“How is the lady doing?”

Ren perks up at the voice. Gridel and Vane have left to get them water, and Shih’van has shown up with dinner. It’s probably been an hour or two since they returned from their trip to Heliola to save Af’rik’s life, and the man’s been led off to another house for his wounds to be tended to.

“She’s fine,” Ren says. At least, she’s still breathing. Sleeping, most probably, but not showing any outward signs of pain.

“That’s good to hear.” Shih’van visibly relaxes, her brows no longer furrowed, her frown turning into a half-smile. She sets the tray she carries onto the table, and on it are several plates of what look to be insect parts, grilled, fried, sauteed… you name it, they have it. Ren’s mouth waters, however, at the fruits drizzled in sauce.

Shih’van’s eyes have lost most of her sparkle, and her movements are tired. Her shoulders slouch, her head dipped and her gait nothing more than exhausted shuffles.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asks, the words out of his mouth before he can stop them. Shih’van turns to look at him, her eyes widened in surprise.

“I… I beg your pardon?” She averts her gaze, staring at the ground.

“You seem troubled,” Ren says. “Want to talk about it?”

Shih’van shakes her head. “No, I-I’m not troubled. I’m just glad that we saved Af’rik from those… those things.”

“Those things…” There’s a certain sort of sorrow behind the way she says those words, as though she is doing so against her will. If Ren remembers Grandmother’s story, then that means that those skeleton warriors that they fought were… “They’re your parents, right?”

Shih’van looks up at that, visibly stiff, before gazing back down at the ground again. “No, they’re not my parents. Not those monsters. Parents don’t try to kill you, do they?”

Ren shakes his head. “No, they don’t.”

“My parents are long gone, and their bodies are used by restless, violent souls,” Shih’van says. “But they…”

They bear the shape of her parents, down to their mannerisms and the way they moved. It must have been difficult for her to see her parents like this—people who loved her and did all they could to allow her to grow up happy and healthy, reduced to nothing but bone and violence.

“No, those aren’t my parents,” Shih’van says, with conviction now. “T-They may bear their physique, and their behaviour, but they are not them.”

Ren scratches his head. “Sorry for bringing that up—”

Shih’van shakes her head. “No, don’t worry about it.” Her smile this time is grateful, more genuine. “I just… That was just something that I had to let out, I suppose.”

Ren mirrors her smile. Shih’van bids them a quick goodbye, saying that she’s got to attend to Grandmother now, and whatever injuries she may have sustained during that battle. Speaking of him, Ren should go check up on him as well, and to ask him some questions. There must be a reason that he was all the way out there, in the middle of Heliola city.

He eases Penny off of him, leaning her head back against the wall. Thankfully, she doesn’t stir, and continues her light, droning snore. Ren stands, rolling his neck and flinching at the crick and the pop in his nape. He saunters over to the table and picks out a piece of sugared peach, biting right through its skin and sinking his teeth into its sweet, sweet flesh.

Ren leaves the house with the peach in hand, juice trickling down his chin, as he glances about the village, wondering where in the world Af’rik went. Did he return home? Or is he getting treated for injuries at Grandmother’s, or some community infirmary that Ren is unaware of—

“Hi there.”

Ren jumps at the voice, deep and rumbly. The source of the sudden greeting is none other than Af’rik, the Batling wearing a half-smile on his face, though it’s hard to see past the tufts of fur on his chin. He has changed his torn tunic and leggings to a new set, the hems of his pants flaring around his knees, revealing clumps of unwashed black fur, bits of sand still stuck in his unruly locks.

“Hi,” Ren returns the greeting shakily, still trying to recover from the scare. If Af’rik noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“I was just about to come find you,” Af’rik says. He runs a claw through his hair, almost bashfully. “I wanted to thank you guys for coming to help. I don’t think the chief would have been able to take those two for very long, and Shih’van doesn’t fight, so—”

Ren shakes his head. “Don’t mention it. It’s only natural to help others when they need it.”

Af’rik’s smile widens to a grin, flashing glinting fangs. “That’s great to hear. Well, uh… if there’s anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask.”

As a matter of fact, there is something that Af’rik can help him with. “Why were you out there in Heliola, anyway? Like, you were pretty deep in the city.”

It was truly a nightmare, now that Ren thinks back to the maze that they had to navigate in order to reach the Batling. Heliola’s castle was smack dab in the centre of the whole settlement.

“Oh, right.” A faint flush of pink dusts Af’rik’s cheeks, made less obvious by his darker complexion. “I was, uh… looking for something. To, um… you know…”

Ren raises a brow, and Af’rik averts his gaze.

“I was… looking for something that Shih’van would like, yeah,” Af’rik says. “Something shiny.”

“Like jewellery?”

Af’rik perks up at that, his eyes sparkling. “Yeah, like jewellery. Gemstones and necklaces and brooches and all that.”

It’s funny how Ren never noticed that Shih’van ever wore anything extravagant, or expensive-looking, let alone flaunt anything. She’s always been a modest girl, the daughter of the chieftain, from what Ren can tell. Serving her people with a smile on her face, going out into the desert even though she’s ill-equipped to handle the conflict, all because her friend was in danger. She just doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who would—

“Yeah, well, I heard that the royal family kept jewellery and stuff in their castle, and it’s almost Shih’van’s birthday,” Af’rik says. “I was camping out in the city and trying to work my way to its castle. I only managed to make it to the courtyard before I was ambushed by those things.”

Those things being the skeletons. Skeletons that once were Shih’van’s parents, until they were not. Speaking of which, why are they there in the first place? They’re under the Horseman’s command, aren’t they? Could that mean that—

Did they just so happen to stumble upon the palace, just that they didn’t know it?

“Are you planning on going back?” Ren asks.

Af’rik nods. “Yeah, I’ll give those skeletons some time to cool down. And I’ll grab myself a weapon or something, if I can find one. Or, maybe I’ll just learn some martial arts from the chief. Then I can make her like me more.”

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Yeah, Ren can imagine. If you’re trying to get with the chieftain’s daughter, or granddaughter, in this case, you’d better get all friendly with the chief.

“I’m just going to see her now,” Ren says. “Want to come with?”

Af’rik raises a brow, but he nods. “Okay.”

And so, he and Ren head up the hill to Grandmother’s house. He only wonders what she’s doing now, as is Shih’van. Are they resting?

The boulder is gone from the entrance to the house, leaving the entranceway wide and ready to receive visitors. Ren and Af’rik pause at the door, the latter calling and asking whether the occupants are in.

Surprisingly, it’s Grandmother who answers, and not Shih’van. She approaches them with careful shuffles, glaring up at the two of them with that same moody expression she always has on.

“What are you whippersnappers doing here?”

“Well, uh… is Shih’van in?” Af’rik asks, a hopeful note in his voice.

Grandmother’s frown deepens, if that’s even possible. “And why are you looking for her?”

The look on her face tells Ren that she knows exactly why he’s looking for her. Well, the old codger isn’t as dense as Ren thought she’d be. Af’rik must either have not noticed, or he’s wilfully ignoring it.

“I just wanted to know how she’s doing, that’s all,” Af’rik says. “Like, in case she was hurt… or…”

“She’s fine. Now, run along, the both of you,” Grandmother says. She turns her gaze to Ren. “And you, don’t forget about your training tomorrow.”

“Actually, about that,” Ren says. “Just how long are you going to train us for?”

Grandmother pauses for the longest time, as though considering her next words. She looks up at him when she’s ready to answer, and it’s about as much as Ren expected. “As long as it takes.”

But how long is “as long as it takes”? They can’t be waiting around here forever for Granny to impart her precious elderly knowledge to them whilst the world continues to waste away. As much as Ren was on board with all this training at first, he can’t help but feel like they’re spending too much time on it.

“A week,” Grandmother says. “Or a month. Depends on how quickly you can get up to standard. Your friend’s injury is going to put her behind by a few days, but her vitality’s going to get her up to speed in no time. The weak link in your bunch is…”

She trails off; she needn’t continue, because Ren also knows. He’s not as fit as the others, two of whom had been training for combat for most of their lives, and the third member, who’s, according to Grandmother, filled with fighting spirit. He also felt it—the disparity between his skill and those warriors.

That moment of hesitation, Ren remembers, was scary. Before this, he was always sure of his target, always sure of where and when to hurl his fireballs, where to shoot those jets of flames. But in that one moment, he was afraid. Afraid of hurting Grandmother, who was naught but a blur in that tornado of colour.

“You’re going to have to put in some extra effort to make sure you’re up to snuff,” Grandmother says. “Of course, you’re not the only one who needs to buck up, but you’re the one who needs more work. Your magic power is powerful, but without a competent mind and body to direct those powerful flames, you’re nothing but a failure.”

“I’d like to… begin extra training after dinner, if that’s fine with you?” Ren says.

“Yeah, me too,” Af’rik chimes in, and Ren must admit, he almost forgot that the boy is there. “I want to learn some of your cool techniques too, chief.”

Grandmother scoffs. “You? What do you want to learn it for?”

“I can protect myself, and protect Shih’van,” Af’rik says. “So, please. Let me learn too, chief!”

Grandmother regards him with suspicion, but that suspicion eventually melts away to indifference, with a tinge of fondness. “Fine. We’ll start tomorrow morning, before breakfast.”

Ren tilts his head. “Wait, tomorrow morning? Why not—”

“Because I don’t want you throwing up all over my floor,” Grandmother huffs. “Besides, Shih’van’s using the training grounds now too. It’s occupied.”

Shih’van’s using the training grounds? What for? Despite the question floating at the forefront of his mind, he does not ask it. Instead, he grasps Af’rik’s shoulder, and jerks his chin towards the village, signalling that it’s time to leave. Grandmother turns her back on them, and that is that.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad now, was it?” Ren says. “Told you there wasn’t harm in asking.”

Af’rik grins, much easier now. Less tense than before. Relaxed, like he’s known Ren since forever, like they’re old friends finding each other again after a long while.

“So, what’re we having for dinner?” Af’rik asks, slinging an arm around Ren’s shoulders, his fur tickling his neck.

“Uh…” Ren shakes his head. “Shih’van’s prepared food for us, but I’m not really feeling hungry…”

“Then you can join me in hunting,” Af’rik declares. “There’s nothing more thrilling than catching your own food, you know. Then, you can eat them raw, if you wanna.”

The idea of eating something still wriggling, still writhing, between his fingers has Ren scrunching his nose up. “I’d rather eat them cooked. Sorry.”

Af’rik shrugs. “Well, suit yourself. We could just fry them up too. Sprinkle a bit of salt on them and they’ll taste amazing.”

Well, it looks Af’rik’s rather hell-bent on getting Ren out there and catching some bugs of his own. Not that Ren is particularly opposed to the invitation—in fact, he’s rather curious as to how they do it as well.

Of course, not before checking up on Penny and letting Gridel or Vane know where he is going. Who knows just how dangerous this activity is?

*

In Ren’s honest opinion, it was much more slippery and disgusting than dangerous. As it turns out, they have farms for lava larvae and other kinds of bugs, which means that they could have gotten their food pretty easily, but Af’rik was insistent on introducing Ren to the majesty of hunting their own prey.

The caves are dark—not that it is a problem for either of them, considering that Ren can light the place up with Ifrit’s power, and that Af’rik can literally use ultrasonic waves to detect obstacles. However, the lack of light makes it easier for the lava larvae to be seen, the little nymphs scuttling about along the walls, their bodies burning a bright crimson.

Af’rik tells him that they feed on the veins of magma flowing through the cavern walls, sticking their little siphons into the rock and sucking the magma all up. The magma cools in their bodies, but they remain in a sort of liquid state. That’s why they taste so good bitten into, their little abdomens of cooled-down lava bursting in their mouths, complete with the crunch of their exoskeletons.

Ren figures he knows where the “lava” in “lava cake” comes from now.

They do bring some of their catch back to the village to be cooked. Grandmother is the one who prepares the dinner, with Af’rik and Gridel’s help. Vane chooses to stay by Penny’s side, the latter having snuggled up to him whilst in sleep. If Ren had his phone with him, he would have taken a picture of them by now.

However, he does not have his phone with him right now, and so, he sets off looking for Shih’van. If he remembers Grandmother’s words right, she did say that Shih’van was using the training grounds, the small cavern behind their house. Is she still there?

Sure enough, she is. Ren hears thumping noises, of fist against… against something that Ren cannot identify. He shuffles through the tunnel, turning down the gentle corners, to find Shih’van in the middle of the training hall, smashing her fists against a dummy made of cloth. She doesn’t even notice when he arrives.

Ren leans against the wall, arms folded as he watches her train. She’s definitely much defter, and faster, than his entourage. Perhaps she’s learnt it from her parents, and even Grandmother. Perhaps she’s been doing it since she was but a wee child.

Shih’van finishes her routine after a few more seconds. When she’s done, she bends over, clutching her knees, shoulders heaving with each heavy breath. Her entire back’s drenched in sweat, her clothes darkened with dampness, sticking to her back.

“You okay?” Ren asks. At that, Shih’van jolts, and she immediately assumes a battle stance. Ren stiffens, suddenly at the other end of the full force of her penetrating gaze. That ferocity—it only lasts a second, but it was one of the most intense things he’s seen in a long while.

“O-Oh, it’s you.” Shih’van drops her stance, her arms falling to her sides. Droplets of sweat trickle past her neck, ending at her collar, matting her fur to her skin. “I’m sorry. Was there something you need me for?”

“Well, not really. Just wondering where you were. Oh, and to tell you that Grandmother’s preparing supper,” Ren says. “You don’t have to worry yourself with that.”

Shih’van’s hand flies to her mouth. “You should have let me know! Grandmother’s cooking is—”

Ren’s stomach sinks to the pit of his gut, like an anvil sinking to the depths of the ocean. “You mean…”

“I…” Shih’van wrings her hands. “I mean… her cooking’s not the worst, but…”

Ren gulps. “It’s edible, at least, right?”

Shih’van swallows uncomfortably, and Ren feels the breath caught in his throat. However, she peers back up at him with a forced smile. “Well, yes. It’s most certainly edible.”

Well, your long pause certainly wasn’t helping my nerves.

“I-In any case, let’s go back up,” Shih’van says. “I’m sure we’re both hungry. Today was a rather stressful day.”

Ren cannot agree more. Well, kind of.

Time to see just what Granny cooked up.

*

Ren has never wanted to vomit so much in his life. Blackened bits of lava larvae bob up and down in a bowl of crusty soup. Yes, crusty soup. Soup that crusts at the sides of the bowl.

He doesn’t feel that hungry anymore. The smell alone is eating at his will to eat.

For once, Penny isn’t singing praises about the food. Ren can’t tell whether it’s because it has something to do with the dishes on the table, or whether it’s because she’s still groggy from just waking up. He chalks it up to the latter, though.

As usual, Vane and Gridel take only the fruit.

Ren still has no idea how, but he managed to choke down the soup. Every drop of it on his tongue is like acid, burning against his skin. He’s surprised that it hasn’t corroded his teeth yet.

“All right, eat up,” Grandmother says. “Tomorrow, I’m ramping up your training. What you did on the first day? That’s nothing compared to the sheer torture I’m going to put you through.”