Chapter 936: Rosie and Feng
Feng sat kneeling in the grass beside Serika with a hand placed gently on the woman’s shoulder, offering silent support as Serika stared at the two unmoving bodies before them: one her sister, Nalai, dead and cold. The other, their father, Rykar, still alive, but unresponsive. As if only his shell remained.
“…Who are you?”
The sudden, high-pitched voice sliced through the silence like a trumpet in a funeral hall.
Feng’s instincts came alive instantly. She snapped her head toward the source, eyes narrowed, hand already drawing the slim blade at her waist as she rose halfway to her feet.
And there, floating several paces away, was something that simply shouldn’t exist.
A tiny girl, green-skinned and wide-eyed. Her curls were bark-brown and spun into ringlets, while her leaf-draped dress swayed as she hovered in midair. She couldn’t have been taller than a child who’d just learned how to walk. And yet…
She pointed one tiny finger at Feng with the righteous fury of a divine arbiter.
The newcomer lifted her utterly unmuscular pair of arms and flexed them as if they could inspire fear in her opponents. “You really think you’re gonna draw your sword in Papa’s realm and get away with it?!”
Her cheeks puffed out as she lowered into a dramatic battle-ready pose… though she wobbled slightly in the air, clearly unused to trying to look threatening.
“Rosie will protect Papa’s home no matter who she has to DESTROY!”
Feng blinked.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
She lowered her sword very, very slowly, feeling an entirely non-threatening aura from the strange creature. The Gremlord instinctively knew she wasn’t hostile. So, she just gasped, utterly lost. “What?”
Serika, however, had already straightened her spine, her grief briefly cut through by something startling: recognition.
She extended a hand toward the hovering dryad girl.
“You’re Quinlan’s daughter, aren’t you?” she asked softly. “The one I heard about.”
Feng let out a sudden gasp beside her. Of course. There was no way an intruder would just casually manifest inside Quinlan’s soul realm of all places. If something had broken in, he’d have reacted. No… he was watching.
He was definitely watching right now.
She exhaled a groan. “That smug bastard’s probably laughing his ass off somewhere…”
Meanwhile, Rosie straightened her own spine in response to Serika’s words as if she were a soldier at roll call. Her voice rang with pride:
“That’s right! Rosie is Rosie Elysiar, first daughter of the one and only Quinlan Elysiar!” she declared, hands on hips, glowing from within with an overwhelming amount of pride.
But the smugness faded slightly as she drifted down toward Serika’s extended hand, not to shake it, but to zoom right past it.
She flew in a spiral around the warrior-woman once…
Twice…
And then poked Serika’s bicep with a curious finger.
Tap tap.
“…Rosie’s ninth mommy is very strong! Wow!” she squealed at last, eyes wide excitedly in nothing but admiration. “Teach Rosie how to become strong, please!”
Serika, having already been through this dance before, shook her head. “You’re mistaken, Rosie. I’m Quinlan’s comrade, his battle partner perhaps, but certainly not his wife.”
Rosie blinked up at the woman as if she’d just said something rather dumb. Then waved a hand with dramatic boredom, fingers flapping. “Yeah, yeah.”
Before Serika could correct her again, the little dryad had already zipped away in a flutter of green light and leafy sparkles.
She hovered silently a few steps away from the sprawled body of the blue-haired woman.
The air around her shifted instantly.
Gone was the cheeky daughter. Gone was the bouncing pride and sass.
She landed quietly a short distance from the corpse, her bare feet brushing the soul-soaked earth. Rosie didn’t touch the body. She didn’t speak.
She simply stood there.
Still.
Watching Lysandra’s fallen form.
Her brow furrowed. Her glow dimmed into a soft pulse, reverent and quiet. Her hands folded at her front, and for several moments, she said nothing at all.
Then she nodded.
Once.
Slowly.
And turned her gaze upward toward the soul-sky above.
“Daddy! Rosie doesn’t know why, but she feels… she can do something!”
Both Feng and Serika gasped at once.
Their eyes snapped toward the girl.
Above, in the distance, from the very air itself, his voice came.
“What do you mean, Rosie?” Quinlan’s tone rolled across the realm like a soft thunderclap, laced with confusion and amazement. “What do you feel?”
He sounded different: calm, and yet clearly shaken. He had been watching everything ever since Rosie shattered expectations and opened a path to his soul realm on her own.
But this…
This was something else.
Rosie frowned, her brows knitting in innocent frustration. “Rosie doesn’t know! It’s just… Rosie feels weird again! Like when she knew how to open the door into Papa’s new soul-home! Like there’s something in her bones telling her she can do something!”
She placed a hand over her tiny chest, eyes wide, as the glow from within her body began to stir again.
Something was building.
Something she didn’t yet understand.
But it didn’t scare her.
Not at all.
She just looked at the fallen woman once more and whispered, “Rosie wants to help…”
Rosie’s glow pulsed again, uncertain, as she looked up toward the sky, toward the place where her father’s voice had echoed from. She wanted permission as well as guidance from her father.
There was a long pause.
Then Quinlan’s voice returned, no longer just addressing his daughter.
“Serika.”
The warrior flinched at the sound of her name spoken with that deep, resonant warmth. She turned toward the sky instinctively, as if she might see him there, watching, invisible yet impossibly present.
“Before Rosie tries anything, I want your permission.”
Serika stood straighter.
“She’s your sister. I don’t have the right to do anything to her.”
Quinlan’s voice was calm, measured, but there was a strange tightness under his words.
“But you need to understand… this won’t be resurrection. Not in the way you might be hoping. Not even in this strange new world you find yourself in does such magic exist.”
He let the words settle.
“The Lysandra Vael you knew—your sister in Zhenwu—is dead. Rosie can’t bring her back. Even if true resurrection is possible in this vast universe somehow, which I somewhat doubt… Rosie is nowhere near capable of that. Whatever she’s sensing now, it’s not that. If she does something, Serika, it won’t be simple. Or clean. Or certain. You need to be ready for that.”
The air fell still.
For a moment, Serika said nothing.
Then her jaw clenched. Her hands, those warrior’s hands that had never once trembled in the face of war, curled tight at her sides.
When she spoke, it was not as a general. Not as a Sovereign.
But as a grieving sister.
“I don’t care.”
Her voice was clear. Steady.
“If Rosie can do something—anything—then that’s better than burying her cold beneath the soil.”
High above, though none could see his face, it was easy to imagine the smile Quinlan wore in that moment.
Proud.
“Then she has your blessing.”
His voice dropped to something far more gentle now.
“Rosie.”
The little dryad straightened, eyes shining.
“You have free rein.”
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter