It was the dead of night, and Piers was wide awake.
His father lay sprawled on one side of the bed, snoring like distant thunder. His mother was curled on the other — delicate, dignified, somehow still elegant even while drooling slightly.
And wedged between them, Piers stared at the ceiling.
Faint glyphs flickered in the dark — the remnants of a vision he couldn't fully grasp.
[SKILL UNLOCKED: MEMORY LOOP TRAP] [Allows the user to trap a target's consciousness in a repeating loop of memories. The loop can be manipulated — infused with false joy, twisted into endless despair, or reshaped to uncover hidden truths. Victims relive the altered memory over and over, suffering disorientation, emotional collapse, or involuntary revelation.]
He read it once.
...Alter memories.
Not just trap someone in their worst moment. I can rewrite it. Sweeten and Break it?.
He turned his head.
First left — his father's snore cracking like thunder.
Then right — his mother, peaceful, elegant. Daughter of the Witch Monarch.
Interesting timing.
He sat up quietly, peeling back the blanket.
The four children. He hadn't checked on them since the forest. Styx would know — he needed to ask her.
If she's even awake.
His eyes drifted back to his parents.
Can't just disappear. Mom would sense the disruption. Dad already suspects too much.
He paused. When did I start thinking of them like that?
A decision settled in his chest, quiet and sure.
I need to get stronger. Not later. Now.
He glanced at his sleeping mother.
Modal Maker. Good a time as any.
He pressed a hand to his chest and focused. Mana stirred — gentle, steady. He funneled it into the skill.
He imagined it clearly. His own sleeping form. Mouth slightly open. Limbs tucked just right.
From his palm, something began to rise — smooth, slow, precise.
The shape emerged.
...Huh.
He shifted it carefully into place. Blanket adjusted. Hair fluffed.
He stepped back and looked at it.
That's unsettling.
He poked the dummy's cheek.
Too soft. Like real skin.
Noted. Don't think about it.
His mother shifted in her sleep.
He froze, finger still pressed into the dummy's cheek.
Xylia sighed softly and settled again.
Piers counted to ten. Then twenty.
She didn't wake.
He slowly exhaled and pulled his hand back.
Right. Time to move.
He tucked the dummy in properly—blanket adjusted, limbs positioned naturally, head tilted just right. From a distance, in the dark, it would pass inspection.
Probably.
He slid off the bed, landing without sound. His bare feet touched cold wood. He waited, listening.
Dad's snoring continued. Mom's breathing stayed even.
Good.
He moved toward the door, each step deliberate. Avoided the third floorboard—it creaked. Sidestepped the edge of the rug.
The hallway stretched dark and quiet before him.
Down the stairs next. This was the dangerous part.
He descended one step at a time, distributing his weight carefully, hands trailing the wall for balance. Every creak made him pause. Every settling sound in the house's old wood felt too loud.
Finally—ground floor.
He crossed to Styx's room and eased the door open.
Empty.
The bed was unmade, blankets kicked aside. Window cracked open slightly.
...Of course.
Where would she go at this hour?
He closed his eyes and extended his mana outward—thin, searching, spreading through the house and beyond.
There.
Outside. Near the damaged section of the barrier.
And she wasn't alone. Multiple presences. Small ones.
The children.
Her voice drifted faintly through the night air, muffled but unmistakable.
She sounded worried.
He crept outside into the pale moonlight and followed her signature to the broken section of the barrier.
And there she was.
Crouched low, holding food out through the gap. The children sat across from her, eating. Mutou and Gyuunyuu stood nearby, quiet and alert.
Safe. They're safe.
Something in his chest loosened. He noted the sensation. Relief. Actual relief. Filed under: emotions that snuck past the diagnostic.
Mutou turned toward him and inclined his head.
"Young Master. How would you like us to handle these little ones? They cannot understand us. You are the only one who can comprehend their words."
Gyuunyuu floated closer, tilting her head. "Can you share the skill, Master? So we can talk to them too?"
Piers considered this briefly.
Possible. Worth testing.
"I'll try."
Styx looked up — then immediately brightened.
"Ooh! While you do that, can I grab some warm blankets? They look super cold!"
She looked at them with something Piers rarely saw on her face—gentleness. Almost protective.
Noted: Styx developing maternal instincts. Concerning development.