It had been five days since Lynn defeated Korde. Five days of uneasy calm. And for Lincoln Loud and his sisters, it felt like the eye of the storm—quiet, peaceful, but filled with a sense of impending danger.

Lincoln paced the living room, his mind a whirl of thoughts. Korde had given them a break, but he knew deep down that the warlock wasn't one to rest for long. There was no way he'd just sit idly by while Lincoln and his family regrouped.

"Something's off," Lincoln muttered to himself, glancing out the window. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the neighborhood. He could feel it—the tension in the air. It had been too quiet.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his sisters' voices. They were gathered in the kitchen, talking about the recent events and trying to make sense of the past few days. Lucy, especially, had been focused on her research. She had found an old book in the library five days ago, and it had revealed so much more about Korde than they had ever known.

"I still can't believe Korde literally gave us a break," Lori said, her arms folded as she leaned against the counter. "It doesn't seem like something he'd do."

"I know, right?" Leni agreed. "He's always targeted our brother every day, but for some reason he suddenly decided to stop, which make me worried."

"Exactly," Lincoln said, his voice tinged with worry. "I have a bad feeling Korde is planning something worse."

Lucy, who had been sitting silently at the table, spoke up. "I agree with Lincoln. Korde may have given us a reprieve, but I don't think we've seen the last of him."

"I mean, we've been lucky lately, don't you think?" Luan added. "But, yeah, I think we should stay on our toes. Korde's not one to give up easily."

"I've been studying Korde's history," Lucy said, her eyes focused on the book she had been reading. "And from what I've found, he's a warlock—an ancient one. His powers have waned over time, but they're still formidable."

The sisters nodded in agreement. They had been preparing for the worst, they weren't going to let Korde win that easy.

Just then, Lucy's phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up and read the message, her lips curling into a small smile.

"They're ready," Lucy said, standing up. "I'll meet them at the cemetery tonight. It's time to end this once and for all."

Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "The cemetery? Are you sure it's safe to go there at night?"

Lucy's expression turned serious. "It's the only place where we can perform the ritual to stop Korde for good. Trust me, this is the best place for our plan to work."

Lynn stepped forward, arms crossed, brows furrowed. "Then we're coming with you. You're not going in there alone. We can handle ourselves, you know."

Luna nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Luce. If this warlock freak shows up, you'll need backup—sister-style."

Lola chimed in. "And besides, who says you and Lincoln get to have all the dramatic action?"

Lucy shook her head firmly. "I appreciate it, but no. This isn't just another fight. It's not like dealing with ghosts or chasing monsters out of the attic. This is high-level ritual work. One mistake, and the consequences could be permanent."

"But we've faced danger before!" Lynn argued, stepping closer. "You've seen what we can do when we work together."

Lucy gave a small nod. "I know. And I'm proud of all of you. But this ritual... it's delicate, layered with centuries-old magic. My friends and I have trained for this. We've studied the signs, memorized the incantations, and practiced every step. It has to go exactly as planned. No distractions, no improvising."

Leni blinked. "Wait, are you saying we'd be distractions?"

Lucy offered a faint smile. "Not intentionally. But emotions run high in moments like this. And the last thing we need is panic, or worse—interference. I need you all here, safe. If anything happens to me or Lincoln, the rest of you have to be ready to keep fighting."

The sisters exchanged glances, the weight of her words settling over them.

"You literally really think you and your spooky squad can handle this?" Lori asked, her voice quieter now.

"We've handled worse," Lucy said with a calm conviction. "Morpheus, Haiku, Boris, Persephone, Bertrand... they know what they're doing. We've prepared for this moment."

There was a long pause before Lori finally nodded. "Alright. But if anything feels off, you let us know immediately."

"I will," Lucy promised. "Just trust us."

In the evening, after gathering their supplies, Lincoln and Lucy made their way to the Royal Woods Cemetery, the setting sun casting an eerie glow on the gravestones. The trees swayed in the wind, and the air felt thick with anticipation.

"This place is even creepier than usual tonight, I understand why you and your friends choose this place as your hangout," Lincoln muttered, glancing around.

As they walked deeper into the cemetery, they saw Lucy's friends waiting near a large oak tree. Haiku, with her raven-black hair and thoughtful demeanor, was sitting cross-legged on the ground, scribbling in her notebook. Boris, the tall and imposing figure, was leaning against a gravestone, while Morpheus, with his otherworldly eyes, seemed to be staring at the stars. Persephone, was pacing back and forth, and Bertrand was quietly observing the group.

"Hey, Lucy!" Haiku called out, standing and brushing off her clothes. "Is Korde a vampire, or what? I mean, he looks like one."

Lucy shook her head. "Sadly no. He's not a vampire. He's a warlock. A powerful one. But his power has waned over the years. His age is catching up with him."

"So he's not immortal?" Boris asked, frowning.

Lucy shook her head again. "No, but he's close. His magic is tied to a specific source—pure, selfless souls like Lincoln's. That's why he's been targeting him."

"He is really annoying, I wish he would just find someone else like, but then this would probably be bad if he ends up successfully gaining a new pure heart soul," Lincoln said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bertrand, crossed his arms. "So what's the plan, then? How do we stop him?"

Lucy smiled. "The only way to stop Korde for good is to bury him. We need to use an ancient burial ritual that will seal him away. I've got everything ready. We just need to wait for him to show up."

"And when he does?" Dante asked, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness.

"We trap him. We bury him. Forever."

The group nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. They all knew that Korde's return wasn't just a matter of dealing with an annoying villain—it was about protecting their loved ones. And if they didn't act quickly, Korde could destroy them.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the air thick with the weight of what was to come. The wind rustled the leaves above them, and a shiver ran down Lincoln's spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that Korde was watching them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, but he was tired to being a guy distressed, and he wanted to take action against him, He remembers Korde turning his big sister Lynn into stone, and he doesn't want see Korde hurting his younger sisters.

Lucy, sensing the tension, stood up and straightened her cloak. "I've written a poem for tonight," she said, her voice soft but clear in the stillness of the cemetery.

Lincoln blinked in surprise. "You did? For tonight?"

Lucy nodded. "I wrote it last week. I think it's fitting for the moment. It's about you, Lincoln."

Lincoln's heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Lucy gave him a rare, warm smile before she began to recite the poem:

"Through shadows deep and nights so long,

A heart of courage beats so strong.

In darkest hour, the purest light,

Will shine through fear, dispelling night.

A brother's love, unwavering, true,

A force unseen, but strong and new.

No spell or curse, no evil fate,

Can match the strength that hearts create."

The words echoed in the cool night air, and Lincoln stood still, his heart swelling with pride and awe. He hadn't expected this poem about him. It was both humbling and inspiring. Lucy's words, though simple, carried such weight.

"That was beautiful, Lucy," Haiku said softly, her voice filled with admiration.

Lucy gave a small nod. "It's a reminder, Lincoln. No matter what happens, you're not alone, You will always have us."

Just then, a sudden gust of wind swept through the cemetery, and the air grew colder. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet.

A swirling mass of dark mist formed at the edge of the clearing, coiling like a serpent before solidifying into a tall, cloaked figure. Korde had arrived, his piercing eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood of his robes.

"Ah," he said, his voice like cracking ice, "I was wondering when you'd finally make your move."

Lucy stepped forward, steady despite the pressure bearing down on her. "Now!"

Immediately, Lucy's friends sprang into action. Bertrand and Boris moved fast, each tossing enchanted powder across the grass in a circular pattern around Korde. Haiku chanted softly under her breath, her voice weaving between the wind and the rustling leaves. Morpheus and Persephone each held up glowing stones, placing them at the corners of the trap's perimeter. Lincoln, holding a thin silver chain inscribed with ancient runes, darted behind Korde and yanked it taut—triggering the enchantment.

The earth cracked open beneath the warlock, a deep grave-sized hole appearing at his feet. With a surprised grunt, Korde dropped straight into it.

"Now, seal it!" Lucy shouted.

The group raised their hands in unison, reciting the final incantation together. A dull red glow pulsed from the ground as soil and stone began to shift, creeping up like fingers to encase the pit.

Lincoln exhaled in relief. "We got him."

For a moment, silence.

Then—crack!

The ground exploded upward in a flash of green light. Korde rose from the shattered pit, unharmed and wearing a smug smile.

"Did you really think that would work?" he said, brushing dust from his cloak. "I saw you, Lucy. Four days ago, in your room, thumbing through that moldy tome like it held some grand secret. You really thought you were the first to try this?"

Lucy's eyes widened. "You... you were watching me?"

"My crystal ball is quite useful," Korde said with a chuckle. "And that ritual? Outdated. Sealing me once was clever. Trying it again was lazy."

Lucy clenched her fists, frustration flickering in her usually calm eyes. Around her, her friends looked shaken—shocked that all their preparation had led to nothing.

Lincoln stepped forward, jaw tight. "That's enough!"

Korde turned to him with a curious tilt of his head. "Ah, the heart of the operation. Ready to be helpless again?"

"No," Lincoln said firmly. "I'm done being your target. Go haunt someone else. Get a hobby. Knit. Travel. Literally anything but this."

"Bold words from someone who has no power," Korde sneered.

"I have something better," Lincoln replied. "I have purpose. I have people to protect. And I'm not letting you hurt them."

Lucy's breath caught. "Lincoln, don't. Don't attack him. If you fight him directly, it'll go badly. He's too powerful."

Lincoln turned to her, his eyes calm. "Lucy… I know. But I'm not afraid anymore. I can't let him keep doing this. Not to you. Not to anyone."

He pulled a small object from his pocket—an amulet, glowing faintly blue, humming with hidden energy.

Lucy's eyes narrowed. "Wait... where did you get that? What is it?"

Lincoln glanced at the amulet in his palm. "Four days ago, after everything went quiet... I couldn't just sit around waiting. I went to that weird antique shop down on Ashmore Street—you know, the one no one ever goes into."

"You what?" Lucy's voice dropped to a shocked whisper.

"I don't know why," Lincoln continued, "but I felt something pulling me there. Like… I just knew there was something inside that could help. And there it was—this amulet. It felt like it was vibrating, even before I touched it. The second I picked it up, I could feel the energy inside it. Like it was meant for me."

Lucy looked at the glowing charm with a mix of awe and anxiety. "And the store owner just let you have it?"

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah. The guy barely said a word. Sold it to me for like five bucks. I don't think he knew what it was. Or maybe he did… and he wanted it out of his shop."

"This is risky, Lincoln," Lucy said, her voice soft but serious. "You don't even know what it does."

"I know it could be very powerful. And I know I have to try." He looked at her, steady. "This is why I let you and your friends try your plan first. But I had a backup ready… just in case. I need you to trust me, Lucy."

Lucy stared at him for a moment. Her instincts screamed to intervene. But the look in his eyes—the fierce calm—told her he meant every word.

She swallowed hard and gave a small nod. "Good luck."

Lucy motioned to her friends. "Everyone—go. Now."

"But—" Haiku started.

"Now!" Lucy snapped.

Reluctantly, they turned and fled, disappearing into the deeper parts of the cemetery, the shadows swallowing them one by one. Only Lincoln and Korde remained, standing amidst the cracked earth and swirling fog.

Korde raised an eyebrow. "Alone at last. Let's see what that courage gets you, boy."

Lincoln gripped the amulet tightly. "We'll see."

And then the wind picked up again. This time, it wasn't just the storm. It was his plan finally beginning.

Korde stepped forward, shadows curling around his boots, eyes glowing with anticipation. "This battle better be legendary, boy," he said coldly. "I loathe being disappointed."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, get ready to be surprised."

As if reacting to the threat, the amulet in Lincoln's hand flared to life, its soft blue glow intensifying until it burst with a brilliant flash. Lincoln gasped as tendrils of energy snaked up his arm and across his body. In seconds, shimmering plates of ethereal armor materialized over him—silver trimmed in blue, ancient patterns engraved in the chest plate, gauntlets locking tight around his forearms. A helmet slid over his head, the visor flickering into place.

"What the—!?" Lincoln looked down, eyes wide. "This… this is awesome."

He flexed his right hand—and with another pulse of light, his entire arm shifted and reshaped into a long, gleaming blade, sharp and humming with energy.

Korde's eyes narrowed. "Impossible…"

"You recognize this thing?" Lincoln asked, his voice echoing slightly through the helmet.

"That amulet," Korde growled. "I've seen it before. Long ago, it was wielded by a knight who nearly destroyed me. It chooses only those who are pure of heart… and grants them strength to face the darkest evils."

He took a step back, fury tightening his features. "And now it's you?! A child! A Loud!"

Lincoln readied his blade-arm, the armor glowing brighter with each heartbeat. "Guess I'm not just a 'target' anymore."

With a snarl, Korde raised both arms. "Fine. Let's see how long that armor lasts against this!"

He slammed his hands to the earth, chanting in a twisted language. The cemetery responded immediately—graves burst open one by one, skeletal hands clawing free, followed by decaying forms of the long-dead. Dozens of skeletons and zombies rose in unison, glowing with dark energy, moaning and groaning as they shuffled into formation.

Lincoln stood his ground, watching as the undead horde surrounded him.

Korde's voice thundered across the cemetery. "Tear him apart!"

The monsters lunged toward Lincoln, a wall of bones and rot—but Lincoln wasn't backing down.

"Alright," he muttered, adjusting his stance. "Let's see what this armor can really do."

And with a surge of light, he charged straight into the fray.

Lincoln's armored boots pounded against the earth as he met the oncoming wave of skeletons and zombies. His blade-arm lit up with a radiant pulse, slicing clean through the first line of skeletal warriors. Bones shattered into clouds of dust, flying through the air like brittle glass. The armor seemed to move with him—no, for him—anticipating each motion, every dodge and strike.

A zombie lunged at his side, jaw unhinged, teeth gnashing—but Lincoln twisted, the armored shoulder absorbing the blow, then countered with a spinning slash that cut through the creature's torso. It crumbled at his feet, unmoving.

More came. Dozens. Maybe more than a hundred.

Lincoln didn't stop.

He ducked a rusted sword swing from a skeletal soldier, then drove his blade-arm upward through its ribcage, lifting it off the ground before hurling it across the field. One zombie tried to grab him from behind, only to be knocked back by a pulse of energy from the amulet's core, like a protective shield flaring at just the right moment.

He vaulted over a gravestone, flipping in midair as three more skeletons surged forward. His sword-arm split into two energy blades for just a moment—he slashed left, then right, then reformed it with a shimmer before landing in a crouch.

On top of a tree, Lucy and her friends watched with wide eyes, They can see Korde and Lincoln fighting each other.

"He's… incredible," Persephone whispered.

"I didn't see that coming, He looks pretty awesome in that armor" Haiku nodded in agreement.

Korde, meanwhile, snarled from his perch near a cracked mausoleum, lips twisted in disgust. "You insolent whelp!"

Lincoln spun toward the source of the voice, still surrounded by enemies. "What's the matter, Korde? Losing your touch?"

He sprinted through the last wave of skeletons, slicing through the final few zombies with precise, brutal strikes. Dust and ash clouded the air as the last of the undead fell, their bodies crumbling into silence. The cemetery went still, save for the hum of Lincoln's blade and the crackle of residual magic in the air.

Korde stood alone now, shadows curling at his feet, his expression unreadable.

Lincoln charged straight at the warlock, blade-arm raised high. "This ends now!"

Korde's eyes widened for just a second before Lincoln leapt into the air, aiming his sword down toward Korde's head—only for his armor to suddenly vanish in a flash of blue light.

Lincoln gasped as his sword-arm reverted into a regular hand in midair. "Wait, what—!?"

He crashed down onto Korde with only his fist, punching him square in the face. Korde staggered back, stunned, holding his jaw. Lincoln landed in a crouch, confused and breathless.

"Why did it—?" he looked down at himself. No armor. No sword. Just an orange polo shirt and jeans again. The amulet still hung from his neck, but its glow had completely faded.

Korde straightened up, rubbing his cheek. Then, he laughed. Low at first. Then louder, and louder.

"Ohhh, now I remember," Korde sneered, eyes flashing. "That pathetic little trinket has a time limit—if it isn't worn by an adult, its magic burns out fast."

Lincoln froze. His stomach dropped.

"You're not a threat anymore," Korde said, voice dripping with glee.

Lincoln turned to run, but two zombies—stragglers from the earlier horde—burst from behind a pair of gravestones and tackled him to the ground. He struggled, kicked, tried to break free, but they pinned him effortlessly.

"NO—!" Lincoln shouted, panic rising. "Get off me!"

Korde walked over, towering above him now, and yanked the faded amulet from Lincoln's neck. He held it up between his fingers, looked it over once, and then clenched his fist. The amulet shattered into glowing fragments.

"Should've run with the others," Korde said coldly, his voice like ice. "But you wanted to be a hero."

He raised his hands, muttering a spell—and from the ground behind him, a coffin burst upward through the soil, its wooden surface covered in arcane markings. It hovered for a second, then landed with a heavy thud.

"Put him in."

The zombies obeyed, dragging Lincoln toward the open coffin. He kicked and thrashed. "LET ME GO!"

From the hill nearby, Lucy and her friends watched in horror.

"No!" Lucy shouted, standing up. "That's not what he said would happen!"

Haiku grabbed her shoulder. "Lucy, we have to stop him!"

"But how?!" Bertrand hissed. "His power is off the charts now—Lincoln's backup plan is gone!"

Lucy's eyes narrowed, flicking between the coffin where Lincoln was being sealed and the warlock who gloated in the chaos. "Then we don't face him head-on," she said, voice sharp and calm. "We mess with his control. Shake his focus. Break his rhythm."

She turned quickly to the others. "Haiku, Morpheus—shadows and noise. Pull the zombies away. Use anything you can find. Persephone, once they're distracted, clean them up."

Haiku nodded. "On it," she whispered, already moving with Morpheus, vanishing like smoke between tombstones. In a matter of seconds, faint sounds echoed across the cemetery—sticks snapping, rusted chimes ringing in uneven gusts, and the soft, haunted lull of Haiku's eerie audio recordings playing from her phone. One by one, the groaning undead began to shuffle toward the sounds, drawn like moths to flame.

Persephone stood silently behind a mausoleum. The moment the creatures wandered close, her parasol swung with deadly grace—stabbing and slicing with precision. She moved like a dancer, expression focused and cold.

"Dante, mirrors," Lucy ordered.

Dante grinned and pulled a cloth bag from his coat, revealing shards of mirror glass. "Let's confuse the creep."

He darted through the graveyard, angling the shards at precise angles—flashes of movement bouncing back at Korde from all sides. Phantom figures flickered across gravestones. Korde snarled and spun, firing bursts of magic at illusions that faded before they could be struck.

"Bertrand," Lucy continued, "lead him to the old south section. The ground's unstable there."

Bertrand nodded once, then darted toward the edge of the graveyard, weaving through tilted gravestones and crumbling statues. "Hey, Korde! You missed one!" he shouted over his shoulder, drawing the warlock's gaze with a sharp whistle and a mocking wave.

Korde turned with a scowl and hurled a black bolt of energy at him—but Bertrand was already gone, ducking behind statues and slowly guiding the chase.

Boris, meanwhile, grunted as he hefted a bent iron grave marker. He jammed the jagged end into a concrete base, grinding it until the tip was sharp enough. Then, with a guttural roar, he sprinted toward Korde and hurled it like a javelin. Korde barely deflected it with a shield, eyes flashing with rage—but it made him move. Just like they wanted.

All the while, Lucy bolted toward the coffin.

As she approached, her breath caught in her throat—the lid had changed. It was no longer solid wood, but now clear, like glass. She could see Lincoln inside, eyes shut, his face calm. Sleeping.

"Korde enchanted it," Lucy whispered, heart thudding. "He's trapped in a sleep spell."

She spotted a maintenance shed a few feet away and dashed toward it. Inside, she rummaged through dusty shelves and rusted tools until she found what she needed—a crowbar.

"Hang on, Lincoln," she muttered, running back. With shaking hands, she wedged the metal tool under the lid and pushed. It creaked, groaned—and finally gave way with a snap.

Lucy dropped the crowbar and reached into the coffin, gripping Lincoln's hands.

She pulled with all her might, dragging his body from the enchanted box. When he hit the grass, his body jolted slightly. Still unmoving.

Lucy leaned over, her fingers brushing hair from his face. She lowered herself and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, her eyes welling with tears. "Please, Big Brother… I need you."

For a moment, nothing.

Then his eyes blinked open.

He gasped, sitting up fast. "Lucy!"

Lucy's heart swelled, relief flooding her expression. "Lincoln!"

He threw his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. "I thought I failed… I thought I was gone."

"You came back," Lucy whispered. "That's all that matters."

They pulled back, hands still holding tight.

"We've got a warlock to stop," Lincoln said, voice low but steady.

Lucy smiled, helping him to his feet. "Then let's finish this together."

Lincoln spotted the shattered remains of the amulet nearby, glittering faintly in the grass. He dropped to his knees, gathering the fragments into his hands. "There's still something left…"

Lucy knelt beside him, eyes narrowing in focus. "I know an undo spell. I always use it whenever Lynn accidentally breaks Edwin and Lola messed up painting her nails. Lucy began to chant softly. The pieces of the amulet lifted into the air, glowing with soft blue light as they slowly reformed, fitting back into place like shards of stained-glass.

In a burst of light, the amulet was whole again.

Lincoln's eyes widened. "You did it."

"But it won't last long," Lucy warned, handing it back to him. "Use it fast. And wisely."

He nodded. "Let's check on the others first."

They rushed back toward Lucy's friends. Morpheus and Haiku leaned against tombstones, catching their breath. Dante was slumped beside a broken statue, while Bertrand and Persephone kept lookout, their faces drawn with fatigue. Boris, his iron spear now warped and cracked, was crouched with a bloody lip but still conscious.

Korde stood at the far edge of the cemetery, scowling at the sight of the exhausted group. His annoyance was evident in the flick of his fingers and the stormy energy circling his form.

Lucy grabbed Lincoln's arm. "If he sees you awake now—"

"He'll go berserk," Lincoln finished with a grin. "Then let's give him that after we take him down."

He leaned in. "I've got a plan. Distract him. Say whatever you have to. I'll circle around and end this."

Lucy's eyes searched his face for a second, then nodded sharply. "Be careful."

She stepped out from the shadows, approaching Korde without fear.

"You're wasting your time, Korde!" Lucy called out, her voice loud and sharp. "You've lost."

Korde turned with a smug smile. "You're too late. Lincoln is mine now. That coffin is already marked—I'll have it sent to my lair, and with it, the key to my immortality."

Lucy clenched her fists. "You mean you're going to use my brother like some kind of battery?"

Korde sneered. "Exactly. During the last few days, I researched every ancient rite, every fragment of prophecy. Lincoln's heart—so full of devotion, loyalty, love for his ten sisters—it's perfect. With it, I won't need another pure soul for another four millennia. The sleeping spell will keep him from aging. And I won't have to hunt again."

"You're sick," Lucy spat. "You'll never achieve that goal. You don't deserve immortality."

Korde rolled his eyes. "You poets and your drama. I grow bored by your monologues."

Dark energy sparked at his fingertips. "Goodbye, Lucy Loud."

But before he could strike, a sharp flash of silver and blue cut through the night.

SLASH.

Korde screamed in agony as his right arm fell to the ground, severed clean at the shoulder.

He turned in horror.

Lincoln stood behind him, clad once again in glowing armor, his blade still humming with energy. "You talk too much."

Korde gasped. "You're awake?! No… No! That wasn't supposed to happen!"

Lucy smirked coldly. "We figured you'd get too cocky. That was your real mistake."

"You tricked me..." Korde's face contorted in rage. "You tricked me!"

He let out a roar of pain and fury, his form unraveling into a twisting shadow. "This isn't over, Louds!" he bellowed as his smoky shape vanished into the night, streaking back toward the dark horizon where his lair waited.

Silence fell over the cemetery.

Then, cheers and laughter echoed as Lucy, Lincoln, and her friends rushed into a big, exhausted group hug.

"You were incredible," Haiku said, barely able to stand.

"I can't believe you sliced his arm off," Dante muttered, wide-eyed.

"You're a beast dude," Boris added, thumping Lincoln on the back.

Lincoln smiled sheepishly. "Hey, just doing my part."

Lucy looked at him, eyes soft. "You scared me… but you also saved me."

He chuckled. "It's my duty as big brother to protect you."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Well, if we're done nearly dying…"

Lincoln grinned. "How about a reward?"

Persephone blinked. "Reward?"

"I heard the Royal Woods Maze House has a new challenge open tonight," Lincoln said, stretching his arms. "Prize at the end if we don't get lost."

"Oh, I'm in," Bertrand groaned, standing.

"One hundred percent," said Morpheus, brushing dust off his cloak.

The group laughed, limping, cheering, and leaning on one another as they made their way out of the cemetery—tired, bruised, but very much alive.

Haiku, walking beside Lincoln, glanced up at him curiously. "So… what was it like?" she asked softly. "Being under that sleeping spell?"

Lincoln's smile faded a little as he slowed his steps. "It… wasn't peaceful like you'd expect," he admitted. "It was just… empty. I kept waking up in this black void. No sound, no ground, no sky. Just me, floating there. I couldn't move, couldn't scream. I felt like I'd been forgotten."

The others grew quiet around him, the weight of his words setting in.

"I couldn't even tell how much time was passing," Lincoln added, voice lower. "I felt scared. Alone. Like I was stuck in nothing forever."

Lucy's expression turned solemn. "Sleeping forever is worse than death," she said. "When you die, your soul gets released. It returns to Earth… maybe starts over. But being trapped like that, cut off from everything and everyone? That's cruel."

Lincoln gave a small nod. "Yeah. Exactly."

There was a quiet pause as the group processed it. Haiku reached out and gently touched Lincoln's arm. "We're glad you're back."

He gave her a grateful look. "Me too."

Meanwhile, deep inside the cold, jagged halls of Korde's lair…

A storm of dark magic swirled around the warlock's wounded body. Candles flickered violently as Korde sat hunched over a ritual altar, grimacing in pain. His severed shoulder glowed with sickly green energy, bone and sinew slowly regenerating through his twisted spell work.

He clenched his teeth, growling through the agony. "I offered them mercy. A quick end. And this is how they repay me?"

Glass bottles rattled on shelves, and his enchanted scrolls crumbled from the sheer pressure of his aura.

"I will never forgive Lincoln for cutting off my arm and Lucy for distracting me." He slammed his hand against the altar, cracking the stone. "Fine."

His eyes—glowing red with fury—narrowed.

"No more games. No more distractions. The next time I face Lincoln and his sisters…" His voice turned into a cold, guttural whisper. "…they'll see who I really am."

He stood, shadows curling around his cloak like living snakes.

"I won't be playing nice anymore."

With that, Korde turned toward a massive, iron-bound grimoire, its cover etched with writhing runes. He reached for it with his recovering hand