I Haven't Played "Fields Of Misteria," But I've Seen Some Playthroughs On YouTube Where Players Interact

As the wind blows, remember that I'll come home to you.

started listening to "No Choice" by Fly By Midnight and this happened :')

March x Gender Neutral Adventurer/Farmer

-0-

You had to leave.

You didn't want to, of course you didn't, but you had to.

You were an adventurer first before you became a farmer, before you decided it was time to leave the thrill of adventure. To let your body rest, to abandon the horrors that you've seen in your years on the road and settle into this little town.

The life you had built here was nice, far nicer than you ever expected it would. You made friends, you found community. You were settling down.

But you, of all people, knew it wasn't going to last.

The missive arrived days after the last snowfall of spring. You thought it was another mail from Adeline or another letter from Errol asking to meet you and Eiland at the museum. Or maybe it was from March - you hoped it was - telling you that your ass better be at the inn that night.

A chill ran down your spine when you opened the mailbox. A single envelope sat inside, snug, the golden filigree emblazoned over the plush red on the quality paper glinted once the sunlight You didn't have to see the seal, didn't have to see the signature. Didn't have to see to know the colors of your guild.

But you were retired, right? You made sure of that. Made sure that you were off the ledgers, made sure that you would no longer be contacted.

And yet here it was, the ghosts of your past sitting prettily in the mailbox on the land that you so carefully tended.

There was a punch in your gut, a deep clutch at the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to open the envelope. Felt you already know what it said. But you did. You had to.

And felt your heart ice over.

Aldaria was at war. Every soldier, every adventurer within the central kingdom's guilds, every able combatant, retired or otherwise, are required to go to the frontlines.

No one is exempted.

Those who are to run will be deemed as traitors to the Crown and will be put to death.

Fuck.

-0-

The grief of it hit you quickly.

So much that you sat at the stone bench, one that you placed by Caldarus. You didn't think you could talk, didn't think you could form any of the words. Caldarus didn't pry. You thought he could sense what it was, anyway.

You didn't know how much time passed by. Didn't care. Not even hunger, not even the rain.

You had to leave. Immediately.

Adeline and Eiland were horrified. Elsie was rendered speechless. All of you were in tears.

You packed up quickly. It wasn't as if you had a lot of belongings, anyway, even though you've already spent several months here in Mistria. It had to be quick, it had to be soon, as your heart couldn't take it anymore.

The goodbyes were the most difficult of it. More tears, more fear. Hugs, promises to come back.

But you couldn't quite look at everyone in the eye. One person, at the back of the inn, just staring. Dark, dark eyes devoid of emotion. You noticed that his drink remained untouched, his food already cold. You didn't want to say goodbye, not to him. But you needed to.

You took him aside late into the night. His body was rigid, his eyes ice cold.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tried for a weak smile. "I guess you're right. I didn't even reach winter."

"Don't." His voice was hard, shaky. "Don't fucking blame yourself for this."

"March, I-"

He grabbed your shoulders, hard, looked directly into your eyes. "Don't die,' he murmured. "And come back when this is all done. Are we clear?"

The silence descended upon both of you as you stared at each other. Sighed. Weakly smiled.

"Clear."

And you knew, neither of you wanted to think of that promise being broken.

-0-

The day you left was a particularly rainy day.

Mistria was quiet, as if the joyous energy that usually engulfed the town was washed clean.

People tried to resume their routines, their normal, but watching you leave on horseback, alone while getting soaked, was one of the most difficult sights most of them had in recent years. And yet life has to move on. Days, weeks, months had to pass.

March was not handling it well.

He managed to easily slide back into routine. Being a tradesman, the work was never-ending, especially since he decided to expand their enterprise by accepting orders from the other surrounding towns.

It made sense to expand, especially since Mistria already rose up the ranks quickly in the months the farmer was here. Wartime was an opportunity for more profits. Times were changing and he had to catch up.

(And it wasn't because he just wanted the work to keep his mind off of you.)

Every hit of the hammer to the anvil was a second that he wasn't thinking about you.

Every nail, every screw, every project was something to keep your smile, the crinkle of delight in your eye when you give him another gift, the way the sunlight streaked your hair, out of his mind.

He didn't want to smell your scent the moment he picks up the blanket you made him. He didn't want to think about you when he eats something that you liked. He didn't want to remember the feeling of you, all the curves and angles of your body, the callouses of your hands, the scars that littered your body. He didn't want to see even the barest of glimpses of you in his dreams.

And yet he couldn't escape it. Couldn't escape the way his heart weighed him down. Couldn't escape the dull thrum of longing at the back of his head.

So he worked.

And worked.

And worked no matter how much Olric told him to take a break. No matter how much his body screamed at him to stop. Not even when Valen put her foot down and demanded he rest.

Because his hand shook when he struck that hammer. His breath hitched when he stepped away from the anvil. Because his eyes teared up when his back hit against the wall when the entirety of you consumed him, assaulted his senses, his memory.

"Fuck!"

He threw his hammer down as he crumpled to the ground, shoving his head into his lap as he breathed in the way you showed him how.

When were you coming back? He just wanted you back.

-0-

They were keeping up with the current events, of course.

It was slow all around, as messengers didn't always come or the roads were blocked off. But Balor, through his contacts, made sure that Mistria got the news as soon as possible.

The North Everett Garrison fell to the enemy a week ago and proved a heavy blow to the kingdom. Massive body counts on both sides. No news yet on those who fell.

They hoped, prayed, that you weren't there. That you weren't one of the ones who died. That you were still alive and well.

It's been over a year since you left and they still hoped.

It was three weeks after the news that another messenger arrived.

March snarled when the knock on the door came. The shop was closed, goddammit. Why can't people just leave him the fuck alone? He shoved open the door, stopped when Adeline and Eiland stood outside.

Dread pooled at the base of his stomach, his body crumbling into a cold sweat. In Adeline's hand was a familiar helmet. The perfect, silver helmet that he made for you over a year ago.

-0-

They said they couldn't find you.

When the garrison fell, it was immediately reclaimed by the arriving forces. For days, the soldiers and holy people recovered and identified the dead.

But there was nothing else that they could find of you. They only found the helmet, damaged and bloody, with March's trademark on it. By the time the forces managed to collect as much as they could, you were listed as one of the missing, potentially (probably) dead.

It was enough to send him into a spiral.

March hasn't left his room in days. The meals Olric left by his door barely touched. For days he held the helmet, his hands raw from keeping it close and tight to his chest.

His usual proud eyes were dull, the shine of it diminishing slowly ever since you left. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. This was supposed to be your start at a new life, a new beginning. He saw the grief in your eyes when you first moved in. He saw the twitchiness. He saw the strain. And he saw the way you let the shadows of your past eventually fall.

Only to be thrown back again against your will.

He couldn't feel anything. Just that steady throbbing, the heavy pulling of his heart down, down, to the depths of his despair. Couldn't feel the sunlight that streamed through his window. Couldn't feel the cold of the stone floor. Could barely feel the weight of the helmet on his lap.

Time didn't exist anymore. Every single breath he took was like inhaling shattered glass. The world seemed to have lost all color.

"March?"

"Go away, Olric."

"It's not Olric."

He whipped his head back, confusion marring itself on his face. With effort, he hauled himself off of the ground.

Opened the door.

It's been a while since you've seen him.

He's a bit thinner, a little gaunt, which worried you. A shadow of a beard rested on his face as he stood there, wide eyed, as he held your helmet in his hands.

He was just as handsome as you remembered him to be. You smiled.

"Hey, March."

He had you in his arms not one second later. You felt the shudder run through his body as his strong hands pulled you tight into his embrace. This was something that you dreamed off, the one thing that pushed you through, pushed you to survive. The thought of coming back to him was the light in your darkest days.

"March-"

"Quiet."

He took his time with you. Embracing you. Taking in your scent, memorizing your body once again. You had new scars, new injuries. But he doesn't care.

You were here and that's what mattered.

"March," you murmured as you buried you face into his shoulder, your bandaged hands digging into him like a vice. "I'm home."

He breathed in, sobbed out a sigh. Smiled.

"Welcome home, farmer."

-0-

hello, if you like my stuff i have more on my masterlist! :DD

also feel free to send some requests. I'm currently in a March headspace rn but I'm willing to try other characters too o: (might take a while to get to them tho since I'm gonna be in a convention crunch time qwq)

𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚊𝚖'𝚜 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

Ever since I installed the Maggs Sam Immersive Mod, I've been trying to woo this cute rockstar for the past couple of in-game months, but I hadn't checked his dialogue during some specific events, like the Green Rain event. But today, I toggled the CJB Cheats menu and switched the weather even though its Fall Season. And wow, his dialogues are downright adorable! He showed so much concern, it was incredibly sweet.

Mod: "Maggs Immersive Sam Romance Dialogue and Events (x)Spicy or Sweet 1.6" by @maggplays

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

(A/N: Enjoy my overreaction about this mod's cutscenes)

*I loaded up my save file of my farmer, Yvonne, who's engaged to Sam. I was heading to Sebastian's room with a birthday present when suddenly a cutscene started playing. Sebastian appeared at the beach docks, a path of rose petals leading the way.*

Me: What in the world? *experiencing a sense of déja vu*

Sebastian: Yvonne, I've been thinking about you constantly.

Me: Hold up, Sebastian! Aren't you married to my farmer, Aleia? This is incredibly messed up.

Sebastian: *clears his throat* I... um... I want to be with you as your boyfriend.

Me: *noticing the limited choices provided in the game* Where's the rejection option!?

Sebastian: *looking expectantly, waits for Yvonne's response*

Me: Guess there's no other choice here. I'll accept his confession.

Sebastian: *sounding relieved* Thank you for waiting for me to sort out my feelings and for always listening.

Me: Seriously, Sebastian? *facepalms*

Sebastian: *whispering softly* I... I love you, Yvonne.

Yvonne: *too stunned and betrayed to respond*

Me: *le gasp* This is so wrong on so many levels, not just for my farmer Aleia, but also for poor Sam!

*According to tradition, give the bouquet back to Sebastian when you're ready to make your relationship status official*

Me: Absolutely not! *frustrated and amused by the absurdity of the situation* This is ridiculous. I'm not giving him the bouquet, and I hope Sam doesn't find out about this whole mess.

Yvonne: *blinks twice at the unexpected event*

Me: *laughing out loud* First I catch Sam serenading to my farmer Aleia and now! Sebastian confessing heartfelt messages to Yvonne? Boys, what the heck is up with you two? This is starting to get ridiculous!

*The scene ends, leaving myself, the player, contemplating the strange and unexpected exchange between Sebastian and Yvonne, and considering the impact it might have on the relationships in your Stardew Valley world*

Mod: "Maggs Immersive Sebastian Dialogue and Custom Events Spicy or Sweet" by @maggplays

Farmer: *can't find Sebastian in town*

Farmer: Dammit! I can't find him anywhere. This calls for drastic measures.

Farmer: *inhales and uses hand as a microphone* THE FARMER SUCKS!!!

Sebastian: *comes out from his room basement* THE FUCK-

Shane: *across JojaMart Bldg* DID YOU-

Sam: *crashes through the window using his skateboard* JUST-

Other Marriage Candidates: SAY!

Farmer: Eeek, that worked a little too well...

Other Townspeople: *others find this amusing, annoying or secretly recording the scene from the start and post it on their social media*

A/N: Got this idea by my boyfriend's midnight musings. I find it pretty amusing and it inspired me to write this. This is my first post for this year, 2025. Enjoy! 🎉

Summary: Lance couldn't resist the urge to have a late-night chat with his sleep-deprived farmer.

It's currently night time in the Highlands, and after a late-night expedition exploring the cliffs and caves, Rosemary is too tired to go home, so she decides to sleep at her boyfriend's outpost. Lance doesn't mind, at least he gets to spend time with his beloved farmer. As they're going to sleep, the mage can't help but have random thoughts crossing his mind.

"Sweetheart, would you still love me if I were a worm?", Lance quietly asked his sleepy girlfriend.

Rosemary grunted and turned over in his arms, looking at him with her tired turquoise eyes. "What brought this on?", she asked, her voice heavy with sleep. Lance knew why he loved this woman. Instead of complaining about the late hour or ignoring him until he shoved her awake, Rosemary genuinely cared and took his late-night musings seriously - it was just part of who he was.

"I dreamed I was a human.", Lance said with total seriousness. "Like, just a regular human with no magic whatsoever."

"Sounds mundane.", Rosemary mused, trying to stay awake despite her drowsiness. Lance nodded and continued, "It was okay, but then I met you in that dream. And you were different, too. You were a warrior, strong and beautiful. But you wouldn't speak to me, just ignored me completely. It was like you didn't even know who I was."

Rosemary frowned but remained silent, thinking through Lance's words. He could tell she was trying to make sense of his dream-induced thoughts.

Lance took a deep breath and continued. "And the next thing I knew, I was a worm, just wriggling around in the earth. I thought 'How did this happen?' And you know what I realized, Rose?" Lance asked, pulling her even closer to his chest.

Rosemary nodded, her eyelids starting to feel heavier with each passing second, but she knew she needed to stay awake to hear his thoughts. She had learned that Lance's dreams were never really about the literal transformations he experienced but rather about some underlying fear or worry he had within him. And so, she listened.

"It was because you didn't love me as a human.", he revealed, his voice cracking slightly. "And since you didn't love me, there was no way you could ever love me as a worm. You wouldn't even acknowledge me in the dream, no matter how much I tried to talk to you."

Rosemary only rolled her eyes at Lance's revelation. She could see how upset he was and tried to comfort him. "Oh, love..." she began, but Lance cut her off.

"But then I thought, what if we were both worms?", Lance asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Rosemary rolled her eyes again at his persistent questioning. "Then we'd be digging the earth together forever in wormy marriage," she replied, before yawning heavily. "Does that make you feel better, love?"

Lance's face broke into a broad smile, and he nodded. "Yes, I think it does," he said, relieved that he could confide in his girlfriend. "I'm sorry for waking you." he apologized, feeling a little embarrassed. Rosemary gently caressed his cheek, telling him it was okay. "It's alright." she reassured him.

Finally, she couldn't help but ask, "And what about you, love? Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Lance pretended to think deeply about her question for a few moments, then answered seriously. "Worms are the most detestable creatures on Earth. I could never love you if you were one," he said with disdain.

Rosemary's mouth dropped open in surprise, then she burst into fits of laughter. She playfully hit him with a pillow for his blunt answer. "Don't be so mean, Lance!"

Lance grinned sheepishly, realizing his mistake. "Alright, I admit that was a bit harsh there." he conceded. "But you have to admit, worms are pretty repulsive."

Rosemary couldn't refute his point. They were both exhausted, and their random musings were starting to wear thin. But Lance wasn't quite done yet.

"Seriously, what would you do if we both suddenly woke up as worms?" Lance asked curiously.

Rosemary sighed, resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. "Well..." she began thoughtfully, "I suppose we'd have to adjust to our new wormy lives together. I bet we could dig tunnels in the earth and make a cozy nest for us."

Lance nodded, somewhat impressed by her practicality, but still found worms repulsive. "And what about us as worms? Would we still... you know." Lance's voice trailed off, unable to articulate the rest of his question.

Rosemary giggled, guessing where his mind was heading. "Lance, we'd be worms. That's not exactly an ideal situation for that kind of activity. But who knows, maybe we'd still manage to find our own wormy way to show affection," she said with a chuckle. "Let's rest now, okay? We can continue these wild thoughts in the morning. I have a feeling you'll be even more ridiculous when you're not sleep-deprived."

Lance chuckled, realizing his tired mind was indeed making the conversation more bizarre. "Yes, you're right, love," he said, hugging her closer. "Let's get some sleep, and we can laugh about all of this in the morning."

Rosemary snuggled up to him and smiled. "Good night, Lance. I love you, regardless of whether you're a mage, a human, or even a worm."

Lance leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you too, Rosemary. Sleep well."

As the two drifted off to sleep together, wrapped in each other's arms, the conversation shifted from magical transformations to the simplicity of their love, proving that it surpassed all boundaries, be it human or worm.

𝚃𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚅𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔

Okay, so I finally downloaded the Sunberry Village mod and let me just say, it was totally worth it. I’ve been eyeing it for a while, and after seeing all the gorgeous screenshots and hearing people rave about it, I knew I had to try it out for myself.

That said… I did have to remove East Scarp from my mods folder. As much as I adore that mod, my poor little laptop just couldn’t handle everything running at once. (RIP, memory.) But hey, it’s not goodbye forever just a temporary pause until I get a proper upgrade. Hopefully soon! (Also, fun fact: I heard that the Always Raining in the Valley mod was integrated into Sunberry Village now, so if you’re like me and want to pursue Sterling, you’ll find him here instead. One more reason to dive in!)

Now let’s talk about Sunberry Village itself, what a gem of a mod. The new map is just chef’s kiss! Lush, vibrant, and full of cozy details that make the whole place feel alive. The NPCs are super well-written and diverse, each with their own personalities and stories. And there's even marriageable candidates here. I’ve already had a few cutscenes and honestly? I’m hooked. I can tell a lot of love went into their design.

There’s also tons of new places to explore, including little hidden spots and secret passages that make wandering around feel like a proper adventure.

And yes, they even have their own mines! I tried them out and I’m kind of obsessed. Every level has a fresh layout, different biomes, and brand-new vibes. It’s not just your average mine crawl, it feels like stepping into a different world with every floor.

If you’re looking for a rich, immersive expansion that blends perfectly with other mods like SVE, RSV, ES or VMV, this is it. Whether you’re into farming, fighting, exploring, or just getting to know new characters, Sunberry Village has something for you.

If you want to play it too, you can find the mod here on NexusMods

I recently ordered another adorable Stardew Valley perler keychains online, but this time, I had them customized with my oc farmer, Yvonne and her husband, Sam. I think they turned out really cute! 😍 The shop even included some freebies, a stardrop and a void chicken, which I really appreciate. I'm already planning to place another order for more custom perler keychains in the future. A huge shoutout to Knotela Creations for creating these charming keychains for me!

Bruh why does he look like Lucas from WMMAP!? 😳

I was just messing with the Wizard's hairstyles in RRRR mod. And when I checked to see his portrait, I nearly have heartattack. If you can just squint a little and imagine Magnus in Lucas's color palette. You get what I mean.

What is up with me finding older wizards attractive

Ahhhh I wish I could date and marry you but I can't. I'm married and have 2 kids. Don't worry there's going to be another farmer for you.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝙳𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝 𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎

Farmer: *leaning on their hoe, sighing deeply* Damn, I’m so useless.

Abigail: *bursts through a wall like the Kool-Aid Man* WHO SAID THAT?!

Sebastian: *appears from the shadows* YOU WANNA TRY THAT LINE AGAIN?!

Sam: *backflips off his skateboard* OH HELL NO!

Shane: *launches a beer can across the farm* THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!

Harvey: *running in, stethoscope flying* EXCUSE ME, THAT IS A MEDICAL LIE!

Elliott: *dramatic gasp flipping his hair* HOW DARE YOU INSULT YOURSELF IN SUCH A WAY?!

Haley: *lowers her sunglasses* That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

Leah: *grabbing their hands gently* You are nature’s masterpiece, don’t you ever forget it.

Alex: *flexing aggressively* YOU’RE STRONG AS HELL, DON’T MAKE ME GIVE YOU A PEP TALK!

Penny: *clutching a book* You are worthy of love and respect, Farmer!

Maru: *holding a literal blueprint for an invention called "Farmer Confidence Booster 3000"* I BETTER START BUILDING THIS!

Emily: *already mid-dance to cleanse the negativity* BEGONE, NEGATIVE ENERGY! I CLEANSE THIS FARM WITH THE POWER OF YOBA!

Krobus: *somehow appearing from the sewers* I DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND HUMAN EMOTIONS BUT I KNOW THAT'S WRONG.

Pierre: *stepping out of his shop* Yes, even I think—!

Caroline: *dragging him back inside* PIERRE, READ THE ROOM.

Wizard: *literally appears in a cloud of smoke* THAT IS A DANGEROUS FALSEHOOD, FARMER.

Linus: *nodding wisely from the mountains* You are part of nature’s balance. Never forget that.

Other Marriage Candidates: *crash through windows, doors, appears through a portal or possibly even from underground* SAY THAT AGAIN, WE DARE YOU!

Farmer: *overwhelmed, hands up* Okay! I take it back! Damn, that worked a little too well…

Gus: *sliding a drink over* Yeah, don’t do that again. We almost lost half the Saloon to a riot.

A/N: After reading @studentinpursuitofclouds headcanon about the bachelors/ettes' reactions to being kidnapped for revenge or ransom only for their furious Farmer spouse to storm in and rescue them. I felt inspired. I couldn’t help but write a version for Lance, blending it with my farmer OCs' backstories. Hope you enjoy the fic!

The moon loomed high over the farmhouse, casting its pale, silver glow across the quiet fields. The night was still, almost unnervingly so, with only the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. The greenhouse stood as a lone beacon in the darkness, its glass panels faintly aglow, sheltering a world of warmth and life separate from the cool hush outside. Inside, Rosemary moved among rows of flourishing crops, the earthy scent of soil and faint hum of lingering magic surrounding her. Yet, despite the comforting atmosphere, a knot of unease twisted tightly in her chest.

Lance should be home by now.

He had left at dawn, that familiar confident grin on his face, promising—promising—to return before sunset. She had believed him. Lance always kept his word. But now, as the hours stretched long past nightfall, the promise felt like a fading echo.

A message had come earlier, brief and reassuring. But Rosemary’s instincts screamed otherwise. She brushed her gloved fingers over the rough skin of a void root. The dark, twisted form seemed to absorb the soft light, pulsing faintly with ancient magic. She tried to focus on the task at hand—on the routine—but her thoughts kept circling back to one question.

Why isn’t he back?

Her pruning slowed. Water dripped from a nearby watering can. The silence grew thick.

Then it happened.

A chill—sharp and sudden—sliced down her spine.

Her breath hitched.

Her gloved hand froze mid-motion.

It wasn’t a sound. Not a shadow shifting in the corner of her vision. No. This was deeper. Internal. Like something inside her had snapped.

No...

The comforting aura of Lance’s magic, ever-present beside her own like a steady heartbeat—had vanished.

Gone.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“No.”

The word escaped her lips in a broken whisper. The trowel slipped from her hand, clattering against the stone path. A ragged cry tore from her throat as she stumbled back. Her gaze snapped toward the hills beyond the farmhouse. She reached inward—desperately—trying to find the familiar pulse of his magic.

There. Faint. So faint.

But still there.

A gasp tore from her.

Lance...

Alive. Barely conscious. But alive. Reaching for her.

Her hands fumbled for her phone. The screen blurred before her eyes as her fingers darted across it, moving faster than her mind could process. Only one number mattered.

The line rang once. Twice.

“Rosie?”, Her sister’s voice answered calm as ever, but edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Cerise!!! I can’t feel him.” Rosemary’s voice cracked. “His magic! it’s gone—I don’t know what’s happening, what does it mean?”

Silence.

A silence that stretched for only a moment but felt like a lifetime.

When Cerise finally spoke, her tone had shifted, cool, sharp, edged with something Rosemary rarely heard from her sister: fear.

“No… they wouldn’t.” The words came as a whisper. Then, sharper, cold with realization: “Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon.”

Rosemary’s grip tightened around the phone.

“They must've took him.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“They took my husband.”

This time, her voice was low, dangerous, a quiet fury simmering beneath each syllable.

Cerise inhaled sharply on the other end of the line. “Most likely. If they couldn’t get my Jio, their next move would be—”

“I’m going.”

“Rose—”

“I’m not waiting around, sister.” Rosemary’s jaw tightened. Her ocean jade eyes—usually bright and warm—narrowed into cold flames of determination. “I’m getting my husband back. Whatever it takes.”

”Rosemary, wait—”

But the call had already ended.

Without hesitation, Rosemary snatched up her sword from the greenhouse floor. The blade thrummed with her magic, responding to her rage. She pulled on her dark cloak, fastened the clasp at her neck, and slung a pouch of potions over her shoulder.

She stepped out into the night.

She didn’t need a plan.

Only a direction.

Lance’s faint magic—like a whisper at the edge of her mind—would guide her.

“Hold on, love” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m coming.”

And nothing would stand in her way.

The room reeked of damp stone and stale air, a subterranean prison swallowed by oppressive darkness. The narrow space was barely lit by a flickering lantern that hung from a rusted chain in the corner, its dim glow casting trembling shadows across the concrete walls slick with condensation. The ceiling sagged low, pressing down like a weight upon the soul. The air itself was suffocating, thick with the scent of mold and the faint, undeniable metallic tang of old blood. A chill seeped from the stone floor, gnawing at the skin, while the silence—broken only by the rhythmic drip of water echoing from some distant corridor—felt almost unnatural. But worse than the cold or the damp was the lingering, suffocating aura of magic that clung to every surface, woven into the very air. It was a cruel enchantment, designed to sap strength, to suppress power. And it was working.

Lance shifted in the chair he had been bound to, the rough rope digging into his wrists. His head hung low, dark pink hair falling messily into his face. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, sharp and insistent, growing worse with each breath drawn in the magic-saturated air. His eyes flickered open with slow, deliberate effort. His arms ached from the tight restraints that hummed faintly with the same suppressive power in the room. Even the smallest attempt to draw upon his magic was met with resistance, a suffocating weight that dulled the spark he relied on.

A breath slipped from his lips—slow, frustrated, bitter.

The Second-in-Command of the First Slash Clan, renowned combat mage, captured.

Not by a rival clan worthy of his strength. Not in battle against some formidable foe.

No, by a group of low-ranking mafia thugs who had no comprehension of the power they were trifling with.

The humiliation stung, but it wasn’t the real issue gnawing at him. His pride could endure this. What he could not endure was the knowledge he had failed. Failed to see the ambush coming. Failed to protect what mattered most. With all his training, all his magical prowess, he should have burned through these restraints with a flick of his wrist. But this room—the entire place—reeked of the kind of magic meant to weaken him, suppress him, render him vulnerable.

Still, it wasn’t his own fate that consumed his thoughts.

It was hers.

The realization cut deeper than any blade.

They weren’t after him.

They were after Rosemary.

He had heard them, muffled voices beyond the door, carelessly assuming he was too weak, too broken to care. But he had listened. Every word. Every plan. The truth had struck him harder than any blow. They believed that taking him would draw her out. They thought Rosemary would come running, desperate and vulnerable—a perfect trap.

But they didn’t know her.

They didn’t know Rosemary.

She wasn’t some fragile woman to be lured like a helpless bird. She had Cerise’s blood in her veins—the blood of the Crimson Wraith.

And worse still, they didn’t simply want to use her as bait. No. Their plan was far more twisted. They wanted her alive. They wanted to mold her into a weapon—a new puppet assassin forged from the only sister of the Crimson Wraith.

The thought made Lance’s jaw tighten, his fingers twitching against the ropes. His entire being recoiled at the idea of anyone laying a hand on her. His Rosemary. His wife. The woman who had fought for her freedom, who had lived in the shadow of her sister’s bloody past but had never allowed it to define her. They thought they could twist her into something she wasn’t.

The audacity.

The rage brewed quietly beneath his composed exterior, his magic stirring despite the oppressive weight. He would burn this place to ash for even daring to think of touching her.

The door creaked open.

Rusty hinges groaned like a dying animal, breaking the stillness.

Lance lifted his head, eyes narrowing as two figures stepped into the dim light. One was tall, broad-shouldered, with a jagged scar slashing across his cheek—a permanent sneer carved into his skin. The other remained near the door, arms crossed, eyes dull with boredom.

The scarred man grinned, a slow, mocking curve of his lips.

“You know.” he drawled, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t married that red-haired bitch. We didn’t want you. You were never the target.”

He crouched, bringing his face close enough that Lance could smell the foul mix of tobacco and cheap liquor on his breath.

“We wanted her sister. Cerise. She was... valuable to us. But she escaped. Left everything behind, dragging her little sister along like a coward.”

His grin widened, malicious satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“But now? We have something better. You see, we realized something. What better way to replace the Crimson Wraith than with her own blood? We’ll take your precious wife, and turn her into the perfect weapon. Our new puppet.”

The words echoed in the damp room.

Lance didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. His face remained calm, far too calm.

But inside?

How dare you.

The air shifted.

Even bound and suppressed, his magic stirred, a quiet storm gathering, waiting. The ropes bit into his wrists, but they were nothing more than an inconvenience. He would burn this entire place to the ground before he let them touch her.

And then—

Footsteps.

At first faint, almost mistaken for an echo. But then louder. Steady. Unyielding.

The two mafia members stiffened. Their smug confidence faltered.

The pressure in the air built, thick and suffocating. The flickering lantern dimmed, shadows crawling further along the walls. The footsteps didn’t slow.

They grew louder. Closer.

And then—

The door exploded inward.

Wood shattered into splinters. The force of the blast sent fragments clattering across the stone floor. The oppressive magic that had choked the room recoiled instantly. For a moment, the air itself seemed to fear the figure standing in the doorway.

Rosemary stood there—fury incarnate.

Her rose-red hair blazed in the dim light, cascading behind her like a river of flame. Ocean jade eyes burned with unrelenting rage and fear, swirling with power she no longer cared to conceal. The aura surrounding her crackled with raw magic—a tempest on the brink of being unleashed.

“Where...”, she whispered, her voice low, trembling with restrained wrath, “Is my husband?”

The scarred man stumbled back. “Oh shit-!” he muttered in disbelief, glancing at his companion.

But the moment he moved—

Rosemary vanished.

A flash of purple swept through the air. Her blade glinted once, a crescent of death cutting through the dim light. With a scream, the scarred man flew backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening crunch. The second man barely had time to react before Rosemary descended on him with relentless precision. Her strikes were merciless—graceful yet devastating. Every movement spoke of years of training, of lessons carved into muscle and bone.

They had expected a weak sister.

They received a force of nature.

The second man crumpled to the floor without a sound.

Silence fell.

Lance remained still, his gaze fixed on the woman who had torn apart his captors without hesitation. His heart thundered in his chest—not out of fear, but awe. She had come for him. She had shattered their illusions. She was magnificent.

Rosemary turned.

Her gaze softened the moment it met his. The fury faded, replaced by something far deeper—fear, worry, desperation.

“Lance.”

Her voice broke.

In two strides, she was beside him, dropping to her knees. Her hands reached for his face first, trembling as they brushed against his skin, as if afraid he would vanish.

“Are you—did they—?” Her voice cracked, unable to form the question.

“I’m fine.” His voice was soft but firm, though his smile faded when he saw the tears shining in her eyes.

“No, you’re not.” She gritted her teeth, glancing at the glowing restraints. Without hesitation, her fingers tightened around the ropes. Magic pulsed through her veins, rushing to her hands.

The ropes hissed.

With a surge of power and a cry laced with all the fear and rage she had suppressed, Rosemary ripped them apart. The restraints shattered into ash beneath her touch.

Lance didn’t move. He simply watched her—watched as she clung to him, as her shoulders shook.

“I thought—” she choked out, “I thought I was too late.”

Gently, Lance wrapped his arms around her.

“You weren’t.”

She buried her face in his chest. “I would have destroyed this whole place if they’d laid a hand on you.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You were perfect.”

“No.” She pulled back slightly, her ocean jade eyes locking onto his, fierce even through the tears. “Not perfect. Just in time.”

And when Lance leaned forward to press his lips to hers, tender lingering. It wasn’t simply relief that filled the space between them.

It was a promise.

A promise that no matter who came for them next, no matter what shadows lurked in the past, they would face them—together.