Remus clutched onto the fabric of Violet’s cloak like his life depended on it, persistent winds very eager to cast him aside.

The sprawling plains and mountainous territory that ate up the land outside of First Rite weren’t a foreign sight; Remus had taken long walks through the picturesque landscapes many a time before. He knew what to expect from the first few initial miles outside of the city: grassy fields being beaten down by insistent winds, oaks trees that shot out in mini patches of forest every few kilometres, and only a vague blur on the horizon, if he’d truly been adventurous with how far he risked venturing out from home. This time around, this all rang true, but Remus hadn’t anticipated the thousands of camps set up for the Day of Descension. So much had happened since its beginning, he’d almost forgotten about the ceremony. If such a spectacle could ever fully slip the mind.

Now, it was all blurring past him in an eruption of distorted colour. To the extent that he could barely observe the temporary homes many had constructed. What he did catch was the obscured tents readily set-up, but the rest of the bases . . . Remus was indecisive on if the distortions of rapid acceleration were pulling tricks on his eyes, or if someone really had sprouted a desert microcosm in the middle of nowhere. The sights much too overwhelming, he turned his attention to his carrier. If he knew anything about the woman who had picked him up, and dashed for miles ahead without break, it was that she was unfathomably athletic.

Would this be their normal speeds of manoeuvring? Remus hoped not — he heavily doubted, no was certain that his respiratory system would implode upon itself if he was tasked with reenacting the hurried sprint. Or perhaps Violet was straining to her own absolute limits, getting away from First Rite’s surrounding lands as quickly as possible. They didn’t appear to be being followed, anyway, in one gladly accepted slither of good news. If they were, Remus was certain they’d already be dead and buried in some forgotten ditch.

The memory of the Speed Mark-possessing gentlemen who had escorted Andreas eradicated all other thoughts in Remus’ head, demanding his attention. Such acceleration was something not even Violet’s wild bouts of speed had hope of eluding.

Dying for a place where his body’s plea for rest could finally be answered, and such tormenting thoughts kept at bay, Remus spoke. “Mind if we stop for a bit?”

Violet smirked. “What, are you tiring out already?”

“Well you know, it's been a long day, falling from two hundred feet and everything.”

“Alright, fine.” Violet gave in, and Remus couldn’t help but notice how laborious her breaths sounded. “A short break shouldn’t hurt.”

Remus’ mind was hazardously close to a very misleading state known as ‘relaxing’. So of course, subconsciously picking up on his easing air, Violet chose to crash into the nearest flock of trees. The boy hadn’t picked up on her direction at first, mindlessly closing his eyes, and allowing the imagined image of a shady spot to bring him anticipating joy.

“Mind if I take a shortcut?”

Remus shrugged, eyelids still closed as he breathed in slowly. “Yeah sure, whatever you want captain.”

“I haven’t tried this with anyone else before, so umm, sorry if you get an eyeful of wood or something.”

“Don’t worry, it's no — hold on, wha-?”

Remus’ eyelids retracted, and he was met with the scream-inducing sight of being hurtled blindly into a log. A log that didn’t look welcoming in the slightest.

“What are you doing?” Remus found himself shrieking.

Violet feigned a front of innocence, her stride not hesitating the least bit. “I thought you wanted a shortcut?”

“Admittedly so, but I don’t see how deforestation is any-”

Remus reflexively shut his eyes, his entire body bracing as it anticipated a wave of pain. None came, but what did overwhelmed his senses to an equal degree.

The trees blipped out of this plane of reality, reappearing elsewhere for a few dawdling seconds, and then manifesting to another, seemingly random place of residence. There was a loud crack, and his aching head feeling like it had been reconstructed painstakingly after being split into a million pieces, Remus struggled to comprehend the image of a log jutting out of a previously whole boulder.

“Oops,” Violet let out, with the face of a child caught misbehaving, “I never intentionally damage the scenery.”

Her pace dropped to a decreasing jog, before Remus groaned, being dropped harshly upon damp, windswept grass.

“We’re far away from the trade routes, and some miles out of First Rite,” the girl spoke softly, sounding positively exerted, “we shouldn’t see a soul.”

“So . . . “ a tentative word crawled between Remus’ dry lips, his fiery fumes of frustration quickly being panned at what was being suggested. After so long, comfort was a difficult concept to digest.

“Yes, you can rest.”

The sentence was such a blessing that the reality-warping incident left Remus’ mind, and he found the call of sleep a more powerful entity than ever. He was on the verge of succumbing to the engulfing shadows, when the sound of something dropping snapped him back into a tense state of alertness. His head turned, only to be met with a sideways view of a sack. He looked at Violet for an explanation.

“Oats.” She said simply, cutlery already deep into her own helping. From out her bag, Violet revealed a bloated waterskin.

Remus jolted upwards at the glorious sight, only for several lacerations along his body to protest with all the agonising rage they could muster. Violet shot him a concerned look, and subsequently took away Remus’ rations before he could lay one finger on its contents.

“That’s just cruel.”

“You’ll still get them,” she reassured, “but you’re going to have to answer a few questions first. I mean, I barely know you. Who's to say you’re not one of my father's servants in disguise?”

“Why would your father be after you?”

Violet exhaled as if she had been shouldering the weight of the world. “Long story. But get the point — who are you?”

“I’m . . . from the Carpentry Sect.” Remus put reluctantly, readily expecting the girl’s next words.

“Carpentry.” She mused it over like each individual syllable had personally offended her. “Emblazed may be relatively impressive for your age, but a non-combat-oriented clan? How is that supposed to help us survive the journey to Hybrid?”

Words left Remus’ mouth before he took the precaution to think. “I could earn some profit when we get there. It's a versatile career, and not too far-fetched to think that maybe, I might be able to earn a few Inklings that we can use to restock on supplies.”

It was a flimsy response, sure to maybe convince a five year old who hasn't yet grasped the meaning of ‘carpentry’, or ‘versatile’.

“An enticing argument to be sure,” Violet murmured, “but I’m not especially in need of money right now. And any Inklings you do earn will likely be equaled out by the cost of your ration share. Now, putting that topic aside, here’s the real kicker: just what exactly were you doing today? Why were you imprisoned? What drove you to nosediving out of there?”

Remus wasn’t granted time to think; vital time needed to form an explanation that didn’t reveal his blatant lies. The primaeval guilt on its way to drown him from the inside out didn’t assist him much in that regard either. “Long story.”

“Well, we don’t have much else to do to occupy ourselves,” she hunched up to her knees, “I’m all ears.”

“I stole.”

The girl frowned. “Damosh’s hand affecting you heavily? Not to be blunt, but are your clan's profits not coming in quickly enough?”

“You could say so.”

“Must you keep your answers so sparse?”

Remus rubbed his head. “Apologies.”

Violet’s lips only curved at a more downwards angle. “I need to get this across to you clearly. I’m under no obligation to take you anywhere. You’re acting awfully suspicious. Don’t think just because I was friendly enough to take you this far, that I’ll let you tag along for the rest of the journey. If you want to get any closer to the Elemental Kingdom, I’m going to need you to answer. And in detail.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Back to basics. What’s your name?”

“Remus.”

“That’s a start!” Violet let her lips reach a neutral line. A smile would be far too audacious.

“And you’re Violet, right?”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

For a fleeting moment, Remus was worried he’d said something wrong. The girl physically craned backwards, expression flinty.

“How do you know that?”

“The posters . . . ?” He said, unsure if that was the right thing to say. “Your name was written there.”

She visibly relaxed. “Oh good, for a second there, I was getting worried my earlier instincts were true. But for now, let's assume you're not working for my father.”

Remus wanted to confirm that he most definitely wasn’t — seeing as he couldn’t even recall having seen the God-Graced Nova — but reading the proverbial room, Remus’s better judgement convinced him otherwise.

“So you were in prison for stealing,” Violet continued, of a more relaxed persuasion, “but what exactly did you steal in the first place?”

Taking his hand off his head, Remus opened his mouth to answer truthfully, not being able to stomach the falsehoods any longer, when something stopped him in his tracks. It was the sight of his palm; painted golden as his cuts reopened.

As if on cue, Remus’ injuries flared into action, and he was left to bite down on his thumb in his best attempt not to squirm pitifully.

Violet launched to her feet, and scurried around her bags.

“Sorry! I, uhmm, kind-of forgot about your injuries.”

Not restricted of its cool embrace any longer, Remus felt the chilly touch of clean drinking water course through his body after he was handed the waterskin. It helped considerably, yet the feeling of imminent death didn’t fade.

“You were acting so nonchalantly about the whole ordeal, I never really took into account the severity of what happened to you. How do you survive falling off a cliff, then cruise around casually like nothing’s wrong?”

A sensible, multitudinous combination of reasons as to why occurred to Remus. But fatigue was razing his dysfunctional body to the extent that merely forming a tangible sentence was a herculean task. He had at most, the strength required to lay there, eyelids curtaining his view of the world, and to do nothing. So that was precisely what the man did. At some point between the delayed onset of pain coursing across his body’s every nerve, and finally catching a quality sleep, he barely registered a blanket being lowered over him. There was also evidently a bowl of some oaty food being forced into his hands, as even when only half-conscious, Remus would never refuse a hearty meal.

When Remus awoke next, feeling no more replenished, Violet was nowhere to be seen. It was dark out, with a whistling wind dragging the chilly night’s air that dominated the atmosphere, as if the sun was a children’s tale. There was the buzz of cicadas, the annoyingness of which was probably the only motivator getting Remus up. How he’d managed to slumber through that dreadful earache, he’d never know.

“Violet?” He called out to the glade, feeling rather brainless as his surroundings remained grudgingly quiet.

Each of his steps were like gashes into the mute veil of night — a veil that's imprintings were solely of nature’s making, and his human, encroaching advances were tarnishing its sacred fabric. Nevertheless, the prospect of sitting down, twiddling his thumbs in the menacing allure of sundown, didn’t do much to entice him. So Remus continued, his artificial movement disrupting the surrounding orchestra, like a strongman rudely barging through a stand of automatic instruments.

“Hello, Violet?” Remus risked a more intruding noise. “Are you there?”

Still nothing. Remus was about to explore a nearby entourage of trees — coincidentally the same Violet had previously erased out of existence — when he noticed something. His wounds weren’t aching at all, and in no part because of absurd amounts of adrenaline. In fact, he was bandaged, even stitched in a few places. Putting a finger to his teeth, and then to his nose, Remus’ nostrils picked up on the subtly tame scent of mint.

“Anaesthetic . . .” He realised, the same kind Saige had prescribed him, after Edmar had done the medical equivalent of flipping his insides upside down. A tinge of thankfulness, followed up by a stabbing guilt tore Remus from the inside out. Oddly, an additional burst of homesickness at the familiar flavour was added to the visceral concoction. How one could be sent down a reminiscing reverie by the smell of herbs puzzled Remus, but he spared no further thought on it.

Violet had gone to such extreme effort for the closest thing to a stranger, and what had he done in return? Spewed out lies to get his own way and burned through her preciously limited supplies.

He had to make things right. Remus had no choice; he would track Violet down, apologise profusely, before revealing his true Rank, and reasons for coming. Perhaps then, this feeling of unease would fade.

Remus had explored the cluster of woodlands, and caught not the slightest glimpse of his leather-clad companion. Just where have you wandered off to hmm? He pondered, crossing a stretch of land that he should’ve never laid a foot on.

The relative quietude perished in a stretch of flowery grass. Instantly, Remus halted. There were several hints that something was wrong. First, the flowerbed appeared wilted, but not out of the cruelty of nature alone. Something had trodden across them, the same something that must have left the trail of footprints across the ground, rupturing out the surface layer of grass. All that was left was mud; mud so moldable a most unhuman-like paw had been perfectly preserved in its maroon surface.

“Violet?” Remus was shocked to find himself calling, though it only came out as an apprehensive whisper. “Are you here?”

The sound that he had picked up on, upon arrival, was the rustling. Surrounding bushes bent to the whims of roaming creatures. Roaming creatures, that, based on the steadily louder-growing growls that struck Remus’ eardrums like urgent warnings to flee, were closer than ever. Remus scrambled backwards, as the first hint of fur appeared. It was dark out, to the extent that very soon, he would be able to see nothing at all. Yet even so, he could make out the horrific image before him in pristine detail.

It wasn’t a wolf exactly, but that was the closest comparison Remus could make, and so it would serve. The wolf sauntered closer — gingerly at first, as if the beast was itself sizing up Remus — revealing its coat of pigmentless white. In great contrast, the wolf’s eyes were entirely ebony black, not a speck of white to be seen. Almost like it was personally vying to disobey the typical ways of mother nature, corrupting ancient foundations. Its paws led the wolf’s body in a coordinated semi-circle, and hunching to its paws, the creature leered. Presenting a mouthful of pearly white molars, that almost blended in with the rest of its shade.

Within seconds, Remus knew this was no ordinary wolf. Which would be bad enough on its own. This was an Unbounded. A weak one, true, but weak in comparison to Remus could potentially be deadly.

“Now boy, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He tried to discreetly step back, but it only screeched, and pawed the ground ahead of it in threat.

Just one. Remus thought. Even if I’m attacked, I can likely beat one.

The thought had barely been generated by the convoluted nexus of his brain, when five more of the Unbounded crept into view. At most inconvenient angles, at that. Remus was surrounded, with the very thought of fleeing laughable. Outrunning these whilst only freshly stitched up would be agony, and even in a hypothetical world where he was healthy as can be, he’d have hard luck outpacing the Unbounded anyway.

Did Violet get surrounded as well? Remus thought, not needing an additional problem to concern himself with.

A snarl from the nearest of the pack anchored him back to reality, and Remus felt with alarm as he backpedalled into the bulk of a tree. There was a moment of intense anticipation, as neither party made a move. Then, as if realising the number advantage at their disposal, the Unbounded’s vanguard launched themselves at him.

Remus responded in equal measure.

After Remus grasped onto the neck of the foremost beast, which definitely wasn’t the best of handholds, the Unbounded skidded back and forth, shaking its neck vigorously in the same manner as a wet hound swaying itself clean. Its brothers and sisters howled to a cloudless, starry sky, before whipping their tails at Remus’ exposed form in a merciless beating. Much to his favour, Violet’s dosage of the painkiller had been far too generous. Remus was largely numb, as the creatures whipped in sympathetic fury for their sibling. Not keen to pummel something that resembled an animal so closely, Remus withheld his own fist from the moving target he was latching onto. Seconds before the realisation that the Unbounded was closer to a monster than a dog drove him into action.

The two of them were swept into a fumbling scrap across the floor, with Remus doing his utmost best to direct the fight away from the others. Alas, they kept up just as quickly as the pair could move, and a thousand points of contact stirred up a wave of hurt within Remus — one that even anaesthetic would have trouble blocking. The rocky floor stabbed into his rolling back; the Unbounded’s clawed paws didn’t show a whiff of reluctance as they made to peel off his skin; and worst of all, Violet was nowhere to be seen.

They’d rolled into a rocky section of the woodland area, a trail of golden blood marking wherever the wrestle took Remus.

In a flare of crimson ire, he shoved the wolf-like creature into the nearest boulder. There were several of them scattered about, all ponderous and just asking for an accident. Momentum mixed with rage-induced strength accumulated in an impressive toss. A toss so impressive, in fact, that the Unbounded’s head struck the rocky cluster in a resounding crunch, that even Remus had to spare a disgusted wince at. The Unbounded squealed in a heart-wrenching final cry. And then it lay there; motionless.

Remus merely sat, catching his breath, staring at the Unbounded’s corpse, not quite knowing what to think. Gradually, the Infinity stores that had brought the creature into being dispersed in a snowflake-like current, swirling overhead like the smoke from a funeral pyre. The fluff on Remus’ apron uniform — the same outfit he had worn when embarking on the last few days of wild adventure, now soiled and torn — lingered, detached from the main body of the beast and preserved as low level concentrations of Infinity. He promptly pocketed it, the idea that he may be able to sell the residue at the nearest market a much welcomed spike in dopamine.

It didn’t last long, however. The underlying hard truth that he had killed for the first time in his life, even if it was merely an Unbounded, a harder pill to swallow than anything Saige could pull out of her apothecary stock. He didn’t feel any different, and wasn’t even particularly sympathetic for the Unbounded. It was of the same kind that had reduced his grandfather's lifespan to but a year, of the same fiends that stripped the lives of thousands of young soldiers. Nevertheless, Remus felt . . . hollow? Devoid? Perhaps, but devoid of what? He didn’t get much time to debate the topic however, as turning around, he was face-to-face with six other bereaved, and incredibly infuriated Unbounded.

So Remus filled the gaping hole inside of him with the most instinctual urge that had kept humanity alive for so long. The impulsion to run.

He barreled through a cluster of bushy ferns, overstepped a channelling creak — disturbing the local wildlife of tadpoles — and dashed to and fro through a natural labyrinth of birch canopies. His injuries roared in pain, and Remus complained internally about the aggravatingly slow healing-rate of the human body. Aren’t Engorged supposed to be able to walk off most injuries like this in a few days? I would love to reap those benefits now, if possible.

Of course, he had abused his body far too much for even divine capabilities to be able to begin the healing process properly. Sleep, proficient sustenance, and avoidance of danger, would likely have him back to snuff in less than a Duration.

Though, whilst sprinting with his tail between his legs away from a pack of silver wolves, Remus struggled to picture a reality where he would get to do any of that in the first place.

They were close now. Remus could feel their hot breaths against his nape, panting with a hungry lust that wouldn’t be sated until his torn flesh was deep down their gullets.

Faster! He cried to himself. Faster!

There was a noise in the near distance. Almost like a parallel to the beasts behind him, yet they sounded to be having a significantly harder time. There were pained howls, an eruption of unintelligible noise, and in the midst of all that havoc, a familiar, feminine voice.

Remus grinned like a madman. Violet was right ahead, and if her show of agility earlier was anything to go by, safety would be with her too.

Like a circus director, Remus led his entourage of Unbounded, the thrill of the moment slowly intoxicating him with a giddy excitement.

Violet was in for quite the fright.