The wind whipped past Melian as she stared out across the grass-covered valley stretching seemingly for thousands of miles. Never in a million years had she imagined she’d be standing thousands of universes away from her own, yet here she was — in a universe where power was defined by what its inhabitants called auras.

  Footsteps behind her snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to find a young man in leather armor, a sword hanging at his hip, nervously approaching her.

  “E-excuse me, ma’am…” he stuttered.

  Melian sighed softly and glanced toward her other two companions, who were currently causing a scene.

  Grisha — a ten-foot-tall humanoid with blue skin and bright orange hair sticking straight up — wore nothing but a stained brown cloth. He was loudly complaining that the soldiers’ armor was far too restrictive to fight in.

  On the opposite side stood Darien, calmly giving instructions to the non-soldiers — the magicians and summoners gathered for this so-called sparring match. He wore a tan silk headwrap, flowing white robes, heavy golden necklaces, and more rings than Melian cared to count.

  Turning back to the young soldier, Melian cleared her throat. “Ahem… yes? What can I do for you?” she asked, flashing a warm smile.

  He visibly relaxed. Honestly, she couldn’t blame him — who wouldn’t be nervous after watching four people fall from a crack in the sky, claim to be simple travelers, and then, after everyone finally calmed down, announce they were holding a sparring match at their king’s request?

  The absurdity made her chuckle.

  “No offense,” the soldier continued hesitantly, “but… we have the best sorcerers and knights in the kingdom. Not to mention you all, who seem… extremely powerful.” He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Can one man really fight all of us?”

  Melian shrugged. The motion made him flinch slightly.

  “Relax,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Just watch us for the first part, and then—”

  Her spine tingled.

  From my left.

  She moved instantly, snatching a spear out of the air mid-flight. The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, blasting the young soldier backward through the grass.

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  It was time.

  She drove the spear into the ground and shouted, “IT’S STARTING!”

  Grisha and Darien cheered and bounded toward her. Grisha reached her first, clapping his massive hands together.

  “Finally! I never fight King!” he said excitedly.

  “Calm down, Grisha,” Darien chirped. “You’re scaring the locals.”

  Melian waved the stunned soldier off, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Watch and see for yourself if he’s enough,” she said before turning toward the valley.

  “Ahhh, as expected of the first,” Darien teased. “That command you wield is truly impressive.”

  Melian rolled her eyes. “Go. You two.”

  With a loud whoop from Grisha, both of them vanished.

  Melian remained behind, watching the empty valley.

  What do you do out there… she wondered, her thoughts taking hold of her once more. Lately, the king had seemed distant — more withdrawn with every dimension they visited. I hope you find some excitement in this battle.

  Turning toward the assembled army behind her, she raised her voice. “Feel free to join in at any time! Or run — your choice.”

  Explosions thundered in the distance. Grisha and Darien had found him.

  Melian turned and dropped into a run toward the chaos. If they’ve engaged him, then any second now—

  The ground beneath her feet froze solid, forcing her to skid and regain her balance. Almost instantly, the ice transformed into shifting sand.

  Phase one.

  They needed to frighten the inhabitants of this universe — to show them exactly what was coming.

  A loud crack split the air as Grisha came hurtling toward her.

  “Ugggghhhhh!” he groaned.

  Melian laughed, leaping upward, grabbing him by the leg, and hurling him straight back into the fight. “Get back in there!”

  Snow began to fall as he disappeared again with another whoop — Grisha, the Ice Tyrant of the North.

  The wind howled as a massive sand tornado formed ahead, ripping trees from the ground and tearing the landscape apart. Melian leapt from tree to tree, dodging debris with effortless grace.

  Darien’s work. In his universe, he was known as the Exiled Prince of the Sands.

  Reaching behind her lower back, Melian drew her twin daggers — weapons crafted specifically for her, perfectly suited to her style. Below her, frozen sand fused into the swirling tornado.

  There was a time she’d felt inferior to the godlike entities now fighting ahead of her.

  Not anymore.

  Power surged through her, and a deep gong echoed through the air.

  Everything stopped.

  She stepped off a tree and fell slowly into the eye of the frozen storm.

  Yes. This was the power that had allowed her to stand beside him all these years.

  Time crawled. She landed softly on the ground to find her King waiting, arms crossed.

  It had been years since she’d seen his face. Now he wore a simple white mask and a long blue cloak over black pants and a matching blue shirt.

  “Melian,” he said calmly, gesturing to the frozen Darien and Grisha, both mid-swing. “They’re not going to be happy about this.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t hear you complaining. It’s not like it works on you anyway.”

  He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  In an instant, he was in front of her. She jumped back, heart racing.

  This was her king — the being whose overwhelming power had drawn countless followers… and destroyed countless enemies.

  “Show me how far Cronos's blessing has brought you,” he boomed, raising his right hand as something called a black hole began to form.

  Melian licked her lips.

  “I'm going to make you regret saying that this time"