Parrot built. Always building—a cobblestone tower that scraped the sky, ugly and stubborn and his.

Wemmbu blew it up. Immediately. Scattered the stones across the grass and laughed until he wheezed, mace slung over one shoulder, already bragging about who was the strongest on the server.

Then the sunset flickered. Glitched.

The cliff was cold now. Empty. Wemmbu's shouts, Flame's sword, Parrot's laugh—all of it gone, and the only thing left was the wind and a door that felt like it belonged to someone else.

You blink.

The memory closes like a chest lid.

And you're back here—standing on the road to a kingdom that used to be Parrot's, a worn letter crumpled in your hand, with the words he needs you smeared by the rain.