Chapter 36: Assembled

Dear Mo,

We are heartened by your progress. Please remember that dramatic ocean entrances are not required. Also, we suggest footwear more suited to aquatic environments.

Warm regards,

The Queen & King of Aeloria

I looked down at my soggy boots, which squelched with every step like they were personally offended by the ocean.

“They’re going to send me sandals next,” I muttered.

“I hope they’re gold,” Yuel said, not looking up from his book. “With tiny crowns.”

“Wouldn’t count on them sending anything to aid this mission,” Talon added, adjusting his gear.

“Unless it’s judgment and unhelpful ideas,” Narrin muttered, sharpening a blade that didn’t need sharpening.

Each recruit bore a mark—different from mine, but glowing with the same fire. It pulsed when they were near each other, like a heartbeat shared across souls. Or like magical Wi-Fi.

Together, they formed the Flameborn Watch.

Narrin trained them with the intensity of a drill sergeant who’d had too much coffee and unresolved childhood trauma.

“Again!” he barked, as Kael floated upside down, spinning slowly like a confused ceiling fan.

“I’m trying!” Kael yelled. “The wind is moody today!”

Milo tested them with riddles, puzzles, and one very elaborate obstacle course involving flaming hoops, a suspiciously aggressive duck, and a rope bridge that insulted you if you hesitated.

I led them, though sometimes I felt more like a babysitter than a commander. A babysitter with a sword and a goat problem.

Dear Mo,

We are delighted by your initiative. Please remember that ducks are not standard training tools. Also, flaming hoops may violate safety protocols.

Warm regards,

The Queen & King of Aeloria

I sighed. “Do they have a scroll-writing department?”

“They probably outsource it,” Zeke said. “To passive-aggressive elves.”

“Is that a thing?” Milo asked.

“Yep. Totally is,” Yuel nodded. “They specialize in vague compliments and thinly veiled criticism.”

Ellira arrived last, stepping into camp like she was entering a crime scene she didn’t trust. Her eyes scanned the group with the intensity of someone trying to spot which dish at a buffet might be poisoned—and who poisoned it.

Kael, ever the enthusiastic wind-dancer, immediately approached her, feathers fluttering like he was caught in a breeze only he could feel.

“Hi,” he said, voice full of hope. “I’m Kael. I bend wind.”

Ellira blinked. “I read fire.”

Kael grinned. “Cool. So... wind and fire. That’s like... a combo.”

“Or a disaster,” Ellira replied, deadpan.

Kael laughed nervously. “Right. Totally. Disaster. Fun.”

Ellira tilted her head. “You’re very loud.”

“I get that a lot,” Kael said, adjusting a feather that had somehow migrated to his eyebrow.

Thess, who had been silently judging everyone from atop a floating rock, finally spoke. “If they start dating, I’m moving to the mountains.”

Lira, standing nearby with a swirl of water dancing around her fingers, raised an eyebrow. “I give it three days before Kael accidentally blows himself off a cliff trying to impress her.”

“I once did that,” Kael said proudly. “Twice.”

Just then, the camp’s resident goat—who had no name, only chaos—bleated loudly and charged through the group like it had just discovered espresso. It headbutted Kael’s leg, spun in a circle, and then tried to climb Thess’s floating rock.

“Is that goat okay?” Lira asked, backing up.

“No,” Narrin said from the sidelines. “It’s been like this since it saw Kael levitate a spoon.”

The goat bleated again, louder this time, and attempted a roundhouse kick on a nearby log. The log did not survive.

Before anyone could intervene, the camp’s unofficial mascot—a duck Milo had accidentally adopted during a training mishap—stormed in, wings flared like it was ready to throw down. It locked eyes with the goat in a silent, primal standoff.

“Oh no,” Milo muttered. “Not again.”

The duck honked furiously, flapping toward the goat like a feathery missile. The goat responded by bleating and charging, narrowly missing Kael, who dove behind Ellira with a shriek.

“Are they... fighting?” Ellira asked.

“They’ve been locked in a turf war for three days,” Yuel said, flipping a page in his book. “The duck won the last round. The goat’s still bitter.”

Thess sighed. “This is the team that’s supposed to save the realms?”

I watched from a distance, arms crossed. “They’re bonding.”

“They’re awkward,” Milo said.

“They’re bonding awkwardly,” Yuel clarified.

The goat bleated again, this time in what sounded like victory. The duck honked back, clearly offended. It then waddled over to Kael and pecked his boot with the kind of vengeance only a duck could muster.

Ellira looked around at the chaos, then back at Kael. “I miss the screaming bread.”

Kael smiled. “You’ll fit right in.”

Dear Mo,

We are encouraged by the diversity of your team. Truly, assembling a group that includes a wind-dancer, a flame-reader, a stone-shaper, and a water-weaver—alongside a goat with clear emotional instability and a duck with unresolved anger issues—is nothing short of... imaginative.

However, we must gently remind you that interpersonal harmony is essential for any successful mission. While we appreciate the theatrical value of goat-duck standoffs, we suggest you consider group therapy, or at the very least, a team-building exercise that doesn’t involve livestock combat.

We trust you will take this feedback with the grace and professionalism befitting your station.

Warmest regards,

The Queen and King of Aeloria

I rolled my eyes. “Next scroll’s going straight into the fire.”

“Make sure Ellira reads it first,” Talon said. “She’ll enjoy the irony.”

The skies over Aeloria darkened. The veil shimmered like a mirage. The Flameleaf sigils pulsed with urgency. Dreams turned to warnings. Shadows grew teeth.

I stood before my team—some of them bruised, some of them bickering, one of them still being chased by the duck.

“We’re the Flameborn Watch. We protect both realms. We fight what’s coming.”

“What is coming?” Thess asked.

I looked at the horizon, where lightning danced in unnatural patterns.

“Something rewritten,” I said. “Something angry.”

Kael raised a hand. “Do we get matching cloaks?”

“No,” I said.

“Can we vote on it?”

“No.”

“I vote yes,” Zeke said.

“I vote for snacks,” Yuel added.

“I vote we survive,” Narrin said.

The goat bleated in what sounded like agreement. The duck honked in protest.

I smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”