The thrill of getting the map turned into a gnarly knot of worry in my stomach as we sneaked away from Max's tent. Four grim-faced guards materialized around us, their expressions leaving no room for negotiation. Leading them, a familiar figure stood with a smirk that could curdle milk. Tracy.

Tracy strutted towards us, his boots crunching on the gravel with a smug cadence. His smile stretched wide, revealing teeth that gleamed like polished bone in the waning sunlight. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "Look who decided to play rebel. Mr. By-the-Book Will himself, defying orders. Didn't fancy reporting the little runaway to the pointy-eared folks, did you?" His gaze flicked to me for a fleeting moment, then returned to Will, a glint of malicious pleasure flickering in his eyes. "Seems like someone's got a taste for trouble now."

My stomach clenched. Tracy, the arrogant know-it-all who'd ridiculed us at the prison, once again held our fate in his hands. Raine's hand instinctively tightened around the map, the only tangible victory from our encounter with Max. Confusion battled with a rising tide of apprehension as we were ushered towards the largest tent in the encampment.

The air inside was surprisingly crisp, without the heavy incense I thought would be there. Instead, a cheerful tune floated through the air, played on a lute by an elf lounging on a fancy chair with lots of carvings. Perhaps he thought himself a king. He had a double chin to match the stereotype of the indulgent. The figure – a male elf with skin that shimmered faintly with an orange glow – was clad in vibrantly colored clothes that clashed in a way that somehow worked. His white hair stood out against his skin, fashioned into a silly pompadour that defied gravity with an alarming amount of hairspray. Sparks darted beside his head – a tiny, shimmering fairy with iridescent wings, flitting back and forth with an air of concern.

Another elf stood beside him, his hair the color of ash. Neither of these elves fit the stereotype of pretty elves. His grey ears stuck out at odd angles, and he fidgeted with his gray clothes, trying to straighten them. One of his eyes, a striking brown, was slightly larger than the other, giving him a perpetually skeptical look. A faint scar snaked across his cheek, adding a touch of world-weariness to his otherwise unremarkable features. Unlike the flamboyant elf, this other elf exuded a quiet competence, his gaze flitting nervously between us and the orange elf.

Despite his wide grin, Orange exuded an unmistakable air of authority. As his flashy fingers danced across the lute strings, the melody swelled with increasing flourish. His stiff posture hinted at his place in the hierarchy. While Orange exuded flamboyant confidence, Gray seemed constantly on edge, his gaze darting nervously between us, the nervous fairy, and Orange as the lute's melody ended with a flourish.

“Ah, Will and Raine! Such a delightful surprise!” Orange threw his head back and let out a booming, self-satisfied laugh that echoed through the tent. “Did you bring me more… entertainment?”

His voice, dripping with theatricality, carried far too much volume for the confined space. He gestured dramatically towards me, his blue-lavender eyes gleaming with an unsettling hunger for information. “Tell me, little one,” he gestured his fairy to poke me as he poked the air, “what brings you to grace my humble abode? Lost, perhaps? Or perhaps you possess some… value our dear friends here neglected to mention?”

He paused, his gaze flickering back to Raine, Will and the gray elf. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smirk. “Grise, look at Raine being shy. Even Will is not speaking up. And I say, ‘Don’t be shy, folks. We wouldn’t want any… misunderstandings, would we?’ No, we wouldn’t. So, speak up, be bold!”

Will straightened his throat. “Lord Lune, sir. If I may speak freely. You told us that all of us are here by our own free will. However, news has reached me about the, well, restricted environment Saya came from under Tracy's supervision.”

A barely audible shiver rippled from the other side of the tent. Even Will flinched at the sound, his gaze drawn to the source. A flicker of movement caught his eye behind a heavy tapestry hanging along the back wall. The fabric rustled, then two figures emerged from behind it. It was my mom and sister. What were they doing here? What happened to Grandma? I panicked. Was she okay? I dared not confront the elves. These elves, with their haughty expressions and unsettling gazes, were the ones who controlled Tracy and the prison. My voice was still in prison here.

Will continued, his voice low but resolute, “As Tracy reported to you, wouldn't that make you ultimately responsible? A loyal soldier also strives to ensure justice, and keeping someone against their will raises concerns.”

Lune's grin faltered for a brief moment, but he recovered quickly. "Restricted environment? My dear Will, you seem to misunderstand. We simply offer... opportunities for growth at that camp. Perhaps Saya wasn't forthcoming about all the benefits you humes enjoy." He swept his gaze around the tent, his eyes lingering pointedly on the tapestry.

Another rustle from the tapestry snagged my attention. A flicker of hope, a desperate yearning, had me picturing Grandma emerging. Instead, a third figure stumbled out, yanked unceremoniously by a soldier's grip on her arm. Little Miss Thief appeared before us, her messy light brown hair cropped into a pixie cut that framed a face etched with defiance.

Will's jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of suspicion crossing his eyes. It seemed he knew Tracy had a certain... flexibility in interpreting orders, especially when it came to me. Clearing his throat, he addressed Lord Lune with a respectful nod. “Lord Lune, sir. You must be talking about increasing compatibility with Phite weapons. To match Saya’s claims, there must have been some oversight. Could Tracy perhaps clarify the extent of Saya's freedom within the camp?"

Lune's smile faltered slightly. "Freedom within the camp, you say? Guard Tracy, perhaps you can elaborate on the daily routines and limitations our... recruits experience."

Tracy stepped forward, his voice smooth but laced with a hint of forced cheer. "Absolutely, Lord Lune. As for limitations, well, we strive to create a focused environment for optimal growth. Daily routines involve rigorous training exercises, skill development sessions, and – most importantly – a strong sense of camaraderie that comes with shared purpose." He throws Saya a pointed glance, a silent reminder of her supposed lack of cooperation. "Speaking of which, we've had some... unexpected transfers this morning. It seems Saya's mother and sister have been, ahem, reassigned to new duties here at the camp.” Tracy looked to my mother and forced a cough.

My mother stepped forward, a forced smile plastered on her face. Her eyes, however, darted nervously towards me. "Yes, Lord Lune," she stammered, her voice unfamiliarly high-pitched. "We requested a transfer to be closer to our… ailing grandmother who requires constant care. It's been… difficult being so far away." She cast another furtive glance at me, her gaze pleading for cooperation.

The sudden arrival of my family was disorienting, to say the least. Just a moment ago, I was bracing myself for further questioning by the elf. Now, I had the gnawing suspicion that something wasn't right. Beside her, Sadie mirrored our mother's forced smile, but her dark eyes held a flicker of defiance. She chimed in nervously, her voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to be far from dear Baachan in her time of need, would we, Mama?" Her voice held a subtle edge, a hint of a question directed at me more than Lune.

Eight and already threatening my cooperation for the sake of Grandma. Typical Sadie. The thought sparked a flicker of annoyance, quickly extinguished by a wave of icy dread. My attention snapped towards the imposing figure of Lune, who had remained silent throughout this charade. His amusement, however, had vanished. In its place, a cold fury simmered in his eyes, a fury that seemed to settle not on my mother or Sadie, but directly on me. A chilling realization dawned – their arrival wasn't just a coincidence. It was a weapon aimed straight at my resolve.

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“How is this dirty humanself already outfitted with a Phirollite weapon and fairy?” He gestured sharply towards me, his amusement swiftly twisting into something far more dangerous.

This was more the line of interrogation I was expecting. Until addressed, I dare not let out a peep but my mind went back to when interrogated by Mr. Crow for “stealing.” He’s accusing me of stealing, isn't he?

Tracy responded, “She stole from the unresponsive weapon stash at the prison…camp, sir. The broken staff.”

Of course he would say something like that. I wished so badly I could talk back. Explain Spiderzilla and everything. Spiderzilla’s mental images, the map and the illusion of the guard cocoons… Just then, a jolt shot through my connection with my assigned fairy. It chirped in amazement, the sound echoing strangely in my head.

The surprise she felt coursed through me. The mind link? It felt like the link I had with Spiderzilla. The images Spiderzilla had once sent to me had spilled out in a torrent of uncontrolled visions – the illusion of the guards, the map, the terrifying sight of Spiderzilla in all her glory.

My vision blurred, unsure if it was tears or the overwhelming effort of the unintentional mental projection of my worst nightmare.

In the quiet, the assigned fairy chirped again, this time a rapid, excited trill. A moment later, it spoke, its voice a high-pitched whisper in my mind, laced with awe. [Fang! You are… were connected to Fang?!]

The nearby fairies all erupted in a melody of high-pitched whistles, as if a thousand tiny flutes played in perfect unison.

A stunned silence followed. Lune's sneer faltered, replaced by a furrowed brow. Even Tracy seemed speechless. The fairies had shared the news with them as well.

Lune cleared his throat, narrowed his eyes, jutted out his chin, and puffed out his chest. "Fang, that dastardly spider," he growled, "loved its freedom. It released a prisoner – er, a cadet, did it not? The eight-legged buffoon couldn't be trusted with a thimble, let alone the safety of the training camp."

"But," he continued to grumble, "one must consider the limitations of these invertebrates. Self-preservation, that's the name of the game, isn't it? Even the most overrated spider has a natural instinct for its own hide. Honestly, can you blame the creature? Stuck in that weapons shed with a broken Phirolite weapon, facing potential doom... well, I daresay even the mighty I might have made a similar, albeit unfortunate, decision.

"The point is, we can't be too harsh on the overgrown arachnid. It acted in its own best interests, just like any sensible creature would. Besides, a living Fang benefits us far more than a squashed one, wouldn't you agree? Fang's alive, and finally tethered to a human now."

Lune raised his goblet, the rich crimson liquid swirling within. He took a sip, savoring the vintage at first, then surprisingly gulped down the rest. "Now, Tracy! Those mmm's! I need a bag, and quick!"

Tracy shifted nervously on his feet, clutching a napkin in his hands. "Actually, sir, I believe it's pronounced M&M's."

Lune waved a dismissive hand. "M&M's, shm&m's! Just get them for me, double-time!"

“Right away, my Lord.” Tracy, realizing the urgency of Lune’s demand, quickly ran out the tent.

Sadie and my mom also used that time to rush out, however little Miss Thief wasn’t so lucky as she was held back by the guards.

"Ahh, if it isn't my two weapon thieves together in one tent," Lune sneered.

Miss Thief and I exchanged glances.

"You took back the Phite weapon my sister needs. She's sick! Give it back now, or I'll make you'll regret it!" She fought with the guard, trying to release her hands from his grip. Her high-pitched voice dripped with venomous intent, yet her slight frame and wide eyes made her look as harmless as a lost puppy.

Lune ignored the struggling girl entirely, his gaze fixed on me. He leaned closer, his playful demeanor replaced by a predatory intensity. A slow smile stretched across his lips, revealing a hint of sharp canines. "Oh, the little hume has some fight left," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "But defiance without power is a fleeting spark, wouldn't you agree?"

His amusement flickered momentarily to the girl, her outburst seemingly forgotten. Then, his eyes snapped back to me. "Guards," he commanded, his voice sharp, "keep an eye on our young thief. Let's see how long this human bravado lasts."

His positive mood kindled a small flame of hope in my chest. Just then, a flicker of movement at the tent entrance caught my attention. In sauntered Tracy, chest puffed out, brandishing a bag of M&M's like a knight offering a sacred chalice.

Lune took the bag without breaking his gaze from me. He ripped it open, popped a few M&M’s into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. The moment stretched on, the tension palpable. Finally, he spoke again, his voice colder than before. “You were found with a Phirollite staff, a broken weapon. But I see something even Fang couldn’t handle has been repaired. This is...suspicious.”

“All it needed was a bit of sunshine and a spit shine,” I smiled, feigning innocence. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Tracy, bring Max, our weapons expert in.” He grabbed the table in front of him in eagerness. “Let’s bring in our fairy expert too!”

To that, his fairy voiced many shrill bells twinkling, reminiscent of bike bells. Lune and his fairy shook their heads at each other.

He returned his attention on me again. “Shelly refused to come again. I tried firing hume, believe me, but that left a dozen fairies and humans drooling comatose on the floor. Not good. Hume’s the only one who can handle them. Hume’s also said that they’ve never seen any human take up a mental link that quickly.” His grin tinged with skepticism, where his lips curled slightly in a pucker as his eyes narrowed, conveying both amusement and disbelief.

Two of Tracy’s men barged in, each holding one of Max’s arms, his feet skimming the ground. Max's body hung limply between them, his arms draped over their shoulders for support. They placed Max in front of Lune and Max promptly turned around, showing Lune his back, and sat down crosslegged in defiance.

Lune gestured at Max’s back. “Tried firing that guy plenty of times, but what can I do? But he’s our only connection to the Tengu, being a mixed breed and all. We need him, unfortunately. Can’t afford to lose the Tengus favor.” Lune gestured to Grise, and Grise grabbed my staff to show to Max.

That’s what it was. He was mixed with Tengu blood. That red face and long nose reminded me of the Tengu guards!

Max's eyes, usually glazed and disconnected, snapped into focus. The dullness that often clouded them vanished, replaced by a spark of pure, unadulterated fascination. He stood and held the gemstone up to the light, mesmerized by the way it refracted. He tilted it back and forth, watching as the light played across its surface. He became completely mesmerized by its hypnotic beauty. He traced the smooth outer surface with a single finger, a sense of wonder washing over his face. Then, he followed the contours of the gem’s broken and repaired section, examining it with a focused intensity, as if in a trance.

Grise spoke then. “Max, regale us with your thoughts on how this gem was fixed. You told us Fang would have trouble with this gem, so how did a mere human fix it?”

Max, his eyes wild and unyielding, traced the contours of the gemstone with a gnarled finger. “This gem,” he rasped, “was once an egg—a vessel for hidden power.” His voice held the gravity of untold mysteries. "Two malvao fruits, fused in their shared destiny, fueled its magic. The seam, once a mere fracture, had become a complete break, a chasm of unleashed energy." He leaned in, breath sour and eyes ablaze. The room faded, replaced by the gem’s pulsing glow. "The setting," he murmured, "the creator made a nest woven by fate, perhaps foreseeing this rupture." His obsession consumed him, oblivious to the world beyond the fractured gem.

"Look at this," he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. He pointed a finger at the top of the gem.

"There's a sealant applied right here, where the malvaos' combined form weakened. But see how rough it is? It wasn't polished after application. Looks like an amateur job, rushed and desperate."

A sigh escaped Max's lips, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "This whole thing is a real puzzle, isn't it?"

Lune's gaze flickered between Saya and Max for a long, probing moment. Finally, he addressed Max directly, a hint of disdain lacing his voice. "Is this repair stable, Mutt? Won't cause the staff to detonate in her hands the moment she tries to activate it?"

Max's lips twitched, a hint of amusement battling with the annoyance in his eyes. "Of course, your Lordship. The staff's as stable as a newborn dragon, wouldn't dream of it turning into a glorified firework in her hands. Trust me, I wouldn't risk putting a faulty weapon in anyone's grasp, least of all a delicate one."

Lune’s snort echoed through the chamber, devoid of amusement. “Amateur work,” he scoffed, his tone dripping with condescension. “Wonderful.” His eyes bore into Saya, assessing her with the disdain of a seasoned merchant. “The gem is repaired, yes, but it remains our property—a potent one, at that.” He leaned in, his breath carrying the weight of unspoken threats. “Perhaps a trade is in order.”