He let out an audible groan, his head sinking deeper into the exceedingly comfortable pillow beneath him. The universe, however, seemed determined not to let him enjoy his slumber. The light filtering into the room grew brighter and brighter, stabbing at his closed eyes. A persistent rustling sound, like leaves brushing against each other in the wind, reached his ears, making them twitch with irritation. Slowly, begrudgingly, he cracked one eye open.

Above him was a face, framed by golden blonde hair that glowed softly in the waning light of the seven suns. Her doe-brown eyes were bright, warm, and filled with mischief. A button-shaped nose and a smooth, angular jaw lent her a regal air, though the smile stretched across her face was far too cheeky for any noble. Her tail flicked idly behind her, visible just past her hip, the motion as rhythmic and unhurried as her demeanor.

His head, he realized, was resting comfortably in her lap. The sunlight filtering in through the wooden slats of the house fell in golden rays across her face, illuminating her features like some kind of saint. Her eyes crinkled slightly as her smile widened.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Terra teased, her tone gentle but tinged with humor. "You've been resting for a while. I could've sworn you were dead."

Juraf groaned again, shifting slightly in her lap. "I've told you this a million times: good people die early, but calamities last a thousand years!" he responded with a grin, his voice a little gravelly from sleep.

She let out a soft laugh and reached out to stroke his ears with a light touch. The sensation was warm, soothing, and entirely too comfortable. "Then I hope you become much worse than you are now, Juraf. Much, much worse," she said, her voice tinged with mock solemnity.

He narrowed his eyes at her, pretending to consider her words for a moment, before shaking his head with a huff. "What time is it?" he asked, sitting up slowly and stretching, though he lingered for just a second too long, as though reluctant to leave her lap.

Terra brushed off her blouse with her hands as she adjusted herself, then leaned forward slightly to begin kneading his neck. Her fingers were surprisingly deft, finding knots he hadn't even realized were there. "It's the evening," she replied casually, as though this were the most natural thing in the world. "That brat Garran is running around the village looking for his master. Didn't you take a liking to him?" She chuckled, the sound soft and lilting, like the faint song of birds outside the house.

Juraf tilted his head, thinking for a moment. "I mean, he's Remus's brat, which I don't like," he began, scratching his chin. "But he's also Remulus's nephew. And the kid does have a knack for the spear, better than most of the talentless wretches I have in my unit." His tone was laced with his usual snark, though there was a faint undertone of genuine respect. "As for teaching him, though…" He trailed off, his voice growing thoughtful. "I'm not sure."

Terra raised an eyebrow, her fingers pausing in their work for just a moment. "Why not?" she prompted, curiosity piqued.

Juraf shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "It's better to learn by falling off a cliff," he said, his voice taking on an amused lilt. "You either fly, root yourself on the precipice, or you fall. It's a good way to get a sense of a person."

"And which one is best?" she asked, genuinely intrigued, her hands moving to brush an errant lock of golden hair from her face.

Juraf grinned at her, his teeth catching the light for just a moment. "The one like me, of course!" he declared, his voice filled with easy confidence. "Those who root themselves on the precipice and keep growing until they cover everything the world has to offer beyond that cliff. Even birds tire, you know. There's a limit to how high they can fly. But there are trees that can break the boundary." He gestured with his hands, as though sketching the image in the air.

Terra snorted softly, rolling her eyes. "You sound like you've been smoking flower fumes," she quipped, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Call it a foggy brain from a midday slumber," he shot back with a laugh, rising to his feet and stretching, his broad shoulders cracking audibly. The light streaming in through the wooden slats cast shadows across the room, highlighting the rough-hewn furniture and the faintly glowing runes carved into the walls for protection.

"I have to get going," Juraf said, ruffling his hair and straightening his armor. "I'm an important person with important things to do."

Terra placed her hands on her hips, her tail swishing playfully behind her. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant General, sir," she said with a mock salute, her voice dripping with sarcasm and amusement.

Juraf shook his head, chuckling. "I'll see you later, then."

Terra watched him as he walked toward the door, the wooden planks creaking softly under his weight. "Don't stay out too late," she called after him, her voice softer now, almost fond.

"It's not even your house, Terra," he said with a laugh, turning his head to glance back at her.

"It is in all but name," she replied breezily, her grin widening. "Plus, I can make sure Remulus doesn't do anything too drastic if he comes over to visit Kiyanna."

Juraf paused for just a second, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly. But he recovered quickly, letting out a dry chuckle. "You're right. Stay over all you like." With a wave of his hand, he stepped out into the fading light, the sounds of the village beginning to rise around him. Behind him, Terra stood in the doorway, watching him go, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips.

It had been a few years since he killed Allo and crippled her father. The old man had, unsurprisingly, died not long after—some combination of age, drink, and festering wounds dragging him to an unremarkable end. Terra hadn't gone to the funeral. She hadn't even pretended to care. Juraf didn't blame her. Hell, he didn't care either. The old man had been garbage through and through, a stain on a life that had already been smeared with misery. Good riddance.

When they moved to Sunside they took her with, it wasn't exactly an act of heroism on his part. He didn't owe her anything, not really. But the thought of leaving her behind in Shadeside—a pretty young girl with no money or connections, scraping by in the gutters—didn't sit well with him. As shitty as her life had been, it could always get worse. He wasn't about to let her sink even further.

So, he had done what he did best: bargained and bullied his way into securing her a small plot of land. Remulus had folded surprisingly quickly, granting him the space in exchange for shutting Juraf up for a few months. And for time with kiyanna no doubt. Terra had moved in, but, in truth, she was rarely there. She spent more time at his place than her own. Not that he minded, well most of the time. Her presence was oddly grounding, and though he'd never admit it, he liked having someone around who could keep pace with his sharper edges.

He wasn't dense. Not by a long shot. He was fully aware of Terra's feelings for him. The way her eyes lingered just a second too long when he laughed. The way she always had some excuse to stick around—cooking, cleaning, or "just passing by." It wasn't subtle. But he had his reasons for not taking that step, reasons he didn't feel like unpacking right now. The weight of it made him groan audibly, shoving the thoughts of romance aside as his heavy footsteps thudded against the dirt road.

The vibrations seemed to shake the ground beneath him, a testament to his size. Years of rigorous training, proper nutrition, and the cultivation of his body had undone the effects of the bad diet he'd grown up with. Now, he towered over most in the village, standing well over seven feet tall, a mountain of sinew and power. Yet, even with his imposing frame, he was still shorter than that asshat Remus.

He didn't like the current village head. It wasn't just the man's immense stature or the way he carried himself with an air of almost smug charisma as if he was a genuine hero of legend. No, it was deeper than that. Remus rubbed him the wrong way—probably because he was too close to Remulus. Brothers who were both once competitors for chieftain and all, while they didn't hate one another there was tension on both sides. Juraf could admit that his friendship with Remulus colored his view of the man, but there was something about Remus that set his teeth on edge. The way he moved, the way he spoke, even the way he smiled—it all felt calculated. He spat onto the dirt beside him at the thought.

Remus wasn't his only problem, though. Being next in line for the position of general wasn't just a badge of honor. It came with its own set of annoyances, namely people like Remus flexing their power to see how far they could push him. He hated the game of politics, hated the posturing and the endless cycle of veiled threats and fake smiles. But he played along, mostly for Remulus's sake and Kiyanna's. He had taken a liking to the kid. Not to mention he needed this for her.

Today, unfortunately, wasn't going to be any different. He wasn't lying to Terra when he said he had work to do. The council of elders had called a meeting, and like the dutiful soldier he pretended to be, he was on his way to attend.

The village stretched out before him as he walked. Sunside was always alive with activity, its streets teeming with color and motion. Children ran to and fro, their laughter ringing through the air as they played games only they understood. A young man knelt before his blushing lover, holding her hand as he stammered out words of affection. A family bartered at a stall, the mother haggling fiercely with the merchant while her children tugged at her skirts, begging for sweets. In another corner, a boy swung a wooden sword, teaching his younger siblings how to fight.

The world here felt vibrant, full of life and energy. It was almost too bright for someone like him, someone who had grown up in the shadows of Shadeside. Even after years of living in Sunside, there were moments when it felt surreal. Like he was a visitor, peering into a life that didn't quite belong to him.

The ceremonial hall loomed ahead, its imposing structure standing as a testament to the village's history and culture. Red streamers hung from the high ceiling, swaying gently with the breeze. The walls were adorned with primal decorative objects, artifacts that told the story of their people. Each one glowed faintly, as if imbued with the vitality of the ancestors who had crafted them. The air inside was heavy with the scent of incense, a mix of spices and earthy undertones that clung to his senses.

At the center of the hall sat Remus, perched on a throne of beast skulls. The macabre display was meant to exude authority, though Juraf thought it just looked pretentious. Granted he himself was rather pretentious and it was kinda badass. Surrounding him were the elders, each seated in ornate chairs. Baya, the head priestess, with her knowing eyes and sharp tongue. Skollf, the elder with a face like weathered leather, who always seemed half-asleep but missed nothing. Randalk, the current general, his burly frame a stark contrast to his measured demeanor. And then there was Hathor—the bastard. Juraf's lips twitched into a faint sneer at the sight of him.

Near Remus, seated on a slightly smaller throne, was Remulus. The sight of him eased some of the tension in Juraf's shoulders. If nothing else, Remulus's presence meant he wouldn't have to face the circus of this meeting alone.

Juraf strode into the hall, his steps echoing against the polished stone floor. He inclined his head in acknowledgment

"Lieutenant General," Remus greeted him, his voice smooth but tinged with authority. The faintest glimmer of irritation flickered in his eyes at Juraf's shallow bow. Good.

"Chieftain." Juraf placed his two clawed hands firmly on his shoulders and inclined his waist, his movements deliberate. It was a calculated gesture, steeped in just enough respect to acknowledge the hierarchy but falling far short of subservience.

"Bow deeper, boy," Hathor sneered from his seat, his voice dripping with disdain. "You are before the lord of the village."

Juraf's jaw tightened slightly, but before he could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

"He is the lieutenant general, and you are speaking out of turn. Silence, elder," Remulus said sharply, his tone cold and authoritative, a rare edge in his typically measured demeanor.

Remus, seated on his ornate throne of beast skulls, raised a hand, halting the brewing spat before it could escalate. His expression was neutral, almost placid, but Juraf's sharp eyes caught the fleeting irritation that flickered in his gaze. Years in the slums had honed his ability to read people like open books, and Remus's brief lapse amused him. He let a small, knowing smirk creep onto his face, directing it at Hathor just enough to needle the elder further. The effect was immediate; Hathor's brows furrowed deeply, his displeasure almost palpable.

"Lieutenant General Juraf," Remus began, his tone smooth and diplomatic, "we have been impressed by your feats of strength, your rapid progress, and your ongoing contributions to the village and my brother." He paused, his gaze steady and unreadable. "So, we ask you to undertake a mission."

Juraf's expression didn't change, but inwardly, he braced himself. He shifted his weight subtly as Remus waved his hand, signaling for others to enter. A group of scouts stepped forward, their uniforms dusted with the dirt and grime of the wilds, and among them stood a singular figure—a woman who immediately commanded attention, even without trying.

It was Caela.

She moved with quiet poise, her priestess garb flowing around her slight yet curvy frame. Her waist-length silver hair shimmered faintly in the light of the ceremonial hall, catching the vibrant reds and golds of the streamers overhead. Her pupil-less pale blue eyes, though blind to the physical world, seemed to pierce through everything, staring into a realm unseen by others. She was as brilliant as always.

Juraf's gaze followed her as she approached a greenboard that one of the warriors set up behind her. She was one of the only women allowed to regularly leave the village and even scout which was usually a military operation because her innate ability was just that useful. With a graceful but firm grip, she picked up a piece of chalk, her movements steady and purposeful. Despite her blindness, there was a precision in the way she drew—a rough but effective depiction of a cave, flanked by jagged formations and overshadowed by a monstrous beast. Streams of energy-like light radiated from the cave, flowing outward as if the structure itself was alive with power. Though crude in detail, the image carried an undeniable weight, its implications clear even to the most skeptical observer.

Her voice was calm and measured as she began to speak. "On our scouting trip, I was able to see a significant concentration of numen—numen of the prosperous variety." Her words were met with murmurs from the elders, their interest piqued.

Caela continued, undeterred. "Numen in the wild manifests differently depending on the daos it is imbued with. All cultivators must filter numen that does not align with their path, separating what resonates from what is merely base energy. However, treasures are unique." She turned her head, her blind gaze directed toward Juraf. "Treasures possess the dao of 'treasure' itself—a meaning that elevates their existence beyond their inherent properties. They are tools, catalysts for growth, and embodiments of potential. I call this 'prosperous numen.'"

She pointed to the drawing on the board, her finger hovering over the streams of light. "In that cave, I saw more prosperous numen than I have ever encountered in my life. If I am correct, it could rival any trove discovered by our ancestors."

Juraf crossed his arms, his gaze sharpening as she spoke. He didn't interrupt but listened carefully, weighing her words.

"But," Caela continued, her tone shifting, "the beast that guards it is strong. Very strong. I cannot, in good conscience, recommend a deployment without significant preparation. This mission is fraught with danger."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with caution. Juraf noticed how her hands clenched slightly at her sides, betraying a trace of unease. It wasn't fear, he thought. No, it was something deeper—an instinct honed by experience, one that warned her of the risks they might be too eager to ignore.

"Enough," Remus interjected, cutting her off with a sharpness that made Juraf's brows twitch in annoyance. He could see that Caela felt it too, though she kept her face composed.

"You've heard her," Remus said, his tone firm. "Our village stands at a critical juncture. We need to advance, and we cannot do so without more resources. Treasures like the ones she describes could change everything. They could create more elders, bolster our strength, and enable several cultivators to break into the second layer, mitigating the dangers of tribulation."

He paused, letting his words settle before continuing. "Or perhaps these treasures may free us from the shackles placed upon us, allowing us to expand beyond these walls. If this cache of prosperous numen is truly as great as Caela claims, we cannot afford to hesitate."

The ceremonial hall seemed to echo with unspoken tension. Juraf's eyes flicked to Caela, who stood silently, her lips pressed into a thin line. She had done her part, offered her warning. Whether they heeded it or not was no longer up to her.

Juraf shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to respond. The weight of the room bore down on him, but his smirk only grew sharper.

"So, if I am correct," Juraf began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "you wish for me to take a troop into the forest during the mounting tensions on the precipice of war with the Gu. To fight a powerful beast that will likely leave many of us injured—assuming we even survive—and then make my way back to the village with your treasures in tow. Me, the lieutenant general, one of the few second-layer cultivators the village has." He punctuated his statement with a dry laugh, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly as if awaiting a punchline.

"Watch your tone, Juraf!" Randall snapped, his voice sharp and his already prominent forehead veins bulging. The man had always been prone to outbursts, and this time was no exception.

Juraf turned his sharp gaze on the elder, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "This cave and beast are near Gu territory, no? If these scouts found it, they were likely searching the borders to see if the Gu had made any moves. To find this treasure trove means the creature is likely in the vicinity. And if the beast is formidable, as Caela claims, the ruckus from our fight could very well attract Gu soldiers or worse—retaliation." His voice was smooth, laced with subtle venom, but his smirk betrayed his enjoyment of the verbal sparring.

Remus leaned forward slightly on his throne, his fingers steepled under his chin. "Our village has been under immense pressure, Juraf. We need hope—a light to guide us out of this long, dark war. You, more than anyone, should understand this." His words were carefully chosen, measured in tone, but there was no denying the weight behind them.

Juraf let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "Oh, of course. But let me remind you, we're not so far gone that we cannot win without taking foolish risks. You're sending one of the strongest fighters in the village on a mission with high chances of death, all for something ephemeral. Let me educate you—beasts who guard treasures don't just wander off. They stay because they have a food stock or something equally important. It's not going to just up and leave because we ask it nicely."

His voice held a biting edge now, and his smirk grew sharper as he locked eyes with Remus. The older chieftain's face remained impassive, but Juraf didn't miss the quick flicker of frustration in his eyes. Beside Remus, Remulus's gaze darted back and forth between them, his sharp mind already anticipating where this confrontation might lead.

"Hope," Remus said, his voice rising slightly, charged with charisma, "is something that must be grasped at the greatest of risks. Do not tell me the great Juraf is afraid of a mere beast. The hero who mastered spear intent—the first in our village to do so in over a hundred years—and at such a young age as well."

The goad was elementary, transparent in its intent, but Juraf felt the hook lodge firmly in his pride nonetheless. He cursed his roots—he was just a kid from the slums, after all. A smirk broke out across his face, this one more feral.

"Fear?" he echoed, his tone thick with mockery. "The only thing I fear is catching something from Hathor's wives, who keep wandering about my house. You should really do something about that, respected elder." He punctuated the insult with a casual laugh, watching with relish as Hathor's face turned a deep shade of red. The elder's nostrils flared, his lips parting in what was sure to be a tirade, but before he could get a word out, Juraf glanced toward Caela.

She wasn't amused. Her expression was neutral, but there was a visible grimace at the edge of her lips, and her body language was tense. Juraf just smiled back at her, offering a shrug as if to say, What can you do?

"Alright, that's enough." Remulus's voice cut through the growing tension like a blade, cooling the room with its calm authority. "The lieutenant general has taken the mission, and I will be going alongside him." His tone left no room for argument.

Juraf turned his gaze toward Remulus, his brow arching in surprise. The elder brother of the chieftain volunteering to join such a mission was unexpected. Around them, murmurs of approval and concern rippled through the gathered elders.

"Boy, you are a Lupus. You have no need to risk yourself in this way," Baya said, her voice a mix of chiding and approval. The elder priestess leaned forward in her chair, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief as she added, "But then again, I'm proud. It's not the type of thing your old man would ever do. Bagyagyagya!" Her loud, boisterous laughter filled the ceremonial hall, drowning out the grumbles of dissent from some of the other elders.

Her words seemed to effectively shut down further opposition, leaving the room with an air of reluctant acceptance. Juraf rolled his shoulders and offered a shallow bow to Remus, even less deep than the first, before turning on his heel.

"Well then," he said over his shoulder, his voice tinged with sarcasm, "I will prepare for the mission the day after. Don't worry—I'll bring back your precious hope, even if I have to wring it from that beast's neck."

With that, he strode out of the hall, his boots echoing against the stone floor, leaving a room full of elders stewing in his wake.

_____________

Caela's sandals pressed against the packed dirt road, a quiet rhythm beneath the ambient sounds of the village at night. The day had faded fully into the embrace of evening, and the hum of life had shifted. She could hear it all—the soft murmur of distant voices, the creak of wooden carts being pulled home, the occasional bark of a stray dog in the far corners of the village. Yet her focus was on the aspar.

The peculiar tubular organisms drifted lazily through the cool air, their bioluminescent glow casting a faint golden sheen over her pale skin. Despite her lack of traditional sight, she could see them clearly—every flicker of their light, every subtle movement of their sensory tendrils. It wasn't sight as others knew it, but her perception of numen allowed her to grasp the essence of the world around her. The aspar were simple structures, their energy signature untainted by the complexities of intent or thought, which made them easy for her to "see." In fact their biolumiscence was in part due to numen. They were the only breings likely which she could see in the fashion others could.

She reached out, her slender fingers brushing just beneath one as it floated above her palm, the soft hum of its numen vibrating faintly through her fingertips. A small smile ghosted her lips despite herself. The aspar had a strange way of soothing her. With a deep breath, she let it drift away, its golden glow joining the many others lighting the path ahead.

Her earlier irritation lingered, though slightly muted. She had warned them—warned him—not to venture into that place, but of course, no one ever truly listened. And that fool of a man, that stubborn, insufferable idiot, had responded to provocation as he always did: with reckless abandon. She could already picture the chaos his decision would bring. Exhaling sharply, she shook her head, trying to push the thought from her mind.

Her home came into view, a modest dwelling tucked between the towering blue-green trees that marked this part of the village. The wooden structure was simple but well-kept, its walls adorned with symbols of her station as a priestess. The soft glow of the aspar reflected off the smooth surface of the door, and she could feel the familiar pulse of the numen wards she had set around the house.

Her annoyance flared anew when she sensed the presence of another. His signature was unmistakable—a deep, dark pool of numen that seemed both comforting and insatiably ambitious, like an abyss that yearned for more than it could ever consume. She pushed open the door, her fingers trailing over the rough wood, and found him leaning casually against the wall, his ever-present smirk likely playing on his lips. She had never seen it but she just knew he always had it on.

"Why are you here," she began, her voice edged with irritation, "after what you pulled today?"

Juraf turned to her, his black numen glittering with amusement in the low light. His tall frame seemed to fill the small space, and the air around him practically buzzed with the vitality and chaos that always seemed to follow him. He was dressed in his usual gear, she could see the left over energy of creatures he had slain in the wild. Though his armor had been cast aside, leaving only a loose shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. He was entirely too relaxed for someone she wanted to throw out.

"I'm going on an expedition tomorrow," he said, his tone light, teasing, "and I need someone of your knowledge and some of your oh-so-precious oils and the like, Priestess Caela. Won't you help a soldier out?"

"Why should I help someone so eager to court death?" she shot back, her irritation giving her words a sharp edge.

Juraf chuckled, a deep, rich sound that filled the small room. "What is it with you girls today and all this talk about death? Hmmm, well, you're not wrong. But I'm not here just for that."

He leaned forward slightly, his grin widening, and she could feel the weight of his presence as if it had grown in intensity. She crossed her arms and glared at him—or rather, turned her unseeing eyes in his direction with the full force of her disapproval.

Ever since that fateful day years ago, Juraf had made a habit of showing up unannounced. Whenever he was injured, whenever he needed something—or whenever he was simply bored—he would find his way to her doorstep. Over time, it had become an odd routine. He'd stop by, crack a few jokes, sometimes bring her something to smell, and then leave before overstaying his welcome.

Perhaps it was because she couldn't see in the traditional sense, but he had an odd habit of bringing her new soaps or flowers, encouraging her to explore their scents. It was the only thing about him that ever made her pause. That thoughtfulness didn't align with the rough, cocky image he so carefully maintained.

She supposed it was how she had come to know him beyond his reputation in the village. And his reputation was extensive. She had heard the stories—the fights, the women, the trouble he seemed to stir up wherever he went. Yet, for all his bluster, there was something unshakable about him. A consistency she both hated and, in quieter moments, admired. In a way it reminded her of herself.

"State your reason and then get out, Juraf," she said, her annoyance thickening her tone. Her fingers itched to shoo him out the door, but she held her ground, waiting for whatever nonsense he would spout next.

Juraf stepped closer, and she felt the warmth of his presence wash over her. "If I told you it was because I enjoy our little chats, would you believe me?"

"No," she deadpanned, her lips twitching slightly despite herself.

He laughed again, that same infuriating laugh, and she resisted the urge to hurl a nearby cushion at him. She could sense the smile on his face even without seeing it, and it only added fuel to the fire of her annoyance. Yet, somewhere beneath her frustration, there was the faintest hint of something else. Something softer.

But she refused to acknowledge it. Not tonight.

She saw his numen signature shift and move toward her, distinct in its presence. It was dark, but not in a way that felt threatening or oppressive. To her, it was an abyss—a deep, endless void, but one that paradoxically offered warmth and comfort. It reminded her of the darkness of the womb, where everything was safe, where life began, where nothing was yet required of you. It was a space to rest, to simply be. Yet within that abyss, there was a constant, insatiable hunger—a yearning for something more, something beyond itself. That was Juraf in every way: an endless chasm that could hold you, but one that reached for everything it touched. And now, he was reaching for her once more.

She felt his hand brush past her head, his fingers grazing her temple and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. His movements were light, almost absentminded, but the touch sent a ripple of awareness through her.

"What are you doing, Juraf?" she asked, her voice low but heavy, the tension creeping into her tone unbidden.

"Just hold on a second," he said, a chuckle bubbling up from his chest, warm and disarming. "Stop being so jumpy."

The rough pads of his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering there for a moment. Then, she felt it—his numen slipping into her skin, threading through her as if it were a soft current of water seeping into dry soil. At first, she stiffened, instinctively bracing against the sensation. But the energy wasn't invasive. It wasn't harsh or demanding. It was gentle, deliberate, and strangely soothing. For a moment, she could only stand still, feeling as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

And then she saw it.

It wasn't sight in the conventional sense, but a perception entirely her own. The numen, vibrating in a carefully controlled frequency, began to outline her surroundings. The vibrations moved like ripples on a pond, creating a picture through sensation and resonance rather than light. The edges of things became clearer, more defined. The details came together in a way she had never experienced before.

"Let me teach you," he said softly, his voice losing its usual teasing edge. "It's not complex."

He reached for her hand, his palm warm against hers, and brought it up to his face. The flow of his numen intertwined with hers, seamless and fluid. She felt it, and more than that—she saw it. Under the haze of a myriad of colors, their combined essence created something entirely new. It wasn't just a sensation; it was an experience, a moment suspended in time.

The vibrations began to tickle her palm, brushing over her skin in soft, rhythmic waves. It was like feeling the gentle push of wind against your face or the cool ripple of water lapping at your feet. The sensation wasn't just external—it resonated deep within her, as though her very soul was being painted with these invisible strokes.

He guided her hand upward, and her fingertips grazed the curve of his cheek. The vibrations outlined the contours of his face—his strong jawline, the slight roughness of stubble, the arch of his brow. She felt the firmness of his nose beneath her fingers, the soft skin of his lips as her touch lingered there. Every line and curve was illuminated by the numen, vivid and alive. It was the first face she had ever truly seen.

"So…" His voice broke the stillness, tinged with a hint of humor. "How do I look? It ain't bad, is it?"

She didn't answer. Instead, without thought or hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Her movements were quick, almost desperate, as she buried her face against his chest. She breathed in deeply, the scent of him grounding her, as sobs began to wrack her body. They were silent, meteoric things, shuddering through her frame like distant thunder. But she was Caela—she refused to cry openly, even now. Tears streaked her cheeks anyway, hot and unrelenting, betraying her resolve.

"Man," he said after a moment, his voice light but tinged with something softer. "Am I that ugly? You didn't have to burst into tears, you know."

She pulled back slightly, just enough to clear her throat and push down the lump rising there. "Ahem—how did you manage this?" she asked, her voice regaining some of its usual sharpness, though it wavered slightly.

"Well," he began, his tone immediately shifting back to its usual cocky inflection, "it's kinda like hearing. We hear through vibrations, right? Like when something makes a sound—say you punch something—it creates a specific kind of force. Our ears pick up those vibrations in the air and turn them into information. I just… replaced the force with numen. The energy travels through objects in a specific way, and that creates an outline you can sense. Pretty simple if you think about it."

He grinned then, wide and self-assured. And for the first time, she could see it—the grin that practically radiated confidence, the faint dimples at the corners of his mouth, the glint in his dark eyes that spoke of mischief and pride.

"I am, after all, a genius," he added, the grin widening.

Her brow furrowed as she processed what he had said. It was a complex technique, but not inherently powerful or useful in combat. The sheer effort and precision it must have required to develop it spoke volumes. He had done this for her. There was no other explanation.

"Why?" she asked quietly, the word carrying far more weight than she intended.

He paused, the grin faltering for just a moment. His gaze softened, though that familiar spark of amusement never left his eyes.

"Well, you kno—"

"No, I mean why did you do this?" Caela interrupted, her voice low but firm, her tone demanding clarity. "Juraf, what exactly are you trying to do? I know about you—not just from our time together but from what everyone else says. The warrior who's destined to become general. A shameless womanizer. Rambunctious Juraf." Her voice dipped, laced with a sharp edge, though it trembled slightly at the weight of her words. "But you never go all the way with anyone, do you? That's different for you, right? Except…" Her eyes, unseeing yet pointed, seemed to fix on him, her head tilting ever so slightly. "Except you treat certain girls differently. At least, that's the rumor."

Juraf's grin faltered, but he didn't respond. She continued, her voice growing quieter but no less resolute. "Some say… you're in lo—" She paused, the word catching in her throat before she replaced it. "You already have someone. So again, I'm asking you: what are you trying to do here?"

Her words hung in the air, heavy with expectation. She looked like a blade poised to strike, though her hands trembled faintly at her sides. Her emotions swirled—anger, frustration, confusion—all vying for dominance.

Juraf finally looked away, his usual confidence dimmed. His brows furrowed as he kicked at a stray pebble near his feet, his voice quieter when he finally spoke. "You're not wrong," he admitted, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. "But… I don't know." He paused, dragging a hand through his pitch-black hair before looking back up at her. His expression was a mixture of vulnerability and something deeper, more raw. "It's different, but it's the same. Even so, I'm here with you, aren't I?"

He reached into his pouch, pulling out a cluster of flowers—small, luminous blossoms that emitted a soft, almost ethereal glow. He held them out toward her, his numen swirling around them like a gentle breeze. The vibrations shimmered faintly, carrying waves of detail that made the flowers appear alive in her perception.

"Here," he said, his voice softer now, laced with a rare sincerity. "They're just flowers, I guess. But I figured you might like them."

Caela hesitated, her lips parting as her fingers brushed the blossoms. The numen outlining their form gave her a new kind of vision, one that allowed her to "see" them in a way no one else could. She could perceive the delicate arch of their petals, the intricate veins weaving through their leaves, the way their faint bioluminescence seemed to pulse in rhythm with her own breath as well as their innate numen.

"They're beautiful," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Juraf grinned, though it was softer than his usual cocky expression. "I'm glad you think so."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The night wrapped around them like a velvet shroud, the distant hum of the village fading into the quiet rustle of the fields. The light from the three moons bathed them in silvery hues, their glow catching in the dew-laden flowers scattered across the field. Caela turned slightly, her face illuminated by the lunar light, her expression unreadable.

"You, Caela…" Juraf began, his voice hesitant, as though testing the weight of his words. "You're like the sky. Wide, endless, and all-encompassing. A manifestation of a dream."

Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn't respond, letting him continue.

"But the thing about dreams," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur, "and the sky, for all their greatness… they're fragile, aren't they? The sky is just a thin layer of air, stretched over endless nothing. Dreams are ephemeral, fleeting." He chuckled softly, though there was a tinge of sadness in it. "But man can't live without them. We can't live without the sky or without those little fragments of emotion that come at us when we slumber. Something so intangible, so immaterial—it's the foundation of who we are. Funny, right?"

She turned her head toward him, her pale blue, pupil-less eyes gazing into the abyss of his own. "Juraf…"

He shook his head, cutting her off gently. "I guess I just want my sky," he said with a faint, bittersweet smile. "I'm not thinking. I'm not thinking at all."

Caela stared at him for a long moment, her heart heavy with unspoken words. Finally, she turned away, her bare feet brushing through the grass as she began walking toward the open field. The flowers swayed gently around her, their bioluminescent glow painting the scene with a surreal vibrancy.

"Have you ever heard the story of the Black Toad?" she asked suddenly, her voice carrying through the stillness.

Juraf blinked, caught off guard. "The what?"

"The Black Toad," she repeated, her tone soft but steady. She reached the center of the field, spinning slightly as her vibrations spread through the ground, allowing her to "see" the flowers in every direction. The night seemed alive with motion—the soft rustle of petals, the distant chirping of nocturnal creatures, the hum of energy that thrummed beneath her feet.

She stopped, turning back to him with an expression that was both serene and inscrutable. "It's a story about beauty, greed, and regret," she said quietly.

Juraf tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "Sounds uplifting," he quipped, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

She smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Come with me," she said, extending a hand toward him.

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her outstretched hand before stepping forward to take it. Together, they stood in the center of the field, surrounded by a sea of glowing blossoms. The moons cast their silvery light over them, illuminating the faint sheen of tears on her face.

And for a moment, the world felt still, as if holding its breath.

"There was once a black toad who loved beauty," Caela began, her voice soft but clear, each word a ripple that seemed to echo in the stillness of the night. The glow of the bioluminescent flowers bathed her in a surreal light, their delicate swaying movements mirroring the cadence of her tale. She stood amidst the psychedelic blossoms, her silvery hair catching the light of the three moons above. To Juraf, she looked like a figure drawn from the very stories she told—ethereal and untouchable, yet grounded in a quiet strength.

"He wanted all the beauty in the world. It was because he grew up with nothing. In his home swamp, he was the only black toad. While all his siblings and parents were colorful and cheery, he was plain, and he was dark. He was never well-liked." Her tone grew quieter, almost mournful, as her gaze wandered, though she could not see in the traditional sense. "He came to think of beauty as the only measure of value. And since he couldn't dress himself up, he decided he would make the world not beautiful."

The flowers around her trembled slightly, catching the faint vibrations of her numen as she continued. "He thought, if he could swallow the beauty of the world, it would make him the most beautiful of all. And if that didn't work, at least no one would be able to see him for what he was. No one would call him ugly or useless ever again."

Juraf shifted slightly where he stood, his gaze fixed on her as she turned her head toward the field, her soft vibrations spreading outward like ripples in a pond, outlining every petal, every stalk.

"And so, the black toad marched onwards. He stole the beauty of his parents and siblings and swallowed it. But nothing changed. He stole the beauty of the aspar and the great trees, but still, nothing changed. He stole the beauty of the mountains, the forests, the sea, and the wind. Of Wolvenkind, of all the life in this world—he devoured it all. But nothing changed."

Juraf's eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in thought. He watched her, not interrupting though. His eyes haze as if in thought.

"The only thing that changed," Caela said, her voice dropping lower, "was his stomach. It swelled and swelled, but he still felt just as empty as before. So, he decided to finish. He devoured the beauty of the suns and the sky, of all the earth beneath his feet, until there was nothing left. That toad swallowed the world."

Her breath caught as if the story weighed on her chest. "And at the end, when he looked around at the barren world he'd created—a world without beauty—he felt regret. And then… he burst. He had grown too full, and he burst, scattering all the beauty he had stolen back to where it belonged."

She turned her face toward Juraf, the faint outline of his numen flickering in her vision. The boy she had first seen through the vibrations of his energy, the one she had grown to know even without sight, stood there, framed by the luminous field, his expression unreadable.

"Is that a warning, Caela?" he asked, his voice softer than usual but tinged with something sadder if she could call it that. But there was an edge to his tone, something primal that made her stomach twist in ways she couldn't name. Ways that made her heart clench.

Her lips parted as though to speak, but she faltered. "It is not a warning," she finally said, her voice almost shaky, nearly betraying the storm of emotions swirling within her. "It is…" She sighed, biting back the words she wanted to say. She turned her head away, her mouth snapping shut as though she'd been burned.

Juraf's sharp gaze didn't miss the subtle flinch. "Caela," he said, his voice steady but questioning. He took a step closer, his numen brushing against hers like a gentle tide. "You don't have to worry about me. I ain't a frog, after all." He grinned faintly, though it didn't fully reach his eyes. "Not that ugly, anyway."

His attempt at humor made her exhale softly, though it didn't ease the tension between them. He continued, his voice growing more contemplative. "And who's to say being greedy is wrong? I've been greedy my whole life, and look at me now." He gestured at the field around them, the glow of the flowers reflecting in his dark eyes. "In the end, who's to say the black toad wasn't satisfied? Who's to say he felt regret? No one ever heard from him, after all."

She turned to him sharply, but he held her gaze, the abyss of his eyes unfathomable. "Maybe that moment, right before he burst, was the most brilliant moment of his life. Maybe that was enough."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken things. The flowers around them seemed to sway in time with the beat of her heart, their luminescence pulsing gently as if alive. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying the faint hum of distant aspar trees and the distant cries of nocturnal creatures.

Juraf shook his head, breaking the stillness. "I won't burst, and I won't die," he said, his voice low but resolute. "No matter how greedy I become, no matter what I take… you can count on that, Caela. If nothing else, you can count on that."

She studied him, her pale, pupil-less eyes unable to see the full picture but perceiving enough. His numen swirled with a controlled chaos, an abyss yearning forever more. Oh, she should have known from the start. For a moment, it flickered, hazy and uncertain, but then it solidified once more as if even his doubts refused to take root.

Under the light of the three moons, with the field of luminous flowers as their stage, Caela looked at the boy she had first seen through the vibrations of her world. And in that moment, she knew.

She was through.

_________________

The branches trembled faintly as shadows darted across them with remarkable speed, moving with practiced stealth. Juraf and his troop were traversing the towering spiral trees of Gu territory, their every step calculated to blend into the natural rhythm of the forest. The air was thick with the faint hum of distant nocturnal life, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of tension—one wrong move, and the entire mission could unravel.

They leapt from branch to branch, their footfalls soft against the twisting blue-green wood. The leaves overhead glowed faintly with bioluminescence, a characteristic of the trees in this part of the world, casting a gentle light that illuminated their path just enough to guide them. Each soldier was outfitted with a pair of shadow cores, dark orbs humming faintly with numen energy, strapped to their belts. The cores cloaked their presence, diffusing their auras and dampening their sound. Juraf noted the faint flicker of the cores with every leap, a reminder that their power was finite. This mission was well-funded—a rarity—and perhaps the presence of Remulus himself was the reason for that.

As they moved, Juraf turned his sharp gaze to Remulus, who was perched on a nearby branch. His companion's eyes were focused intently on a worn map, the faint glow of numen illuminating its surface. Juraf raised his hand, fingers twisting through a series of silent signs that asked a simple but critical question: How far?

Remulus glanced up, his fingers responding just as silently, a quick sequence of signs. Close. But detour necessary. Possible outpost ahead.

Juraf nodded curtly, shifting his position to lead the group away from the marked danger. The troop moved fluidly, adjusting their trajectory without a word, weaving through the canopy with an elegance born of relentless training. The surrounding forest felt alive in a way that was both mesmerizing and unsettling. The trees, massive and spiraling, seemed to hum faintly, their glowing leaves swaying to a rhythm only they understood. Small, skittering creatures darted through the foliage, their bright eyes glinting like scattered stars.

But peace was an illusion in Gu territory.

Juraf's hand shot up abruptly, the universal signal to stop. His troops froze, blending into the shadows as if they had disappeared entirely. He pressed a palm to his shadow core, feeding it a pulse of numen. The others followed suit, amplifying the cloaking effect at the cost of draining the cores and himself more rapidly. It was a necessary trade-off.

Below them, a lone figure walked along the forest floor, its movements deliberate but unhurried. Juraf's sharp eyes locked onto it, his body tensing instinctively. It was a Gu—a member of the gnarly race that inhabited these lands.

Each Gu was tall, standing well over eight feet, their lanky forms exaggerated by their thin, sinewy frames. Their purple skin seemed to pulsate faintly, dark veins sprawling like rivers of corruption beneath the surface. Juraf's lip curled faintly at the sight of its exoskeleton-clad arms, each ending in four sharp, ant-like claws that looked built for dismemberment. The Gu's mandibles clicked faintly as it moved, and its lack of a nose added an unsettling alienness to its face. They were known to breathe through their skin, giving them an unnerving stillness even in motion.

The creature wore a crude brown skirt, a stark contrast to its otherwise grotesque appearance. It was likely a scout, Juraf reasoned, judging by its solitary nature. The Gu were cruel and lascivious by reputation, their culture built on conquest, poison, and domination. They were masters of venom in all its forms, their presence a blight that spread through any land they touched.

Juraf raised his hand again, signaling his soldiers to hold position. They remained perfectly still, blending into the foliage above as the Gu passed beneath them. For a moment, it seemed the danger would simply walk away. Juraf exhaled slowly, silently, ready to signal his troops to resume their path.

But then, the Gu's head snapped upward with unnatural speed.

Juraf's breath caught as the creature's black, pupil-less eyes locked onto the canopy where they hid. Its mandibles clicked, the sound sharp and deliberate, and a faint hiss escaped its throat. Juraf's soldiers tensed around him, their grips tightening on their weapons. One of them shifted slightly, the faintest creak of wood betraying the movement.

The Gu's gaze sharpened, its thin chest expanding as it took in a long, deliberate breath. Juraf's mind raced, his body coiling like a spring. If it detected them, there would be no easy way out. This Gu was no issue however they were in their territory and the noise of even a small fight could bring reinforcements within minutes. Then they would likely all die.

But just as quickly as the tension had mounted, the Gu turned its head away. It stepped closer to one of the glowing bushes at the base of the tree, plucking a handful of berries with its sharp claws. It inspected the fruit briefly, then turned and began walking again, its mandibles clicking faintly in what almost sounded like a contented hum.

Juraf didn't exhale until the Gu had disappeared entirely from view, its thin form swallowed by the forest's shadows. Around him, his soldiers relaxed incrementally, though their vigilance remained sharp.

He motioned for them to continue, his hand moving with decisive authority. They resumed their journey, weaving through the trees as the faint echoes of the Gu's presence faded into the distance. But the encounter left a shadow over the group, a reminder of how precarious their mission truly was.

Juraf's thoughts churned as he led them forward, the glow of the trees around him casting fragmented patterns of light and shadow. He was no stranger to danger, but something about the Gu always left him unsettled. He shook his head.

The relief among the troop was palpable, unspoken but evident in the way their shoulders relaxed and their grips loosened on their weapons. Juraf allowed himself a small breath of reprieve, but his focus remained sharp. They had narrowly avoided one danger, but the path ahead was far from safe. After a few silent hand gestures, the group continued their advance, weaving through the glowing blue-green trees with practiced efficiency. The eerie glow of the leaves cast shifting shadows on their faces, a flickering reminder of the perilous territory they navigated.

Their journey was uneventful for a time, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional hum of nocturnal creatures. The tension never truly left, an ever-present weight on their shoulders. Juraf's eyes scanned the terrain ceaselessly, noting the subtle shifts in the foliage and the faint changes in the forest's bioluminescence. The trees seemed to grow denser as they approached their destination, their spiraling trunks twisting unnaturally, as though resisting the encroachment of intruders.

Finally, they reached the cave. It was nestled within the base of a rocky hill, partially obscured by an overgrowth of vines and moss. The entrance yawned wide, a dark void that seemed to exhale a faint, unsettling chill. Water trickled down the stone, forming small pools around the mouth of the cave, their surfaces reflecting the pale glow of the forest. Juraf motioned for his troop to halt, his hand a silent command that was obeyed instantly.

He gestured to one of his scouts, a wolvenkind man with brown skin and dark, alert wolf ears that twitched at every faint sound. The scout nodded, stepping forward without hesitation. Through the Great Wolf Sutra, he was trained in a unique art that transformed scent into direct information—a skill invaluable in a mission such as this. Juraf watched as the man crept forward, his movements almost ghostly in their precision. He hovered around the cave entrance, moving nearer and then retreating, his nostrils flaring as he absorbed the sensory data.

The scout's face tightened as he worked, his brows furrowing deeper with every moment. Juraf, observing from his perch in the trees, felt a familiar weight settle in his chest. Fucking suns. It's always something, he thought grimly, already bracing himself for bad news.

The scout finally returned, leaping silently into the tree alongside Juraf and Remulus, who had come over from his own position. The scout knelt, pulling out a sketchpad and a piece of chalk. His hand moved swiftly, outlining the details of the creature they would likely face. As the image took shape, Juraf's stomach tightened, his expression darkening with every stroke.

The sketch revealed a creature with a wolvenkind-like jaw and neck, but there were no lips or cheeks to cover its teeth. The exposed fangs jutted menacingly from its gaping maw, their sharp edges glinting faintly in the dim light. The creature lacked an upper head entirely—no eyes, no discernible features beyond the jagged jaw. Instead, two massive bone-like plates crowned its neck, covered in a strange, webbed flesh that looked as though it pulsed faintly with life. The fleshy webbing was interspersed with tangled vines and patches of leaves, an unnatural fusion of plant and beast.

Its body was equally grotesque. Bare, sinewy flesh stretched taut over a serpentine frame, dotted with clusters of leaves that seemed to grow from its very form. Bony plates ran down its spine, jagged and uneven, forming a natural armor that gleamed with a faint, sickly sheen. It had four gaunt arms, unnervingly long and jointed at odd angles, each tipped with claw-like appendages. Its lower half was serpentine, a long, sinuous body that coiled and twisted like a naga's, adorned with more bony spines running the length of its form. All of this was interspersed with vines and other plant-like material. The creature was somewhat superficially similar to a Snavine but eerily different.

Juraf's gaze sharpened as he took in the details, his lips pressing into a thin line. What the fuck even is this thing? he thought, his frustration growing. It didn't match any species he was familiar with—no bestiary had ever described something so twisted, so wrong. He turned his attention to Remulus, who was studying the sketch intently.

Remulus made a few hand symbols, silently asking the scout for an estimation of the creature's size. The scout hesitated for a moment before drawing a simple comparison on the corner of the page. He sketched a small, human-like figure next to the creature, and the scale was staggering. The beast was massive, its serpentine body alone dwarfing the height of even the tallest warriors.

Juraf felt his jaw tighten, his hand gripping the haft of his spear reflexively. The sketch made it look as though a berry had been placed beside a sunmelon—a ridiculous, almost laughable disparity in size.

"Well, shit," Juraf muttered under his breath, his voice low enough that only Remulus could hear. The sentiment was shared, unspoken but heavy in the air between them. This wasn't just a beast; it was a nightmare made flesh, and it was their job to deal with it.

Juraf tilted his head upward, gazing at the sky as if it could offer guidance. The inky canvas was already darkening, with the faint glow of the triple moons beginning to bleed through the canopy of twisted branches overhead. The faint hum of nocturnal creatures replaced the earlier stillness, and the air carried a damp chill that hinted at the approaching night. Time was running out. They were deep in enemy territory, and the longer they lingered, the greater the risk. The shades would be prowling soon, and any encounter with Gu patrols could spell disaster for their small force.

His gaze returned to the rocky hill before them. It wasn't imposing enough to be called a mountain, but it jutted out from the earth like the humped back of some slumbering beast. The cave entrance was hidden beneath a shroud of creeping vines and thick moss, blending seamlessly with the surrounding greenery. Trickles of water cascaded down the rocks, carving small rivulets into the dirt below and creating a faint gurgling sound. Despite its deceptively tranquil appearance, the area exuded a foreboding energy, as if the hill itself was aware of their presence and resented the intrusion.

Juraf pressed a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples as he considered their options. They couldn't afford to wait for days, hoping the beast might leave the cave unattended. The Gu could stumble upon them at any moment, and the risk of being caught in a pincer between the Gu and the beast was too great. Sneaking into the cave while the creature slept was possible, but the odds of success were slim, and a misstep would doom them all.

He sighed, leaning against a tree, its spiraled trunk rough against his palm. He ran through ideas, discarding most of them as quickly as they came. Smearing someone in beast blood to lure the creature away? Effective, but cruel—it would be a death sentence for whoever took on the role of bait. His soldiers weren't pawns to be thrown away. Using the oil he had brought? Some creatures were drawn to specific scents, but it was a gamble at best. And trying to pit the Gu against the beast? Far too risky. The Gu were unpredictable and sadistic; any plan relying on them was courting disaster.

His mind drifted to the night before. He thought of Caela and the simple elegance of vibrations. Her face flashed in his mind, and a grin tugged at his lips as clarity struck him. The answer was sound—vibrations. The creature lacked eyes, and those large, webbed bone plates on its head were likely its primary sensory organs. They would be hypersensitive to sound, and using that against it was the key.

Using numen to project basic shockwaves wasn't complex, nor was it a high-level technique. It was part of a foundational martial art, one even children learned early in their training. With a coordinated effort, his team could create a cacophony of dull, numen-imbued shockwaves that would echo through the cave. The cacophony of noise would disorient the beast and push it into a frenzy, forcing it to leave the cave in search of the source. Better still, the noise would mask their movements, allowing them to slip inside unnoticed.

He motioned for Remulus, explaining the plan in hushed tones. His friend nodded, his expression grim but resolute, and set off to relay the orders to the rest of the team. Juraf watched as his soldiers gathered, their faces etched with determination. They were a small force, only eleven aside from himself, but he trusted their discipline and skill. Each of them carried shadow cores—valuable items that enhanced their stealth capabilities at the cost of exhausting their numen reserves more quickly. It was a calculated risk, one they would have to manage carefully.

Juraf tilted his head toward the cave, signaling the final preparations. The group spread out, moving to their designated positions with the quiet efficiency of seasoned warriors. The rocky hill loomed before them, its surface dotted with patches of shrubbery and clusters of resilient, twisted plants that clung to the stone like parasites. The terrain was uneven, with jagged outcroppings that provided natural cover but also hindered movement. The faint sound of water trickling down the rocks mixed with the rustling of the leaves, masking the subtle shifts of the soldiers as they got into place.

The moons cast their pale light over the landscape, giving the scene an almost ethereal quality. Shadows danced among the rocks, and the forest beyond seemed to press in around them, as if conspiring to smother their presence. Juraf's gaze lingered on the cave entrance, a dark void that promised both danger and opportunity. He took a deep breath, his grip tightening on his spear as he nodded to his team.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He and Remulus veered to the right, moving with practiced stealth, while others in the group took the left and another contingent ascended to the top of the hill. Each squad pressed their palms against the rocky surface, feeling the coarse texture of the stone beneath their hands. It was cool to the touch, damp from the moisture that seeped through the earth. Slowly, they began releasing numen waves into the rock, sending the energy rippling through the stone in uneven pulses. The vibrations spread like whispers through the hill, snaking their way toward the hollow space at its heart: the cave.

At first, there was only the sound of their controlled breathing and the faint hum of their numen. The silence hung heavily, the weight of anticipation coiling in their stomachs. Then it came: a faint thrashing noise, almost imperceptible at first. The sound grew louder, sharper, accompanied by a rhythmic clicking. The clicking deepened, taking on a sinister cadence that echoed through the surrounding trees like a drumbeat from the depths of the earth.

Juraf's heart began to race as the thrashing intensified, the vibrations shaking loose small stones that tumbled down the hill's surface. Suddenly, there was movement. The beast burst from the cave with preternatural speed, its enormous body a blur of serpentine muscle, leaves, and bone. It slithered and twisted with an eerie fluidity, its leaf-like flesh glinting faintly under the moonlight. The creature's bony plates caught the light, creating an otherworldly gleam as it coiled and writhed, its elongated form stretching over twenty-five meters in length.

Juraf's eyes tracked it carefully, noting the way its webbed bone plates flexed and trembled as it twisted in place, desperately searching for the source of the cacophony. The creature lacked eyes, relying entirely on its auditory senses. It was disoriented, its sensitive plates overwhelmed by the numen-enhanced vibrations that echoed through the rocky terrain. It let out a guttural, clicking growl, its serpentine body shifting restlessly. For a moment, it twisted in all directions, clearly unable to pinpoint the origin of the noise.

Finally, with a frustrated thrash of its tail, the creature shot off into the distance, seeking the phantom sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The ground trembled as it disappeared into the shadows of the forest, its enormous form quickly swallowed by the night.

Juraf allowed himself a small exhale of relief as he gestured to the others. Without wasting a second, the team moved. They slid into the cave in practiced formation, the remaining soldiers outside continuing the cacophony to mask their presence. The moment Juraf stepped inside, the air shifted. It was cooler, damp, and carried the faint tang of mineral-rich water. The walls of the cave shimmered faintly, reflecting the light of bioluminescent fungi that clung to the stone like constellations in the night sky.

Water dripped steadily from the jagged ceiling, forming small pools on the uneven floor. The ground was covered in peculiar flowers, their grotesque shapes immediately catching Juraf's attention. The blooms were twisted and sharp, reminiscent of the beast's head with their bony ridges and leafy fronds. Their colors were muted but unnatural, the petals shifting subtly in the dim light as if alive.

At the back of the cave, a pond glowed with an ethereal light, its surface rippling faintly. The water seemed to pulse, emanating a soft, golden radiance that bathed the chamber in a surreal glow. Within the pond grew several spiritual plants: golden lilies whose cores shone like captured moonlight. The lilies were not yet fully matured; their delicate petals quivered as if sensing the absence of their guardian. Juraf's breath hitched. These were treasures worth their weight in blood.

The walls of the cave held other treasures as well. Scrolls, remarkably well-preserved despite the damp conditions, rested on natural stone shelves. Their intricate bindings hinted at forgotten knowledge—perhaps numen arts or ancient techniques. Among the treasures were skeletons, their origins a mystery. Some were humanoid, others entirely alien, their bones twisted into forms Juraf couldn't even begin to identify. A glint of metal caught his eye: raw ore embedded in the walls, veins of a rich, dark silver that seemed to hum faintly with numen. His lips curled into a grin. They had struck gold—or perhaps something even more valuable.

But what truly drew his attention was a small, flawless box resting near the pond. Its surface was smooth, polished to perfection, and it emanated a faint aura of significance. The very sight of it sent a thrill through him. He turned to his soldiers, his grin widening as he saw their awestruck faces. The weight of the mission, the risk, the danger—all of it seemed worth it now. They had hit the jackpot.

One of his men, Drux, let out a boisterous laugh, the sound echoing loudly in the confined space. Juraf's grin faltered as the flowers around them suddenly stiffened. Their twisted shapes bristled, their petals curling inward and their stems vibrating with unnatural energy. The air turned heavy, charged with something dark and foreboding.

Juraf's eyes widened in alarm. "Shit," he hissed under his breath.

Then, in an instant, the atmosphere in the cave shifted, and everything went wrong.

"MOVE!" Juraf roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Without hesitation, he leapt to the side, his instincts screaming at him to evade. From the depths of the earthy floor, the creature emerged with terrifying speed, its enormous claw tearing through the air. The strike was deadly precise, catching Drux mid-laugh and splitting him into three gruesome pieces before his numen barrier could even flare. Blood splattered across the glowing pond and flowers, staining the surreal beauty of the cave with visceral reality.

Juraf landed heavily, rolling to avoid another claw strike as his mind raced. Were there two of them? The thought was dismissed just as quickly. No, this beast was tied to the flowers—they weren't mere decoration. They were extensions of its body, conduits allowing it to move between the ground and the hollow sphere it had emerged from. That sphere—a grotesque amalgamation of flesh, vines, and bone—shimmered faintly with numen, amplifying every sound around it. He could see it faintly underground, It's hollow nature reminded him of some instruments. That thing was the only way it could have gotten back here so fast, a true curiosity. Echoes bounced off the walls, distorting and amplifying the voices of the soldiers. Juraf's blood ran cold as he realized the truth. This thing had powers in the Dao of Sound.

Before he could shout another warning, the chaos escalated. One of his men screamed, but the sound was cut short as his voice was stolen, trapped in the air like a wisp of smoke. The soldier's body trembled violently before expanding grotesquely, as if his very essence had been weaponized. Then, in an explosion of gore, he was gone. Another soldier met the same fate mere seconds later, their silenced cries reverberating in Juraf's ears like phantom echoes.

"Shit!" Juraf cursed, the weight of the situation crashing down. He thrust his numen through his body, wrapping himself in a dense shield of energy. He barked a quick command, and the remaining soldiers followed suit, their forms flickering as their numen barriers ignited. The protective layers shimmered faintly, a desperate bulwark against the creature's deadly abilities.

The beast roared. "CCRREAAAA!!" The high-pitched sound pierced the air, targeted and calculated. It wasn't just noise—it was a weapon. Juraf's enhanced hearing, a trait of his lineage, worked against him as the sharp resonance clawed at his eardrums. He winced, but his reinforced defenses held, preventing his ears from rupturing.

He gritted his teeth and surged forward, leading the charge. This had to end fast. The longer they let it dictate the battle, the higher the casualties. The beast lashed out with a claw, aiming to skewer him. Juraf spun his spear, meeting the attack with the haft. The impact was like a thunderclap, the force rippling through his arms and sending him stumbling back. He regained his footing in time to see a blast of sound, visible as shimmering waves coated in numen, racing toward him.

With a powerful leap, he flipped over the attack, twisting in midair to gain momentum. His spear glowed with a fierce green light, infused with his intent. He thrust the weapon behind him to propel himself toward the creature's head like a javelin thrown by the gods.

"CUT!" Juraf roared, the sound merging with his numen as he unleashed his strike. A blade of green energy tore through the air, slicing toward the beast's head. But it was fast—too fast. Its serpentine body twisted unnaturally, evading the attack by mere inches. Before Juraf could react, one of its spines shot toward him like a bolt of lightning. It was almost instantaneous, teleporting into the air directly in front of his face.

He barely managed to bring his spear up in defense. The spine collided with his weapon, the force sending shockwaves through his arms, but the spine wasn't done. It pushed through his guard, piercing his shoulder and flinging him backward like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact before coming to a stop. Blood seeped through the gash in his armor, the metallic scent mixing with the earthy tang of the cave.

"Fuck!" Juraf hissed, yanking the spine out of his shoulder with a grimace. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to his feet. The pain was sharp, biting, but it wouldn't impede him—not yet. He studied the wound briefly, wondering if the attack carried more than physical force. Did the beast use his own roar as a vector? The complexity of the creature's abilities both infuriated and intrigued him.

Despite the situation, Juraf grinned, his teeth bared in a wolfish snarl. "Let's see between the two of us just who is the better fighter. I have no intentions of falling here. I have yet to eat until I burst, after all."

The beast roared again, its plates vibrating as it prepared its next assault. Juraf spun his spear in his hands, the numen surrounding him growing denser. The cavern trembled, the air heavy with the promise of bloodshed. He tightened his grip, his eyes locked on the creature. His grin widened.

"Bring it."

Remulus and the remaining seven soldiers shifted into a loose encirclement, each man synchronizing their movements with practiced precision. Remulus took the lead, barking orders through hand signals and brief, clipped phrases that were barely audible over the beast's guttural roars. They worked in tandem, kiting the creature with precise strikes, forcing it to lash out in one direction while another soldier targeted its unprotected side.

The lack of eyes didn't make the beast defenseless; its bone-plated head rotated unnaturally, the fleshy webbing vibrating as if sensing every motion around it. Even so, the soldiers pressed the advantage. When the creature lunged for one, another darted in, stabbing at its serpentine body. Every strike was a carefully calculated dance to whittle it down piece by piece.

"Hold formation!" Remulus's voice cut through the chaos, his tone commanding yet calm. From his belt, he drew a spool of shimmering thread, its texture resembling silk spun by some monstrous arachnid. The line glowed faintly with numen as he began weaving it through the environment, setting the trap.

But the creature wasn't mindless. The flowers trembled as if sensing something then the beast stilled momentarily, its plates clicking ominously, before feinting an attack on one soldier and pivoting toward another. One of the men lunged at its flank, striking with a blade coated in shimmering numen. The blow landed, biting into the beast's flesh—but it came at a cost. The creature absorbed the strike and swung its arm with horrifying speed, catching the soldier mid-stride.

"Damn it, no!" Remulus snarled as the soldier's defensive technique flared, creating a crackling barrier of green energy. But it wasn't enough. The creature's sheer physical strength crushed through the defense like brittle glass, its elongated fingers curling around the man's torso with an audible crunch.

The formation faltered, the remaining soldiers breaking ranks to rush toward their captured comrade. Chaos threatened to consume the fight.

Juraf, watching from the edge of the skirmish, didn't hesitate. His eyes locked onto the beast's massive arm as he rolled his shoulders, a grin stretching across his face despite the searing pain in his earlier wound. His fingers tightened around the haft of his spear, green numen roaring to life along its length.

He leaned back, every muscle in his body coiling like a drawn bow. His voice rang out, clear and sharp over the din of battle. "Original move: Flight of Fenrir."

The spear erupted with energy, the green light taking the ghostly shape of a massive wolf. As Juraf heaved the weapon forward with all his strength, the wolf's form seemed to howl, its spectral fangs bared as it hurtled through the air.

The spear struck true, smashing into the creature's extended wrist with a deafening impact. The spectral wolf's jaws bit down, imposing Juraf's intent upon the weapon. Green energy erupted outward, ripping into the beast's sinew and muscle, tearing a large chunk of flesh free. The spear embedded itself in the creature's arm, quivering as energy radiated from the wound.

The beast let out an ear-splitting roar—"CREAAAA!!!"—its vibration rattling the walls of the cavern. The force of the pain made it release the soldier in its grip, who collapsed to the ground gasping for air.

Juraf snarled, his voice cutting through the creature's cry. "Let go of my fucking subordinate, you faceless bitch!"

Remulus seized the opening with precision. His hand shot forward, a strand of shimmering twine coiling tightly around the beast's neck. He pulled sharply, forcing the creature's upper body downward, exposing its flank. Juraf wasted no time. He launched himself upward with explosive force, narrowly dodging a massive swing from the beast's elongated claws. The air hissed as several spines followed, but Juraf twisted mid-flight, weaving through them with practiced mastery.

He used the beast's own forearm as a springboard, propelling himself higher before tucking into a spin and delivering a devastating dropkick infused with numen. The impact crashed into the creature's stomach, forcing a guttural roar from its throat. Using the momentum, Juraf twisted, grabbing the haft of his spear embedded in its wounded arm and yanking it free with a spray of thick, sap-like blood. The weapon hummed with pent-up energy as he landed gracefully on the ground.

----------------------------------------

"Keep it busy!" Remulus barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

One of Juraf's subordinates, a burly soldier wielding a massive bone hammer, charged forward. With a deafening battle cry, he swung upward, slamming the hammer into the beast's jaw. The creature's head snapped to the side, its serpentine body recoiling into the cavern wall. Rocks crumbled from the ceiling as the impact reverberated through the space.

Remulus saw his chance. In a swift, fluid motion, he tightened the glowing twine and dragged the beast forward. Another soldier, positioned strategically, thrust a spear into the creature's exposed chest, the weapon piercing through its flesh with a wet crunch. The beast roared, its plates clicking in a rapid, discordant rhythm.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The clicking intensified, rising to a cacophony that vibrated through the cavern. The air grew heavy, oppressive, as if the sound itself carried weight. Juraf's head snapped toward the creature, his eyes narrowing. "Shit—brace yourselves!"

The beast unleashed its attack. Several of its bone spines shot outward in all directions, slicing through the air like arrows. Juraf's men scrambled to avoid the barrage. Some weren't fast enough—two soldiers were grazed, their armor punctured but the wounds thankfully shallow. Juraf himself spun his spear in a tight circle, creating an energy-infused shield. The spines ricocheted off with sharp, metallic pings, leaving faint scorch marks on the weapon.

But the creature wasn't done. Its tail lashed out with frightening speed, the serrated edges glinting with numen. Juraf flipped backward just in time, the tip of the tail narrowly missing him. "Too slow," he muttered, but the beast wasn't outmaneuvered yet. Spines erupted from its tail, forcing him to duck mid-air, twisting his body with impossible agility.

Before he could fully recover, the beast shifted. Its entire body coiled like a spring, and with a sudden burst of power, it swung itself around. The motion was too fast—Juraf felt the backhand before he could block, the sheer force slamming him into the cavern wall. His spear clashed against the beast's arm mid-impact, managing to score a shallow cut, but the blow still sent shockwaves through his body.

"Huurk!" Juraf coughed, blood spraying from his lips. His ribs ached, even with numen reinforcing them. Fuck, that's going to hurt tomorrow.

Still, retreat wasn't an option. Planting his feet against the wall, he channeled numen into his legs. The energy coursed through him, amplifying his strength as he launched himself back into the fray. The beast's claws came up, ready to swat him from the air, but Juraf was already spinning. His body turned into a whirling sawblade, numen-infused edges slashing through one of the creature's fingers. The severed appendage dropped with a dull thud, the beast shrieking in pain.

Juraf landed on the opposite wall, crouching for just a second before leaping again. This time, he moved with the speed and precision of a roc diving for prey, zigzagging unpredictably. Each pass left a new cut on the beast's body—some shallow, others deep. Sap-like blood splattered the cavern floor, the creature growing more frenzied with each strike.

Amid the chaos, Remulus worked tirelessly, anchoring the glowing twine in key positions. His movements were deliberate, his focus unshakable as he tied off points to limit the creature's movements. "Almost there," he muttered, his eyes darting toward Juraf.

But then the creature stopped. The clicking sound from its plates turned into a sharp, high-pitched whistle. The air seemed to warp, vibrations rippling outward in visible waves. Juraf was mid-leap when it hit him. The force wasn't physical, but it might as well have been. His momentum halted abruptly, his body freezing mid-air as if pinned by an invisible hand.

"Suns fuck it!" Juraf snarled, struggling against the unseen pressure. His muscles strained, numen flaring around him in erratic bursts, but the beast's claw was already coming down.

The impact was crushing. Juraf's body slammed into the earth, the cavern floor cracking beneath him. His vision blurred, a kaleidoscope of colorful lights flickering at the edges of his sight. He felt the weight of the creature pressing down, his ribs creaking under the strain.

Before the beast could finish the job, a shout echoed through the cavern. "Over here, you bastard!"

Xonis, one of Juraf's soldiers, charged forward. His blade glowed with numen as he slashed at the creature's flank, drawing its attention. The beast recoiled, momentarily distracted, allowing another soldier to drag Juraf out of its reach.

Juraf coughed, spitting blood onto the ground as he propped himself up on his elbows. A wry grin spread across his face as he looked at the beast, its expression almost smug. Then it happened.

"CREAHH CREAHH CREAHH!!" The beast's strange, guttural laugh echoed through the cavern, its throaty sound filled with eerie mockery. The air around it trembled as if the beast's humor was a force in itself.

Juraf's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his spear. The weight of the moment was heavy, but his rage burned brighter. "Fucking plant bitch," he muttered under his breath. "Happy for a little win like that? We'll see how long you're laughing."

"Sir, are you—" one of his subordinates started, concern lacing his voice as Xonis returned, looking grim but ready.

"Move, we—hahh!" Juraf spat, his voice strained but sharp. "We're killing that fucking thing with extreme prejudice." He straightened slightly, ignoring the searing pain that flared across his ribs. His fingers twitched around the haft of his spear, the blood on his palms sticky and warm, but his grip remained firm. Giving up had never been an option.

Touching his torso beneath the battered armor, he flinched at the pain radiating through his ribs and shoulders, but he forced the discomfort to the back of his mind. Doable. It always had to be. Juraf gritted his teeth, replaying the battle in his mind. The flowers—they weren't just decorative. They were a part of the beast's body, a tether. They had to go.

"Xonis," Juraf barked, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "Start a fire and burn the flowers to fucking ash."

Xonis hesitated, glancing at the writhing creature and then at Juraf, confusion flickering across his face. But he saw the pointed look in his leader's eyes and nodded. Without a word, he rushed off to follow the order.

Juraf remained behind, his focus narrowing as he gripped his spear tighter. His knuckles whitened under the pressure, the faint trembling of his hands betraying the exhaustion he refused to acknowledge. The pain was there, but pain was a companion, something he had danced with his entire life. He could endure it. He always did.

"Only when pushed to the limit," he muttered to himself, his voice low, as if reciting a creed. "Only when standing on the precipice does the will to survive rise. You overcome, or you fall. And I've never been one to fucking fall."

____________

Crouching low, Juraf pumped numen into his legs, channeling every ounce of energy into his muscles. He felt them tighten and expand, veins bulging as power coursed through him. The ground beneath him trembled in response to the sheer force radiating from his body. His tail twitched instinctively, keeping him balanced even in his unusual stance.

With his spear in hand, he spread his arms wide, twisting his torso to angle the weapon. One hand gripped the spear's butt tightly, while the other lined up the tip with deadly precision. White smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled, his breath steaming in the cool cavern air. His mind sharpened, every thought narrowing to a singular focus: the kill.

"Rush the world," Juraf whispered, and then he was gone.

To the others, it was as if he had vanished, the only evidence of his departure the shattered earth beneath his feet. The ground where he had stood was obliterated, shards of stone vaporizing from the explosive force of his leap.

The beast barely had time to react. Its fleshy plates twitched, trying to anticipate his approach, but it was too slow. Juraf reappeared mid-air, his body a blur of motion. As he closed in, he heaved his spear forward, adding an extra burst of power from his numen. The spear became a streak of green light, its intent sharp and unforgiving as it pierced into the creature's torso.

The impact was catastrophic. The beast let out a deafening screech, its body writhing as the spear drove deep into its flesh. But Juraf didn't stop there. His muscles screamed in protest as he twisted his weapon, applying his spear intent in a sharp upward motion. The blade of energy sliced through the creature's body, carving a massive, gaping wound that oozed thick, sap-like blood.

The beast retaliated, its massive claw swinging toward him with deadly precision. Juraf saw it coming but knew he couldn't avoid it entirely. He braced himself, numen flaring around his body just as the claw connected. The force of the blow sent him hurtling backward, his arm popping out of its socket with a sickening snap.

"CRAHHH!!" The beast roared, a sound of both agony and defiance. Its serpentine body coiled tightly, thrashing wildly as it tried to stabilize itself.

Juraf hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop against the cavern wall. He gritted his teeth, his vision swimming as pain radiated from his dislocated arm. His breath came in ragged gasps, but his lips twisted into a grin that was all grit and defiance.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his shoulder, the motion sending sharp, searing pain shooting through his body, as though shards of glass were digging deeper into the wound. The moment his hand clasped the joint, he yanked it back into place with a sickening pop, letting out a sharp hiss of pain that quickly transformed into a sigh of relief. The pain didn't subside, but it dulled enough for him to focus.

His sharp eyes turned back to the creature, its sap-like blood dripping onto the cavern floor. The substance was thick and coagulant, but the gaping wound he had carved was still weakening it, its movements slower, its vitality dimmed. Yet the fight in its gaze—those strange plates twitching in agitation—hadn't diminished.

"Stop crying!" Juraf bellowed, his voice carrying over the chaos. His grin grew wider, his teeth bared in a wolfish display. "This is what we do! This is how we live! There's nothing but fighting for beasts like us! Get used to it!"

____________

He slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, his numen flaring outward like a shockwave. Tendrils of green energy coalesced around him, forming into spear-like projections that hovered in the air, sharp and deadly. Each construct shimmered faintly, imbued with his potent spear intent.

With a single motion of his hand, the spears shot forward, cutting through the air with a whistling roar. Each projectile left a ripple in its wake, the cavern air trembling under the sheer force of his attack. But the beast, even weakened, moved with a horrifying grace. It snaked between the projectiles, its massive, serpentine form darting from the ground to the walls, then to the ceiling. The speed at which it moved seemed almost unnatural, belying its massive size.

Juraf's eyes narrowed as the creature lunged, its gaping maw descending upon him with terrifying speed. Most would retreat, but Juraf was not most. Instead of backing away, he surged forward. Always forward. Ever forward into the jaws of annihilation.

Planting his foot on the beast's lower jaw, he vaulted upward, twisting mid-air as his spear plunged upward into the roof of its mouth. The creature screamed, a guttural, piercing sound that shook the very stones around them. Sap-like blood sprayed as Juraf twisted his spear viciously, embedding it further into the flesh.

The creature writhed, its entire body twisting violently as its plates and flowers began to glow. A sudden wave of heat and light washed through the cavern, and Juraf smirked through gritted teeth. Xonis had set the fire. The flames roared to life, spreading rapidly through the cavern as they consumed the tethered flowers, choking the beast's influence.

The flames seemed to drive the creature mad. It flailed wildly, losing the eerie precision that had made it such a formidable foe. Juraf took the opportunity, slamming his spear repeatedly into the creature's flesh, each strike drawing another scream. But the beast, even in its desperation, had strength left. With a violent thrash of its tail, it threw Juraf off, sending him hurtling into the flames.

Juraf hit the ground hard, coughing as embers swirled around him. The heat seared his skin, but he rolled to his feet with practiced ease, his grip on his spear unwavering. Around him, his subordinates pressed the attack.

Xonis roared, slamming the beast's massive head into the ground with a force that made the cavern tremble. Another soldier, undeterred by the beast's flailing limbs, darted in and drove a blade into its armpit, forcing the creature to recoil. The man with the massive bone hammer leaped forward, bringing it down on the creature's back with a sickening crunch that shattered one of its bony plates. The beast screamed, its voice raw and guttural, but Remulus silenced it. The Lupus prince moved swiftly, his numen-charged twine flashing through the air to wrap around the creature's mouth. With a sharp pull, the threads sliced through its teeth, silencing it momentarily.

But the creature's thrashing came with devastating consequences. Its massive tail lashed out uncontrollably, striking the treasures scattered around the cavern. Delicate spiritual plants were crushed, and some of the glowing flowers were obliterated. Juraf's keen eyes caught the destruction, his jaw tightening in frustration.

"Damn it!" he growled through clenched teeth, sucking air in sharply. The treasures were valuable, their loss significant, but he couldn't let the distraction cost them the fight. Gripping his spear tightly, he turned his focus back to the beast.

"It's done, Juraf!" Remulus shouted, his voice ringing out over the crackle of lingering flames and the guttural roars of the dying beast. Juraf glanced at him, the words slicing through the haze of battle. Around them, the creature thrashed against the bindings that snared it, threads of numen-infused twine anchoring its monstrous form to the cavern walls and floor. The beast's body was a mass of exposed muscle, sap-like blood oozing from deep wounds, yet its rage refused to die. The air was thick with tension, the very walls vibrating with the creature's sheer will to survive.

Juraf smiled, a sharp, feral grin cutting across his face as he readied his spear. The ache in his body and the sharp throb of his ribs faded to nothing in the face of what was coming. His world narrowed. The cavern, the flames, even the shouts of his comrades receded into the background. All that remained was the path.

It appeared beneath his feet, a golden, luminous road stretching infinitely ahead, bordered by a phantom gallery of warriors. Their spectral forms stood as silent witnesses to the battle, their weapons gleaming faintly in the numinous glow. Juraf stared at them for a moment, their histories and lessons etched into their stances, their weapons, their gazes. But he dismissed them, brushing them aside like leaves in the wind.

This was not their fight. This was his.

He was not here to walk in their footsteps or follow their fates. No, Juraf would carve his own destiny, establish his place on the endless path of warriors. His golden road widened, shimmering with potential as he moved forward, spear in hand.

"Juraf, hurry!" Remulus's voice cut through again, sharper now, tinged with urgency. "It's breaking free!"

_____________

Juraf looked up, the beast's monstrous strength snapping twine like thread. Its movements grew more frantic, plates clicking, vines writhing as it pushed against its bindings. His grin didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider. His voice rose, resonating with a new, unshakable confidence.

"You know, it's a common notion that all things have a set destiny, that they possess a fixed fate. Every river flows back to the sea, every stream returns to its source." He raised his spear, the aura around him intensifying, green and gold numen swirling like a tempest. "But I decide where my river flows. And if I meet another river—another flow—I won't join it. I will destroy it. I will carve my path through it and keep running. Today, I will be a river that overruns the ocean. Today, I will test my path against yours!"

His voice boomed, reverberating through the cavern, as his numen surged to unprecedented heights. The aura around him condensed, transforming into something tangible, something alive. The golden path beneath his feet began to glow brighter, stretching toward the beast.

The creature's thrashing halted. Its head tilted as if sensing the change in the air. It tried to move, but its body froze mid-writhe, unable to escape the confines of the golden road. The path locked it in place, a battle of wills manifesting in physical form. Juraf's spear intent surged, evolving with a clarity that struck like lightning. This was the second level—a realm of mastery that imprinted his will upon the world itself.

The cavern felt heavy, oppressive under the weight of his intent. The air shimmered, vibrating as his will overpowered the beast's. For a moment, the only sound was the rasp of Juraf's breath and the crackling of flames.

"Your will is far too weak!" he roared, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence.

He lunged, spear in hand, the golden path lighting his way. The creature roared in defiance, its numen spilling out in a desperate attempt to push back. Vibrations and shockwaves rippled through the cavern as the beast's power clashed with his, but it was overwhelmed. Juraf's spear struck true, piercing its chest with a force that shook the very earth. The golden path flared, and a hundred wounds opened across the creature's body, each strike an extension of Juraf's will. Again and again, his spear carved through the beast, relentless, unyielding.

With a final, shuddering roar, the creature collapsed, its massive body falling limp, the light in its numen fading. Juraf stumbled back, his chest heaving, and fell to the ground with a thud.

His laughter broke the silence, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the cavern. Remulus appeared beside him, offering a hand. Juraf clasped it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. His ribs protested the motion, but he ignored the pain, his grin never fading.

"We did it," Remulus said, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. Juraf nodded, glancing around the cavern.

The spoils lay scattered amidst the wreckage. The seven golden lilies were partially destroyed, their luminous glow dimmed, but three remained intact, their petals shimmering like molten gold. The scrolls lining the walls had suffered some damage, their edges singed, but most were legible. Metal glinted among the debris—strange alloys that promised untold value.

Juraf's eyes fell on the flawless box near the center of the cavern. He strode over, brushing aside ash and dirt, and picked it up. The box was unscathed, its surface smooth and unmarred. He opened it, revealing two necklaces nestled inside.

One was silver, shaped like a crescent moon, its surface embedded with flecks of sapphire that sparkled faintly. The other was golden-red, depicting a stylized sun, its surface imbued with a faint, fiery glow. The designs were intricate, almost mesmerizing, and he couldn't help but notice the way their shapes seemed to complement each other.

Curious, he pressed them together, expecting them to merge into one. But as the two pendants neared, an unseen force pushed them apart. No matter how hard he pressed, they refused to touch.

"Hmm," he muttered, turning the box over in his hands. The phenomenon intrigued him, but he decided it could wait. He tucked the necklaces away, deeming them his share of the spoils.

As his subordinates extinguished the flames and gathered the remaining treasures, Juraf turned to the creature's massive corpse. Despite his injuries, despite the beast's monstrous ferocity, he inclined his head in respect.

"You were a good fight," he murmured, his voice low. He grinned faintly. "Even scum like me has standards and you met em."

_______________

Remulus held the spiritual loti in his hands, the soft golden glow of their petals illuminating his face as he and the rest of the troop hurried through the dense forest, leaving Gu territory behind. The group moved as quickly as their battered bodies could manage, the tension of enemy territory still weighing on them despite the relative calm. The forest, bathed in the faint light of the three moons, seemed to hum with a natural vitality, its towering trees stretching endlessly into the sky. The bioluminescent aspar drifted lazily in the air, their soft glows providing a surreal contrast to the dark undergrowth.

Turning his head slightly, Remulus glanced at Juraf, who was a few strides ahead of him. Juraf's figure was unmistakable, his pitch-black eyes and dark hair reminiscent of the night sky itself, streaked with faint traces of silver that caught the light. The aura surrounding him was as commanding as ever, even in his injured state. Remulus felt a flicker of admiration stir in his chest. Juraf had a way of overcoming struggle, as though it were ingrained in his very being. No matter how dire the odds, no matter how wounded or outmatched, he would press forward, carving through adversity like a blade through flesh.

In a way, Juraf reminded him of his brother, Remus. But where Remus' charisma and leadership were carefully cultivated—crafted like the hilt of an elegant sword—Juraf's magnetism seemed effortless, a force of nature. He wasn't the light people flocked to for warmth or guidance; he was a sinkhole, drawing people in with a gravity that felt almost inevitable. They followed him not because he shone, but because his sheer presence made it impossible not to.

The thought brought a wry smirk to Remulus' lips, which quickly turned into a quiet snicker. He didn't need to look to know Juraf had caught it; the slight twitch of his leader's head told him everything. A single sharp look from Juraf was enough to send Remulus straight back to focus, his eyes darting toward the path ahead. The group was fortunate; no Gu forces intercepted them. Likely, the battle had drawn their attention too late. Aside from a brief skirmish with a shade, which had been dispatched with relative ease, the return journey had been uneventful.

Still, the toll of the mission was evident. They had lost two soldiers, their bodies left behind in enemy territory. Three others bore heavy injuries, their movements sluggish despite the numen reinforcements they relied on. It could have been worse, much worse. Remulus shuddered to think what might have happened had they engaged the beast without strategy—half their number, if not more, would have fallen. But as it stood, most of their people were alive, and that was a victory in itself.

As the village gates came into view, a faint sense of relief washed over him. The wooden palisades, reinforced with glowing runes of protection, loomed large against the night sky. The familiar sounds of home—the distant chatter of villagers, the clinking of tools, and the faint hum of numen from the wards—welcomed them back. Outside the gates, a small crowd had gathered. Among them were several elders, their faces lined with age and authority. And at the forefront stood Remus, his elder brother, the chieftain of the village and the so-called beloved one. The glow of the spiritual loti in Remulus' hands seemed to pale in comparison to the commanding presence of his brother.

Remulus straightened, taking a step forward and bowing slightly, as was customary for the Lupus line when addressing the chieftain. "Chieftain," he said, his voice steady. Remus inclined his head in acknowledgment, his golden eyes scanning the group with a practiced air of authority. His gaze lingered on Juraf, who had plopped unceremoniously onto the ground, tending to his wounds with a complete lack of decorum.

Juraf sat cross-legged, blowing on the gash in his arm as if it were nothing more than a scrape from sparring practice. Blood had seeped through his tattered armor, and his exposed skin was marked with scratches and bruises. His nonchalance bordered on insolence. The murmurs among the elders were immediate, their disapproval audible even over the rustling of the forest behind them.

"What is he doing?" one elder muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Remulus couldn't help but stifle a laugh as he watched the scene. Juraf, even now, seemed utterly unfazed by the disapproving glares, his demeanor as shamelessly confident as ever. He didn't bow to anyone—not to chieftains, not to elders, not even to the gods themselves, if they were watching. It was a trait that frustrated many, but it was also what made him so damn unforgettable. That being said he'd usually be more reasonable then this but he was likely too tired to give a fuck.

As the murmurs continued, Juraf glanced up, locking eyes with one of the more vocal elders. With a grin that was equal parts defiance and charm, he let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the outrage he was causing. Remulus sighed, already bracing for the inevitable lecture from Kiyanna when she learned he hadn't done more to rein Juraf in.

Baya's laughter erupted, loud and boisterous, cutting through the murmurs of discontent. "Bagyagyagya!! Give the boy a break, you fools! He just came back from fighting a great beast. These are our honored warriors. Tradition isn't so important, especially when it seems that it was a victory," he said, his sharp gaze flicking to the boxes in Juraf's and his subordinates' hands.

"Yes, Elder Baya," Juraf responded with a grin, though his tone darkened as he continued. "We recovered quite a few treasures, including four spiritual herbs of top quality, scrolls on runework, and some precious metals for the smiths. Some of the scrolls even seem to contain a numen art or two that can expand the village's repertoire. I also took a treasure for myself under my authority as lieutenant general." His grin faltered, his voice turning somber. "Unfortunately, it came at the cost of two of my men."

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, the weight of those words settling over them. Remus stepped forward, Hathor falling in beside him like a shadow. "That is unfortunate," Hathor said, his tone sharp. "But it's certainly no reason for disrespect. However, I will defer to the words of the respected head priestess, Elder Baya."

"Yeah, yeah," Juraf waved off the tension with a casual air. "About the mission—while I, of course, landed the final blow on the beast, I wouldn't have been able to do it without my subordinates. And especially Remulus. It was his quick thinking and those strange weapons of his that laid the foundation for our victory."

At that, the elders broke into murmurs, their attention shifting to Remulus. His ears twitched, and he turned to Juraf in shock, only to be met with a smirk. The smirk deepened when he noticed Remus' expression freeze ever so slightly, his face unreadable but clearly affected.

"Enough!" Hathor barked, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Juraf, for your disrespect, I think it's only fair you relinquish the token you claimed. It's more than enough that you're sitting there, not showing proper decorum. If it weren't for your contributions, the punishment would be far more severe." His glare was venomous, his posture rigid with hostility.

Remulus frowned. He had never fully understood why Hathor seemed to despise Juraf with such intensity. The man wasn't particularly friendly to anyone, but when it came to Juraf, his loathing bordered on feral. Sensing the confrontation about to boil over, he opened his mouth to intervene—but Juraf beat him to it.

"Right, how about this?" Juraf said casually, his smirk widening. "If you can put these two necklaces together, I'll hand them over without another word."

Remulus blinked in surprise. Juraf wasn't the type to part with his treasures so easily. The room quieted as Juraf reached into his bag and pulled out the box. He revealed two pendants: one a silver crescent moon inlaid with hints of sapphire, the other a golden sun streaked with deep crimson hues. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and the pieces clearly looked as though they were meant to fit together.

He tossed the pendants to Hathor, who caught them with a mix of suspicion and disdain. The elder inspected the pieces, his brows furrowing. "They're clearly meant to interlock," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. With a deep inhale, he wrapped numen around his hands, the energy glowing in thick, coiled rings. Slowly, he began to push the pieces together.

The air in the room grew heavy as Hathor poured more and more energy into the task. Dust swirled from the floor, and faint vibrations rippled outward, stirring the fabrics of nearby garments. The veins on his forehead bulged with effort, but no matter how much force he exerted, the pendants refused to connect.

Juraf rubbed his nose in disinterest, watching the scene unfold. "I see you can't do it, then, Elder. It's okay. The years catch up to everyone eventually," he said with barely concealed amusement.

"I DON'T BELIEVE THERE IS ANYTHING YOU CAN DO THAT I CANNOT!" Hathor roared, his face red with fury, his numen flaring dangerously.

"Did I ever say I could push them together? Wordplay, Elder," Juraf replied, his grin sharper now. "But there is something I can do that you cannot."

The air shifted, becoming dense and electric. The faint sound of spears clashing echoed in the room, as though the weapons themselves cried out. At the edges of perception, an illusory golden path began to manifest, stretching outward from Juraf.

"This is—!" Baya exclaimed, his voice filled with shock.

"The next grade of spear intent," Juraf confirmed, his tone almost cocky. "The battle was rather beneficial to me. To my knowledge, I'm the only one who's ever achieved this here, no? A national treasure, am I not?" He laughed as he strode forward, plucking the pendants from Hathor's stunned hands.

Hathor's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes dark and icy. He seemed on the verge of speaking, but the words died in his throat. Remus, however, stepped forward, his commanding presence filling the room. "Leave it be. Enough is enough. We are all of the same people," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

Juraf chuckled under his breath, his voice low but audible enough. "Of course you'd say that now of all times."

"What was that?" Remus' golden eyes narrowed, daring Juraf to repeat himself.

Juraf's smirk widened, a challenge flickering in his gaze. Before either could escalate further, Remulus stepped between them.

"All right!" he announced, his voice cutting through the tension. "We're heading to my house for drinks to celebrate a mission well done. Xonis will brief you on the rest." He grabbed Juraf's arm and began dragging him toward the exit. The rest of the uninjured soldiers followed suit, leaving a betrayed-looking Xonis to face the elders alone.

As the group made their way toward Remulus' house, Juraf glanced at him with a mix of suspicion and amusement. "You've got drinks at your place now, Remmy?" His voice carried a note of irritation, but it was clear he understood the reason for the detour.

"Not that I know of," Remulus replied, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile, "but we'll figure something out somehow."

When they arrived, the house stood in quiet elegance under the dim light of the moons. The black stone base glinted faintly, an imposing but oddly comforting foundation. Warm golden light spilled from the windows, giving the structure an inviting glow. Rich wooden accents softened the austerity of the stone, and the symbol of the sun etched prominently on the door radiated a quiet pride.

Inside, the air carried a tantalizing aroma that made even the injured among them perk up. Juraf's nose twitched, his curiosity piqued as he sniffed the air. "I smell good eats!" one of the soldiers called out behind him, their tone laced with enthusiasm.

Remulus frowned in confusion, pushing the door open. "Who the hell is cooking in my house?" he muttered. The group filed in behind him, their boots thudding lightly against the smooth stone floor as they entered.

The hearth was already lit, casting flickering warmth over the cozy interior. The room's design was both practical and welcoming, with shelves lined with books, trinkets, and neatly folded fabrics. The polished wooden furniture gleamed under the golden light, while thick, colorful rugs softened the stone floor. It was a stark but harmonious blend of strength and homeliness.

Standing in the open kitchen area were Terra and Kiyanna, both in aprons. Terra's doe-brown eyes sparkled as she moved gracefully between the counter and the stove, her woven gold hair pinned back to keep it out of her face. The apron clung to her curvier, more mature figure, accentuating her natural allure without feeling forced. Beside her was Kiyanna, her shorter, fox-like frame brimming with a quiet intensity as she complained about Terra's instructions. Her tan skin glowed faintly in the firelight, her narrow, slightly tilted eyes filled with an annoyed but endearing focus. The slight crook in her nose and her expressive, thick eyebrows gave every pout and glare a charm all their own. Though she was slimmer, her lithe muscles gave her an air of strength that didn't detract from her womanly grace.

Remulus caught himself staring, his gaze lingering on Kiyanna, but a sharp slap to the back of his head made him hiss in pain. He turned to see Juraf glaring at him, his lips curled in a dangerous but amused smirk.

"Remmy, chill with the staring. I'm still alive, you bastard," Juraf quipped, his tone casual but carrying a hint of menace.

"It seems you're back already," Terra said gently, walking over to Juraf. She deftly began unfastening his battered armor, removing it with practiced ease. She carried it to the side and set it down neatly, as though it were her own home, leaving Juraf with an exasperated expression. Meanwhile, Kiyanna spared him not a single glance, her attention focused entirely on the simmering pots in front of her.

The soldiers erupted in whistles and cheers, their spirits lifted by the sight of the two women. "This is the boss's wife!" one soldier called out, grinning widely.

"Definitely! Just look at how pretty she is! A match made by the suns," another chimed in.

"I heard they were born on the same day of the same month of the same year!" another added eagerly.

"I heard he saved her from a turbeast in the wild!"

"I heard they already have kids!" one particularly bold soldier joked, his voice carrying over the others.

The gossip spread like wildfire among the men, who laughed and nudged one another like a pack of excited pups. Terra's smile widened with each comment, her gaze flickering to Juraf, who was rubbing his temples in growing irritation. The soldiers' excitement only seemed to embolden her, while Juraf's exasperated sigh practically echoed through the room.

Remulus couldn't help but snicker quietly as he leaned against the doorway, watching the scene unfold. The warmth of the firelight, the aroma of freshly cooked food, and the banter between comrades created a vibrancy that made the house feel truly alive. For just a moment, the tension and exhaustion of their mission seemed to melt away, replaced by the small comforts of home.

"Whose idea was this?" Remulus asked as he led the group into the dining room. The room was spacious but warm, with a polished wooden table that stretched long enough to seat everyone comfortably. The black stone walls reflected the flickering firelight from sconces set around the room, their glow casting a cozy ambiance over the gathering.

Kiyanna answered first, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him. "It was all Terra's thing. She decided to make food here and wait for your safe return. She was pretty confident you'd be back, and," she added with a huff of annoyance that carried a touch of affection, "she also complained about my housekeeping skills. Not my fault I was raised by that great big lummox over there." She tilted her head in Juraf's direction, her lips forming a teasing pout.

The room erupted into laughter at Juraf's expense. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his wolf ears twitching in feigned irritation. "You're welcome for the upbringing, by the way," he muttered, eliciting even more laughter.

Meanwhile, Terra moved gracefully through the room, her apron swishing with each step. She carried plates laden with food and mugs of mead, setting them down with practiced ease. The aroma of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spiced stews filled the air, making mouths water. The soldiers cheered as Terra handed out portions, but it was impossible not to notice that Juraf's plate always seemed to have the largest helpings.

"Terra, I can serve myself, you know," Juraf grumbled, his tone a mix of protest and resignation.

Before Remulus could say anything more, Kiyanna appeared at Remulus' side. Without a word, her arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and she leaned close, her soft cheek brushing against his. Then came the sharp nip at his wolf ear—a quick bite that sent a jolt of sensation shooting down his spine.

"I'm glad you came back safe, Remmy," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. Before he could respond, she released him, her short hair brushing his face as she darted away, a mischievous grin on her lips.

Remulus stood frozen for a moment, dazed by her fragrance, before turning to see the rest of the soldiers watching him. The men erupted into whoops and jeers, their voices filled with teasing glee.

"Boss, that's a lucky man right there!"

"She's already staking her claim!"

"You sure you're the hero, Remulus? Feels like the damsel came to rescue you!"

Several soldiers pounded the table in amusement, their voices blending into a chorus of bawdy encouragement. Juraf's wolf ears flattened against his head, and the veins on his forehead bulged ominously as he scowled at the spectacle.

As the day faded into night, the mood grew even more lively. The men broke into a card game, coins and trinkets piling up in the center of the table. The room was filled with laughter, the slap of cards hitting the table, and the occasional curse from someone who had clearly overplayed their hand. Mead flowed freely, and the atmosphere became one of easy camaraderie.

Xonis, the last soldier to join the gathering, walked in with a sigh and plopped down at the table. "Boss," he said, leaning back in his chair, his gaze lingering on Terra as she moved about the room, "that is a good woman. How I wish for someone to come back home to, who'd do all of this just to make me happy. You better make that woman yours, Juraf. Treat her right. Make her feel good all the time. Give her a home."

The words hung in the air for a moment before they were punctuated by the sharp thwack of Juraf's hand smacking the back of Xonis' head. The soldier yelped as his face hit the table, his groan drowned out by the laughter of the others.

"Who the hell are you talking to, bastard?" Juraf barked, his voice gruff, though the faintest hint of color rose to his cheeks. He glanced toward Terra, who was tidying up after the drunken men, and added in a quieter tone, "…Well, you're not wrong."

Terra turned at his words, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment, a question unspoken in her gaze. Juraf grunted, shaking his head, and stood unsteadily. "Alright, that's enough of that. Don't clean up for them anymore—they're not babies. Let's go."

Grabbing her hand without waiting for a reply, he led her out of the room. She followed, her cheeks pink as her fingers curled into his. The door swung shut behind them, leaving the remaining soldiers to their own devices.

Remulus exhaled deeply, the warmth of the room lingering even as it quieted. Finally, a moment to himself and Kiyanna, he thought as he turned back toward her with a hopeful smile.

Only to find the dining room littered with burly, drunken men passed out across chairs, sprawled on the table, and even snoring on the floor. The chaos of snores and murmured dreams filled the once-lively room.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as Kiyanna smirked at him from across the room. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and he couldn't help but laugh, despite himself.

_________

As Juraf held her hand, Terra felt a quiet satisfaction bubble within her. She glanced at their intertwined fingers, the roughness of his warrior's hand juxtaposed against her softer grip. Her lips curved into a faint smile, a rare moment of peace stealing over her. The evening air was cool, tinged with the faint scent of blooming aspar and the earthy undertone of the village streets. It complemented the warmth lingering from the earlier gathering, the laughter of soldiers and the light teasing still echoing faintly in her ears.

She knew she'd done a good job with the cooking. It wasn't something she had expected to enjoy, but she had spent hours researching recipes, perfecting the art with meticulous care. She thought the domesticity might unnerve her, that it would dredge up memories of her parents—a mother who had once loved the role, and a father who had crushed that love beneath his heel. Yet, it hadn't. Instead, it felt like planting a seed in fresh soil, and watching it bloom in a way she hadn't anticipated. Seeing him eat her food, seeing the faint flicker of satisfaction he tried to hide, made it all worthwhile.

Terra's gaze trailed to his broad back, strong and unyielding, a living symbol of everything he had survived and overcome. Her fingers brushed the calloused texture of his hand, and her chest tightened. Love. Or perhaps it wasn't love. She wasn't sure—how could she be, when she had never truly experienced it? Not even in the familial, platonic sense. Whatever it was, she knew she wanted to be entwined with him, to live in his skin, to be so close that no force in the world could separate them. It was an intensity she hadn't thought herself capable of, and yet it felt so natural. The Terra of her past might have found it suffocating, but now, it was just the truth of who she was.

They walked through the village streets, her thoughts swirling with emotions she struggled to name. The ever-present sounds of the night echoed softly around them—distant laughter, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, and the occasional creak of wooden doors being closed. Above them, the moons hung high in the obsidian sky, their silvery light glinting faintly in Juraf's hair, dark as an abyss. The way his figure absorbed the moonlight made him seem untouchable, and yet, he was right there, pulling her along by the hand.

When they reached his door, he pushed it open with a sigh and stepped inside. Before Terra could say anything, he collapsed—straight to the floor.

"Juraf!" she exclaimed, startled, but her voice broke into a laugh as she realized what had happened. He hadn't just stumbled; the man had quite literally dropped himself onto the ground like a sack of grain, forehead lightly tapping the floor.

For a moment, she stood there, hands on her hips, looking down at him with exasperation. Then, unable to help herself, she knelt and began the arduous task of hauling him to his bed. He was heavy, all muscle and stubbornness, but Terra was nothing if not determined. She managed to drag him over and lay him down, his weight sinking into the mattress.

Terra sighed and brushed a stray strand of golden hair from her face, glancing down at him. He looked utterly at peace in his unconscious state, a rare vulnerability softening the edges of his rugged features. She peeled off her outer layers until she was down to her nightgown, the simple fabric brushing against her skin as she climbed into bed beside him.

She settled close, her fingers moving almost of their own accord to stroke his hair. It was soft, surprisingly so, and her touch traced the lines of his wounds and the bruises already forming from the battle. Her eyes drank in his face, memorizing every detail—the sharp line of his jaw, the slight twitch of his brow even in sleep, and the faint scar that cut across his cheek.

His eyes creaked open, dark and bleary, catching her in the act. For a moment, neither spoke, and then his lips twitched into a tired, lopsided grin.

"Terra, you really are a good woman," he said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

She laughed softly, a musical sound in the quiet room. "What did you think of me before? That I was Tarak? Or maybe the monster under your bed?"

His grin widened faintly, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—an honesty that made her heart ache. "Why ask? Wasn't it obvious?" he replied.

Terra blinked, her amusement faltering. She couldn't tell if it was a quip or a genuine statement, and as she searched his abyssal eyes for the answer, she found nothing but infinite darkness.

"No, it never is," she murmured. "You do that thing, you know. The abyss in the eyes and the oasis in the soul. It's like a puzzle I can't solve. You seem to know everything about everyone else, but no one can ever tell what's going on inside your head."

He looked away, his brow furrowing in thought. "An oasis, huh?" he mused aloud, his voice quieter now. "No… It's just a murky swamp. One fitting for a black toad to jump around in."

Terra's chest tightened at his words, but she said nothing, her fingers still tracing his hair. The moons outside cast their gentle light into the room, illuminating his face, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. There was nothing but the sound of his breathing and the weight of unsaid things hanging in the air.

__________________