It was another dull morning. Every morning had been dull since father left. The only difference now was the small movements of the critters that were almost second nature for me to notice; the subtle motions of the wind danced across my skin like an organized troupe. It was on this morning while I sat in front of the Steel Bear Shrine that I heard them.

BOOM

BOOM

“THE WARRIORS HAVE RETURNED,” a village scout screamed out while banging on the tribal drums.

BOOM

BOOM

Grain’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, he thought he’d fallen asleep mid-prayer again—a habit that earned him endless scoldings from his mother. But the drums weren’t part of his imagination. They thundered through the village, sharp and urgent, shaking dew from the leaves. “Mother! Terra!” Grain scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the shrine’s offering bowl in his haste. He burst into their hut, where his sister still slept curled beneath a woven blanket. “Wake up! They’re back!” Terra blinked groggily, her hair sticking up in wild tufts. “Who’s back…?” “The warriors! Father!” That got her moving. By the time they stumbled into the village clearing, half the tribe had already gathered. The drumming had stopped, replaced by a tense, breathless silence. Grain’s pulse roared in his ears as he pushed through the crowd, Terra clinging to his arm and their mother right next to them.

There they were—Mother Estriel and the warriors, their faces gaunt and streaked with ash. But it was Mother Estriel who held the tribe’s gaze. Her parrot, usually preening and bright, hunched silently on her shoulder, its feathers dull as stone. “People of the Kusanti,” she began, her voice like roots shifting deep underground. “The Conference of Elements has ended… in truce.” A murmur swept through the crowd. Truce. The word felt foreign, fragile—a spider’s web stretched over a chasm. “The Land of Flame has agreed to a ceasefire,” Mother Estriel continued, “but their fires burn restless. They claim unnatural forces stir near the fallen Wall—flames that devour stone, plumes of smoke that choke even the wind itself.” Grain’s stomach tightened. Unnatural forces. He thought of the sky-waves and the suffocating dread that had gripped the jungle weeks prior. Terra’s grip on his arm tightened. “And what of the other lands?” called Elder Juno, her voice sharp. “Do the Water rats still bare their fangs?” Mother Estriel’s gaze darkened. “The Water Kingdom denies involvement… but distrust runs deep. The Flame Emperor demands every nation pledge warriors to ‘purge this new threat.’” The crowd erupted. “Another war?” “We barely survived the last!” “Silence!” Mother Estriel’s staff struck the earth, and the ground shuddered faintly. “The Earth King has not yet decided. But heed this—the jungle whispers of imbalance. Mana withers where these fires burn. Even the spirits grow… uneasy.”

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Grain’s breath came fast, his chest rising and falling with each beat of silence that followed Mother Estriel’s words. The jungle had always felt alive, its breath interwoven with his own, yet now—standing among his people—it felt as if something in the earth itself had recoiled, waiting.

Then, from the warriors, a new voice rose.

“It was no ordinary flame,” rumbled Bantu, a seasoned warrior, his face lined with years of battle. He clutched a charred spear, the wood splintered near its base. “The Land of Flame’s border villages were the first to see it—a black beast with wings vast enough to swallow the sky, emerging from nothing.”

Murmurs turned to gasps. Grain stiffened, his pulse quickening.

“A dragon?” someone whispered.

“A demon,” Bantu corrected, his lip curling. “It had no breath of fire, no beating heart. It loomed over the village, and before the warriors could react, it vanished into the night. Gone as quickly as it had appeared.”

Grain exchanged a look with Terra, unease settling in his stomach. A creature that could disappear at will? It sounded more like spirit trickery than something of flesh and blood.

Mother Estriel nodded, as if she had anticipated the tribe’s reaction. “The Land of Flame believes this… thing is tied to the fall of the Wall. The villagers who witnessed it swear it was no beast, but a ghost of the old world. Fear grips their hearts. Even now, they ready their warriors, believing that whatever they saw is the first sign of war.”

Grain’s father exhaled sharply, rolling his injured shoulder. “And if they believe war is coming, then war will come.”

A cold certainty settled over the tribe. The warriors who had traveled to the Elemental Assembly looked wearied beyond their years, as if the weight of their journey had been far heavier than just the distance traveled.

Mother Estriel surveyed them all, her expression unreadable. “Our people must be ready. The Earth King has yet to declare our stance, but the flames of fear spread fast. The Land of Flame demands aid, and when their armies march, we will not be given a choice.”

Grain clenched his fists. He had trained his whole life to protect his people, to master the connection between his mana and the land. But now, that power felt small, useless against a phantom that could turn invisible at will. Against the fear that spread faster than any wildfire.

And deep in his bones, he knew—this was only the beginning.