The great doors to the Final Boss’s lair groaned open, swallowing me into a cavernous throne room carved from black stone and ancient magic. Violet runes pulsed faintly on the walls, casting eerie shadows that flickered like ghosts. The air was heavy—thick with power and silence.

I sank to my knees right in the center, the cold stone pressing against my skin. My chest trembled, and the tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, streaking down my cheeks. I curled up tightly, wrapping my arms around my legs, hiding my face. I felt so small, so tired—like I was carrying the weight of the whole world.

Above me, Spindle circled slowly. My little ghost shark’s usual bright, mischievous glow had dimmed. He swam gently around my head, making soft chirps, like he was trying to comfort me the only way he knew how.

I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore—not with the loneliness, the rejection, the endless “no’s.” I’d tried everything: handing out flyers, playing my guitar, showing off Spindle’s little tricks. But no one wanted to join me. No one wanted to stand beside me.

And here I was, in the Final Boss’s throne room, curled up and crying like a kid.

Footsteps echoed. Heavy, slow, deliberate.

Her eyes found me. The Final Boss—the one everyone feared—sat on her obsidian throne, but now she stood, towering and imposing. Her armor gleamed like the night sky, and her eyes burned with a red-hot glow that made me shrink just a little. But then… something changed.

Her expression softened, just enough that I noticed.

“Why do you cry here, where none should dare?” Her voice was deep and thunderous, but there was something almost gentle beneath the roar.

I wiped at my face, voice barely a whisper. “I tried. I really did. To find a party. To fight alongside others. But no one wanted me. No one wanted us.”

I gestured weakly at Spindle, who was now swimming close to my shoulder, glowing faintly. “Not even him.”

She stepped closer, her shadow falling over me. I felt the cold steel of her armor when her clawed hand rested lightly on my shoulder. The chill bit through my skin, but the touch wasn’t harsh—it was careful.

“That little shark is no mere trinket,” she said softly. “He is the essence of a forgotten sea god, bound to you. A power you carry, whether you understand it or not.”

I blinked, my voice cracking. “You mean… Spindle is more than just a friend?”

She gave a rare, almost shy smile. “Yes. You harbor a power greater than you realize. One that could move mountains and stir the deepest oceans.”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. “I… I had no idea.”

She crouched beside me, her presence overwhelming yet strangely comforting. “Perhaps that’s your greatest strength—that you carry such power with kindness.”

I curled a little tighter, letting the tears flow. Spindle circled me again, brushing gently against my hair, a flickering blue light in the gloom.

“Come,” she said quietly, standing and offering her hand. “I can’t make you a hero, but I can offer you a place beside me—as one of my generals.”

I looked up, hope blooming through the haze of my tears.

“A general?” I whispered.

“Yes.” Her voice was steady and sure. “Power. Command. Purpose. You will not be alone.”

I took her hand, letting her pull me up. The weight of her cloak wrapped around me like a shield against the cold and doubt.

Together, we turned toward the dark halls ahead.

She glanced down at me one last time, a teasing edge in her voice. “Try not to cry on the strategy maps. They’re expensive.”

I laughed—a shaky, heartfelt sound—and for the first time, I believed maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t alone anymore.

And somewhere deep inside, Spindle twirled excitedly, ready to awaken the power we’d only just begun to understand.