An aroma of metal and fragrance wafts through the air, a sickly sweet counterpoint to the musty scent of decay permeating from the dilapidated Verdatian Estate. Tetra leans over Syvern’s lifeless form, his crimson gaze gleaming with an unsettling amusement. A cruel smile stretches across his lips as he carves into the Verdatian’s chest with practiced precision.

“Marvelous musculature,” Tetra murmurs, his voice a paragon of apathy. “A penchant for verdant magic, of course, but surprisingly dense given their sinewy stature.” He prods at an unknown leafy organelle. “Likely quite flammable, too.”

"Wouldn't you agree, Syvern?" he asks, picking up Syvern’s discarded head to use it like a puppet.

“Why yes, Lord Tetra. Very much a liability.” he mocks in a grotesque imitation of the deceased Verdatian.

He chuckles, pleased with his antics before growing jaded, tossing the forlorn skull to the floor with a sickening thud that punctuates the oppressive silence.

"A pity I am unable to harvest your soul, leafling. I would've liked to know more about your people and their idiosyncrasies."

Returning to his feet, he snags Syvern’s boomerang drenched in the vibrant green hue of its lifeless master.

"Almost forgot..." He grabs the weapon, wiping it clean with Syvern’s tunic before discarding it on the floor beneath Syvern’s limp hand.

"Right then." Tetra mutters, slipping out of the room like a wraith.

The manor’s silence remains unbroken by Tetra’s gait as he prances towards the next chamber door. A predatory grin encompasses his countenance as he eases his way inside.

A sliver of moonlight slices through the dusty windowpane, illuminating the sharpened tip of Thaunaphyll’s rapier resting across his chest. A callous fascination grips Tetra’s mind as he purloins the armament, running his fingers along its deadly edge. He tests its point with a gentle bend, amusement alighting his eyes as the blade springs back into perfect form.

Silent as a shadow, he glides over to Grünamish, whose thunderous snores fill the room, muffling the portentous whisper escaping Tetra’s lips. "Such a racket you've carved out of this humble little home. “Have you no manners, Grünamish?" he poses, poising himself like a wyrm ready to strike.

With the grace of an Eltian dancer, Tetra plunges the stolen rapier through Grünamish’s open mouth, embedding the blade deep inside the plush cushion of the couch.

Grünamish’s eyes snap open. A flicker of recognition stains his subconscious as the grim smile of his executioner saturates his thoughts.

"Pseu neis te ra nis Phantus, little sapling", Tetra haunts, caressing Grünamish’s cheek with his words before sliding steel into the soldier’s side, filling his lungs with another assassination.

His grisly task complete, Tetra tosses the dagger and retreats back into the shadows of the hallway. But the resounding clang of metal against wood shatters the stillness within Thaunaphyll. Lurching out of bed, he is beset by horror as he takes in the gruesome fate of his fallen comrade. He bound out of bed, dashing over to the corpse of his companion. Sorrowful tears adorn his face, dripping down onto Grünamish, whose lifeless form laps the drink like a starving hound.

"Wretched outsider. He will answer for this, Grunamish. I swear it…" He withdraws the rapier from Grunamish's throat with great care before wiping it down with a somber frond. "Meit Neuma sygia por vern de rhys auflind." He leans down once more, kissing Grunamish on the forehead then making his way toward the door, blade in hand.

An invisible force strikes Thaunphyll’s throat as he swings open the door. He doubles over, dropping his rapier as the wind is pulled from his lungs. A gasped retort fails to squeak out of his leafy frame. Erupting from within him, a series of rasps and chokes betray his voice. Something is wrong.

“Ah yes, windless voice,” a purr eminates from the darkness. “The Temetrian’s monopoly over sound based techniques is really something, no?”

Tetra emerges from the shadows, rolling up his sleeves in tempered anticipation.

“Worry not, though. The effects are temporary, but necessary to ensure your cooperation.”

A surge of defiance fills Thaunaphyll’s spirit as his eyes lock with the carmine smile of his assailant beaming down at him. His trembling hands reach for his discarded rapier, finding the will to stand tall and watch down his foe with the stoicism of his ancestral maples. His shaking hands grow calmer still, as the Mestria’s halls reverberate with a chilling deliverance from the titan before him.

“Death stands before you with open arms, would you deny it’s cool embrace, sapling?”

Thaunaphyll lunges, spite fueling his every move. His rapier, a blur of rage and fury pokes and prods at his foe with deadly intent. But Tetra, senses honed by Cytonian ancestry, reacts with supernatural speed.

A measured brush, like the stroke of a painter, deflects the blade, planting Tetra firmly on his back foot.

Jabs become a desperate flurry, threatening deafness upon the dark lord. With each creaking step back, Thaunaphyll advances his position, pushing the struggling to the peak of Mestria’s grand staircase.

Two fingers push away another lunge, and a retaliatory palm parries Thaunaphyll’s overextended hand, sending his rapier clattering down the stairs to be swallowed by the darkness below.

Thaunaphyll’s rage becomes a desperate chorus of staccato punches and kicks against Tetra’s measured and composed defense.

Hand meets palm, boot meets block, cross meets slip, and a smile begins to play upon the Netherian; one of a seasoned conductor effortlessly guiding the hand of a frantic and off-key orchestration.

An enraged hook flies wild, colliding with a stalwart block from Tetra, whose smile evolves into a manic grin seeing Thaunaphyll’s hubris betray him. Though his gaudiness is checked by an unexpected roundhouse kick landing square in Tetra’s side, sending him flying down the staircase.

Tetra’s world tilts on its axis as he plummets into the depths. A moment before impact, Tetra ejects the briarroot from his hand with a hushed and fierce command:

“Rise.”

The dark of night gives way to this evil as a sickening surge of mana pulses throughout the Estate. Tetra’s body collides with the floor, sliding several feet across the polished wood before slamming into the towering doors.

With a crash, the door to Tomi’s room swings open, revealing the Kytsune lost in his feral instincts once more. He perches himself upon the banister, eyes aglow with unnatural fury, and takes frantic stock of the situation.

There, a full story down, lies Tetra sprawled on the befouled wood, and his assailant huffing in triumph, cresting the staircase.

“Tomi! Oh, thank the Lords! Your companion has gone manic!” Tetra pleads, slashing through the tension. "He cut down Syvern in cold blood and then tried to take my life as well. I can only imagine what has happened to Grünamish. You must stop him!”

A pit of despair and a grim understanding build within Thaunaphyll as he watches Tomi’s tails whip into a frenzy. A feeble guard protects his chest as a pair of claws sink into his arms, slamming him hard into the railing behind them. Life and death hang in the balance as the pair tumbles down the myriad steps. A tangle of flora and fauna, bark struggles to avoid a hate-ridden bite as they paint Mestria with a palette of bloody hues.

In the whirlwind, the Kytsune lands on his back with a thud. Not wasting a beat, Tomi flings Thaunaphyll over his body, sending him careening into the doors, knocking them open by inches before he drops mere feet from Tetra. Before Thaunaphyll can catch his breath, Tomi is upon him once again, claws pinning him into the floor with a loathsome crunch. Vision swimming with pain, he looks up into the blackened eyes of death, foliage wafting in the stench of sweat-soaked fur.

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He drops his head to the side in defeat, now matching his gaze with a frenetic shade of crimson.

“Just do it…” he whispers, just audible enough for his eyes to widen with a sudden realization.

Then, his world explodes.

Fire rushes through his veins as Tomi’s fangs clamp onto the side of his neck. A series of gurgles and chokes betray his reclaimed voice as his throat is torn away from him. Wilting away, he sees Grünamish extend his barky hand toward him, pulling him into the verdant pastures and illustrious forests of the beyond; images soon replaced by stark nothingness as an abhorrent claw digs its its way into his side, piercing and extracting his heart before it is tossed into the air, and torn asunder by Tomi’s ravenous maw…

With fury still decorating Tomi’s eyes as he snarls over his prey, Tetra carefully reassumes his supplicative position, returning the discarded briarroot to his person and ending the oppressive despair dripping from the walls of the estate.

As he begins to come down from his adrenaline fueled frenzy, Tomi reassumes his anthropomorphic posture. Guilt and shame assault over him like a tidal wave as he removes himself from Thaunaphyll’s corpse.

As a gesture of goodwill, Tetra produces a small cloth from his person, offering it to his savior.

“I suppose we’ll need to concoct a tale for Lady Pisthelle, won’t we?”

Tomi receives the cloth with a clammy hand and a curt nod, wiping his face as his empty gaze pours over the mess he’s made.

“Laela’s gonna kill me…”

As if on command, the delicate footsteps of his commander send haunting echoes throughout the manor. Each click is a hammer against Tomi’s heart, subsiding only when she reaches the crown of the stairs; an entire world away from him in the sullen moment.

Her face is an etching of grief and betrayal as she looks upon her companion standing stricken with guilt beneath him. Her stomach churns like tangled vines as she struggles to ascertain a mere modicum of understanding. Yet, her beating heart overpowers her mind, and she falls to her knees, weeping in silence, allowing her tears to cascade down the staircase like a babbling brook.

Tomi feels his soul evaporating, losing himself in her anguish filled eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, apologize, answer, explain, anything to end the dejection of his commander. But words fail him, as if Thaunphyll’s curse of muteness has taken on a new host.

Thus, the silent sobbing stretches on for what feels like an eternity; his stupor and stoicism crumbling as she finally addresses him.

“What have you done?”

An exasperated huff escapes Tomi’s mouth as he stands grave above his completed work. Claws rake across his hands, wiping the dirt from his nails. He motions Laela to join him. Dragging herself over, she kneels and places three seeds on the non-descript mounds before them. A few solemn words are mumbled, punctuated by perfumed tears as she rises. A collective breath drifts in the air before the group turns and exits Mestria Estate.

Hours burn away as the trio heads further east toward the Zaikarten border. A tense peace hangs heavy between them until they stop for a moment’s rest, and the floodgates are opened by the diminutive plea from the feeble canid.

“Laela…”

“Tomi, don’t.” She barks, cutting him off.

“I don’t even know where to begin with you right now. What in Phantus’s name am I going to tell my mother, huh? Three of our soldiers, dead, under my command because of some ‘curse’ Like that’ll hold up with any of the Tribunal.”

Her chestnut leaves wilt, turning a repugnant yellow. More tears well up in her eyes.

“What am I going to tell his father, Tomi…?”

Tomi’s outstretched hand pauses just before Laela’s sullen shoulder, then falls to his side, defeated.

“If I may–” Tetra interjects, only to be shot down by the disgruntled Verdatian.

“I believe you’ve done enough, Tetra” she admonishes.

“Please, Commander Pisthelle, hear me out.”

Too distraught to argue further, she falls silent, granting him clearance to speak.

“While it is regrettable that the rest of the band lost their lives on this journey, I think it is imperative to note that your mission was, in fact, successful, Commander.”

His remark elicits a reaction, causing Tomi and Laela to snap their heads towards him.

“It is all too likely that your subordinate, Thaunaphyll, I believe, was the decrepit presence you were charged with locating. Despite these unfortunate circumstances, you can return to your people confident that your job has been done properly, minus a few casualties.”

Their attention in its entirety focused upon him, he continues.

“We live in uncertain times, Commander. Conflict, war, and death are ever-present threats. I would urge you not lament their passing, rather be proud that they so willingly gave their lives in service to your territory and its people.”

His words linger in the air, saturating the dew-drenched space between them.

“He’s got a point, Laela,” Tomi adds. “Thaunaphyll, Syverm, and Grünamish knew the risks. What matters right now is that we finish our mission and get home. Then, we can mourn.”

His hands find their way across her chest and waist as he kneels down behind her with a tender embrace. Laela’s weary hands collapse over his own as she leans back, pulling herself deeper into him. The grass where they now lay becomes awash with flowers of every hue, replacing despair with a fragrance of honeydew and serenity. This instance of bittersweet remains vigil, permanently etched into Laela’s every stem.

She finds her footing, addressing Tomi and Tetra with renewed vigor.

“Shall we then?”

The golden sands of Zaikarte shimmer like a beckoning wave as the sun begins to wane for the second time on their journey. With the end in view, the party makes their final stop to say their goodbyes.

“This is about as far as we can take you, Sir Tetra,” Laela opens, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. “Though, if you continue south, you should come upon the checkpoint. The guard there can direct you to where you need to be, I’m sure.”

“Worry not, Commander,” Tetra assures. “I am well acquainted with these dunes. This is as good a place as any.”

Stepping forward, Tomi extends his hand, acknowledging Tetra now as an equal.

It’s been a pleasure, Tetra.” he remarks, offering a knowing nod.

“You know Tomi, it really was quite the miracle that you’d happened upon me. I was under the assumption that all the Kytsune had perished. Given the state of the village and what not.”

Tomi freezes. His blood becomes ice. Tails sprout from his back in a hurry, whipping around like a murderous gale. His eyes widen and his voice catches in this throat as he struggles to stammer out a response.

“Wh– what did you just say?”

“I’m sure it brings Kokonomi great joy to know that his son not only avoided the calamity, but relocated its survivors to a new home. Truly a commendable feat, my boy.”

A devilish grin plays across Tetra’s face as he acknowledges Tomi’s handshake. An aura of malfeasance, thick and oppressive, pulses outwards from Tetra, sending shivers down Laela’s branches.

Tetra’s malevolence courses through Tomi’s body, pulling his ferality out from deep within his breast. His eyes adopt a frantic twitch as claws and fangs replace their docile counterparts.

“It was you!?” he barks, voice raw with rage at the deception.

“Mostly, yes…” he agrees, eyes burning brighter than the sun at the height of Ifrimar. “But it was also you, Tomi.”

Laela, fear knotting up her insides, screams, “Tomi, get away from him!”

Unable to break his grip, Tomi gnashes his teeth at Tetra, trying miserably to score a wound; a move that would prove detrimental as Tetra seizes the opportunity to shove a fistful of briarroot down Tomi’s gullet.

“Hush now, sweet thing. I’d hate to see you choke”, Tetra purrs, pulling his hand out of Tomi’s mouth, whipping it clean of saliva.

Tomi recoils, hacking and gagging as he tries to expel the foreign substance.

“Tomi, what’s happening to you? Your tails!” Laela cries, rushing to his side.

He cranes his head back, growing horrified as his tails shrink and fade away.

“Wh–what did you do to me, you monster!?” he roars, still choking on the root.

“The effects are temporary, Kytsune.” Tetra soothes. “This way, at least I can guarantee you won’t pursue me.”

“You can’t guarantee shit. I’ll kill you for what you did!”

“Enough interruptions!” the dark lord bellows with commanding authority, erupting in a lake of back fire that surrounds the couple.

“You and your consort will sit there with reverence as I deliver my decree. Then you will go back to Lamina village and prepare for my return!”

Tomi and Laela give each other a worried glance, but remain silent, paralyzed by growing trepidation.

“It is now clear to you both,” Tetra continues. “That annihilation lives just beyond the horizon. I urge you to consider which side you’d like to be on when it makes its way to your doorstep, Commander Pisthelle.”

Burning grass and weeds fills the sky with smoke and haze, obscuring and intensifying the titan as he delivers his omen.

“Do not squander the reprieve I have given you, Tomi. Turn heel and reflect on your actions in the days past. You will need to be more than you are if you intend to survive in my world.”

These final pronouncements, woven into the wind, fade like a whisper as the flames die down. Tomi and Laela wave clear the remnants of ash and smoke and look on a trail of obsidian heading deeper into Zaikarte, and a black, cracked leather book in its wake…