There was a stillness in the Arcanum Vault that could drive a lesser mage mad.
The silence wasn't natural. It was built—woven into the runes, embedded in the very stones. A silence that devoured not just sound, but hope.
Sierra sat alone in that silence.
She had long since stopped crying. She had screamed only once—when the runes activated, draining her magic, tearing her from the wind she had once danced with like a sister. Now, she waited. Patient. Cold. Silent.
The calm one. The Cyclone.
That's what they had called her back in the war. When flames raged, and lightning split the skies, she was always there: the center of the storm. Focused. Unshaken. When Ryuuji faltered, when Raphtael cried, when Duncan grumbled... she held them steady.
And now?
Now she was the one needing steadiness.
Duncan... gods, where are you? she thought. Did they lie to you? Did you even know I was taken?
Her hands, bound by mana-dampening cuffs, trembled—not from fear, but from the effort of keeping her breathing slow and even. Not giving the Council the satisfaction of seeing her break. They had accused her of conspiracy, treason, consorting with monsters. All lies. All part of some twisted noble's plan to remove those who still held loyalty to Ryuuji and what he stood for.
That's what this is about, she realized again, the truth settling in her gut like stone. He's alive. Someone knows. Someone's scared.
The door to the cellblock opened.
She stiffened. No footsteps for days—only now?
Then came the sound: soft, measured steps echoing off ancient stones.
A figure in a black cloak moved down the corridor.
She didn't need to see his face.
Her heart recognized him first.
"...Ryuuji?" she whispered.
He stopped at her cell. Pulled back his hood.
Same dark eyes. Same furrow in his brow when he was serious. But older now. He looked like he'd walked through years of hardship and made peace with every step.
"Hey, Wind Dancer," he said softly.
She exhaled sharply. The nickname. Gods. That was him.
"You took your sweet time, Hero."
He smiled, stepping forward, one hand placed over the cell's sigils.
She shook her head. "Don't—these runes will drain—"
"I've learned a thing or two since we split up," he interrupted gently.
With a whisper in the old tongue—words only Archmage Lethandir ever taught him—the glyphs flickered and shattered like brittle ice. The door swung open.
Her knees gave out—but Ryuuji was already there, catching her before she fell.
She buried her face into his shoulder. She hadn't cried in weeks, but now the tears came without shame. "They said you were dead…"
"I was," he said quietly. "In a way."
She pulled back, just enough to look into his face. "It's really you…"
"Yeah." His voice held a note of sadness. "It's me."
"What about Duncan?" she asked immediately. "Have you found him?"
Ryuuji shook his head. "Not yet. You're the first."
"Reina? Raphtael?"
"Missing. But if they're out there, I'll find them."
Her hand trembled as she clutched his tunic. "They kept me here to bait you. The Council's afraid."
"I know."
"And they'll come for you now."
Ryuuji's smile turned sharp. "Let them."
For a moment, they stood in silence.
Then Sierra laughed—just a breathy, broken thing. "I knew you were crazy when you challenged the Demon Lord."
"You still came."
"Of course I did."
Ryuuji looked down at her shackled hands and with a soft breath, shattered the cuffs with magic—his magic, raw and pure, not even shaped by words.
"You haven't lost your edge," she whispered, flexing her fingers.
"No," Ryuuji said. "Just my patience."
He gently helped her walk, step by step out of the Vault. Each rune that tried to reawaken blinked—and died at his presence. The entire dungeon seemed to shrink away from him.
Sierra glanced at him sideways as they climbed the last stairs. "You didn't come alone, did you?"
"I brought wrath," he answered. "And the truth."
She smirked. "Still dramatic."
"You're one to talk."
At the surface level, the Council building stood cold and quiet. But she knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.
"Ryuuji… what now?"
"I show them who I am," he said simply. "And then we go home."
"Home?"
He nodded. "I built one. An island. Safe, peaceful. You and Duncan were always talking about settling down someday. If he wants… if you want… it's there. Waiting."
Sierra's eyes widened. "You're rebuilding everything."
"Starting with you," he said. "Now let's go."
As they stepped into the moonlight, the sky above stirred.
And somewhere, the wind danced again.