“Stay back, human! Leave before blood is spilled between us! This is more than your kind has ever offered—we give you this one chance to leave!” the elderly one warned, his voice trembling, whether from fear of me or the horror of another bloodbath; I couldn’t tell. His old eyes had seen more than their share of violence.

I raised my hands high above my head, slowly and carefully stepping away from my group toward their defensive line.

“We are not like those who have harmed you!” I pleaded, inching forward with deliberate caution. “We come in peace, bearing no ill will toward the folk of Isilrun. Our fight is with those who have oppressed you, not with you. Do not seek revenge against those who extend a hand of friendship—save it for those who truly deserve it! We share a common enemy. Work with us, not against us!”

For a moment, I saw the tension in their faces ease, and their resolve waver. But it only takes one spark to ignite a fire. One creature released his grip on the drawn bowstring, and the arrow shot straight toward my throat, piercing through my skin effortlessly. Air fled my lungs as a surge of blood gushed from my mouth, staining the black plates of my armor. I dropped to my knees, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come.

Silas and Finn immediately prepared to strike, charging at the one who had wounded me. But they halted as I raised a trembling hand, signaling for them to stop. Dark smoke swirled violently at my feet, rushing to my aid as it had so many times before. Summoning the last of my strength, I snapped the thick wooden shaft of the arrow in half and wrenched it from my neck. Blood gushed from the wound, but the shadows beneath me surged up, coating the gash and healing it completely. Dizzy and disoriented, I struggled to my feet, the world spinning around me.

Seeing this, the rest of the creatures loosed their arrows in a panic, sending a rain of death hurtling toward me. In one last effort to prevent further bloodshed, I summoned a pair of wings and, with a powerful thrust, released a gust of wind that deflected the arrows and sent the leaves of nearby trees scattering.

“Enough!” I roared, my voice now dripping with menace. “If you won’t listen to reason, then I will have no choice but to resort to violence! And believe me, that is something neither of us wants!”

Some of them dropped to their knees in surrender, while others still held their bows, ready to unleash another volley.

“Stop! Quassari, lay down your weapons!” the elderly leader commanded, and they obeyed. “Spare your lives, my quassari; a war with this one will only end with our blood soaking the sacred ground the goddess entrusted to us. And the goddess knows we’ve spilled enough of it already!”

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As the elder pleaded, those who had been eager for more bloodshed slowly lowered their bows and spears. They, too, sank to their knees, extending their arms wide as if awaiting an embrace.

“Our lives are in your hands, young one... including mine,” the elder said, mirroring the submissive posture of the others.

One by one, every creature knelt with arms outstretched and eyes turned to the heavens—even the children.

“What do you expect me to do?” I asked, bewildered by their sudden display.

“Whatever you see fit,” the elder replied. “You offered us peace, and we responded with violence. It is now up to you to decide our fate. We are at your mercy...”

“Why on earth would I do that?” I questioned, even more confused.

“It is only natural for us to offer our lives for the sake of peace when we were the ones who drew first blood. How can you trust us when the scales are uneven? We must be sacrifice as much as we are prepared to give. Here, it is a life for a life; our goddess wills it so.”

“Please, stand up!” I shouted, frustration boiling over. “I don’t have time for this! Our friends are missing, and if you’re so determined to die, then you’ll die helping us find them! It’s the least you owe me!” My outburst left the quassari exchanging puzzled glances.

“But what can we possibly offer you, young one? We have anything to give,” the elder said, rising to his feet, with the rest of his people following suit.

“First, you could start by telling us more about this world. The goldlings weren’t exactly forthcoming,” I replied.

“Ah, yes, the goldlings are a stain upon this land,” the elder quassari murmured as he shuffled closer, leaning in to whisper. “Their minds are consumed by gold, you see.”

“Oh, and you lot—a bunch of sacrificial lambs—are so much better, right?” Silas chimed in sarcastically from the side, though his remark seemed to go unnoticed by the quassari.

“I’m not sure if we can help you find your friends, but I can certainly tell you about this world. Come, let’s discuss it over tea!” the elder quassari suggested, urging us to follow him as he moved deeper into the forest settlement.

Those who had earlier threatened me now stepped aside and bowed respectfully. Once we passed, they resumed their daily activities as if nothing unusual had occurred. The settlement differed from that of the goldlings—in fact, it barely seemed like a settlement at all. Tall wooden spikes surrounded the clearing in the woods, protecting the small crops scattered about from wild beasts. A nearby pond served as a place where the quassari washed their pelts, which they then hung to dry on strings stretched between the trees, creating an intricate web-like structure overhead. Further in, there was a massive, hollow trunk of a towering tree with red leaves, its interior carved out to form a pathway leading underground.

“Welcome to our home! Please, follow me!” the elder quassari urged as he hunched over and entered the hollow tree.