Chapter 9: A Rise Before Descent
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Whisker
Whisker awoke with a sharp gasp, the remnants of his dream clinging to him like a dense fog that refused to lift. His chest heaved as he fought for breath, heart pounding with the memory of Ruinix’s eyes and the twisted forest that felt all too real.
No Everyone Can Be Saved
The cold sweat that clung to his fur was like a clammy shroud, soaking through the thin blanket as he blinked and struggled to orient himself. Above, the familiar pulsing glow of runes etched into the ceiling met his gaze. Their gentle light traced patterns that hummed in time with the leyline energy coursing through the lodge, a reassuring rhythm in the stillness of the room. The midday sky, cast in an off-purple hue, seeped through the narrow window, casting shifting shadows that danced across the stone walls.
The soft murmur of breathing pulled his attention sideways. Lucas was slumped in a chair beside the bed, arms crossed and head tilted back, his expression locked in that perpetual frown even in sleep. One ear twitched as if on guard even now. Even half-asleep, his brow was furrowed, lips set in a hard line as though still prepared for any sudden danger. The kitsune’s silver hair fell in messy waves around his ears, and his bushy tail twitched slightly at Whisker’s movement.
Mirabelle sat nearby, perched on a stool with an alert poise. Her silver hair caught the ambient glow and shimmered faintly as she leaned forward, relief softening her usually sharp features.
“Well, thank the gods you’re awake,” she said, her voice warm but laced with a teasing lilt. “Morning, sleeping beauty. Or should I say, afternoon?”
Whisker’s mouth felt parched, and a deep ache gnawed at his core. He swallowed, forcing his voice to work. “What... what happened?”
The smirk on Mirabelle’s lips faded as her expression turned serious. “You’ve been out for two days, Whisker. Tanaka was the first to notice something was wrong—he said you were having a nightmare.” Her eyes darkened, and she glanced at Lucas
I’ve been asleep for two days?
Lucas’s voice was low and gruff, but without its usual bite. “Yeah, a nightmare that turned your room into a shadowy hellscape.” He sat up straighter, the memory clearly unsettling him.
Whisker’s chest tightened as more memories surfaced, pieces of the night before slotting into place. The darkness, the oppressive weight and their voices mocking him. And then... the obscured figures. He clenched the blanket beneath his fingers, fighting the tremor in his hands.
Why don’t we play with him some more
“Yeah, you really put on a show,” Lucas muttered, his New York accent rough and unfiltered. “Tanaka almost woke the whole damn lodge, shouting for us to help you. Here’s the kicker though—he kept calling you Ryoka. I mean, who the heck is that? I swear to God I thought the old man was finally losing it.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward, amusement mingling with concern. “You know now that I think about it, he seemed pretty scared out of his mind, too. More than I expected. Guess our fearless leader isn’t perfect is he.”
The name wasn’t unfamiliar—Tanaka had shared stories before, moments when his stoic mask had cracked.
Ryoka. His son.
The memory of their conversation, where Tanaka had spoken of his regrets and longing, surfaced in Whisker’s mind. Tanaka’s quiet voice, speaking of a son he never reconciled with. The realization clawed at Whisker’s chest, squeezing until it hurt.
What happened that night to you Tanaka?
“Lucas, enough,” Mirabelle said, shooting him a glare before her expression softened as she returned her attention to Whisker. “Tanaka called for help because he was afraid for you. The darkness surrounding you was unlike anything we’ve encountered. It pushed us back when we tried to get close—it felt like it had a will of its own.”
Lucas’s smirk faded, replaced by a solemn nod. “Yeah, it was bad. We thought it might be corruption ready to transform you into—”
“But then, halfway through the night, a light appeared,” Mirabelle interrupted, her voice dropping to a near whisper, as if recalling a miracle. “Bright, warm, like it cut through the shadows with a blade. After that, the darkness just... disappeared. But you still didn’t wake up.” She reached out, placing a hand lightly on Whisker’s arm, her touch grounding him in the present. “So, we’ve been taking turns watching over you since.”
Emotion welled up in Whisker’s chest, raw and unfamiliar. He managed to swallow the lump in his throat and croaked out, “Thank you... both of you.”
Lucas stood abruptly, his tail flicking behind him. “Don’t get it twisted,” Lucas said, his voice rough. “I stayed because someone needed to be here in case things went south. You know, in case you turned into something we’d have to... handle.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” came Aria’s voice from the hallway. Her curly dark hair flowed around her shoulders, and her eyes gleamed with playful mischief as she slithered in. Her serpent tail glistened, the scales catching the light with a shimmer of blue and green.
“Don’t let him fool you Whisker, Lucas here was the first to volunteer. He practically shouted down Tanaka when it came to who’d stay with you. Told him he needed to stay because Tanaka was too close to you to be rational.” She smirked, crossing her arms. “And he hasn’t left your side since. Big softie”
“Shut it, Aria,” Lucas snapped, ears flattening as he made for the door. “You know what, I'm heading out to meet up with Aric. I’m gonna see if he’s up for another round of practice.”
Mirabelle watched him go, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “He’s been on edge, ever since you’ve been out. Seeing him volunteer for practice is a nice change of pace.” she said, turning back to Whisker.
“You might as well know, while you were out, Aric and I worked with everyone on how to control their abilities. Figured if they were going to insist on staying, they might as well use the time wisely. And trust me, they need all the help they can get.” Her eyes sparkled as she added, “Lucas picked things up faster than I thought.”
Whisker’s chest tightened again, the warmth of their care unfamiliar, almost overwhelming.
I’m not used to this.
Images of dark alleys, the metallic stench of rainwater in gutters, and the fear of being caught by pest control flitted through his mind—memories of a life where trust was as foreign as comfort.
They really stayed. For me.
Whisker’s chest felt warm, a fleeting comfort in the wake of the night’s terror. Mirabelle stood, smoothing the fabric of her deep violet robes, her silver hair catching the light. “We were meant to leave at first light, two days ago” she said, her tone softening, “ We initially proposed leaving you here with someone, and when you awoke you would just catch up with us. but Tanaka and Lucas wouldn’t hear of it. They argued so fiercely that eventually Aric and I conceded.”
Whisker swallowed, the gravity of their actions weighing on him. “Why would they do that?”
Mirabelle’s eyes held his, her expression changing to earnest in that moment. “Because to quote Lucas “You’re one of us. And no one gets left behind.” There was something in his voice that felt like it was calling to something else, but he was convincing nonetheless.
Mirabelle’s tone softened as she continued, “Lucas really wouldn’t budge about waiting for you. It got pretty heated with Lucas at one point in Aric’s face. I don’t know about you, but when two foxes are at it, it’s best to not get in the middle. But Lucas was adamant. He said you’d wake up scared, and no one deserved that.”
Her expression grew thoughtful. “He said it was your idea initially to help Aric and I to find Everlight, and you were the one who talked them into it, so there's no way in hell they were leaving without you. Said they owed you that.”
“Tanaka backed him up too.” Aria added, leaning in the doorway with her arms folded. “He said we had no right to abandon someone who put their trust in us. His voice was so steady, even Aric looked convinced for a moment.” She laughed softly. “When Lucas’s speech stirred everyone else—even Ava—you should’ve seen the look on his face. I think he surprised himself.”
“It was so strange to see them agreeing, that I thought I was having a dream. I still don’t believe it was real,” Aria said as she pulled back some of her curly hair behind her ear.
“Aric eventually came around,” Mirabelle continued with a nod. “He even picked up supplies while you were out. There’s also food downstairs, and fresh gear in the side room for you to wear. Make sure you get plenty to eat when you are downstairs. As well get cleaned up, and ready.”
She leaned closer, gently cupping Whisker’s chin, meeting his eyes with a look so earnest it made his chest ache. “I’m glad you’re alright. You scared me..”
A shiver ran down Whisker’s spine at her touch, and a shadowed memory pierced through—a voice, chilling and sinister, echoing from the darkness in his dream.
You, (Little one)… tell us. Who do you think will win? Do you even know the game you’re playing?
“Whisker?” Mirabelle’s voice anchored him to the present, gentle and steady.
He blinked, the vision fading as he found her warm eyes again. He managed a shaky nod. “I’m... I’m alright.”
“Good,” she said, a smile breaking through as she patted his cheek. “Get cleaned up, and dress. Then come down to eat when you’re ready. We want you in a good spot before we leave in an hour.”
She glanced at Aria, who wiggled her brows playfully before darting out of the room after Lucas.
After they both left, he laid back, eyes tracing the intricate patterns of the leyline circuits above, their glow calming and familiar.
The memory of the dream, the shadowed beings, and Ruinix’s foreboding message churned in his mind. If they had tried to help him last night, then maybe those beings, those whispered figures, were real. Maybe Ruinix was real too. The idea sent a shiver down his spine.
What do I do now?
“Oh Lucas! Where are you? Wait up! I wasn’t done with you yet. You can’t hide from me!”
Faint laughter from the hallway interrupted his thoughts—Aria’s teasing tone and Lucas’s irritated reply. The warmth it brought back was brief, but enough.
With a determined sigh, Whisker swung his legs over the side of the bed, the sigils on his arms flickering as he flexed his fingers. Determined, he stood up, ready to face whatever awaited him beyond the room, and headed out to clean up before joining the others.
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Lucas Reid
“Oh, come on, Lucas! Admit it—you’re a big ol’ softie,” Aria teased, slithering beside him as they made their way down the stone corridor that led to the courtyard behind the lodge. The energy of Aetheria buzzed in the cool stone beneath their feet, sending faint blue pulses of light that danced in time with the leyline hum. Aria’s grin was as bright as the glistening scales of her tail, her eyes alight with familiar mischief.
Lucas rolled his amber eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as if debating a smile. “Keep talkin’, Aria. Maybe if you say it enough, I’ll start believin’ it,” he muttered, sarcasm layered thick in his tone. The tension in his shoulders, however, betrayed more than his casual reply. He could still feel the heaviness from the night in Whisker’s room, Tanaka’s shouts echoing in his head.
“Uh-huh. Sure, tough guy. We all saw you parked there, barely moving, barely blinking,” Aria pushed, her voice softening as they turned a corner. The natural light of the training courtyard filtered in, casting long shadows and illuminating the steam curling up from the nearby hot springs. “You care, Lucas. You just don’t want to admit it.”
Aria leaned in with a knowing grin, holding back laughter. “Come on Lucas. You know you want to. Just admit I'm right. You know you want to,” as she bent over mischievously. “I’ve saw the way you stayed by Whisker’s side, Mr. ‘I-don’t-care.’ It was almost sweet.”
“Almost,” Lucas muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. The rhythmic tap of their walk slowed as Aria matched his stride, her teasing punctuated by a dramatic flick of her tail. He focused on the path ahead, the sound of the courtyard's lively training drawing nearer. The cool midday breeze carried the scent of steam and stone, mingling with the perpetual off-purple hue of the sky.
Lucas huffed, flicking his tail dismissively. “I was just makin’ sure the kid didn’t turn into a monster or somethin’. Someone had to be there,” he said, the lie tasting bitter. Whisker’s small, fragile form haunted him, a stark reminder of the rookies back at the firehouse—those bright-eyed kids who needed a steady hand.
Whisker had that same look sometimes, and it had gotten under Lucas’s skin more than he wanted to admit.
“You know, you don’t always have to act so tough,” Aria said, her voice softer now, almost thoughtful. “We see it, you know. The way you care.”
Lucas’s steps faltered briefly, but he kept moving, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “Yeah? Well, keep it to yourself,” he muttered, the hint of vulnerability quickly buried beneath his usual bravado. He could feel Aria’s eyes on him, searching, almost daring him to open up more.
Aria’s expression softened more as they walked into the open air. The sounds of practice and chatter surrounded them.
As they rounded a bend, Mirabelle’s serene presence came into view. The silver-haired herald moved past them with the quiet elegance that seemed to follow her everywhere, her eyes flicking briefly to Lucas and Aria in acknowledgment before fixing on the clearing ahead.
As they approached, Lucas’s eyes instinctively tracked Mira’s movements. She hovered a few feet above the ground, her long, luminous blue hair shifting like liquid stardust, catching the light with every subtle motion. With an expression of deep concentration, she traced intricate, glowing sigils in the air, weaving each symbol with deliberate precision.
A sphere of fire began to take form, flickering and swirling as it gathered energy and momentum. The sight of the flames stirred something in Lucas—a sudden rush of memories surged unbidden: the crackle of fire engulfing his senses, searing heat biting into his skin, and the deafening thud of his own heartbeat as he plunged back into the inferno one last time.
“Mira, stay steady,” came Mirabelle’s voice, firm yet gentle, cutting through the haze of Lucas’s recollection and grounding him back in the present. She stepped closer to Mira, a mix of encouragement and command in her tone.
The tiny sprite’s focus wavered at Mirabelle’s approach, as the sphere of flame crackled ominously, flaring with sudden intensity. In a reflexive burst, Mira directed it skyward, the fiery orb streaking into the open air before erupting into harmless, glittering sparks.
A surprised yelp escaped her, and she brushed the falling embers from her robes, her cheeks flushed a deep blue that matched the shimmer of her hair.
“Sorry, Mirabelle!” Mira stammered, her eyes darting nervously to the trio. She managed a small wave to Lucas and Aria, her embarrassment evident. “Guess I’m still working on keeping my composure.”
“Careful, Mira, don’t blow us up,” Lucas called, smirking.
Mira’s cheeks flushed, the fire’s glow fading into embarrassment. She glanced over and noticed Lucas and Aria watching. “Oh, uh, just a small miscalculation,” she said, giving a sheepish wave.
Lucas crossed his arms, a smirk breaking through his usually stoic expression. “If that’s a small miscalculation, remind me not to be around when you make a big one.”
“Don’t tease her too much,” Mirabelle interjected, her tone light but authoritative. She placed a reassuring hand on Mira’s shoulder. “You’re improving. Control takes time, but you’re closer than you think.”
Aria chuckled, shaking her head as she and Lucas continued down the path. “You’re gonna give that girl a complex, you know that, right?”
“Hey, if she’s gonna be playin’ with fire, she better learn how to handle a little ribbing,” Lucas replied, his tone light but eyes drifting ahead, scanning for any signs of their next challenge.
Mira’s face brightened at the praise, and she nodded, shooting another look at Lucas and Aria. “I’ll get it right next time. Just watch.”
Aria chuckled, leaning closer to Lucas. “See? You’re not the only one who’s trying to be all tough and mysterious.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Keep talkin’, and I’ll remind you why I’m the better fighter.” The banter came easily, masking the tension that coiled in his chest. He glanced back at Mira, who exchanged a few quiet words with Mirabelle, a mixture of determination and worry on her small face.
Mirabelle’s lips curved slightly before she turned back to Mira. “You’re doing well. Keep practicing, but don’t let distractions get to you.”
With a nod, Mirabelle moved on, her calm, authoritative presence trailing behind her as she headed toward the training grounds. Lucas watched her go, a flicker of respect tightening his chest. She carried herself with a determination that reminded him of his mother’s steadfast resolve—the way she’d balanced strength and warmth, even on her toughest days.
“Come on, hero,” Aria said, nudging him. “Don’t get too sentimental on me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lucas shot back, the corners of his mouth twitching.
Aria turned back to Mirabelle. “What brings you down here, anyway? You’re not one to hover during practice.”
Mirabelle’s eyes softened. “Whisker seems to be doing better. He’s up and getting ready. I thought I’d come to check on Mira and see how Ava was doing, but it seems Ava and Felix are already wrapped up in another debate at the front of the lodge.”
Lucas felt a pang at the mention of Whisker, the kid’s haunted eyes from that night resurfacing in his mind. He noted how Mirabelle’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, assessing, as if she could read the unspoken questions there.
The sudden, rhythmic clash of steel on steel drew their attention, and Lucas’s ears flicked toward the sound. In the center of the courtyard, Tanaka and Captain Aric were locked in a fierce spar. Tanaka’s massive sword arced through the air, leaving shimmering trails of energy as he moved. The sheer power behind each strike sent vibrations through the ground, making the stones hum underfoot.
Aric, auburn fur was slick with sweat and sharp, focused eyes, moved like a dancer, parrying with his sword in a seamless display of speed and control. He parred Tanaka’s powerful swings with a grace that spoke of years—decades—of experience.
Lucas’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. Tanaka’s expression was rigid, the lines of his jaw clenched and his hands flexing unconsciously. Each movement carried a tension that spoke of battles both fought and lingering within. His eyes darted with an unspoken urgency, betraying the turmoil simmering beneath his disciplined exterior.
Each swing seemed heavier, as if he were trying to exorcise some unseen demon.
Tanaka muttered a quick incantation, tracing sigils that flared around him before forming a protective barrier that absorbed Aric’s retaliatory strike.
Ever since the night with Whisker, Tanaka had been relentless, pushing himself in every practice until sweat soaked through his clothes and exhaustion trembled through his limbs.
“He’s been like this since that night,” Aria said quietly, her earlier playfulness gone. Her eyes followed the older man’s every move.
It’s like he’s trying to fight something that isn’t even here.
Lucas’s jaw tightened. He didn’t know who Ryoka was, but he’d heard the desperation in Tanaka’s voice that night, the way the man’s composure cracked like glass under a hammer. Tanaka was too close, seeing something else when he looked at Whisker.
The confusion and desperation in Tanaka’s eyes were etched into Lucas’s mind, a stark reminder that even their “leader” had his cracks.
Not that different from me, huh?
Aric pivoted, sliding out of the path of Tanaka’s sweeping strike and countering with a precise slash that glanced off the barrier Tanaka had conjured at the last second. The sigils glowed, then faded, their light flickering like dying embers. Tanaka’s grip tightened, the veins in his hands standing out as he launched another powerful attack. The ground cracked under the force of his swing, sending pebbles skittering across the stones.
Lucas exchanged a look with Aria. ”He’s going to wear himself out before we even leave,” she whispered, her concern evident.
Lucas’s jaw tightened as he watched the spar come to a close. Tanaka delivered a final sweeping strike, the sheer force of it enough to push Aric back a few steps. The captain grinned, panting as he lifted a hand in mock surrender.
“Three times today, Tanaka,” Aric said, stepping back and as he signaled the end of the spar. His chest heaved, but he managed a grin. “Keep pushing like this, and I’ll have to start charging you rent for using my courtyard. We’re done for now. Go clean up and get ready. We need you in good shape for what’s ahead.”
Tanaka held his stance for a moment, eyes locked on Aric as if debating whether to keep fighting. Finally, he relented, lifting his sword and resting it across his broad shoulder. He bowed slightly, his voice steady but strained. “Thank you for the spar.”
Aric clapped him on the shoulder, the camaraderie tempered by the unspoken understanding between soldiers who’d seen too much. As Tanaka turned to head back to the lodge, Lucas caught the subtle shake in his fingers, the weariness that clung to him like a shadow.
He’s still in that room, fighting ghosts
The memory of Tanaka’s cracked voice still rang in his ears. It stirred something deep in Lucas’s chest—a pang of empathy he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
Aric began sheathing his sword, his fur slick with sweat and his breathing labored. Before he could step away, Lucas’s voice cut through the thinning crowd. “Not so fast, Captain. We’re not done..”
Aric’s ears perked, a sly smile crossing his face as he turned to face Lucas. “Oh? You want a go, too? Think you can take me down today?”
Lucas flexed his fingers, letting the anticipation settle into his muscles. “I’ve got some new moves. Are you ready to see them?” The challenge sparked in his eyes, amber and fierce.
Aric laughed, rolling his shoulders to shake off the fatigue. “You’re on.”
They squared off, the courtyard falling into a tense silence as the onlookers shifted their focus. Lucas took a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline that came before a fight. This wasn’t a fire, but it was close enough. The thrill, the sharp edge of competition—it made him feel alive.
Aric moved first, a swift feint followed by a low strike aimed at Lucas’s side. Lucas dodged, the burst of Whirlwind Speed carrying him just out of reach as he countered with a quick slash that forced Aric to pivot and block. The clash of metal sent a shiver up Lucas’s arm, and he grinned, pushing forward with a flurry of strikes that tested Aric’s defenses.
Aric met each strike with precision, eyes narrowing as he caught Lucas’s pattern. He parried one blow and spun around, using the momentum to slash at Lucas’s back. Lucas dropped to a knee, the blade missing by a hair as he rolled and sprang up, sweat dripping from his brow. He lunged forward, aiming high before shifting low, trying to unbalance the captain.
Aric’s grin widened, recognizing the feint just in time. He blocked the low strike and stepped inside Lucas’s guard, bringing his hilt up to tap Lucas’s chest. The impact sent Lucas stumbling back, his breath leaving him in a huff.
“Not bad,” Aric said, his voice tight with exertion. “But predictable.”
“Says the guy who’s outta breath,” Lucas shot back, wiping sweat from his brow.
He launched himself forward again, faster this time, striking a chaotic blend of speed and power. Each blow carried the weight of memories—racing into burning buildings, the heat pressing against his skin, the deafening roar of flames and the cries of those he swore to protect. He pressed Aric harder, refusing to back down, even as his muscles screamed for rest.
Aric’s movements slowed, the exertion catching up to him. Lucas saw the opening, a moment to strike and finally claim victory. He lunged, but Aric twisted at the last second, sweeping Lucas’s legs out from under him and sending him sprawling onto the stones.
Lucas’s vision blurred, the breath knocked out of him as Aric stood over him, sword pointed in front of his neck. Before Aric could make another move, Mirabelle’s voice rang out across the courtyard.
Mirabelle’s voice rang out from across the courtyard. “Wrap it up, boys! Clean up and meet us at the front in thirty minutes. Ava and Felix are already there, and we need to be ready to leave,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.
Aric stepped back, a grin on his face as he reached down to help Lucas to his feet. “Almost had me there, Lucas,” he said, clapping him on the back. “You’re getting better.”
Lucas grunted, accepting the hand but shrugging off the compliment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”
As he turned toward the lodge, Aria’s voice trailed after him, bright and teasing. “Hey, tough guy! Don’t forget to freshen up—you’re already half a mess.”
Lucas rolled his eyes, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. The ache in his muscles was familiar, grounding. For a moment, the weight of the past felt lighter, softened by the camaraderie and the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, they could be more than survivors.
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Lucas headed toward the stone archway that marked the path back to the lodge, the soreness in his muscles a familiar ache that kept him grounded. The adrenaline from the sparring match still coursed through him, mingling with the lingering heat of competition. He glanced over his shoulder at Aric, who was wiping the sweat from his brow and exchanging words with Mirabelle.
The captain’s posture was relaxed now, his tail flicking absently as he spoke, but Lucas could still see the warrior behind the casual demeanor—the same one who had met him blow for blow without flinching.
The courtyard buzzed with energy as others continued their own training. Mira had resumed her practice, this time with more control, the flicker of flames steady and precise between her small hands. Lucas’s gaze softened as he watched her for a moment.
There was something about the way she pushed herself, the determined set of her jaw, that reminded him of the young recruits he’d trained. They’d all had that look—an unwavering determination to prove themselves.
Aria slithered up beside him, her laughter still warm in the air. “Looks like you’re finally getting the hang of it,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “Even Aric was impressed.”
Lucas rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. “Yeah, well, next time I’ll have him.”
That man is a monster. No wonder he’s in charge of the guard.
“Oh, sure. Next time,” Aria teased, her eyes sparkling as she studied him.
They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of training fading as they approached the lodge. The scent of earth and steam was replaced by the cool, familiar air of stone and polished wood.
Inside, the lodge was bustling—Ava’s voice carried from the front as she and Felix debated the finer points of magic theory, their words a mix of sharp intellect and subtle amusement.
Do they ever stop?
Lucas felt a pang of comfort at the sound, a reminder that even here, in this world that defied everything they once knew, they had pieces of familiarity. It reminded him of dinners at home, with his family. Snarky banter going back and forth, and everyone had some kind of opinion.
Mirabelle stepped past them, her silver hair trailing like liquid moonlight as she glanced back. “Don’t forget, we leave soon,” she said, her eyes holding Lucas’s for a moment longer than necessary. It was as if she could see through the layers of bravado and into the parts of him that he tried so hard to guard.
“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas replied, giving her a mock salute that earned him a slight smirk before she continued on her way.
Lucas glanced over at Aria, who raised an eyebrow. “You know, I think she’s starting to warm up to you,” she said.
“Don’t start,” Lucas shot back, but the hint of a smile played on his lips.
He caught sight of Tanaka disappearing down the corridor, his broad shoulders still stiff with tension as he moved with determined purpose toward where Whisker was waiting. Each step seemed powered by sheer will, but Lucas noticed the subtle way Tanaka’s fingers brushed the wall for balance, a small betrayal of the exhaustion gnawing at him.
Fatigue was sinking its claws into the older man, and the relentless weight of guilt clung to him like a shroud—heavy, suffocating, and inescapable.
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Lucas’s gaze darkened with concern, memories rushing forward with sudden, unwelcome clarity: Tanaka’s voice, cracked and raw with anguish, shouting into the chaos, frantic and desperate. The haunted look that followed, one that seemed to pierce through Whisker as if Tanaka were staring into the eyes of a ghost from his past, still lingered in Lucas’s mind.
It was a look that spoke of unhealed wounds and the kind of pain that refused to be buried.
I need to confront him about this.
Lucas thought, the unease coiling into a tight knot in his chest. The unspoken truth was clear—Tanaka’s turmoil wasn’t just his burden. It rippled outward, a threat that could fracture their already fragile group.
If left unchecked, it was only a matter of time before it gets us all killed..
But now wasn’t the moment. He pushed the thought aside with effort, refocusing on the mission ahead.
They were setting out to find Everlight, and Lucas needed to be ready—not just for himself, but for each of them. The path forward was uncertain, but he knew that whatever lay ahead, facing it together was their only option.
No one gets left behind.
That mantra echoing through him like a promise.
He moved to the side room where his gear lay, the leather straps and reinforced plates a stark reminder of their purpose. As he fastened the buckles, the room seemed quieter, almost like a moment caught between breaths.
The sounds outside—the laughter, the clashing steel, the debates—all faded for a second, and Lucas allowed himself to close his eyes.
A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Whisker standing there, a shy, almost hesitant smile on his face. The sigils on Whisker’s arms glowed faintly, a soft blue that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
“Hey, Lucas,” Whisker said, his voice quiet but steady. “I heard you and Aric sparring. Sounded intense.”
Lucas grunted, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Just keeping sharp. You good?”
He looks better.
Whisker’s eyes searched his for a moment, as if looking for answers to questions he hadn’t asked. “Yeah. Thanks to all of you.” The sincerity in his voice tugged at something deep in Lucas’s chest, and he nodded, the unspoken understanding passing between them.
“Well if there isn’t anything else, then get your gear ready, kid,” Lucas said, turning back to his own preparations. “We’re heading out soon, and it’s gonna be a hell of a ride.”
Whisker’s smile widened, and he turned to leave, but not before glancing back one last time. “Lucas... thanks again.”
Lucas didn’t respond right away, letting the word settle in the space between them. When he finally looked up, Whisker was already gone, but the room felt a little warmer, a little more alive.
“Yeah,” Lucas whispered to himself, fastening the last strap. “No problem.”
He turned to finally get cleaned up.
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After a quick rinse in the washroom, the cold splash of water invigorating his senses, Lucas dried off and went to change into his gear. He then reached for the new gear that Aric had provided—a set of sturdy, dark leathers reinforced with lightweight metal plates.
The captain had thought ahead.
Not just with food, but with clothing that fit their needs and readiness for battle. Lucas ran a hand over the material, noting its resilience and the flexibility it offered. Alongside it sat a pair of finely crafted daggers, their hilts wrapped in leather that fit perfectly in his grip.
Aric had said they’d suit him better than relying solely on claws, and Lucas couldn’t help but smirk at the practicality of the gesture.
He’s a better host than I gave him credit for.
Lucas thought as he strapped the daggers to his side. The memory of that heated argument with Tanaka and Aric surfaced—words thrown like weapons, each man standing his ground over whether they’d leave Whisker behind. Now, seeing Aric’s silent hospitality, Lucas felt a twinge of respect.
The captain might be stubborn, but he knew what it meant to look out for others.
The fitted leathers moved with him as he tested the range of motion, and the daggers felt like an extension of his hands. He caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror—amber eyes sharp, hair tousled, expression set. It would do. He looked again taking in his form.
It’s going to take me forever to get used to this. But why did I have to be furry? Ugh.
Lucas made his way down the winding stone staircase, the faint chatter growing louder as he neared the main room. The scent of freshly cooked meat and bread reached him, mingling with the sound of laughter and debate. The room was alive, filled with the odd mix of characters that fate had thrown together.
Felix and Ava sat across from each other, plates pushed to the side as their conversation spilled into another round of heated discussion.
“I’m telling you, the leyline conduits here Ava, must have some connection to Earth’s magnetic fields,” Felix said, fingers tracing an imaginary diagram in the air. The construct’s face was half-covered with metal, but the human side showed exasperation.
Ava crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with an expression that teetered between amusement and annoyance. “And I’m saying you’re conflating magical aether with scientific magnetism. They’re not the same, Felix.”
Just marry each other already, Jesus.
“Keep your voices down,” Lucas muttered as he passed, catching their attention for just a second before they went right back to it.
Across the room, Mira was deep in conversation with Whisker and Aria. Whisker’s eyes shone solemnly. “...and then all of sudden I’m falling into this darkness.”
Lucas moved toward the table where Tanaka and Aric were speaking. Tanaka’s voice was low, his expression lined with fatigue but softened by the conversation. Aric leaned back in his chair, nodding as Tanaka spoke, the captain’s auburn tail flicking lazily behind him.
Lucas paused, listening to the flow of voices, the warmth in the room settling like a weight in his chest.
This is what it’s all about.
The moments between the chaos, the glimpses of what they could become—a team, maybe even a family.
He stepped closer to Tanaka, clearing his throat. “Hey, Tanaka—”
Before he could continue, Mirabelle’s voice cut through the din. “Alright, everyone, quiet down.” Her tone was commanding yet calm, drawing every gaze to where she stood by the stone hearth. The faint glow from the flames outlined her silver hair, making her seem almost otherworldly. Aric moved to her side, his presence solid and reassuring.
The room fell into a heavy silence as every eye turning to Mirabelle.
“We’re going to try this again, and I trust everyone is prepared,” she said, her voice steady.
Aric’s low chuckle broke the silence, a grin playing on his lips as he leaned back against the tone pillar. “Though if I may, let’s aim for less excitement this time—no more coma-inducing moments, please. One per adventure is quite enough,” he added, earning a few scattered chuckles and lightening the tension for a brief moment.
Mirabelle shot him a sharp glance, the hint of a smile tugging at her own lips before she turned serious once more. “We depart in a few minutes. Our target is the aqueducts, specifically the entrance to the sewers beneath the eastern sector. This is where Everlight was last seen, and where the corruption is thickest.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the room. “You all know what’s at stake. Stay sharp and stay together.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, the gravity of their mission hanging heavy in the air. Lucas felt a shift in the room as whispers quieted, tension growing like a coiled spring.
He glanced at Whisker, whose expression had sobered, the glow of his sigils dimming as worry etched itself across his features.
Mirabelle’s gaze swept across each of them, resting briefly on Tanaka, then Aric, and finally Lucas. “As much as I love Everlight and want to bring it back safely, this mission isn’t just about finding him. It’s about understanding what we’re up against.”
“The corruption has spread faster than we anticipated, and if its source is in the sewers, then it’s more than just a threat—it’s a promise of what’s to come. Everlight was looking for this exact source, and if we can, we should too.”
Aric added, “The aqueducts are an old complex, a maze of stone and darkness back when this was before a fortress. Stick together, follow the plan, and we’ll make it through. But if you get separated, prioritize finding each other. We don’t leave anyone behind. We don’t fully know what’s down there now, but if the reports from the soldiers who actually came back are any indicators then we need to stay vigilant, as it will probably be worse.”
No one gets left behind!
Lucas’s jaw clenched at the familiar words, memories surging with the force of a tidal wave. The acrid scent of smoke filled his nostrils, thick and suffocating. He could feel the searing heat licking at his skin, the relentless blaze that turned the building into an inferno. Flames crackled and roared around him, their dance chaotic and deadly as burning debris rained from the ceiling. The room was a blur of dark smoke, stinging his eyes and obscuring his vision. Every breath was a struggle, each gulp of air scalding his throat.
----------------------------------------
Through the haze, he caught sight of two terrified faces streaked with soot, wide eyes filled with tears and terror. The children huddled in the corner, their small bodies trembling as the walls groaned under the relentless heat. His radio crackled to life, cutting through the roar of the fire.
“Lucas, where the hell are you?” His captain’s voice was strained, fighting to be heard over the chaos. “You need to leave. You can’t save everyone, Lucas!”
The oppressive heat bore down on him, sweat drenching his body beneath the heavy, suffocating weight of his gear. The flames leaped higher, and with a thunderous crack, part of the structural column collapsed, blocking his path.
“Boss, there’s two kids left in here! I can get them, I know it! We can’t just leave ‘em!” His voice was raw, desperation clawing at him. “I couldn’t live with myself.”
“Lucas, I appreciate you being a good person and all, but don’t be a dumbass. Cut the shit,” the captain’s voice was urgent, tinged with fear. “You’ve done as much as you can! Do you want to die there? A sudden flashover just happened on your floor, dammit! It burst the windows—there’s a backdraft in there! You need to come back, that’s an order!”
The heat intensified, searing his exposed skin. The roar of the fire was deafening, an unrelenting monster consuming everything in its path. He could feel the floor quivering beneath his boots, ready to give way at any moment.
“I can’t do that, Captain! No one gets left behind, God dammit!” His shout was hoarse, the smoke burning his lungs. The fear of failure squeezed his heart, but it was nothing compared to the thought of leaving them behind.
----------------------------------------
A sudden, light touch on his arm snapped him back, breaking through the terror-fueled haze. The cacophony of fire was replaced by the quiet murmur of the present, the shadows of his memory dissipating. He blinked, his vision clearing to see Whisker standing beside him, eyes wide with a trace of concern barely masked by a strained smile. There was something in Whisker’s gaze that hadn’t left since he woke up—a haunted look that spoke of more than just a bad dream. It gnawed at Lucas, an unspoken truth hanging between them like a dark cloud. Whatever Whisker had seen, it had shaken him to his core.
Lucas’s mind raced as he recalled the shadows that had swirled around the room, dense and suffocating, forming an almost impenetrable barrier. And then there was the sudden burst of light—warm, blinding, and inexplicably powerful—that scattered the darkness like it had a will of its own. The memory sent a chill down his spine. It was all too strange, too coincidental to dismiss.
His hand instinctively moved to his chest, fingers brushing against the empty space where his necklace used to rest. The familiar weight of the silver cross, once a small comfort during moments of stress, was gone. Its absence felt more pronounced now, a reminder of everything that had changed since that night in the burning apartment building. The ache in his chest deepened.
What did you see in that dream, kid, that had you so frightened?
He met Whisker’s eyes again, searching for answers, but the younger man shifted his gaze, unwilling or unable to share what haunted him. The room seemed to hold its breath, the quiet only interrupted by Mirabelle’s commanding voice as she addressed the group.
“Questions?” Mirabelle’s voice cut through the silence, drawing everyone’s attention and grounding Lucas fully in the moment.
Felix was the first to speak, his mechanical eye whirring as it adjusted. “Do we know if the corruption is sentient? Will it react to us entering its territory?”
Mirabelle’s expression darkened. “We believe it has some form of awareness, but its intelligence is unknown. Proceed as if it’s watching.”
Ava leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “And what about Everlight’s condition? If he’s compromised...”
Aric stepped in, his tone firm. “If he’s compromised, we bring him back by any means necessary. But be prepared for anything.”
Whisker shifted uneasily, his voice quiet but resolute. “And if we can’t?”
Silence followed his question, the unspoken fears pressing down on them. Mirabelle’s expression softened. “We will. One way or another, we will bring him back.”
Lucas felt the weight of the room pressing down on him, the charged mix of determination and trepidation crackling like an unspoken current in the air.
He nodded, meeting Tanaka’s eyes for a fleeting moment. In that brief connection, there was an unspoken understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the battles looming ahead.
Since seeing Whisker better, Tanaka seemed steadier, a trace of the haunted look fading from his eyes. Yet Lucas wasn’t convinced. He would keep watch, vigilant for any sign of that burden threatening to resurface and pull their leader under.
I hope our fearless leader can hold himself together,
Lucas let the thought, the concern, anchoring itself in the back of his mind.
Their unity was fragile, balanced on a knife’s edge, and if Tanaka faltered, it could mean disaster for them all. Lucas steeled himself, resolving to stay alert—for Tanaka, for Whisker, for everyone—because they could not afford to break now.
“Alright,” Mirabelle said, straightening. “Gear up. We leave in five.”
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Mirabelle Cullen
The group stood gathered outside the lodge, a quiet resolve settling over them like the morning fog that rolled through the streets of The Last Bastion. They exchanged nods and murmured farewells with the innkeeper and staff, each word a bridge between the comfort they left behind and the uncertain path ahead. But for Mirabelle, this moment bore an unspoken weight that pressed at her heart.
Heimer, the towering dragon monsterfolk, stood sentinel at the entrance. His shimmering blue and black scales caught the dim light, reflecting it with an almost ethereal glow. Despite his size and the fierce aura that came with it, his gaze was warm and steady, a protective light in the dark.
“Take care of yourselves,” Heimer rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, like distant thunder. The words hung in the air, infused with an unspoken promise. It was a reminder of the first kindness she had known in this city, the moment he had offered her refuge when the world had only given her closed doors and suspicion.
Mirabelle’s throat tightened with a mix of gratitude and the weight of what lay ahead. “Thank you, Heimer. We will,” she said, the words barely more than a whisper. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, his nod was both farewell and a silent pledge of safety. The warmth lingered only a second longer before duty pulled her focus to the task at hand.
Lucas’s voice broke through the quiet, laced with a dry edge. “Didn’t expect to see you this... reflective, Mirabelle,” he remarked, adjusting his pack with a half-smile.
Mirabelle’s gaze didn’t waver, her tone calm but laced with purpose. “Reflection has its place, Lucas,” she replied evenly, “but so does preparation. We’ll need both.”
A faint chuckle escaped Whisker as he glanced over his shoulder, catching a last glimpse of Heimer’s broad figure watching them from the lodge entrance. “Guess the big guy’s a bit of a softy after all,” he muttered, more to himself.
Aria shot him a sideways look, her lips curving in a slight smirk. “Not that far off from you, Whisker. Always putting on a show like you’re tougher than you are.”
Whisker snorted, rolling his eyes, though his gaze softened as he looked back at Heimer. “Maybe,” he admitted, voice low. “But only sometimes.”
Hovering just above the ground, Mira’s wings shimmered faintly in the dim light, her expression pensive. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “How people who’ve been through so much can still be kind.”
“Life does strange things to people,” Ava murmured, her wraith form casting a soft, ethereal glow over the cobblestones. Her gaze was distant, yet there was a gentleness in her eyes, rare but unmistakable. “I think we’re all proof of that, in our own ways.”
Felix let out a dry laugh, his metallic jaw creaking into what might’ve passed for a grin. “Well, if we’re heading down the sentimental route, let’s save it for after we’re back. Don’t want anyone getting soft before the real work begins.”
Ava chuckled, a sound that cut through the lingering tension. “Spare us the poetry, Felix. Let’s keep our heads clear—we’ll need every ounce of focus for what’s ahead.”
Mirabelle nodded, her eyes sweeping over the group, assessing each one with quiet conviction. “Exactly. Sentiment can wait. Let’s get moving.”
The street stretched out before them, the city’s pulse slow and wary. Onlookers gathered at a distance, their faces a mosaic of curiosity and concern.
Mirabelle took a deep breath, steeling herself.
“Let’s move,” she said, glancing at her companions. Their eyes met hers, a blend of fear, determination, and something fragile that could almost be called trust.
The street stretched before them, winding deeper into the city’s heart, its stone paths lined with onlookers whose guarded faces told silent stories of worry and intrigue. Their eyes flitted from one member of the group to the next, as though trying to piece together the purpose of this strange gathering.
As Aria stepped forward, a ripple of unease passed through the crowd, and they parted instinctively, casting wary glances at her serpentine form. Her scales caught the muted light, shimmering in soft hues.
“It seems fear still clings wherever the monsterfolk walk,” Mirabelle murmured under her breath, frustration evident in her tone. “Ignorance is a stubborn stain.”
Whisker, whose sharp ears had caught her words, turned with a hint of a smile. “Look on the bright side—at least they’re clearing the way for us.”
Aria looked back over her shoulder, her emerald eyes glinting with a flicker of humor. “I could call it charm, but I doubt anyone would buy that.”
Lucas smirked, crossing his arms. “Charm, huh? We’ll go with that.”
Hovering just above the ground, Mira let out a soft laugh. “Well, if nothing else, we’re leaving an impression. Even if it’s not exactly the one we hoped for.”
Aric, who was walking a few steps ahead, let out a low chuckle. The captain’s usual humor was subdued but still there, a reminder of the soldier who could find light even in dark moments.
“Impressions last,” he said, casting a brief look back. “Let’s just make sure we leave the right kind. Now, let’s keep moving.”
Mirabelle knew this to be true as she cast her gaze over the crowd. Despite all the noble efforts monsterfolk like Aria had made for the city, they still drew suspicion and fear. Residents shifted uneasily, their glances darting as they whispered behind cupped hands or shot wary looks from beneath furrowed brows. Even the Slimes—gentle, slow-moving creatures who had taken up humble places in the market stalls they passed—were treated with the same cautious distance.
Each day, the Slimes came to the market, their gelatinous forms undulating as they waved their amorphous appendages, trying to sell simple wares. What should have been endearing—a quivering, eager gesture—was met instead with hesitation. Mirabelle waved back with a soft smile, charmed by their unabashed friendliness.
“I don’t get why they’re feared,” Ava murmured, her voice carrying a faint, spectral echo that lent an otherworldly edge to her words. “They’ve never harmed anyone. Makes no sense, really.”
“Fear doesn’t need a reason, amiga,” Felix replied, his construct eyes gleaming with a cool blue hue. “People will use any excuse to keep others at a distance. It’s easier for them that way.”
Mira tilted her head thoughtfully, watching the Slimes’ shimmery forms waving toward a public that held them at arm’s length. “Mais... they’re resilient, though, aren’t they?” she said softly. “Still here, still trying, no matter how they’re treated.”
Aria smirked, crossing her arms with a nod. “Yeah, they’re tough as nails, that’s for sure. They just keep… wobbling along. Gotta respect that.”
A few paces back, Tanaka walked in silence, his massive sword slung over his shoulder. His gaze swept from shadow to shadow, his focus unbroken. The tension from Whisker’s recent ordeal still hung over him like a cloud, and every now and then, he shot a quick, assessing glance in Whisker’s direction, brow slightly furrowed as if measuring the line between concern and resolve.
Noticing this, Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you still with us, big guy? Or did that sword finally mess up your back?” The familiar edge to his voice had softened in recent days, though his teasing lilt remained.
Tanaka’s eyes met Lucas’s, and a slight smile flickered at the edge of his lips. “I’m still here, Lucas,” he replied, voice calm with a faint edge of humor. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t lose your way. Now, focus.” His tone held a faint jest, but it lacked the ease it once carried.
It was a subtle change, but since their arrival at the lodge, each of their spirits had lifted. Lucas, Tanaka, and Mira in particular had embraced their training with an intensity that bordered on relentless, their dedication almost reminiscent of Alcides at his peak.
Yet, as Mirabelle watched them, a question began to linger in her mind.
Was there more to their rapid mastery than mere talent and determination?
Her thoughts drifted back to the ritual that had brought them here, a ritual meant to summon back Everlight’s father, Alcides—a hero of such renown that even the gods' silence after his passing had felt like a sacrilege. Alcides had been a legend, able to read both battlefields and runes with the kind of clarity few ever achieved. His mind was sharp, his instincts sharper still. Learning came naturally to him, almost as if he were gifted with insight beyond mortal means.
Could it be that some fragment of Alcides had touched those brought forth in his place? Had his energy imprinted itself on them, lending them a piece of his own abilities? And if so, what did that mean for them—and why had the gods permitted it?
The questions unsettled her, casting a shadow over the progress she’d seen. If Alcides’s influence was present in them, was it a gift or a burden? And more troubling still: what role did the gods play in allowing this to happen? Mirabelle found herself wondering if this wasn’t just a twist of fate but part of something larger, a story the gods themselves had chosen not to tell.
Mirabelle’s attention shifted back, as they passed a cluster of Beastkin—lion, wolf, and badger—watching them from the dim alcoves with guarded curiosity. Before the upheaval brought by the Seven Houses, Beastkin were a rare sight, even in The Last Bastion.
Now, they huddled in search of safety, wary of all they did not know. Aric, the only one among them born within the city’s walls, nodded subtly to a few who dared meet his gaze, offering a soldier’s assurance.
“Do they always stare like that?” Mira asked softly, her wings fluttering with a hint of nervousness.
“It’s not just them,” Aria murmured, casting a wary glance over the crowd. “Pretty sure everyone’s watching. Not exactly subtle, are they?”
“They’re lookin’ at our marks,” Ava replied, her voice calm but perceptive. She glanced at the glowing runes winding around Whisker, Tanaka, and the others. “Felix and I were just having a chinwag about it the other night, right before… well, everything with Whisker went down. He clocked them the minute we got here—said he’s never seen anything like ’em. Marks like these, they’re only on Aetherians, never on…”
She trailed off, her gaze meeting Mirabelle’s.
“Never on outsiders,” Mirabelle finished, her voice tinged with quiet thoughtfulness. Unlike the sigils that Aetherian-born humans carried from birth, guiding their fates, these new marks were beyond comprehension. Even after hours of study, Mirabelle hadn’t decoded the language woven into them.
“Do you even know what they mean?” Whisker asked, attempting a casual tone, though curiosity edged his words.
Mirabelle shook her head slowly. “Not yet,” she admitted, her gaze lingering on the runes. “But I trust time will reveal their purpose. For now, they’re as much a mystery to me as they are to you.”
As they turned a corner, the midday light was already fading into the narrow shadows of an older part of the city. There, in the quiet gloom, she could see the undying standing like specters. Their pale glows were a strange mockery of life, and for a moment, Mirabelle felt a shiver run down her spine. The undying were a testament to Moritum’s dark genius.
“Those are… the undying, yeah?” Felix murmured, his gaze narrowing. “Caught Heimer talking about them earlier.” He threw a quick look at Ava’s wraith form, his voice dropping. “Ava and I’ve been wondering how they… you know, how they even exist.”
“Yes, that would be them,” Mirabelle confirmed. “They’re part of Moritum’s legacy—products of his experiments. From what I’ve read, he was once a mage, a student at the College of Eldoria. But he vanished for years, and when he came back… well, neither he nor his creations were quite the same.” She gestured toward the two Risen peering at them from the shadows of a nearby alley.
“They just stand there,” Ava noted, her gaze unwavering. “Like they’re waiting for something.”
“Or someone,” Aric chimed in, his voice carrying a low twang. “Word has it, their existence is hitched to him. If he goes down, so do they.”
Mirabelle’s expression darkened at that. The undying were tolerated, barely, their loyalties a haunting mystery. Yet the whispers of the Marrows—a faction of undying rumored to rebel against their creator—intrigued her most. Scouts spoke of them, rebels moving in the northern territories. They were elusive, defiant, and their motives were wrapped in silence.
“Think we’ll ever meet these Marrows?” Mirabelle’s voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp with curiosity.
“Only if they want us to,” Aric replied, glancing into the distance. “They’re ghosts out there, slipping between cracks in the war.”
Before Mirabelle could dwell on that thought, Whisker’s playful voice broke through. “So, Lucas has yet to win a spar against you, Captain? Are you really that good, or is Lucas just that bad? Or maybe it’s Aria distracting him.”
Lucas shot him a glare, ears flattening as he crossed his arms. “Keep talking, trash panda. We’ll see who’s laughing next time.”
Aric laughed, a genuine sound that lightened the tension. “I’m just good, Whisker. Don’t let Lucas’s pride fool you.”
She glanced at Aric, who moved with the ease of a man who had walked these streets all his life. Once a sergeant under Alcides Everlight’s father, Aric had risen in rank through grit and loyalty.
She remembered their first meeting, the sharp-tongued soldier who had stood by her when the tensions and the war began. Everlight had been there too, just a boy then, carrying maps too heavy for his age and spilling them all over the floor. Mirabelle had scolded him, calling him a “blind git of a scribe” before she realized who he was. His sheepish smile and playful retort had sparked something that grew into the bond they now shared.
Why did you go alone, you fool? Don’t you know I would have gone with you?
The thought pierced her heart as they walked. He had taken so much on himself, believing that only by upholding his father’s legacy could he prove his worth. But to her, he had never needed to. He was enough as he was, without the weight of that damned name.
Mirabelle’s gaze drifted to Whisker, who walked alongside Captain Aric, a tentative smile on his face, as if he were testing its weight. His laughter was light, but there was an edge to it, a shadow clinging behind his eyes—a reminder of everything that had happened just two nights before. She noticed how he kept casting small, anxious glances back at the group, as though needing the reassurance that they were all still there, still safe.
“Whisker, ya gotta ease up on that worry,” Aric said, his drawl softening as his sharp gaze softened. It was rare for the captain to show much concern, but it was there now, flickering like an ember.
Whisker gave a half-hearted chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Easier said than done, Captain. Still feels like I’m trying to figure out who’s watching who here.”
A few paces back, Lucas caught the exchange and smirked. “Relax, kid. Anything even thinks about jumping us, it’s gonna have to get through me first.” He glanced over at Tanaka, who remained silent and serious, his watchful eyes flicking toward Whisker, tension visible in the set of his jaw. Lucas’s voice dropped slightly. “And him.”
Aria, slithering along beside Mira with a carefree sway, threw Lucas a teasing grin. “Is that supposed to be comforting, Lucas? Because you really know how to warm a person’s heart.”
Lucas shot her a side-eye but couldn’t quite suppress the twitch of a smile. “Take it however you want, Aria. I’m versatile.”
Mirabelle observed Lucas, noting the subtle shifts in his posture, the way his gaze trailed Whisker’s movements with quiet intent. The once-fiery edge he’d carried had tempered, like a blade cooled in water—honed, controlled. Since that night, he and Tanaka had barely argued; it was as if their joint decision to stay by Whisker’s side had formed a silent bond between them, an understanding that needed no words.
She couldn’t quite tell if Lucas’s watchfulness came from a newfound protectiveness or from a lingering worry—an unspoken fear that Whisker might show signs of the same corruption that had overtaken the soldiers back in the market.
Breaking his silence, Tanaka finally spoke up, his voice deeper, steadier than before. “Whisker, you don’t need to keep looking back. We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.”
Mirabelle’s gaze shifted to Tanaka, noticing the slight tremor in his hands as he flexed his fingers along the hilt of his sword. The memory of that night still clung to him, just as it did to Whisker. She could tell the name Ryoka still haunted him—ghostly, unresolved.
He’d cried out that name that night, shouting for them to save Ryoka when she and Lucas had rushed in to find Whisker lying in front of him. The name clung to the edges of her mind, like a puzzle missing its last piece. Since their arrival, Tanaka had been the steady anchor, the first to step up whenever leadership faltered. But something had shifted in him since Whisker’s ordeal, as if the weight of his past had grown heavier, deepening the shadows in his eyes with every passing day.
She caught the way his gaze lingered on Whisker, an unreadable emotion tightening his expression. Lucas, noticing this, exchanged a look with Tanaka—a silent understanding passing between them, unspoken but palpable.
“Don’t go pushing yourself too hard, old man,” Lucas muttered, the usual bite in his tone softened. “We’ll need you steady when we find Everlight.”
Tanaka’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, his eyes fixed forward. “Steady enough, Lucas. Count on it.”
The street narrowed as they approached the aqueducts, the midday sky casting long, eerie shadows across the stone structures. The faint purple tint in the air made everything feel surreal, as if reality itself were holding its breath. Mira, wings shimmering like stardust, hovered slightly above the group, her eyes wide as she scanned the arches that loomed over them.
“C’est magnifique... but unsettling,” Mira whispered, her voice carrying an awe she couldn’t quite hide behind her nervousness. “Feels ancient, like it’s guarding secrets it’s not ready to share.”
Ava, who had kept silent, glanced at her and gave a curt nod. “This whole world’s built on secrets, love,” she said, her voice contemplative with a hint of her English roots. “But this place... something’s different.”
They paused at the entrance: an iron gate, crusted with rust, standing tall against the stone. A group of guards, their armor battered and worn, stood watch. One of them, an Undying soldier with hollow, unfocused eyes, leaned against the wall, jerking back to attention as a Fae elf guard nudged him upright.
“Mirabelle?” Ava’s voice was low, yet carried an unspoken question.
Mirabelle stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the group, assessing. “We need information,” she said to the guards, voice steady. “What’s the situation below?”
The Undying soldier blinked, a faint rattle escaping him as he straightened. “Quiet… too quiet,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward the dark tunnel. “But won’t be for long, no…”
Beside him, a wolfish Beastkin with a bass growl spoke, his voice both melodic and rough. “Somethin’s movin’ down there, shadows shiftin’. We don’t know what’s prowling, but it’s big.”
Whisker’s ears twitched, and his unease returned. “Shadows… always shadows,” he murmured softly, barely loud enough for Aric beside him to hear. The captain’s eyes narrowed with a flicker of concern but he kept his silence.
“Did Everlight pass through here?” Felix’s question cut through the murmurs, his mechanical eye clicking softly as it refocused on the guards.
The elf woman nodded reluctantly, her tone soft and almost apologetic. “A week ago. He carried a badge, said scouts would come with his reports.” Her gaze dropped, the memory haunting her eyes. “But… no one’s heard from him since. One scout made it back, but…”
“Madness,” the skeleton rasped, his voice a dry rattle. “Kept muttering about something watchin’ him, out in the dark.”
The group fell silent, and a taut tension gripped the air like a coiled spring. Aric’s gaze hardened, his usual easy-going warmth replaced by a fierce resolve. He squared his shoulders, looking each soldier in the eye, and his voice dropped, gaining a steely edge that left no room for doubt.
“This foolishness ends now,” he snapped, his tone like the crack of a whip. “Enough slackin’ and stumblin’ about. We’re the wall between this city and whatever’s crawlin’ down in that dark. I don’t care what spooked ya—get it outta your heads and stand tall.”
The Undying soldier straightened, the haze in his eyes clearing as he gripped his spear tighter. The elf’s shoulders lifted, and she took a resolute step forward, nodding. Even the Beastkin, who had looked uncertain moments before, steadied himself, a growl of renewed confidence rumbling in his chest.
“I don’t want any of you losin’ your nerve,” Aric continued, his voice carrying a rare authority. “We’re goin’ in there, and I need you ready. Eyes up, minds sharp. Whatever’s down there won’t be takin’ us by surprise, got it?”
The soldiers nodded in unison, their backs straighter, the wavering fear in their faces replaced with a grim determination. Even the skeleton managed a sharper stance, the unsettling glow of his eyes narrowing with purpose.
Lucas glanced at Aric, raising an eyebrow, a flicker of newfound respect glinting in his gaze. “Didn’t know you had that in you, Cap,” he muttered, just loud enough for Aric to hear.
Aric smirked without breaking his focus on the soldiers. “Someone’s gotta keep these folks in line. If it’s gotta be me, well…” He let the sentence trail off, the weight of his words lingering. “Now then, ready up. We’re movin’ in.”
Mirabelle stepped up beside him, her tone now a steady command. “Open the gate. We’ll handle whatever’s lurking.”
The guards exchanged glances, hesitant but compliant as they pushed the iron barrier open. The groan of the rusted hinges echoed ominously, carrying the promise of what lay beneath. A chill swept out to meet them, heavy with the scent of decay and rot.
“Stay close,” Mirabelle said, her voice softer now as she conjured a gentle light. It glowed pale in the gloom, casting long shadows that seemed to shift and dance as they stepped forward. One by one, they followed her into the darkness, leaving behind the murmurs of the city and the fragile safety of light.
As the group descended the stone steps, Whisker’s hand brushed against the wall, the veins of corruption pulsing faintly beneath the grime. The echoes of dripping water filled the silence, joined by the occasional scurry of unseen creatures. Tanaka’s broad silhouette loomed at the rear, his eyes dark with determination.
Lucas glanced at him, muttering just loud enough for Tanaka to hear, “Don’t lose yourself down here.”
Tanaka’s jaw clenched, but he met Lucas’s gaze with a resolve that spoke of unspoken promises. “I won’t. Not today.”
The group moved forward, their footsteps steady but cautious as they descended deeper into the darkness. Each step down the stairs echoed through the tunnel, the sound magnified in the oppressive silence. The walls glistened with moisture, slick with grime and veins of corruption that pulsed faintly, as if alive. The narrow path wound ahead, disappearing into shadow, and the air grew colder, weighted with the stench of decay.
The dripping of unseen water punctuated the silence, mingled with the occasional scuttle of creatures skittering just beyond their vision. The torchlight cast flickering, distorted shapes that danced like specters against the stone.
Mirabelle held her conjured light steady, the glow illuminating their path as she pushed down the rising tide of dread in her chest. The shadows pressed close, almost suffocating, but she forced herself to stay composed.
We’re coming, Everlight, my love. Just hold on.
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