The discovery of the changeling changed everything. As the cave fell quiet, a weight settled over the tribe. A silent understanding passed between us all One changeling means there could be more.

In the low rush-lights I looked around me.

I sat with my back to the cave wall, and watched the people around me, searching, scanning, and nothing, even in the privet areas.

The cave was divided into sections by leather walls held by wooden polls, but that leather couldn't block my mana sight, but just like the others I see no fea.

They are all people!?.

That thought lingered in my mind.

As I moved quietly through the dim light of the cave, checking faces and casting my senses wide, the feeling lingered—an uneasy presence, like something watching just beyond my reach. I hadn’t found any hint of faerie auras among the tribe, and yet... paranoia had taken root, sharp and unyielding. After seeing that twisted changeling creeping into the tribe, the possibility of others lurking here gnawed at me. My mind churned with questions, my instincts alive with the feeling that we were all prey.

Then I scanned for second time, bronlo his son, daughter, wife, brother, his brother's family. Then the hunters, and every man woman and child.‘Shit either I can't find them or there are no fay here’.

I couldn't believe it. As I considered the problem.

Monir sidled up to me, the light from the burning rush-light in his hand showed his face a mask of eager admiration, but his eyes betrayed something sharper—a glint that always showed when he was after something. He smiled, almost too wide, as he glanced at the dark stain on the cave wall where the changeling had been pinned.

“Anir,” he said, his voice low but reverent, as if he were speaking to a spirit. “That was… remarkable. I don’t think anyone’s seen skill like that before. We’d be lost without you.”

I nodded, keeping my expression composed, allowing just the right hint of humility. Monir… always the scavenger, feeding on anyone’s success but his own. I’m not his friend—I’m his opportunity. And yet, this eager devotion could be useful someday.

“Thanks, Monir,” I said, smiling. “But anyone would have done the same, given the chance.”

Monir chuckled, dismissing the modesty with a wave. “I don’t think so, Anir. Not like you did. Not many of us can do what you do, not many have… well, that gift.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And honestly, it’s about time they all realized that.”

Ah, so that’s it. Here he is, hoping I’ll share some glint of power or secret with him, so he can wear it like a mantle. But Monir’s loyalty is as fleeting as the first snow—gone with the slightest hint of sunlight.

I maintained the friendly, open expression. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Monir,” I said, adding a chuckle for good measure. “But the tribe’s strength doesn’t come from one person. We all rely on each other.”

“True, true,” Monir agreed, a bit too quickly. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt for them to recognize your worth. They should know just who it is that’s keeping them safe.” He smiled, flashing teeth that showed just a bit too much eagerness.

I tilted my head, considering him with a warm smile. “You’re right, maybe a little recognition wouldn’t hurt.” Yes, Monir, let’s keep you thinking we’re equals. Let’s see how far you’ll go trying to prove yourself worthy of a power you’ll never grasp. And to be honest am curious at what is he planing.

He laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Exactly! See? That’s what I’m talking about. The way you handled that creature—some people here… they just don’t understand it. But I do. I know there’s more to it than instinct. This technique You could teach them. Show them.”

My eyes softened, and I nodded thoughtfully. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Monir said, his face lit up with excitement. “With someone like you leading the way… imagine what we could accomplish.” His tone was almost pleading, as if he hoped to be pulled along with the tide.

I let the words hang for a moment, meeting his gaze with what I hoped looked like consideration. “You know, Monir, I appreciate your faith in me. It means a lot.” I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, as if to say he’d earned a place of trust.

His face brightened, practically glowing with satisfaction. “Anything, Anir. You know I’ve got your back. Always.”

“Always”—until someone stronger shows up. But for now, he’ll be easy enough to keep in line. A fake friend, yes, but even fakes have their uses.

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“Thank you, Monir,” I said warmly. “It’s good to know I can rely on you.”

Monir left to sleep.

I pushed the fool out of my mind and found my self back to the same thoughts I was in.

The fae are playing some sick, dark game, I thought, feeling a chill crawl up my spine. They don’t take interruptions lightly; by killing one of their own, I’ve disrupted whatever game they’re running. And yet, something tells me this darkness—the faint whispers I hear when all else falls silent—might not be their doing alone. Fae magic can’t be warded off by something as simple as the smoke Tahya uses, nor can her primitive rituals keep these creatures at bay forever.

People were tiring and falling asleep.

I glanced around, careful to make sure no one else was watching. I’d already noticed that sleep came uneasily tonight, everyone lying tense, backs rigid against the cave walls. But even with them asleep or resting, I couldn’t shake the sense that another presence was lurking here, hidden by nothing more than shadows.

My fingers clenched involuntarily around a small, rough golden nugget. This rock, one of several I’d painstakingly gathered, would have to serve as my anchor. A simple stone by itself, but tonight it would be a small but potent lifeline, pushing some of the strain of spellcasting away from my heart.

Strange, I thought, with a bitter smile. An empire’s worth of spells in my mind—an advantage any mage would kill for—and still, tonight I feel like prey. My aura is still raw, immature, and I feel its limits painfully in a time of need. If the fae come again, with more strength or cunning, we won’t be ready.

Waiting until the last of the evening small fire had died down to embers, and after casting a quick look around to confirm everyone else was resting, I pressed my back against the cool stone wall and reached deep into my aura. Every movement, every breath, had to be quiet—silent, even. As I drew on my power, I concentrated it into my left hand, allowing the faintest traces of my mana to flow into the golden nugget, tethering the spell around it, a focused anchor against the tension swelling in my chest. I barely breathed, whispering the faint words to channel the spell, letting it settle into the gold, hoping it would stay hidden from other prying auras.

When the casting was complete, I leaned my head back against the stone, taking a brief moment of rest. The spell sat quietly in my hand, pulsing like a distant heartbeat—a small comfort in the suffocating dark. But the spell would keep, and as the night stretched on, I realized it wasn’t only the fae I’d have to worry about. No, if tonight had taught me anything, it’s that the true darkness lay within us all, waiting for the moment to strike.

In the shroud of night, concealed by the faint glow of embers, I let the spell slip from my control and take form. With a slow, deliberate pulse, I gathered iron from the rocks and earth surrounding me, reaching deep into the soil and the cave walls, coaxing the metal to answer my call. Every whisper of mana I used felt like drawing blood, and the strain pricked sharply at my heart, as though my body might betray me with each breath.

This is a risky game, I thought, teeth clenched as I channeled power. A fine line between survival and collapse. But it has to be done.

Carefully, I extended my reach, focusing my aura deeper, letting it wind through the cracks of the stone. Slowly, like a cautious predator, I drew iron from the hidden depths, feeling each grain cling to my will. Minutes crawled by, each one tightening my chest, each one making my pulse throb louder in my ears. I gathered a large, jagged chunk of iron, heavy and cold in my palm, then another, and another. By the fourth—a small iron sphere the size of a pearl—the golden nugget fueling my spell was depleted, leaving me drained and hollow.

I exhaled, carefully tucking the iron into my hand. If I had a wallet, it would ache seeing the gold vanish, I thought bitterly, imagining every glint of gold lost to the ether, its sad how mana erosion causes the metal to degrade each time it’s used in high-power spells, requiring a steady supply to keep spells and devices functional. But the price was a small one to pay for avoiding the dangers that could shatter my heart.

Bracing myself, I used another gold nugget, channeling my energy into the smallest iron sphere. As the spell took hold, the metal transformed in my grasp, shifting into a hazy, thin mist—a swarm spell, bound by intent alone. With a silent push, I released the iron particles, watching as they drifted into the air and dispersed, like perfume thinning and spreading until they were invisible to the naked eye. It was like releasing smoke into the room, an invisible barrier that lingered, cloaking the entire cave.

For a moment, the air felt thick, charged, as if even the shadows held their breath. Then I heard it—a low, guttural hiss, coiling through the silence like venom. My spine stiffened, every instinct screaming as I sensed the presence retreat, recoiling from the spell’s protective embrace. It was only a faint noise, almost a whisper, but enough to make my skin crawl.

One of the night watchers guarding the cave entrance shifted, his eyes darting through the darkness. His posture tensed, and I caught him glancing into the shadows, as if he too had felt something foul retreating from our refuge.

Shit, no wonder my paranoia was having an erection, the danger wasn’t just outside anymore. It had found its way in. there was a fucking fea attempting to enter or did it enter just as my spell hit.

I let out a slow breath, my hand pressed against my chest to steady the frantic beating of my heart. That was too close. The idea of some unseen fey slipping past me, through the smoke, and into the heart of our home—it shows just how dangerous these things are. I’d pushed myself to the edge tonight, and I knew the cost, both in mana and in sheer will.

I forced my hands to unclench, to relax, though every fiber in me was braced for more. The silence settled back around us, deep and unnerving, with only the faint crackle of the dying fire. And as I lay there in the dark, my thoughts echoed with a grim certainty: these fey would return, and next time, they would be ready.

My mind flashed back to my past life’s brutal wars with the fay. Grandfather hadn’t hesitated to destroy every last faerie that stood in his way. And neither will I, given the chance.

I placed a gold nugget to my palm and used my aura to absorbed it this time the absorption was intentional and guided half for my hart and half for my bones.

I must speed up my growth and be ready for war with the fae.

This night we will sleep safe but tomorrow I am going to start my preparations.