The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the trees as Silas, Rowan, and Layla set up their shelters in a small forest clearing. The forest was quiet, save for the crackling of their fire and the occasional rustle of leaves from some nocturnal creature stirring nearby. Trickster lay coiled lazily near Layla, its slitted eyes reflecting the firelight, while Goldie sat close to Rowan, his fluffy fur catching the warmth of the flames.

Rowan let out a wide yawn, stretching his arms above his head. “I could use some sleep, but...” he trailed off, his eyes suddenly sharpening as if he remembered something. He turned toward Goldie, his expression shifting to one of curiosity.

“Hey, Goldie,” Rowan began, his tone light. “Remember that crazy attack you did back in the Desert?”

Goldie tilted his head at Rowan’s voice, blinking his large eyes. “Wow?” he replied as if the question itself was confusing.

Layla and Silas both leaned forward, intrigued by the mention of Goldie’s unusual strength during the fight with the Soulweaver. Silas smiled. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that too. You nearly tore that guy apart, Goldie. What was that all about?”

Goldie responded with another clueless “Wow?” and scratched his head with his paw, clearly at a loss. The tiny bear cub’s face contorted in confusion as if searching through the depths of his memory but coming up empty.

Silas chuckled, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we should test it out, see if we can figure it out.”

Layla raised an eyebrow, glancing at Rowan. “Yeah, it can’t hurt to try. I’m curious about what that little guy is hiding.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, Goldie.” He pointed to a nearby tree, its bark thick and gnarled. “Try attacking that tree over there.”

Silas grinned and gave Goldie an encouraging pat. “Go on, buddy. Show us what you can do.”

Goldie blinked up at Rowan with a look of pure confusion, but with a nod, he stood up on his tiny paws and padded over to the tree. He looked back at Rowan, Layla, and Silas as if asking for further confirmation.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Rowan urged, giving him a thumbs-up.

Goldie raised his paw with a determined little growl and swiped at the tree with his claws. The sound of claws scratching wood filled the air, leaving behind some deep marks on the bark but nothing particularly impressive.

The group exchanged glances. “That’s... not quite what I was expecting,” Silas admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

Rowan sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah, it’s not like what he did before.” He looked down at Goldie, who was now staring at the tree marks with a frown. Goldie’s ears drooped as he sensed their disappointment, and he let out a soft, apologetic purr, lowering his head.

Feeling sorry for the little cub, Layla leaned down and patted Goldie on the head. “It’s alright, Goldie. You did your best.”

But Trickster wasn’t so merciful. It lifted its head from its coiled position near the fire and let out a mocking hiss. Its forked tongue flicked out as it eyed Goldie with amusement.

“Wow!” Goldie was clearly not appreciative of his reaction. His ears shot up, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. He let out a furious growl, his fur puffing up as he spun around to face Trickster, who was watching him with a smug expression.

Trickster, however, showed no fear. The snake slithered closer, its cold, calculating eyes fixed on Goldie. Without uttering a sound, Trickster curled his tail around the cub’s head and gave a gentle pat, its smug expression unmistakable. The movement was slow and deliberate, as though mocking Goldie’s strength.

Goldie's fur bristled. Silas could see the tension rising, the bear cub's little frame trembling with an emotion far stronger than before. He narrowed his eyes, watching the shift in Goldie’s posture as the air thickened with expectation.

Before anyone could react, Goldie lunged at Trickster, swiping his claws through the air in a blur. But Trickster, as if expecting the attack, slithered away in a flash, his movements as swift and graceful as ever, easily avoiding the attack.

Trickster hissed in amusement as it stared at Goldie disdainfully. Goldie grew infuriated and swiped his claws at Trickster again. Trickster flicked his tongue, slithering just out of reach as the claws drew near, missing by a whisker. The snake’s mocking hiss sent the cub’s frustration boiling over. One more miss and Goldie’s fur puffed up like a tiny stormcloud.

This time, even as Trickster dodged, Goldie’s claws didn't miss entirely. His paw struck the tree beside Trickster’s former position, and the impact was far from ordinary this time. A loud *CRACK* echoed through the clearing, and the entire upper half of the tree split cleanly in two. The severed portion of the trunk toppled over, crashing into the undergrowth with a thunderous boom.

Rowan, Silas, and Layla Rowan blinked in disbelief, stumbling back from the severed tree trunk. Rowan rushed over to inspect the damage, lifting Goldie’s arm. “His claws!” he exclaimed, turning Goldie’s paw over.

The small cub’s claws, which had been ordinary just moments before, now appeared to be made of stone, giving off a faint, dull glow.

Goldie blinked at his claws, equally baffled. “Wow?” he squeaked, staring at his own paws as though they didn’t belong to him.

Layla let out a low whistle, shaking her head slowly. ‘Now that’s more like it.’ She crouched down beside Goldie, marvelling at his now-stone-like claws, barely able to contain her amazement.

Silas folded his arms and chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Guess we just had to make him mad enough. Goldie, you might want to check your claws before swinging them around next time,” he joked, raising an eyebrow.

Goldie, still processing the situation, looked up at Silas and gave a firm nod as though agreeing with the wisdom of that statement. His earlier anger had been replaced by a kind of sheepish obedience, like a child caught in a mischievous act.

Rowan ruffled the fur on Goldie’s head affectionately. “Good job, buddy. But yeah... maybe don’t take out another tree next time.”

Goldie purred in response, his tiny tail wagging slightly as he basked in the attention, his earlier disappointment forgotten.

Meanwhile, Trickster slithered back, keeping his distance. Though he couldn’t speak, his smug expression clearly conveyed his thoughts: I’d still win.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Goldie puffed out his chest, clearly pleased with himself now, but Silas held up a hand. “Alright, alright. We’ve had enough excitement for one night. Let’s all get some rest before Goldie takes down the entire forest.”

With that, the group settled back around the fire, though their thoughts lingered on the newfound strength of their small but powerful companion. As the fire crackled and the stars twinkled overhead, the night seemed more peaceful than before, though the mystery of Goldie’s power simmered just below the surface.

And so, under the forest’s canopy, they drifted off to sleep in their shelters, their minds filled with questions and a strange anticipation for the journey ahead.

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

Four days after their brief test with Goldie in the forest, Silas, Rowan, and Layla finally arrived in Azolith. The journey had been long and tiring, the dense forest trails giving way to bustling roads leading to the lively city. As they neared the city gates, the group exchanged looks of quiet relief, happy to see civilization again after days on the road.

Azolith was a city brimming with energy, its cobbled streets lined with colourful stalls and lanterns strung between wooden posts. The hum of trade filled the air as merchants peddled their wares, and the mingling scent of freshly prepared stew and baked bread lured travellers in.

The moment they entered the city, Silas immediately spotted the stables. “Let’s stable the horses first,” he suggested, patting his steed’s mane. They guided their horses through the city square toward the local stable. The stablemaster, an older man with greying hair, greeted them with a nod, and soon enough, their horses were fed and brushed down.

The stables sat near the centre of the city, not far from the tavern district, where the sweet scent of food wafted through the air. After ensuring Trickster and Goldie didn’t wander off, the group followed the smell, their stomachs growling in anticipation.

The tavern they found was lively but not overly crowded. The sound of clinking mugs and raucous laughter filled the air. They chose a table near the back, wanting to avoid the busiest part of the room, and quickly ordered food. Trickster coiled himself near Layla’s feet, his eyes darting around suspiciously, while Goldie, sitting near Rowan, seemed content with some scraps of meat.

Their meals shortly after, and the group began wolfing down the delicacies with a renewed energy.

As they ate their meals, the conversation around them faded into background noise until a particular topic caught Silas’s ear.

“... I’m telling you, Duke Vilen Remington’s dead,” a man said from a nearby table. His voice was gruff, carrying a tone of disbelief and dark amusement. “Him and his whole damn family were slaughtered like pigs, a week ago.”

Silas froze mid-bite, his hand hovering over his plate. His eyes flicked to Rowan and Layla, each of them wearing the same look of disbelief. They didn’t need to say anything—he knew they had all caught the same name. He waited, heart racing until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Excuse me,” he said, voice tight. “Did you say Duke Vilen Remington is dead?”

The man turned, surprised to see someone listening in. His expression shifted to one of mild annoyance before softening when he saw the curious faces of the group. “Not a secret anymore, lad. What started as rumours were proven by the authorities in Temptshire.” He paused, glancing at the others at his table for confirmation. “The Duke was found dead, along with his whole family. And not just dead—slaughtered. They say it was carnage inside that castle.”

Rowan’s expression changed, “His whole family?”

The man nodded gravely. “His wife, mistresses, sons, daughters... even the men in his employ. All of them butchered. People who saw it said the bodies of the family members were chopped into pieces. The Duke’s head was hoisted on a pike right outside the castle gates. Some poor traveller found it the next morning and raised the alarm.”

Rowan’s stomach churned. He couldn’t shake the image of the Duke’s head on a pike, the castle drenched in blood. He hadn’t liked the man, but... this? This seemed a bit too much.

Layla leaned forward, her voice quiet and shaky from the revelation. “And no one saw who did it?”

Before the man could answer, a woman from his group chimed in, her voice carrying a more dramatic edge. “No one knows for sure, but the Duke was a Tier three Soulweaver, not to mention the numerous Soulweavers under his employment, to take on so many Soulweavers together and to do so in a quiet manner, it must be a group of people and terrifyingly strong ones at that.”

After catching her breath, the woman continued, “From what I’ve heard, there was also a message painted in blood on the castle walls. Said something like, ‘He died like the wretched dog he was, grovelling at the feet of a master unfit to rule. And soon, every pretender on their hollow throne will be torn down and crushed beneath the weight of their own cowardice.’ All of Temptshire knows about the message by now. It’ll soon be known in all of Amberfell.”

Silas, Rowan, and Layla sat in stunned silence as the words sank in. A tense, heavy atmosphere settled over their table. The imagery was chilling, and the violent message left them wondering who or what was behind such a gruesome act.

“Thanks for the information,” Silas finally managed to blurt out a response, his voice tight. The man and his companions nodded and returned to their conversation, leaving Silas and his group to grapple with the unsettling news.

They resumed eating, though their earlier appetites had mostly faded. The tavern’s noise seemed distant now, replaced by a growing sense of unease. Once they finished their meal, they stood, paid the barkeep, and left the building, stepping back into the cool evening air.

As they stepped outside, the air felt colder, pressing in on them with the weight of the news. The earlier conversation lingered like a shadow over their thoughts. The cobbled streets of Azolith felt eerily quiet in comparison to the tavern, and the group walked in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought.

It was Silas who finally broke the silence. “Well... I have no fond memories about that Duke, but his whole family was slaughtered? Why?”

“It couldn’t have been Regina’s people, right?” she asked, her voice uncertain. “Regina and the Duke had their spat over a month ago. Why wait so long to do this? Why would they wait so long to do something like this?”

Rowan shook his head. “I doubt it. Regina seemed ruthless, but she wouldn’t have waited that long. And killing an entire family? It’s... too brutal...”

Silas frowned, crossing his arms as they continued walking. “Exactly, it’s not like the confrontation with Regina was a big enough deal to start a massacre anyway. Duke Vilen was just angry that he lost the auction. Unless he made some aggressive move on Regina, that’s not worth wiping out an entire family. Plus there’s the matter of that damn message.”

Layla sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Then who? And why such a dramatic message?”

Rowan licked his lips in nervousness, “Who do you think is his master?”

Layla took a deep breath. “I think the Duke and the King were on rather close terms. It’s possible that this master of his is King Leifstein... do you think they’re planning to go after the royal family next?”

None of them had an answer. The sheer savagery of the attack and the ominous message left them all feeling unsettled, but no one knew about the perpetrator. The further they walked, the more questions piled up in their minds, though none of them voiced it aloud.

After a while, they found themselves near the market district, where the bustle of daily life continued uninterrupted. Merchants called out to potential customers, stalls filled with everything from exotic spices to weapons lined the street, and the smell of fresh bread mixed with the tang of herbs in the air.

Silas glanced around. “Let’s forget about this matter. For now, we need to focus on finding the materials for the Elemental Bond ceremony,” he said, pushing the mystery of the Duke’s murder to the back of his mind. “I don’t know what is up with this incident, but it’s all the more reason to get stronger as quickly as we can.”

Rowan and Layla nodded, though the tension in the air remained thick. They didn’t have any answers yet, but their intuition told them that this was far from over.