced on my tongue. I closed my eyes, savoring the flavors. It was more than nourishment it was a communion—a celebration of survival, of friendship, and of the magic that bound us together.
As we ate, stories flowed freely. Fae Aurora shared tales of her travels through enchanted forests, where trees whispered secrets and rivers sang forgotten songs. Healer recounted his encounters with mythical creatures—the wounded phoenix he’d healed, the mermaid who’d gifted him a seashell that held the ocean’s memories.
And I?