Garran scratched his head, groaning with frustration. The morning suns streamed through the thick canvas curtain in his room, casting patches of seven colored light that danced across the bare stone floor. It was early, and yet his day had already been brimming with concerns—a long series of meetings with Hati and the village elders had consumed his thoughts. As the general of Wolvenblade, his responsibilities often centered on the village's safety and its precarious resources. Today, however, the focus of their meetings had been the persistent shortage of resin, which placed the village at significant risk during the approaching meteor storms. Resin Day was upon them, a day when the villagers would reinforce the great wall with protective coatings of resin, yet supplies were running dangerously low as they only had enough for a single coat.

Garran had also found himself repeatedly defending his strategy regarding the goblins. Although the village had grown stronger since his father had struck an alliance with the Satyr—a move that had bolstered their defenses and unified the villagers—there were still many resources they lacked. Shadow cores and other essential cultivation materials remained out of reach, and it didn't help that the goblins, who were masters of maneuvering through the dense forests, guarded these resources zealously. Occasionally clashing with those of the great canid clan as well heightening tensions. Garran had crossed paths with them on numerous occasions, but each encounter had ended the same way: he and his men were forced to retreat, their attempts thwarted by the goblins' mastery over the terrain and their stealth given their shadow cores. It gnawed at him, that feeling of being outsmarted on his own turf.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he tossed on a pair of worn green pants and pulled a simple white shirt over his shoulders. Before leaving his room, he grabbed his spear, its polished handle familiar and reassuring in his hand. He took a moment to glance around his room. It was spartan, bearing only a few wooden shelves adorned with ceremonial wolf teeth and small figurines—heirlooms from his ancestors, members of the Lupus line, who had ruled Wolvenblade for generations. Garran was heir to that legacy, and one day, the mantle of leadership would fall on his shoulders. His training, his relentless drive, was all for that. He would be the one to uphold the honor and history of the Lupus line. Maybe then, he thought, he'd have the means to bring lasting change—not just for the village, but perhaps even for Hati and Lain.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Garran stepped out of his room and into the hallway, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floorboards. The Lupus family home was the largest in the village, built long ago by his ancestors. Its walls were adorned with old tapestries, each one woven with images of fierce wolves, symbols of the Lupus line's strength and tenacity. Flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the walls, lending the house a timeless, almost reverent air.

As he made his way down the corridor, he heard voices filtering through the air, voices he immediately recognized. They were coming from his father's study.

"With things as they are now, perhaps it's time we consider it. The village has struggled for years, and these attacks are only growing worse," the raspy voice of Baya, the village's eldest elder and head priestess, drifted through the partially open door. "I believe the plan, Remus, but maybe… just maybe, we need a backup. Perhaps they could help."

"It's been several generations since our people established themselves here. What is the measure of a man, of a people, if not their pride?" His father's voice was thick with conviction. "I understand the need for pragmatism, but I will not betray the dreams of my ancestors so easily."

"Bagyagyagya," Baya's throaty laughter echoed down the corridor. "Remus, I understand, truly. All I'm suggesting is that we prepare for the worst. I'm not saying we abandon anything, but we must ensure our survival, so that our people are never truly lost." Her voice softened, as if trying to temper her words.

"Wolvenblade is on an upward path, Baya," Remus replied, his tone firm. "We don't need it, and even if we did, would it really make things better? This village is my home, and I will not forsake the path we've chosen. This is the will of the first Lupus, our ancestor! You, of all people, should know that."

Garran paused, leaning against the wall as he listened. It was rare to hear his father speak with such intensity, and rarer still to hear him debate with Baya. Their voices crackled with history and passion, carrying the weight of lives spent defending the village and its traditions.

"Pride cannot shield our people, Remus," Baya continued, her tone calm but unyielding. "It cannot fill their bellies or sustain their lives."

Remus let out a heavy sigh, a creak sounding as he likely leaned back in his chair. "And if we did consider it, would it really change anything? Would it solve the deeper issues we face? Or might it make matters worse? After all this time just how much has changed?"

"A chance, Remus," Baya pressed, her voice thick with determination. "A path, a variable, a hope. Hope is more substantial than legacy, no matter how old. The hope for survival, for the possibility of change, will always outweigh the weight of history. People face forward for a reason, Remus. Our eyes, our feet, our nose, we are born with them all facing forward into the distance."

Garran heard another deep sigh from his father, followed by the soft groan of a chair shifting. He could almost picture his father's weary expression, the lines of responsibility etched deeply into his face.

"Very well, Baya," Remus said finally, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I'll consider it, but let's not rush into decisions."

"Bagyagyagya," Baya chuckled. "You've grown just a little, Remus. I remember when you used to wet the village houses and drove poor Arthas to madness with your pranks!"

"Uggh, must you bring that up?" Remus laughed, a rare sound, though tinged with fondness.

As their laughter echoed through the hallway, Garran continued down the corridor, his mind buzzing with questions. Despite his position, there was still much about the village's deeper matters that he wasn't privy to. He knew about the attacks, the escalating conflicts, and, of course, his father's alliance with the Satyr. And naturally, he knew the matter regarding his uncle and his choices. Yet, the conversation he'd just overheard was different—it touched on something deeper, an object or perhaps a plan related to the Lupus lineage and the village's survival. One day, he would inherit that legacy, and when that time came, he would bear the full weight of these responsibilities. He felt that truth pressing on his shoulders now, a burden he knew he had to carry with pride.

With that pride came a sense of duty that was as heavy as it was sacred. To be the Lupus heir meant devoting his life to the village, ensuring its safety and prosperity, and bearing the weight of every decision. The mantle was his alone, and while it sometimes felt stifling, Garran found himself oddly comforted by it. A life without purpose would be worse—wouldn't it? Perhaps being free, carefree, and driven by nothing but personal desires was better, but such thoughts felt foreign to him, almost dangerous. After all, he had seen that kind of life before… lived by that man. And yet, even if he dared ask about the matters discussed in his father's study, he knew the answer would be the same as it always had been: "Not yet."

As Garran turned away, a flicker of frustration twisted his brow. He was old enough to defend the village, to bleed and perhaps even die for it. But he was not old enough, it seemed, to share in all its secrets. Resigned to his fate, he shouldered his spear and moved toward the door, murmuring under his breath, "One day, I'll understand. And when I do, I'll do right by all of you."

The village's cacophony of sounds greeted him as he stepped outside. The rhythmic hammering of artisans preparing for Resin Day, the murmur of villagers bustling around the market stalls, and the distant laughter of children—all these sounds filled the air, grounding him in the present. Garran took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy scent of resin and the warm tang of the forest beyond. One day, the weight of his birthright would settle fully on his shoulders. And on that day, he vowed to himself, he would be ready. Until then, he'd leave it to the future him.

_____________

Midea shook his head, his patience wearing thin as he looked at the rotund, wolf-like figure standing before him. Bardo, the village blacksmith, was quite the sight: though his belly hung prominently over his belt, his arms were as thick as tree trunks, packed with sinuous muscle. Each movement of his forearms displayed cords of strength and power beneath his weathered skin. His shoulders bulged with the kind of muscular density only years of intense labor could carve into a man, a physique befitting a smith. Deep black hair, flecked with streaks of gray at the temples, framed his bald scalp. Bardo's sweat-slicked face and bellowing voice only added to his rough character. Though he was capable of shaping the most intricate weapons and armor, his understanding of runes was, to put it kindly, lacking.

"Oh ho! But why are you putting the runes on top of one another and in opposite formation?" Bardo asked, squinting down at the length of polished wood in his hands. His thick fingers traced over the pattern with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

The weapon in his hand was carefully marked with runes—multiple wards aligned to reinforce its structure. On a separate piece of wood, identical symbols were drawn, inverted, and arranged in an opposite order. Midea's brow furrowed slightly. He had gone through this with Bardo six times already, each time trying to break it down into simpler terms, yet here they were again.

"This is the property of repulsion," Midea explained, his voice measured but tinged with exasperation. "It invokes aspects of yin and yang, opposites, to make it simpler for you to understand. Certain wards, when applied in this mirrored and opposite order, strengthen the overall effect. It's crucial, though, that the components be precise—intention, perfect separation, and exact reflection are essential. If any one of these elements is off, then, congratulations, you'll have an explosion on your hands."

He paused, observing Bardo's blank expression. Was he getting through? With a sigh, Midea tried once more to explain the intricate process. "You see, the structure of these runes must align perfectly with the Dao. When inverting them, you're not just drawing a reflection—you're mirroring a fragment of the Dao itself. Everything, from the placement of the wards to the spacing between them, must be precise. A margin of error greater than one percent, and the weapon becomes a liability. This is why a numen-conductive surface is needed between the layers."

Midea could feel his own frustration simmering, but he kept his voice steady. Repulsion techniques were complex; they required an understanding that went beyond physical labor and into the realms of spiritual insight. But if Bardo could master this, the village would benefit immensely. Weapons enhanced with runic repulsion would provide a significant boost to Wolvenblade's defenses.

"I'll be here to oversee the process until you get it right," he continued, a note of finality in his tone. "I'll also bring several soldiers to assist and observe. Surya herself will join us. She may even act as your instructor where I cannot."

Bardo's face twisted in shock, and then, almost immediately, contempt took over. "Why the hell would I take instruction from that little girl?" he scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "Are you crazy? I don't need some winged little monster prancing around my shop, pretending to know more than I do. And I sure as hell don't need soldiers underfoot, especially if that little runt Hati is among them."

Midea's patience cracked, just for a moment. He had little tolerance for the traditions of this village if they would actively impede his duties. He fixed Bardo with a chillingly calm stare, his tone unyielding. "Are you gay, Bardo?" he asked, voice edged with sarcasm. "Because if not, I assure you, being around a woman will neither corrupt you nor cause your precious shop to crumble. We're talking about the defense of this village, something that concerns life and death. Your petty complaints are pathetic in the face of the sins you'll bear if your stubbornness leads to Wolvenblade's fall. You will accept the help of soldiers, including Hati, if she's assigned, and Surya will be present, whether you like it or not. That girl and her brother saved your miserable hide, Bardo. Show some respect. Do you understand me?"

Bardo's face reddened, the flush creeping up his neck and spreading across his cheeks. Anger and embarrassment flared in his eyes, his hands twitching with barely restrained frustration. After a tense pause, he let out a begrudging sigh, nodding stiffly.

"Good." Midea's voice held an icy satisfaction. "Now, as for the conductive material, use basic plant oils—no precious herbs or high-grade materials. Mix it with animal fat to create a waxy coating, something similar to the candles you make. The flesh of living beings retains traces of numen even in death, carrying the essence of creation itself. Once you have that wax coating, apply it over the wards on the weapon. Bind it securely with a strong adhesive, then wrap it with string. And let me be clear, if that adhesive isn't stable, the weapon won't just fail; it'll likely be destroyed, and the backlash could injure or kill any soldier wielding it."

Bardo's brow furrowed as he processed Midea's instructions. A few of the terms seemed to go over his head, and he scratched at his chin, a look of deep concentration settling over his face. Midea stifled another sigh and patiently went over the confusing terms, breaking them down further until the concept finally clicked. Bardo gave a slow nod, a hint of understanding dawning in his eyes.

The room was stifling, the air thick with the scent of burnt wood and metal, mingling with the sharp tang of oils and grease. The blacksmith's forge glowed behind them, casting flickering shadows across the workshop walls. Tools lined the shelves, battered from years of use, and a few unfinished weapons rested on the stone counters, their edges gleaming in the forge's light. It was an environment that suited Bardo—brutal, practical, a place where strength and skill determined worth.

Finally, when Bardo seemed to grasp the entire process, Midea turned to leave, feeling a peculiar sense of relief. Dealing with Bardo was, to put it mildly, taxing. The blacksmith's bullheadedness and ingrained prejudices had made every moment in his presence an ordeal. There were several points in that conversation alone where Midea had been sorely tempted to slice off the man's fingers just to make a point. But now, at least, he could walk away with the knowledge that the village's defenses would soon be strengthened, thanks to his guidance.

Midea's hooves echoed on the stone floor as he left the workshop, his mind already shifting to the next task at hand. It was good for his soul, he supposed, to exercise patience—even if that soul was as demonic as his. And maybe, just maybe, he had planted a seed of change in Bardo's stubborn mind, though he wasn't holding his breath.

___________

Midea shook his head, tuning out Bardo's lingering grumbles as his thoughts drifted back to the morning's events. Today marked the village's holiday, Resin Day, and as if summoned by the oddities of the celebration, Surya had somehow been infected by a leech—a parasitic creature that was just one part of the absurd fauna in this world. Remarkably, her body had destroyed it entirely. He still had no idea how she had managed it. With no ability to actively manipulate her own internal physiology via numen, she should have been at the mercy of the parasite. The only explanation he could think of was her bloodline.

Certain races, families, or ancient lineages bore potent marks of cultivation inscribed in their very bodies, passed down through generations and imprinted in their bloodlines. Such people typically descended from powerful beings, inheriting traits, defenses, and even abilities. Midea himself had a bloodline, though it wouldn't have helped him in that situation without numen. Still, there was a more unnerving possibility—that her ability to fight off the leech could be a natural fact of her biology, akin to how wolfmen, and most demons and biological beings, bore a powerful heart that pumped their lifeblood. That sort of thing wasn't a bloodline it was just a fact of how they functioned. If her ability was instinctive rather than acquired, it made her nature even more formidable, and that was saying something.

The children had already surprised him numerous times with their uncanny adaptability. They had grown accustomed to weight and gravity faster than any ordinary being, adjusting to their training with a startling speed that far exceeded his expectations. Midea was impressed, though even they tired eventually. They'd gone to wash up and rest after their encounter with the "ring infestor" parasite this morning, and he was fairly certain Hati would have dragged Surya for a check-up before running off to handle her own duties. Likely, she would rouse them both later for the holiday after her tasks were done.

As for himself, Midea planned to join the festivities. It would be a way to build a positive reputation among the villagers, helping him to integrate further. He needed their goodwill, not just for the children's benefit but for his own. He wanted aid in venturing into the forest to seek cultivation resources without risking his life to do so. Soon, he would reach the ninth shackle of the second layer—a milestone he'd been preparing for diligently. Accumulating power for as long as he could, he aimed to maximize his cultivation to make his eventual evolution to the third layer all the more significant. But the prospect of his impending tribulation left him feeling cautious, even uneasy.

Midea knew that his trial wouldn't be simple. As a genius, the intensity of his tribulation would likely dwarf whatever Remus had endured. This village lacked any resources or supports to help him through it, making his breakthrough that much more dangerous. Despite this, he couldn't afford to falter. He needed the power for influence and, ultimately, to protect the children. His recent reputation—fueled by his and Surya's claims of being blessed by the sun and by his own actions—had already earned him some influence. But the third layer, where only the chieftain currently stood, would signify something much greater. Reaching it would position him as someone worthy of the villagers' trust and support. Another third-layer warrior was a history-altering event for the village, and it would mark Midea as someone the people needed to follow.

With the support of Surya and her brother, the possibility of forming a genuine faction loomed tantalizingly close. Perhaps it wouldn't be a fully-fledged faction just yet, but it could serve as the foundation for one, a step toward a larger vision. He was especially glad that the siblings were becoming close with Garran and Hati. He himself had made a conscious effort to be more personable. Power, combined with strong allies, meant safety, and safety meant the freedom to pursue his ambitions. If all went according to plan, this village would be a crucial stepping stone on his road to power—one that could even aid in his eventual rise in Hell. Well in the fact that it would help him save the kids that is.

With a heavy sigh, he began the trek back down to the house, his hooves crunching against the rough stone path that ran through the village. Shadows stretched long across the ground as the sun angled lower, casting a warm golden hue that softened the rough edges of Wolvenblade. The rustic houses, with their dark wood and sturdy foundations, stood shoulder to shoulder, their walls covered in ivy and moss, the scent of damp earth lingering in the air. Flowers—wild and bright—grew along the path, patches of blue and yellow breaking up the deep greens of the village's natural flora. Wisps of smoke curled from the chimneys, and the faint sounds of laughter drifted through the air as the villagers began to prepare for the evening's celebration.

Arriving at the house, he paused to take in the quiet. It was peaceful here, the quiet hum of village life muted in this corner of Wolvenblade. He knew the children were likely asleep, their small frames curled up and resting from the day's events, or else Hati might still be there, keeping an eye on them. He turned to walk away. He might as well not disturb them. It had been a crazy morning after all. They would get up at their own pace.

________________

Tanya rubbed her eyes, feeling the rough weave of the sheets against her skin. The lingering drowsiness was broken by a rustling sound at the edge of her awareness. Oddly, she felt well-rested despite yesterday's grueling ordeal—lifting a boulder, climbing up what might as well have been a gravity well, and being swallowed whole more times than she'd like to recall. Yet here she was, fully recovered, as if her body had somehow restored itself in mere hours. It was a strange sensation, realizing how fundamentally different she was from her former self, like a chasm had formed between her and who she used to be. Tanya, the child, had faded into Surya, a being molded by resilience and strength. She was Surya now, in every sense of the name; Tanya barely existed anymore.

After her checkup, the ring infestor had been confirmed dead within her body. Though the doctors couldn't perform a diagnostic with their numen, they found no symptoms lingering, only murmurs of curiosity over her unusual biology. Eyes blinking against the light, she glanced around and spotted Tarak getting dressed. His brown skin stood out sharply against the cool-toned woodwork of their room, a reminder of how vividly their presence contrasted with this new world.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Oh, sister! I didn't know whether or not to wake you up, given… everything." He paused, casting a glance toward the door. "I heard sounds outside, something's going on in the village. I thought I'd go see wha—"

Boom!

A deafening sound echoed through the house, shaking the front door on its hinges. Tanya snapped to attention, every fiber of her being sharpening into alertness. Tarak tensed too, stepping back into the shadows behind the door, preparing himself. The door crashed open, and in a split-second, they leaped into action, hurling themselves at the intruder. Only as they collided did they pull back their attacks, their limbs tangled in a mess of limbs and laughter.

"Oof! The two of you sure are heavy!" came the familiar, playful voice. "Didn't know you'd be so glad to see me that you'd jump for joy! I know I'm cute, but let's not get too attached now," Hati laughed, tousling their hair as they lay sprawled atop her.

"Or could you smell my gift for you?" she added, grinning slyly.

Gift? Tanya's heart leaped in anticipation; she knew that meant Rannhorn milk. She watched eagerly as Hati pulled two flasks from her satchel, handing one to her and one to Tarak. She uncorked her flask, savoring the rich aroma, while her brother poked at his with a look of curiosity.

"Here, Tarak." She leaned in, uncorking his and guiding it to his lips. While Tarak looked rather large, he was still, in the end, just a child. He accepted the drink, and his eyes lit up, a delighted shiver running down his spine as he started rolling around on the ground, flask in hand, drinking gleefully.

Hati chuckled at the sight, giving Tanya's shoulder a friendly pat. "Hehe, you two should get ready. Today's Resin Day! Join in on the festivities; you'll love it. I promise!"

"Resin Day? Is that what Ms. Linda was talking about before?" Tanya raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What exactly does it involve?"

"Just some tradition. We'll be painting the walls with resin, and at night there's fun to be had!" Hati's grin widened with excitement as she began helping Tanya pick out clothes for the day.

Tanya chose a simple aquamarine blouse, admiring its simplicity as Hati fussed over the fabric. The mention of "Resin Day" lingered in her mind, though. Resin existed in this world? With wooden walls, coating them in resin seemed logical, but given this world's peculiarities, she wondered if it served the same purpose as she remembered from Earth. Surely, they couldn't produce synthetic resin given their technology level, barely advanced enough to make glass. Why not use other methods to protect wood?

As they stomped through the narrow, winding halls, passing some of Midea's eerie, demon-themed decorations hung in alcoves and corners, she voiced her question aloud. "Why coat the walls with resin?"

Hati looked at her as though the answer was obvious. "To protect the wood against fire, of course! We coat it in Resin tree sap to defend against the fire spirits and meteor storms. You've heard about those, right?"

Tanya's mind stalled. Resin, to protect wood against fire? Resin was known to be flammable, practically nature's kindling, so why would anyone use it as a defense against literal fire spirits? Then again, these wolf-men weren't foolish, at least not most of them. If the tradition had endured long enough to become a village holiday, it was likely that this world's resin didn't burn the same way. Different suns, altered biology, and her own bizarre resilience were all reminders that the rules of her old world didn't necessarily apply here.

They reached the front door, which Hati swung open, and the scene that greeted them was a riot of color and light. Seven-hued sunlight painted the village in dazzling streaks, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across everything it touched. Streamers of all shades fluttered in the breeze, stretched from house to house, carried by children and adults alike as they wound through the narrow, cobblestone streets. Children dashed around in handmade wolf masks that seemed to symbolize Fenrir, while small red carvings of twisted, shriveled trees decorated nearly every doorway and windowsill, marking the celebration. The unique wood of the village homes, with its greenish-blue tint, had been brushed with streaks of red paint, lending an air of solemn beauty to the rustic structures.

Near the center of the village, a long line had formed at what looked like a large wooden cart, where soldiers and priestesses handed out buckets of thick, yellowish sap to each villager who passed by. They were funneling the entire village toward the outer walls. Even from here, Tanya could hear the hum of excited chatter, the squeals of children, and the sporadic crackling sound as villagers dipped brushes and rollers into the resin and began painting wide swathes of the wall with the sticky substance.

"Let's go!" Hati grinned, already pulling Tanya and Tarak forward, her excitement infectious as she tugged them into the bustling, lively crowd.

______________

"Resin day, Resin day!"

"Oh, I can't wait for nighttime. I hope we win this year!"

"Do you think if I confessed, she'd accept it because of the festival spirit?"

"My brother, you look like a prolapsed asshole—even if you achieved apotheosis and became like Fenrir, she wouldn't accept you."

"Fuck you, dude…"

Excitement charged the air as villagers milled about, their voices carrying over the sounds of feet pounding the earth, laughter mingling with curses, and the occasional yelp as someone jostled or playfully shoved another. Children wove through the crowd, tugging on skirts and tugging one another toward painted booths and festive displays. Hati dragged Tanya and Tarak through the bustling throng, stopping to chat with some of the soldiers who leaned against a stand doling out buckets of resin and brushes, making playful jabs at them before collecting their supplies. Their feet kicked up clouds of dust as they made their way to the village wall, drawing glances and nods of approval, but also whispers and sidelong glances that lingered a bit too long on Tarak, reminding Tanya that, despite their service to the village, lingering fear and distrust still clung to her brother.

"We're here!" Hati announced excitedly, handing each of them a bucket of resin and a brush with a flourish.

Around them, the village wall loomed high, a sturdy barrier that fortified the village year arround being painted for this occasion. Ladders lined the structure, and a throng of villagers bustled around, climbing up and down, coating every plank with the yellowish resin as they laughed and chatted. Children painted sloppy shapes on the lower portions of the wall, giggling as they sprinted back to refill their brushes, while parents shook their heads, giving affectionate smiles before continuing with their own duties.

"Alright, you two start here. I have to go find Garran and Peter! Especially that guy Garran—he'll meet Lain and then vanish for the rest of the day," Hati said, patting their heads before dashing off, leaving Tanya and Tarak to fend for themselves. Tanya couldn't help but smile, watching the spirited warrior woman disappear into the crowd with her typical boundless energy.

Tanya glanced around, feeling eyes on them as villagers whispered and glanced in their direction. Ignoring the looks, she gave her brother's hand a reassuring squeeze, nodding at him before moving toward the wall. She dipped her brush into the sticky resin and began painting, finding the repetitive strokes surprisingly calming. Still, the constant glances weighed on her, gnawing at her patience. Perhaps it was time to show them a little more of what she could do, she mused. This festival celebrated the village's strength and the defense of its people; why not give them a demonstration? After all, she and her brother were respected here precisely for their strength and the reputation she'd crafted around herself as being blessed by the sun. She should help them do their duties showing her desire to protect the village in a somewhat grand fashion.

Glancing up, she saw villagers struggling to coat the upper reaches of the wall, teetering precariously on ladders or waiting their turn. She turned to Tarak with a smile. "I'm going to help them up there, okay? Don't wander too far and… don't hurt anyone, alright?" she added, her tone soft but firm. Tarak nodded, and she ruffled his hair, a gesture he always seemed to enjoy, his eyes crinkling in quiet contentment.

With a deep breath, Tanya lifted off, her wings unfurling as she took to the sky, eliciting gasps of awe and exclamations of surprise from the crowd below. Her movements were smooth and swift as she zipped along the wall, painting the higher sections with ease. She heard soldiers on the upper platforms cheering her on, the festive energy surging as more eyes turned to watch.

"It's the Seventh Surya!"

"Look at her up there, helping everyone out. She truly is blessed by the stars, loved by Fenrir!"

"Wow, Mommy, when can I fly like that?"

Grinning, Tanya knew she'd made the right decision, her confidence growing as she moved from section to section. Spotting a soldier struggling with his balance on a shaky ladder, she flew over and offered a steadying hand, drawing grateful nods and cheers. She moved fluidly, dipping her brush in resin and swooping down for an extra dose of flair, enjoying the excitement and joy her presence seemed to bring.

Just as she was about to move to another section, she heard a loud creaking sound and turned to see a soldier, pale and unsteady, lose his grip on the ladder as he doubled over in a coughing fit. His hands slipped, and he began to plunge toward the ground.

"Lennix!" a deep, booming voice shouted from atop the wall, thick with alarm.

Without hesitation, Tanya swooped down, catching Lennix in a graceful, practiced motion, cradling him in the famous princess carry as she spun in the air for an added touch of spectacle. Cheers and gasps erupted below as she descended slowly, gently setting the soldier on his feet amidst the crowd.

"Hah! That makes two times you've been carried by women now, Lennix. Is this becoming a bad habit?" the dark-skinned soldier atop the wall bellowed with a laugh, his voice carrying over the crowd.

Lennix's face flushed red, a vein pulsing angrily on his forehead as he shot his comrade a glare, but he sighed and turned to Tanya with a respectful nod. "Thank you, Sun-Blessed," he said, inclining his head in a slight bow.

She returned the gesture, hiding a small smile. "There's no need for thanks. I'm simply doing what's needed. After all, we're all part of the pack," she replied, recalling Lain's words during the incident with Tarak. She'd learned quickly how deeply ingrained religion was here and was beginning to understand the advantages of tapping into those cultural beliefs.

A wave of admiration rippled through the crowd around her, murmurs of approval and nods of respect following her words. She bowed a bit deeper, her wings hiding a wild grin as she basked in their acceptance. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, as flames and shadows flickered nearby, drawing startled gasps and yelps as people jumped back. And there he was—Midea, arms spread wide in an almost reverent pose, like some twisted demonic messiah. Tanya's brow twitched at the sight, wondering if he realized how absurd he looked. Really, that pose should debuff him.

"I am here to join in the festivities!" Midea proclaimed grandly, striding forward as he nodded to Lennix, drawing the crowd's attention with practiced ease. Tanya's irritation flared, but she couldn't be mad; she'd only have herself to blame for bringing so much attention to herself after all. Part of it was what she had gone through the day before.

"There are several wards here that will make falling nigh impossible," he announced, producing a stack of talismans from his cloak. He handed them out to nearby villagers, explaining, "Just stick these on your ladders. They'll create a pull to keep you steady. No more falls today."

Had this guy really tampered with the ladders? Or was she overestimating him? How would he know to make those talismans? That being said it was better to overestimate than underestimate so she'd consider that he did it. Regardless her and Tarak were helped by it so she wouldn't make a scene. The villagers around him burst into applause, clapping him on the back in thanks, smudging his cloak with sticky resin. She watched Midea's face contort briefly in irritation before he forced a smile. Tanya snickered quietly at his misfortune; sometimes, the universe had its way of delivering small victories.

Satisfied, she reached out, grabbing Midea by his six-clawed hand, startling him. He turned to her, eyebrows raised in curiosity. Without a word, she led him through the bustling crowd, weaving between clusters of villagers as they entered one of the shops near the wall, which had been left empty for the holiday.

The interior was dim, illuminated only by slivers of light streaming through the gaps in the wooden walls, casting long shadows over rows of tools and herbs hanging in bundles from the low ceiling. Dust motes floated lazily in the shafts of sunlight, and the scent of dried earth and aged wood filled the air. She shut the door behind them, leaving them in a quiet, secluded space away from the festive commotion outside.

"Well then, Midea," she began, her voice low and serious, "we need to talk."

"Surya? You dragged me here for what exactly?" Midea questioned, his tone skeptical as he looked around the dimly lit shop.

"I brought you here to talk about the shades. I've come up with a plan of sorts," Tanya replied, her voice calm yet filled with determination.

"The shades, huh?" he echoed, a glimmer of interest sparking in his red eyes. "So, you've come up with a plan to get more shadow cores and free the village from the power struggle with the goblins?"

"Precisely. And you are the most essential part of that plan," she continued, her gaze unwavering. "Shades hate the light and thrive in shadows, but they're drawn to places rich with vitality. They tend to gather where there's life. You were able to control that shade before, thanks in part to your curse ward skills and because your shadow attribute aligns somewhat with theirs. Here's the idea: you set up a numen-gathering formation that uses beast blood, a few shadow cores, and your own innate energy to draw them all into one place. Essentially, we'll set out bait. The vitality from the beast blood and the lure of the shadow cores should be enough, and your numen will seal the deal."

Midea listened closely, his expression sharpening as he absorbed her words, though he soon frowned, questioning, "I can't control or kill that many shades at once. If you're thinking I can simply curse them all, it won't work. That's impossible. I would have brought it up already."

Tanya's face shifted slightly in the shadows, her violet eyes gleaming as she replied, "The shades' greatest strengths come from their spectral nature. They're almost impossible to kill, can slip away easily, and their ability to affect the soul or possess others makes them a nightmare for the average cultivator."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

She leaned forward, her grin widening. "But I am not the average cultivator. Neither is my brother. We'll stand in the center of the gathering circle and kill them all."

Midea's face registered both surprise and incredulity. "You're basing this on the assumption that your ability to handle shades isn't some one-off occurrence. We don't know if the last encounter was unique, if that shade was different, or if the circumstances were special. Even if you're right and both of you can physically interact with shades, that doesn't mean you're immune to possession. You'd be facing dozens—hell, maybe even hundreds—of shades swarming you at once."

"Naturally, I'm not throwing myself into this situation without testing it first," Tanya responded, unfazed. "But if nothing else, I'm confident this body of mine is resistant, if not immune, to possession. You remember the story of my birth. And these shades—terrifying as they are to most—don't have much beyond their intangibility and possession tricks. They're physically weak, with no real numen techniques or powerful attacks. In a straightforward physical battle, they wouldn't stand a chance against either me or Tarak. From what I felt the last time, they couldn't even scratch us."

Midea's skeptical frown softened as he began to see the logic in her words, his eyes glinting with intrigue.

"Since shadow cores are vital to the village, and you'll need support setting up the formation, you'll likely have to get Remus involved," Tanya continued, her voice steady and resolute. "We'll need to run tests beforehand to ensure the viability of this approach. I'm not asking you to jump on this immediately, but I think it's a decent starting point, no?"

Midea regarded her for a moment, the wheels visibly turning in his mind. He let out a slow chuckle, shaking his head as a wide grin spread across his face. "Extraordinary. Truly extraordinary. Yes, I think it's a solid plan—very decent, indeed. If it works, we'll have a serious advantage, and our influence will only grow." He extended his hand toward her, a gesture of mutual ambition.

Without hesitation, she grasped his hand, her grip firm. They both knew the risks, the uncertainties—and the potential power that awaited if they succeeded

_____________________

Sol sprang out of bed with a burst of excitement, her mind already spinning with thoughts of Resin Day. Despite being punished severely for her recent antics, today was special, and she clung to the hope that her mother would let her join in on the festivities. Quickly, she slipped on her favorite dress—a cheerful yellow piece covered in sunflower prints. It was simple, but she adored the way the bright fabric made her feel. She dashed out of her room, her heart light and ready for fun, only to come face-to-face with her mother, Terra, standing at the doorway with an unreadable expression.

Sol's excitement faded as her mother's steely gaze met hers.

"What are you waiting for, girl? Let's go," Terra said in a flat tone, reaching out and firmly gripping Sol's hand.

The joy drained from Sol's face as Terra's cold fingers wrapped around her own, making her heart sink a little. She could feel her palm growing damp, but Terra showed no signs of letting go. Instead, she pulled Sol forward, out of the house and onto the bustling street. Around them, the village was alive with colors and sounds; children wearing wolf masks darted between the decorated poles and buildings, their laughter filling the air. For a moment, Sol managed to lose herself in the excitement, taking in the vibrant energy of her world. Lanterns in seven colors hung above, casting a warm glow across the walls, while streamers fluttered in the light breeze. Even the adults seemed a bit lighter, talking and laughing with one another as they helped each other get supplies for the day's activities.

Sol spotted some of her classmates, who waved enthusiastically and called her over. She waved back, but just as she began to step forward, Terra's grip tightened, stopping her in her tracks. She felt a pang of disappointment but didn't say anything, her gaze lingering on the groups of friends chatting happily.

They approached a small stand where a priestess with glossy black hair and striking blue eyes handed Sol a bucket filled with resin and a paintbrush. The woman's gentle smile made Sol's heart skip, and she blushed as the priestess reached down to give her a warm pat on the head.

"Terra, you should let your daughter go play at the wall," the priestess suggested softly, her voice laced with warmth.

"No need. She can stay with her mother," Terra responded coldly, her tone dismissive and mechanical.

The priestess laughed lightly. "It's a festival. Why not let her enjoy herself? Days like these don't come around all that often, you know." She beckoned over two other young girls who wore small badges signifying their priestess training, Reina and Amoux.

"Reina, Amoux, go have fun with Sol!" she encouraged with a knowing smile.

Sol's face brightened as Reina, a girl with curly blue hair and soft brown eyes, and Amoux, a pink-haired girl with bright pink eyes, each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her away from her mother. Relief and exhilaration filled her as she giggled, barely able to contain her joy. She caught a glimpse of her mother's hand hesitating in mid-air before she turned away, her expression shifting into something almost… vulnerable, before sighing deeply and walking off.

"What do you want to do when we get to the wall?" Amoux asked excitedly, her pink eyes sparkling as they made their way through the crowd.

"Yeah! We could paint Fenrir fighting Tarak on the wall and play hopscotch!" Reina chimed in, her voice as eager as her bouncy steps.

Sol laughed, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I mean… Tarak isn't all that bad, actually," she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck as both girls stared at her, shocked at her unexpected defense.

"What are you talking about? Tarak is the great evil beast!" Amoux exclaimed, her face a picture of scandalized disbelief.

Sol quickly shook her head, holding up her hands to clarify. "No, no! Not that Tarak. I mean the other Tarak, the boy."

"Ohhhh!" Both girls said in unison, realization dawning on their faces.

"You mean the cute boy with the horns and scaly tail?" Reina asked, snapping her fingers.

Sol's face turned a shade darker as she spluttered in embarrassment. "What do you mean by cute? Are you crazy? He's just a boy, and he's still little!"

Reina and Amoux exchanged knowing glances, a playful grin spreading across Amoux's face. "My mom says you're so cool and smart, but honestly, Sol, you're pretty immature when it comes to boys. Boys don't have ring infestors; they're not contagious! I mean, if they were, why would our moms be married to our dads, huh?" she said, waving her finger like a teacher.

Sol laughed nervously, feeling a sting as the thought of her own father bubbled up. Their dads huh. Well her dad was dead and gone. He was in the ground now, leaving a rift between her, her mother, and her sister. Boys may as well be infected with ring infestors. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to brush the thought away; after all, it wasn't as if she hated boys. Her outburst at Tarak the other day had just been a moment of frustration. Taking a steadying breath, she looked back at her friends with a smirk.

"Whatever! Like you two know anything about boys. I heard you both ran away from that snotty brat Greden the other day when he tried to say hi to you, Amoux," she teased, nudging her friend.

Amoux's face scrunched up in disgust as she waved her hand at her nose. "Of course I ran! Not only is he snotty, but he stinks! I don't want anything to do with him."

The three girls burst into laughter, their giggles mingling with the cheerful noises of the festival as they finally reached the wall. The streets around them were bustling; children with painted faces were running around, some playfully dashing between adults, while others smeared splashes of red and green on each other's cheeks. Vendors lined the streets, offering snacks and drinks, their stalls adorned with colorful garlands. The vibrant atmosphere was infectious, filling Sol with an excitement that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

The wall itself was bustling with villagers, young and old, painting in groups or climbing makeshift ladders to reach the higher parts. Streamers in all seven colors draped from the wall and nearby poles, fluttering like rainbow-colored flames in the wind. Adults were supervising with indulgent smiles, while soldiers kept watch, ensuring everyone was safe amid the lively chaos. A few of the younger children painted swirls and figures on the wall, their laughter echoing with each brushstroke as parents looked on with patient affection. Every inch of the scene was alive with motion and warmth, making Sol's heart feel like it might burst.

"Resin Day, Resin Day!" someone called out, while others joined in to cheer.

"Oh, I can't wait for tonight! I just know we'll win this year!" another voice chimed in, adding to the joyful energy of the gathering.

"Hey, think if I confess, she'll accept me since it's a holiday?" a young boy asked, sounding hopeful.

Someone else snorted. "Brother, even if you became as great as Fenrir himself, you'd still look like a prolapsed asshole to her!"

"Hey, screw you, dude!"

Sol giggled, rolling her eyes at the playful banter around her. The village seemed transformed, radiating joy and anticipation. Her heart swelled as she looked at her friends, grateful that for today, she could be part of it.

__________

Sol scanned the bustling scene, her gaze darting from one familiar face to another as she searched for someone specific. After weaving through the crowds, she finally spotted him. Tarak stood at the wall, diligently painting in smooth, methodical strokes. His dark brown skin stood out starkly against the bright resin coating, while his large, sinuous tail made him instantly recognizable. Sol grinned and dashed toward him, throwing herself against his back. She barely made him budge, but she didn't mind. To her surprise, her friends Amoux and Reina followed suit, colliding with him in a cheerful pile. Sol felt a quick stab of annoyance at their enthusiasm—this was supposed to be her moment with Tarak.

"What are you all doing, piling on me like this? Please stop," he said in that calm, emotionless tone he always had.

"Wow, Sol! You talked about him earlier, but I didn't know you actually knew him this well!" Reina gushed, gripping Tarak's arm and inspecting his face with wide-eyed admiration. "He really is super pretty up close!"

With a sweeping motion, Tarak's tail wrapped around Reina's waist and pulled her off him, drawing a surprised yelp from her. He repeated the action with Amoux, then peeled Sol off himself with his hands, one by one. Sol huffed and crossed her arms, annoyed that he didn't just let her stay. After all, they were friends!

"Tarak! You promised you'd play with me today. Don't even think about breaking your word!" She shook her finger at him in a mock-threatening manner. Tarak's eyes flashed with a familiar glint before he gave a small nod, accepting her request.

"Woohoo! He's gonna play with us today!" Amoux and Reina squealed, clapping their hands together with excitement. Sol grimaced—this wasn't what she had in mind. But it was too late to back out now, and she couldn't deny that Amoux and Reina had helped her escape her mother's grip earlier. She sighed and gestured to the wall.

Amoux eagerly explained the game they were about to play, setting it up with gusto. They marked a large tic-tac-toe grid on the wall with resin, four boxes across, and Amoux took her place in the center, covering her eyes. The game was called Stop-and-Go Tic-Tac-Toe: whenever Amoux shouted "Go!" everyone would move, and as soon as she said "Stop!" she would uncover her eyes. Anyone caught moving would have to go back to the starting line. The goal was to make it across and mark a box in the grid with either an X or an O or a triangle, and the first to get four in a row would win.

"Alright, everyone ready?" Amoux grinned, covering her eyes. "Go!"

As soon as she said the word, Tarak blurred forward in a flash, disappearing behind Amoux and marking an X in one of the boxes. Sol blinked, then burst out laughing, unable to help herself. Her laughter must have caught Amoux's attention because she uncovered her eyes, laughing as well.

"Tarak! You can't run like that! You're way too fast," Sol managed between giggles, wiping tears from her eyes. "You have to walk in this game, okay?"

Tarak tilted his head, clearly confused, but he nodded and moved back to the starting line. They resumed the game, and this time, he walked, moving at their pace, which allowed Sol and Reina to keep up. He still managed to get caught by Amoux's sudden stops a few times, though, having to return to the start several times over, which only made Sol and Reina laugh even harder.

On her final approach, Sol dove past Amoux just as she shouted, "Stop!" and managed to mark the last circle, completing her row of four. She shot up, victorious.

"I win!" she crowed, her eyes shining with triumph as she grinned at Tarak. "That was fun, right?"

Tarak nodded, his expression unreadable as always, but there was something almost approving in his gaze. Sol's heart swelled with happiness at the small gesture.

Reina clapped her hands, excited. "Alright! Amoux didn't get a turn, so let's go again! I wanna see if I can win this time!"

They repeated the game several times, under the bright sky and amid the sounds of the festival. Laughter rang out as they dashed back and forth, freezing in place with exaggerated poses whenever Amoux called out "Stop!" Tarak's solemn face broke into the smallest of smiles each time he'd get caught off guard, and Sol found herself feeling lighter than she had in a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so freely.

After their third or fourth round, they collapsed onto the grass near the wall, breathless and grinning. Sol looked up at the wall, her eyes drifting to the parts that still hadn't been painted.

"I want to paint the upper walls," she announced between pants, staring up with determination. Beside her, Tarak got to his feet, surprising her by suddenly hoisting her up onto his shoulders.

"Woahhh! Haha!" Sol's laughter bubbled up as he began to scale the wall, his movements sure and steady. As he climbed, she leaned forward, paintbrush in hand, reaching the untouched sections of the wall and adding her strokes. The whole village spread out below them, the view dazzling and vibrant, filled with color and movement. She felt an unexpected rush of gratitude as she took it all in.

High above, she could see the entire village—not just the bright, bustling parts filled with laughter and life, but the quiet corners, the shadowy, isolated areas. She suddenly felt something deeper stirring inside her. This village was her whole world, the only place she had ever known, filled with people she loved and memories she both cherished and loathed. But now, seeing it from above, she realized she didn't want it to be her entire world forever. She thought of the vast unknown beyond this village, of all the places she could go, all the experiences waiting for her. There were greater and bigger worlds out there. Like wherever Tarak had come from. She wished to take care of this world she wanted to love the things in it. She wanted her mothers love and to be with her sister. But it shouldn't be her totality no she wanted it to be one of many worlds she saw. She wanted to see more, to live beyond what she'd always known. Beyond this village beyond tradition beyond her mother. Beyond it all with the people she wanted to bring with her.

A grin spread across her face, and she leaned back, cupping her hands around her mouth. She took a deep breath, and from the depths of her soul, she howled.

"AAAWWWOOOOOO!!!"

The villagers below heard her call, and one by one, voices rose up to answer, filling the air with a chorus of howls. Tarak, ever-stoic, continued down the wall, but as they reached the ground, Sol noticed a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

Reina and Amoux ran over, their faces alight with awe. "You're so strong, Tarak! Can you carry us too?" Amoux squealed, clapping her hands.

Sol glanced at Tarak, a strange flutter in her stomach. Would he agree to it? She waited, almost holding her breath.

"What do you think, Sol?" he asked simply, tilting his head toward her.

Her face broke into the biggest grin yet, excitement bubbling up as she nodded. "Can you carry all three of us?"

In the next moment, the villagers looked up to see a black-and-white blur racing along the wall, three girls on his back howling with laughter and excitement. Their joy was infectious, spreading through the crowd like wildfire, and the villagers only smiled, taking it as a sign of good fortune. As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting warm hues across the village, it seemed to everyone that this was indeed a good omen—a blessing for Resin Day and beyond.

____________

Midea watched the sky transition from soft dusk into a deep, velvety night, as the aspar—those faint, glowing creatures of the dark—began to flutter about, their light casting an enchanting glow over the festival. It was a surreal, mystical sight, as if the world around him had fallen under a spell that only came alive under the night sky. The discussion with Surya lingered in his mind as he took his time admiring the scene. He had left her, the audacious little genius, after their talk, only to find himself marveling at how much she had discerned about his abilities and wards in such a short time. It was rare for someone so young to grasp such knowledge, let alone utilize it strategically. But her insights—and her confidence—were something else entirely.

His hooves left soft prints in the dirt as he ambled through the village streets. With every step, his black coat caught the gleam of the three moons overhead, each casting a unique light that merged into a quiet symphony of hues on his skin. He had spent some time painting earlier, humoring the children and gaining the admiration of several villagers. The sticky resin stains from when the villagers had slapped him when he brought the talismans had eventually forced him to wash up a bit, though he chuckled at the thought of their genuine praise for him. As he rounded a corner, he heard the pulsing beat of drums, which grew louder with every step until he reached an open area where villagers danced and laughed. People of all ages swayed to the rhythm, their movements alive with laughter and freedom as men clapped in rhythm and raised their cups to the night sky. Some villagers leaned against trees, playing cards or telling bawdy jokes, while children darted between them in giggling packs.

Just ahead, he spotted Hati cheering loudly for Tarak, who was in the center of a small crowd. The boy balanced on his horns, spinning in a circle, his expression serene as his tail helped keep his balance.

"Go, go, go!"

Around him, three young girls clapped and cheered, mirroring Hati's enthusiasm as they watched him show off. Soe even seemed intent on joining the boy. Just beyond the edge of the crowd, Surya observed her brother with a soft smile, her violet eyes shimmering in the evening glow. Midea's gaze wandered from the siblings to Remus, who stood talking animatedly with Skollf, both men laughing heartily. Not far from them, Baya could be seen whacking Lain over the head with her cane, muttering instructions while Lain rubbed her sore scalp and nodded begrudgingly. Midea noticed Peter sitting alone, his gaze distant as he stared towards the wall, an invisible weight pressing on his shoulders.

Following Peter's line of sight, Midea spotted a figure striding purposefully along the outskirts—the unmistakable form of Remulus, cloaked in his own thoughts. Midea's lips curled into a small, amused smile. There were layers to everyone's stories tonight, hidden threads woven beneath the festive atmosphere.

He meandered over to a stand, poured himself a cup of wine, and found a quiet spot near the edge of the festivities. The world continued around him, drums pounding and people laughing as he took a slow sip, savoring the earthy warmth of the wine as he glanced to his side.

"No point in hiding in the shadows, oh great general," he said, his tone amused but knowing.

A figure stepped out of the darkness—Garran, whose exasperation was evident even before he spoke.

"So, you knew I was there," Garran replied, sighing as he plopped down next to Midea with a wearied expression.

"Of course," Midea chuckled, taking another sip. "Following me because you still doubt my intentions? I thought we had moved past this absurdity."

Garran shook his head, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. "It's not that… though I won't say I trust you completely. I actually needed to talk with you about… something else. Something a bit more… personal."

"Oh?" Midea arched a brow, hiding a smirk. He could guess where this was going. Garran's demeanor held the weight of unspoken turmoil, his shoulders slumped, his gaze avoiding Midea's. For a man so dedicated to his responsibilities, to seek advice on personal matters meant this was significant. "And here I thought you'd come to discuss military matters. I didn't realize we'd reached the point of discussing affairs of the heart."

Garran groaned, pressing his hands to his face, but the subtle flush in his cheeks gave him away. "Look, it's just… there's no one else in the village I can talk to about this. If I went to friends, rumors would spread like wildfire. Wolvenblade is not an exceedingly large place after all. And it's not the sort of thing I can take to my father. I needed an outside perspective."

Midea leaned back, a grin playing at his lips. "Alright, alright. Fair enough. So, I suppose the first question is… are you a 'top' man or a 'bottom' man?"

"What?" Garran blinked, thoroughly lost.

"Do you prefer a fine rear or ample breasts, General?" Midea continued without missing a beat, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Hati has a notable figure, well-endowed in the former. Lain, on the other hand…"

"Oh, Fenrir, why did I even ask you?" Garran groaned, feigning a move to get up and leave, but Midea caught his arm, chuckling as he waved off the joke.

"Sit, sit, Garran. It's a valid question," Midea said, his tone softening. "I'm saying this because, whether you want to admit it or not, you have feelings for both women, or you wouldn't be so torn. Love is fickle, Garran. It can be as steadfast as the earth itself or as fleeting as the morning dew. If you waver too long, you might end up losing both of them. Be careful, or you'll find yourself pulled in two, chasing both and holding onto neither."

Garran looked at him thoughtfully, finally settling back down with a sigh. "It's… it's not that simple, though. I'm not sure if what I feel for Hati is more than friendship. I mean, we've been together since we were kids. She even joined the military to be by my side. Well no that's arrogant, it's something she always wanted to do. But she did join my division for a reason.. She's always been my closest friend, and I can't imagine life without her… but I don't know if that's love. And I don't want to ruin what we have if I'm just confused."

Midea nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he took in the young man's words. Around them, the night had come alive with vibrant color and sound, the villagers immersed in the celebration of Resin Day. The light from torches cast flickering shadows across Garran's face, revealing a softness and vulnerability rarely seen. Midea took in the sight, the shadows dancing in his own eyes as he considered his words.

Midea let out a soft chuckle, swirling the wine in his cup thoughtfully. Around them, the festival buzzed with life—the crackling of torches, the rhythmic pounding of drums, and the overlapping voices of villagers celebrating Resin Day. The air was thick with the mingling scents of freshly painted resin and the earthiness of the night, all under the distant glow of the three moons. Against this vibrant backdrop, the two men spoke in lowered tones, the quiet intimacy of their conversation contrasting the revelry around them.

"And that is why you treated her the way you did, right?" Midea mused, tilting his head thoughtfully as he studied Garran. "But, as I understand, taking more than one woman isn't exactly unusual in this village. Have you ever thought of that possibility?"

Garran let out a sigh, a slight frown etching his brow as he considered the question. "I don't think either Hati or Lain is the type of woman who'd accept that," he replied. "And… I don't want to be like that man. At least, not in that way." His eyes took on a distant look, a flicker of something—admiration, nostalgia, maybe even regret.

Midea raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Ah, you mean a man who was wild, free—a soul who roamed as if the world were his to command," he ventured, "someone who didn't care about rules or order. Am I right?"

Garran's head snapped towards him, his eyes widening just slightly in recognition. Midea held his gaze, unflinching. "And that man is dead now, isn't he?" he continued calmly, taking another sip from his cup.

Garran's expression softened, his shoulders sagging as he nodded. "How did you know?" he asked quietly, the vulnerability in his voice barely concealed.

Midea's smile was faint, almost sad. "Because that kind of spirit—fiery, untamed—burns hot and fast. They live short, brilliant lives that tend to end in tragedy, leaving behind an impact so fierce, it feels like the final flash of a dying star," he said, his voice carrying a weight of both admiration and sorrow, as if recalling a memory of his own.

"A final flash…" Garran echoed, a wry smile playing on his lips. "How fitting."

Midea's eyes held a glimmer of empathy as he continued, "I'll tell you this, Garran. You should speak to Hati and be honest about what you feel. Pretending not to know your own heart—that's the move of a coward. And cowardice, Garran, is what kills the self." He paused, letting his words sink in, watching as Garran absorbed their weight. "Love… it's not for the faint of heart. It's like opening the bloom of your heart and laying it bare, allowing someone else the power to trample it, tear it, or nourish it until it thrives."

Garran's face softened, his eyes downcast as he considered Midea's words. Around them, the laughter of villagers rang out, voices mingling with the celebratory sounds of the festival. Some people were lighting small lanterns along the edge of the square, casting a warm, flickering glow that added a touch of magic to the evening air.

Midea continued, his voice low but intense, "Even someone who has no ill intent can damage you without meaning to. Love doesn't always come in the form of grand gestures or gentle kindness. Sometimes, even the calmest, gentlest soul can crush you without realizing it, simply by existing in your heart." He took a thoughtful sip of his wine, a distant look in his eye. "But love can also be a force of beauty. It can elevate you, make you feel as if your soul is the crown jewel of creation. That's rare, though—far rarer than anyone likes to admit."

Garran's expression turned to one of shock, but he quickly composed himself, nodding slowly as Midea's words resonated within him. After a long pause, he responded, his voice softer now, tinged with something close to regret. "Maybe it's better to live wild and free, without worrying about love. At least that way, you don't risk losing yourself."

Midea let out a quiet laugh, the sound laced with a hint of bitterness. "Ah, yes. The life of unrestrained freedom—infinitely pitiful, infinitely great. There's something beautiful in that kind of existence, a life of unbound intensity. But in the end… that's not who we are, is it?" He looked at Garran knowingly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "If that were truly who we were, we wouldn't be here, having this conversation."

Garran released a sigh, his gaze drifting to the villagers around them, to the couples laughing together, to children playing without a care in the world, and to the elders sitting in contented silence, observing the night with quiet wisdom. There was a moment of understanding between him and Midea, a shared recognition of the paths they'd chosen and the lives they led.

"Yes," he murmured finally, nodding in agreement. "You're right. I couldn't live that way, even if I wanted to."

________________________

Tanya looked over, watching her younger brother Tarak laughing and having fun with Sol and some other kids, clearly enjoying himself as they tried their best at hip-hop moves while Hati cheered them on, clapping her hands with infectious enthusiasm. It was a lively, funny scene, and despite her urge to speak to Sol about what had happened with Luna, Tanya hesitated. The girl's dark eyes, so similar to Luna's, and the sheen of her hair matched Tanya's own. She did not know if the girl shared the same trauma with Hathor as Luna did. And today was a festival, and Sol deserved the joy and laughter that came with it. Besides, any unexpected confrontation might bring the young girl's fears bubbling up to the surface or even make her retreat altogether, something Tanya wanted to avoid. If she reacted in the same fashion as Luna the consequences could be disastrous. Maintaining her budding reputation mattered; a single, panicked scream could undo so much of her work.

She sighed softly, tilting her head back and letting herself soak in the atmosphere. The festivities played in her ears like gentle waves on a beach, a rhythm of laughter and joy spreading through the village. Moonlight trickled through the spiral-shaped branches of the trees, casting shimmering patterns across the gathered villagers. The fires from the roasting meats sent warm, savory smells wafting through the air, mixing with the earthy scent of grass trampled by hundreds of happy feet. Tanya felt pleasantly full, having enjoyed her fair share of food. Her body swam with energy she had attained from the food all of course absorbed into the abyss. Her instincts wanted her to hunt and kill but even they seemed tempered by the pleasant atmosphere. Of course the energy was nothing compared to what she had gotten from fighting the Vampyrs but it was enough.

She was just taking a deep breath, enjoying the sights and sounds, when Hati appeared by her side, her eyes bright and her hand outstretched. "C'mon, Surya! Let's set up the big event for the night!" she said, her excitement palpable. Without waiting for Tanya's reply, she took her hand, pulling her through the crowd toward a group of soldiers working intently on the preparations for the final celebration.

Tanya observed curiously as the soldiers wrapped lanterns in glassy bark from trees she vaguely recognized, each lantern casting faint, colorful glows in shades of red, green, blue, and more. They were scattering the lanterns throughout the village, while others were focused on arranging a row of vests in vibrant, glowing colors—seven different hues, each one radiant in the torchlight. The soldiers were also handling what looked like balloons filled with those same shades of glowing liquid, adding a mystical, surreal touch to the night.

"Look at this," Hati grinned, pointing at one of the soldiers. He was busy crushing several aspar, squeezing out their glowing golden blood into a mixture of water before adding a few drops of a rich, red dye. The liquid swirled and thickened, transforming into a glowing crimson color as it mixed, reminiscent of blood but with an otherworldly glow.

Tanya's brows rose as Hati explained with obvious delight. "This is for the final event of the night—the Sun Wars! We use bark from the laser grove trees to wrap the lanterns. During the day, they absorb energy from the seven suns, and at night they light up like this, casting beams of colored light all over the place. It's like a rainbow came down and wrapped itself around the village!"

A disco ball in the form of mystical tree bark, Tanya thought, or better yet, laser tag made entirely from the elements of this strange world. It was ingenious, whoever had come up with the idea. She couldn't help but feel a touch of admiration for the creativity behind it.

"Everyone who wants to join gets a vest," Hati continued, "and the distribution is random, so you never know which team you'll be on. Once you've got your vest, you'll also get a few balloons filled with the aspar blood that matches your vest's color. There'll be more balloons hidden around the village, but here's the catch—you can only hit others with a balloon that's your color. If you use a different one, it won't count. And the paint stains, so there's no way to hide who got hit! Oh, and no one's allowed to use numen during the game; it's pure skill!" She finished with a grin, clearly pleased with the simplicity and fairness of the rules.

Tanya nodded, processing everything. It was almost exactly like laser tag but with balloons—and the addition of natural resources made it even more festive. She could already envision villagers dodging and darting through the village, throwing brightly colored balloons with gleeful abandon, each team rallying together to claim victory in this lighthearted war. The restriction on numen was a nice touch, making the game accessible to all, regardless of cultivation level.

Just then, a booming voice echoed through the village, cutting through the laughter and chatter, "ALL RIGHT, PEOPLE, NOW IT'S TIME FOR THE ANNUAL SUN WARSSSSSS!" Remus's voice held a cheer that seemed to energize everyone, and his words sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd.

The villagers erupted in a loud, joyous response, voices raised in unison: "WOOOOOHHHHH!!" The air was suddenly charged with even more anticipation, the enthusiasm spreading like wildfire as people of all ages rushed to pick their vests and balloons.

Tanya looked at the villagers around her, their faces alight with childlike joy and eagerness for the game to begin. It was hard to resist the infectious energy surrounding her. It was a nice night it would be a fun event to watch.

"Alright, Surya, we have to hurry! Let's win this thing, alright?" Hati said, her eyes blazing with excitement.

Tanya blinked, caught off guard. When had she even agreed to participate? But her confusion went unnoticed—or maybe Hati just ignored it altogether—as she was dragged back toward the central square. As they moved, Tanya caught sight of Tarak waving from across the crowd, surrounded by a group of little girls who were laughing and talking excitedly. She couldn't help but smirk at the sight, noting to herself that those "cradle snatchers" were already after her brother, who was less than a month old.

The crowd buzzed with excitement as vests were distributed in random colors. Tanya found herself handed a golden-yellow vest, and by some twist of luck, Hati was assigned to the same team. She held up the three balloons of glowing aspar blood she'd received, watching as Hati did the same, and turned to see Tarak tilting his head as he examined his own red vest. Beside him, Sol sported the same red color, which meant they were on opposing teams.

"ALRIGHT! YOU ALL KNOW THE RULES! NO ONE THROWS UNTIL THE HORN ECHOES! ANYONE WHO DOES IS DISQUALIFIED!" Remus's booming voice carried across the square, capturing everyone's attention. "WHEN I SAY THE WORD, GO FIND YOUR POSITIONS! THREE, TWO, ONE… WARRRR!!!"

On the final word, the crowd broke into a frenzy as villagers dashed in every direction, aiming to find defensible spots or a hidden stash of balloons to bolster their three-shot limit. Tanya and Hati sprinted together, their feet kicking up clouds of dirt as they wove through the crowd, dodging around obstacles and veering toward a corner of the village. They scrambled over fences and climbed onto lower roofs, Tanya taking the lead as her keen eyes caught a faint glimmer of yellow tucked under a wooden beam.

She pointed. "There! More balloons!"

Hati let out a delighted cheer, throwing her arms around Tanya's neck in an overjoyed hug that had Tanya laughing as she struggled to peel Hati off. With their stash secured, they were loaded with balloons. The two grinned at each other, and Tanya felt a competitive spark light up within her. If she was playing this game, she might as well win—and with numen banned, she had an advantage no one else could touch.

URRRNNNNNN!!

The sound of the horn split the air, signaling the start of the game. In an instant, the village transformed into a battleground of color and chaos. Teams moved in packs, brightly colored vests flashing as they stalked one another, hunting for rivals like packs of wolves closing in on their prey. From her vantage point on the roof, Tanya saw groups clashing and scattering like startled birds.

One particularly formidable cluster of red vests was advancing with disciplined precision. At the center of their formation stood Bardo, the portly and self-important blacksmith, barking orders like a general, his deep, mocking laugh audible even from Tanya's distance.

"Hoh hoh! If you want good weapons, you better act as my meat shields!" he called out, voice dripping with arrogance.

"Yes, sir, Bardo!" his followers replied in unison, holding their positions protectively around him like a moving fortress.

Hati clenched her fists with excitement. "Let's get them, Surya!" Without waiting for a response, she launched forward, leaping down from the roof and flipping effortlessly over a balloon that came whizzing her way, retaliating with deadly precision. Her balloon hit one of Bardo's cronies square in the face, bursting with a satisfying splatter of yellow.

The group turned, eyes burning with indignation as Bardo let out an angry grunt, rubbing his face where Hati's well-aimed shot had landed. But they barely had a chance to react before Hati spun, dodging their return fire and kicking another balloon with perfect aim, nailing Bardo right on the forehead.

"Arrgh!" he shouted, stumbling back in shock.

Tanya, quick on her feet, darted forward, grabbing Hati's hand and pulling her behind the cover of a building just as the red team launched a hail of balloons at them, splattering harmlessly against the wooden walls.

"Wasn't that badass? Say it! Say I'm super cool!" Hati laughed breathlessly, her eyes shining with triumph.

Tanya rolled her eyes, a slight smirk on her lips. "Yes, yes, you're super cool. Now shhhh." She pressed a finger to her lips, glancing around the corner. With the extra balloons they'd collected from their hidden stash, they were ready for any retaliation. Tanya could see other groups taking their positions, moving stealthily as they watched for targets.

Just then, a flash of red caught Tanya's eye as another team approached from the side. She grinned, tossing a balloon to Hati. "Time to put these balloons to work."

Together, they took off in a mad sprint around the edge of the building, Tanya launching a yellow balloon that curved mid-air and splattered perfectly on one of the red vests. Hati, just behind her, followed up with a pinpoint shot that struck the next target, leaving them scrambling and shouting as the duo laughed.

Before long, they found themselves in an open courtyard where the fighting had intensified. Groups clashed and scattered as balloons flew in all directions, hitting with colorful explosions that only amped up the players' excitement. The air was thick with cheers, laughter, and playful taunts as villagers young and old found themselves caught in a relentless assault of color.

It was risky there so after leaving they made their way across the village, seeing a group of blue vests suddenly ambushed by two little girls in purple vests who had climbed up onto a nearby roof. Tanya recognized them as the same girls who had been hanging out with Tarak earlier. The girls cackled with glee as they launched their balloons down on the unsuspecting blue team, who yelped and stumbled in surprise, one by one getting splattered with purple paint as the little duo picked them off from above.

Hati grinned, nudging Tanya. "See? Those two are just as ruthless as Tarak. They're practically tiny mercenaries."

"Priestess bash!" Tanya heard the pink-haired girl shout as she slammed down her balloon onto a blue-vested player's head. The two girls were unstoppable, launching a spirited assault and completely annihilated the blue team in a burst of giggles and color.

"Let's go get Sol and Tarak," the one with blue hair suggested, mischief in her eyes.

"Yes, let's get them good! Hehehe!" her pink-haired partner echoed, grinning as they prepared to hunt down their new targets.

But just as they began to turn, Tanya acted swiftly. She tossed two yellow balloons straight at their chests, watching the aspar blood explode on impact, painting the two girls in bright, glowing yellow.

"What?! No!" the blue-haired one yelped in surprise.

"Awww…" the pink-haired girl added, deflated. Tanya felt no sympathy—that's exactly what they got for targeting her brother.

"You're a good big sister, Surya," Hati whispered approvingly, a grin spreading across her face. Tanya merely rolled her eyes, though she couldn't deny the inherent satisfaction of defending Tarak.

They pressed on, hitting several people, particularly those Hati seemed to have longstanding grudges against. Hati took immense glee in targeting old rivals and teasing them mercilessly. Tanya was beginning to think the game had turned into Hati's own personal vendetta marathon. And then they encountered an unusual sight.

There, striding calmly in the middle of the road, was a lone woman in a blue vest, walking as though she hadn't a care in the world. She had no visible balloons and appeared completely unruffled by the surrounding chaos. Something about the scene felt strange, almost too calm. As the woman turned, Tanya recognized her unmistakable blue eyes, framed by black hair and pale, milky skin. It was Lain.

"Hehehehe…" came a low, almost unhinged chuckle from Hati. Tanya's eyes widened. Fuck Hati had snapped.

"I'm going to get her good, Surya. You just wait here and watch," Hati whispered, an almost fiendish gleam in her eyes.

"Hati, don't go! It's way too suspicious—there's no way she's just standing out there alone," Tanya warned, her instincts prickling.

But Hati waved her off. "You worry too much. I've got this!"

Ignoring all sense of caution, Hati dashed out onto the open road, twirling a balloon in hand, ready to launch. She took aim and threw, her balloon hurtling toward Lain with deadly accuracy—only for Lain to effortlessly duck beneath it, her expression unchanged.

Then, from the surrounding rooftops, an entire squad of blue-vested players suddenly rose into view. It was a trap. Tanya barely stopped herself from laughing; Hati had stepped right into it. Lain turned, stuck out her tongue, and blew a playful raspberry at Hati, a display so childlike it took Tanya by surprise.

Hati's face flushed red, veins bulging in sheer indignation, but instead of retreating, she planted her feet firmly. "I'm the moon-devouring wolf! I will never surrender before you!" she roared, her eyes blazing.

Lain laughed, her voice lilting through the night. "Loser says what?" She snapped her fingers, and as if on command, countless blue balloons descended from the rooftops, raining down on Hati like a monsoon.

Hati attempted to dodge and retaliate, launching balloons with surprising speed, her throws picking off a few of the attackers. But the sheer number of balloons overwhelmed her, and soon she was covered head-to-toe in glowing blue aspar blood, dramatically sinking to the ground.

"AVENGE ME, SURYAAAA!!!" Hati cried, extending her hand theatrically toward Tanya's hiding spot as if reaching out for one last lifeline before collapsing in a final, defeated heap.

No. No, I don't think I will, Tanya thought dryly, watching Hati's exaggerated display of defeat with an amused smirk. But her mirth was short-lived as she heard footsteps rapidly approaching. She quickly ducked out of sight and slipped further into the shadows, escaping unnoticed just as the blues began to celebrate their victory.

As she crept around a corner, she found herself witnessing another clash—this time between two teams, the green-vested and the orange. At the head of the green team stood Garran, rallying his teammates like a war commander. She entertained the thought of sneaking up and sniping him, a little payback for Hati's misfortune—after all, part of this debacle stemmed from Garran's own indecisiveness in certain matters.

But just as she was about to act, a loud shout pierced the air.

"Tarak, I choose you!"

Tanya's head whipped around to see Sol, proudly riding on Tarak's shoulders like a miniature general. Sol clutched a sack filled with red balloons, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Tarak seemed entirely unfazed by the arrangement, moving with swift, practiced agility as he dodged incoming balloons with ease. With Sol's commands ringing in his ears, he launched balloons with uncanny accuracy, each one smacking his opponents directly in the head, leaving them stumbling back with their faces dripping red.

Under the scattered light of the laser bark, it looked as though heads were popping off with each direct hit, red aspar blood creating an almost surreal effect of red "beheadings." The stunned green team quickly realized they were no match and scattered in every direction, trying to avoid the relentless assault.

After they had cleared the area, Sol patted Tarak on the head with a delighted laugh, like a captain rewarding her loyal knight. "Good job, Tarak! Now let's find more of them!"

Tanya raised an eyebrow, watching the scene as they rushed off with a blend of amusement and faint exasperation. Oh, my brother, she thought with a wry smile. Please don't let this go to your head. She could almost imagine him wearing that deadpan expression, completely oblivious to the attention he was receiving from the little girls.

Just then, she spotted a group of yellow vests—her team—peeking out from behind some barrels up ahead. Smiling, she motioned them over with a wave, and they quickly joined her in the shadows, eagerly sharing their own stashes of balloons. Together, they watched as the reds and greens clashed in the street ahead, each team narrowly dodging and narrowly missing, their balloons splattering the air with vibrant color.

"Alright," Tanya whispered to her team, "let's hit them from both sides. We'll take advantage of the confusion while they're too busy with each other."

With careful precision, they split up, some staying in cover while Tanya and a few others snuck around the back. On her signal, they all launched their balloons at once, an ambush of color raining down on the unsuspecting groups. The reds and greens were caught entirely off guard, their shouts of surprise drowned out by laughter as they found themselves covered in a chaotic mix of red, yellow, and green.

In the midst of the ensuing mayhem, Sol and Tarak reappeared, rushing through the chaos like a crimson storm. Tarak deftly maneuvered them both past the falling balloons, Sol tossing her own with gleeful abandon, taking out stragglers one by one.

"Let's get 'em, Tarak!" she shouted, her voice brimming with excitement. And Tarak, true to form, did exactly as she commanded, never once breaking his calm, steady expression.

As the night wore on, the village transformed into a maze of color, sound, and laughter, punctuated by the shouts of victory and defeat. Tanya moved with her team through the village, each step leaving behind remnants of aspar blood in splatters across the ground and walls. Their once pristine yellow vests were now covered in vibrant smudges of yellow, red, and blue from close encounters and narrow escapes. Many of them had been hit and dropped but other remained.

Tanya glanced around, taking in the sights of the night's chaos: the blonde man she'd saved earlier sprinted across her line of sight, only to be expertly sniped by a red-vested soldier who let out a victorious whoop. A few younger children ganged up on Ms. Linda, pelting her with their balloons as she good-naturedly dodged, laughing as she half-heartedly pretended to be horrified. Then, her gaze fell on her brother—hanging upside down by his tail, high up in the wooden beams of a nearby building. Sol was dangling off his back, eyes narrowed in concentration as they scanned the area, each acting as the other's lookout.

As much as she hated to admit it, this was turning out to be a genuinely fun night. Memories of the earlier training fiasco flashed through her mind, and then she saw him—Midea himself, his unmistakable figure sidestepping around the corner. She and Tarak locked eyes, and with a single mischievous grin shared between them, they knew what had to be done. United by a mutual vendetta, they pounced, hitting Midea with a flurry of balloons despite his yelps and protests.

But, as all the night's excitement narrowed down to the final moments, it came down to her and her brother. Sol had been taken out by a stray balloon not long before, leaving just the two of them in the village square as onlookers gathered on rooftops and hidden alcoves to witness the showdown.

They stood still for a heartbeat, grinning at each other, sharing that unspoken challenge. And then, without another moment's hesitation, they launched into a blur of motion, each determined to win.

Tanya darted forward, her feet barely brushing the ground as she sprinted through the narrow lanes, weaving in and out of alleyways. Tarak mirrored her, his eyes sharp and focused, but he moved with a different strategy. He leaped from one beam to another, using his long tail to swing between buildings, hanging briefly in midair before launching himself again. His agility and strength made him look like a monkey on a mission, balloons in hand, ready to strike.

Their speed was nearly identical, but Tanya's nimbleness allowed her to twist and turn sharply, anticipating his throws and weaving between buildings with ease. She could hear the onlookers cheering and gasping with each close call, and even some of the soldiers—no longer participating but still armed with balloons—joined in the commentary, their voices ringing out in the excitement of the match.

She spread her wings, not to fly fully—she wanted to keep things fair—but to give herself a bit of extra lift and dodge potential shots. Tarak adapted instantly, his tail serving as an extension of himself, swinging him into unexpected angles. With quick, calculated moves, he launched a balloon from his elevated position, a perfect throw aimed directly at her.

Tanya rolled sharply, dodging at the last second as the balloon burst against the wall behind her. She retaliated, whipping a balloon in his direction, but Tarak swung out of reach, disappearing from her view.

The chase was on. Tarak leaped down from his perch and raced through the center of the village, with Tanya hot on his heels. Their laughter echoed through the square as they both pushed themselves to the limit, their breaths coming faster but their grins never fading. They were two unstoppable forces, and the crowd could feel the tension, rooting for each one equally.

Just as Tanya closed in, her wings giving her a slight boost to close the gap, Tarak suddenly shot up from behind a stack of barrels, using his tail to springboard himself into the air like a bullet. He launched a balloon from an angle she hadn't anticipated, a perfect throw aimed at her back.

But Tanya had anticipated his move this time. She twisted mid-air, spinning to avoid the throw, and in one smooth motion, she released her own balloon. It hit him squarely in the back with a loud, satisfying pop, sending a shower of yellow aspar blood across his vest.

She grinned in triumph, only to feel a cool splash on her shoulder at the exact same moment. Tarak's tail had been holding a balloon behind him, and as he was hit, he'd managed a final throw that splashed onto her, marking her with a glowing streak of red.

For a split second, they both froze, staring at each other in disbelief. And then they burst into laughter, the competition forgotten in that shared moment of joy and camaraderie. They drifted down to the ground, his arm around her shoulder and her head leaning against his as they floated down, their laughter carrying through the night.

It was in these fleeting moments that Tanya allowed herself to feel a rare sense of peace. In this instant, as they touched down amidst cheers and applause, she let herself be a child again, free from the weight of her thoughts and burdens.

_________________________

The following day, Tanya found Hati by the edge of the village, sharpening her spear as sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dancing patterns across the ground. She approached cautiously, her mind already formulating how to bring up the question that had been lingering in her thoughts since last night.

"Hati," she began, her voice quieter than usual, "do you know much about Sol and...Luna?"

Hati's hands paused on the blade, her eyes softening as she looked over at Tanya. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—perhaps a touch of sorrow or nostalgia.

"I do," she replied, almost to herself. Then, as though realizing Tanya was still waiting, she shook her head slightly and nodded. "Yes, I do. The two of them come from that mans line, and their father… he was quite the man. For good or bad."

Tanya sat beside her, listening intently. "What kind of man was he?"

"Juraf," Hati said with a wry smile, "he was known as the World Swallowing Spear. Garran looked up to him, admired him more than anyone else. The whole village did, in a way."

Her voice grew quieter, a hint of reverence mingling with her words. "He was a man unlike any other—fiercely independent, driven by nothing but his own desires. Greedy, in a way that makes most men look like saints. He chased after life without hesitation, took what he wanted, and threw himself into the world with the sort of freedom others can only dream of. And he was talented, unbelievably so. I'd go as far as to say that Juraf was one of the strongest and most talented this village has ever seen. He was garran's old master as well."

Tanya felt her curiosity deepen. "What made him so… unforgettable?"

Hati's gaze grew distant, as if she could see Juraf right in front of her, spear in hand, face set with that trademark grin she'd heard so much about. "He had this way of making you feel like you were looking at something wild and untamable. The way he fought, the way he lived, it was like he wanted to devour the world. Nothing was enough for him; he wanted more strength, more knowledge, more of everything. Even women."

She paused, a faint smile crossing her lips. "Garran admired that about him. Well, not the woman part. That spirit of living for himself, of doing whatever he felt like, even if the world tried to stop him."

"But with all that strength and spirit came risks," Hati continued. "Juraf left a mark on everyone he met, but he also left gaps. That kind of person doesn't stay in one place, and people like him… they don't always live long. Garran knew that too. And I think, in some ways, he admired Juraf because he couldn't bring himself to be like him."

She tilted her head back. "I'm glad he's not like Juraf. That man was scum. But he was also a hero. He just wanted to much far to much. Garran is fine just the way he is. And if Garran was like him he wouldn't be around for long."

Hati's gaze met Tanya's, her expression a mix of admiration and reminiscence. "The world took him early, like it does to all those who try to take too much from it. Garran took his place as general after Juraf passed, though he still carries that admiration for the man's freedom. But we all know that a legacy like Juraf's is both a blessing and a curse. It's made Sol and Luna who they are, but it's also left them with pieces of him they'll be chasing their whole lives."

Indeed considering the situation with their mothers the man had left behind a lot of baggage. Both scum and a hero eh? How curious. She wondered what exactly was the story of Juraf. What was the story of the world swallowing spear?