Owen and Pyris gazed out into the distance, but they couldn’t see anything approaching. Yet, that dread grabbing hold of him told him it was out there, somewhere.

“So,” Owen said, trying to cut the tension in the air. “What do you think it is?”

“Something big?” Pyris replied, looking at him with her sharp eyes.

“That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Owen chuckled awkwardly. He wasn’t an awkward person. Or at least he didn’t think he was. Caroline was extremely pretty, and he could hold a conversation with her no problem. But Pyris was different. She was otherworldly. Literally.

Silence took hold and it only made the air between them that more awkward.

Thankfully, Pyris spoke up. But it just made it worse. “The words you spoke to me before, thank you.”

“Hm? What words?”

“When I was asleep.”

“Oh,” Owen said, his face turning red. “You heard all of that?”

“Every word.” Pyris’s lips curled. “They helped me. I think I was falling. Sinking. I think your words saved me. Regardless of how many fall, especially those we fail to save—we need to try harder, keep moving with one step in front of the other.”

Owen nodded. “Your sister,” he said, noticing the grief hidden behind her eyes. “What was she like? If you don’t want to talk about it–”

“No, it’s fine,” she replied, holding her hands behind her back. Her grip tightened. “She always had high spirits.” Her smile brightened. “Once a year, our village, Arnwin, would hold this spectacular harvest festival. We’d have lanterns lining the street, the smell of pickled, and fried vegetables would spread their scents throughout the stalls.”

Owen listened, the threat of the monster eased.

She continued, “She always wanted to take part in the sack race. She begged me to take part. But I was fifteen then and had just begun training to be a Velossa warrior. Going around taking part in games felt… childish. So, I refused. And I watched her take part. She lost, and she became upset. She cried and I didn’t know what to do. She lost, but in my eyes, that wasn’t possible. She was my sister—”

Pyris stopped looking at Owen and cast her gaze on the horizon. Her eyes turned glossy as she said, “She didn’t forgive me for an entire week after that. I had to spend my monthly pocket money on trying to get her a limited edition Velossa figurine from the Master craftsman Aelon. Owen?” She said his name, and looked back at him.

“Hm?” Owen bit his lip, feeling the raw emotion from Pyris.

“If I could go back in time,” she said, tears falling. “I’d have entered that damned race. Win or loss, it doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter to her. She just wanted me to be by her side.”

Owen raised his hand to place it on her back. He wanted to comfort her. To let her know everything was going to be okay, even if it wasn’t. But… he couldn’t. She felt so far away. Untouchable. Unreachable. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was a 7-Star—a higher life form—he just knew he shouldn’t.

She smiled, ignoring his hovering hand, her lips trembling. “That’s why I’ll never forget. That man… I’ll find him, and I’ll tell him to his face. I never forgot.”

“Would your sister wish for that?”

“Revenge?”

Owen nodded.

“Perhaps,” she said, shaking her head. “No, she’d tell me to forget. To move on with my life. To be happy. But how is that possible? For my people, my family, for her. I can never forget. The spirit of the Velossa is with me. I can’t fail them.”

Owen watched the haze of the horizon, then let out a big sigh. “The things we do for our own.”

She smiled, but the darkness in her gaze could never be lightened. “So does that mean you’ve decided on your future?”

Owen chuckled. “The future is never certain…. But, yes. At least for now, I have.”

“Do you mind sharing that with me?”

“Of course,” Owen said, smiling. “We forge ahead and never forget those we have lost. I will gain strength. I will become powerful, and then I think I'll join you in that sack race at the end of the line.”

“My Lord!” Bimpnoittins panicked voice echoed across the sands as he neared the wall.

Owen didn’t hesitate. He leapt down from the wall—landing effortlessly on the sand below—and rushed over to meet the gnome. “What’s wrong? Are we under attack?”

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Bimpnottin bent over, panting. “No... it’s Coo. She’s hurt. Badly.”

Owen glanced back at Pyris, who stood watching him, her expression unreadable. “Go,” she said firmly. “I’ll hold the border.”

Nodding, Owen scooped up Bimpnottin—despite the gnome’s protests—and dashed toward the mountain with all the speed he could muster.

Before entering the pasture that he had created for the dairy cow, Owen heard the pained grunts coming from Coo. He picked up speed, darting through the passageways until he broke into the room.

Thrashing on the floor, Coo groaned in pain. Owen rushed to her side, placing his hand on her side, only for her to grow louder.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked Bimpnottin, thinking he’d have more of an idea than him.

“We don’t know,” Bimpnottin said, face turning red. “She just started tossin’, turnin’, and screamin’. You need to do something.”

“I need to do something?” Owen asked, frowning. “Don’t you have experience with livestock?”

“Not the insides!” Bimpnottin protested.

“Alright,” he said, taking a breath. “Go and fetch Rizael. He’ll know what to do.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then he has a healing spell, at the very least.”

Bimpnottin nodded and dashed out to find the healer. Meanwhile, Owen knelt beside Coo, gently stroking her side in an attempt to calm her. He whispered softly, "Shhh, it's okay, girl," his voice low and reassuring. She quieted a little under his touch, but he could still feel the tension in her body. Despite his efforts, the pain lingered in her weary eyes.

She was looking at him as if asking him to help, but he was a city boy. When it came to the well being of a living animal, he didn’t have the faintest idea.

Thankfully, Rizael arrived, rushing in alongside Bimpnottin, and more. A lot of the Builders, Miners, and others had also joined them.

Rizael dropped down next to Owen, his hand gently pressing on Coo’s side, feeling around as the cow groaned in pain.

"What do you think’s wrong?" Owen asked, worry lacing his voice.

Rizael frowned, focusing. "I’m not sure yet. I’ll try healing her."

"Any side effects?"

"No," he replied, his hands glowing with white light. "If there’s no wound, the mana will dissipate. At worst, it’ll relax her muscles."

Owen watched as Rizael worked, but the longer he did, the more he clicked his tongue in frustration. Though Coo seemed slightly calmer, her pain hadn’t vanished.

"Still nothing?" Owen couldn’t hide his impatience.

"Nothing," Rizael said, puzzled. "If it were a wound, the spell would’ve fixed it. Something else is going on."

"Could it be corruption, like what Pyris had?"

Rizael shook his head confidently. "No, corruption stinks like rotten flesh. We’d know if that was the case."

"Maybe she’s pregnant?" Cindrelle chimed in from the side.

Everyone turned to look at her. She twirled her long, braided hair, bothered by the sudden attention. "I’ve seen this before somewhere... maybe," she added with a shrug.

Owen blinked. "Pregnant? Okay, so what do we do?" He glanced at Bimpnottin. "Can you… climb in there?"

Bimpnottin’s eyes widened in horror. "Climb in where?" He looked at Coo, then back at Owen.

Owen gestured vaguely toward Coo’s rear.

"Are you joking, my Lord?" Bimpnottin said, face flushed.

Owen, equally embarrassed, turned to Cindrelle. "Any ideas?"

"Volcano’s pit, no," she cursed, clearly not volunteering.

Owen coughed. "Fine," he muttered. "Anyone?"

Everyone else backed away.

Grinding his teeth, Owen sighed and focused back on Coo. She was contracting, not thrashing from injury. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself. "I’ve seen this in documentaries. We need to reach in and help guide the calf out."

Rizael grimaced. "You sure?"

"Um, I’m not sure. But I don’t see any other options." Owen looked around the room. "Get ready with your spells in case the calf needs help."

With a final nod from Rizael, Owen knelt beside Coo, whispering softly, "Don’t worry, girl. We’ll get through this."

Owen took a deep breath, steeling himself as he reached into Coo. His arm slid in deeper as he felt around, trying not to think about the sensation. His hand finally found the calf, but it wasn’t positioned correctly. The legs were tangled, and the baby seemed stuck.

"Cindrelle, help keep her calm," Owen said, focusing all his attention on the task at hand. He felt the strain in Coo’s body as her contractions grew more intense. Time was running out. "Come on… untangle," he whispered under his breath.

With careful movements, Owen used his fingers to loosen whatever had the calf caught. It felt like hours passed, but finally, he managed to free the legs. "I got it!" he exclaimed, and with one final pull, the calf slipped out and dropped into his arms.

The newborn’s nostrils were clogged with mucus, so Owen quickly cleared them with a twig. The calf sneezed, releasing a few bubbles, then let out a soft grunt. Owen’s face split into a wide grin as he brought the calf closer to Coo. "It’s a girl," he whispered.

Coo licked her calf clean, and the tension in the room eased. "You did it, my Lord!" Cindrelle cheered.

Everyone gathered around to take a look at the newborn, the room filled with laughter and relief. Owen wiped the sweat from his brow, sitting back against the wall, his heart still racing.

Rizael sat beside him, a smirk on his face. "Well, would you look at that? Even here, in a place like this, life can find a way."

Owen nodded, still catching his breath. "Looks like we’ve got something new to fight for."

He looked over at Bimpnottin. "Why don’t you give her a name?"

Bimpnottin’s eyes widened in surprise. "Me? I can name her?"

Owen grinned. "Yeah, go for it."

After a few moments of pacing, Bimpnottin’s face lit up. "I’ve got it!" He puffed up his chest. "We shall call her… Bubbles!"

The room fell silent for a second before Owen laughed. "Bubbles, huh? I like it."

Walking over to the calf, Owen whispered into her ear, "Welcome to the family, Bubbles." The little calf licked his face, and everyone burst out laughing, the mood completely shifted from anxiety to joy. Life, after all, had a way of bringing hope even in the darkest of places.