The crowd of panicked humans cleared as the vibration of the earth began to cease. As the dust settled Bael spun around, searching in desperation. His heart felt as if it were going to jump into his throat as it drummed against his rib cage. He dropped to his knees, his rate of breathing increasing as the realization of his fear settled in.

Lance was gone. Taken from his protection.

Bael berated himself for becoming too thoughtless. Up to this point their work had been progressing relatively smoothly after the first three days of hell. It had been a short two days of reprieve, but it had been wonderful. Normal, carefree, and most of all human. His soft spot for Lance's companionship had made him forget the severity of the events surrounding their partnership. Lance became his friend out of necessity for survival, he must not forget that.

"B, come on you have to get up. I saw a goron with a mask cart him off, but lost him in the dust all the humans kicked up." Nyx had come flying to him in a rush, reporting on her findings when she left to scout for Lance's whereabouts.

"Did you see where they went?"

"They were headed back towards the city, but beyond that I can't say." She flew down close to his face and started pushing against his cheek. "Every second you sit here moping is another second that kid is put in greater danger. We have to help him!"

Bael sighed, his hand interweaving into his hair before clenching into a fist. "We have no idea where to even start; Ikana City is a huge place."

"What is the matter with you? The Bael I know has never let something simple like that stop him from making things right." She paused before shaking with excitement. "I know! We can go ask the Great Fairy for help. She represents kindness, surely she will want to assist us."

Bael snorted as he shook his head. "You're forgetting that all the Great Fairies and any fey loyal to them despise me. They hate what I am," he lamented, brow furrowed as he stared down at his gloved hand.

"Yeah, but-"

"No, we don't need their help. We've always done things on our own in our own way, and this isn't going to be any different." He picked himself up off the ground and dusted his clothes off, determination replacing the melancholy previously on his face.

"We're going into town, Nyx. It's time to do our peddler routine." Bael was already walking off with a quick stride in the direction of Oberon, leaving Nyx to float there in apprehension.

"Aww, I hate that routine," she whined before swiftly flying after him.

As soon as Bael reached Oberon and grabbed his reins to lead him to town, the horse shook his head as he rooted his hooves in place. Without Lance at his side to coerce Oberon, the animal was resistant to listening. Bael tried to pet his nose and coo affectionate words, but the horse stayed rooted to the spot. It was where his master had left him, and Oberon would wait patiently for his return. Bael squinted as he peered up to look into Oberon's eyes. He sensed uncertainty there. No doubt the horse was still spooked by the quake moments prior, and adding this only exacerbated those fears.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, hand passing through the thick hair of the horse's mane. "I know you can't understand me, but I promise to return him to you. Have faith in me, okay?"

If you asked, Bael could not tell you who needed to hear those words more.

Eventually, after what must have been a great inner turmoil, Oberon relented and allowed Bael to guide him by the reins. As quickly as was possible, he led the three of them away from the Stone Tower in the direction of downtown Ikana City.

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

A man, a fairy, and a horse walk into the market. It sounded like the setup for a hilarious joke, but it wasn't even the oddest thing a person would see on a typical day here. Merchants here would peddle anything from typical wares of textiles, food, and crafts to exotic creatures and rare artifacts. Wolfos in cages snarled at passersby from one stand, while the one next door was selling fragrant perfumes and elegant clothes. Races from all corners of Termina journeyed here for one reason or another. Be it the ocean-dwelling fishfolk to the mountainous beings made of pure rock, all were accounted for.

When Bael's eyes caught the first glimpse of a goron, he had to fight everything in his being to leap at them and demand information about his friend's whereabouts. Logic defeated instinct in this instance; there was no indication that threatening one goron would get him what he wanted. Plus, they were a race of proud warriors. If Bael picked a fight with the wrong one he'd more than likely have all his bones broken than accomplish anything meaningful.

"Can you make this quick, B? My wings are getting cramped," Nyx complained, pulling Bael out of his focused vigilance.

Before they had arrived at the market, Bael had made a quick stop at a general supplies store in search of something suitable for this old tried and true scheme he used with Nyx, much to her displeasure. He had purchased a small bird cage with the few rupees he had on hand and enclosed her inside. Now he just needed to find the right merchant to enact this on.

"Welcome! Welcome! Are you a purveyor of precious gemstones? Perhaps your marital bed is growing cold? Look no further my good people, for the jewelry in my possession would make even a thornback appear as a blushing bride. Gentlemen, your wives will be the talk of the town with one of my pendants 'round her neck." A blustering, red-faced man waved his hands in front of his stall in an attempt to draw in customers.

Bingo. This was exactly the type of man Bael was looking to find. He needed information, and who better to provide it than the loudest mouth in the market. In preparation for approaching this middle-aged merchant, Bael pulled the cowl of his cloak fully over his head. He arched his back and drew his arms close to his body.

"Nyx, I need the glamour," he whispered.

"You know a wild fairy like me doesn't have the power to do that well by myself," she scolded in return. "I can try, but it's not going to be amazing. Your acting will have to be better than normal."

Bael clicked his tongue, but said nothing further. In a small flash of purple light, Bael's face transmogrified into something partially hideous. His eyes sunk into his face as the surrounding skin began to sag and obscure them. His cheeks and mouth became more wrinkled, but not nearly as drastically. If one were to closely inspect his face the unnatural aging would be more noticeable, but ideally that would not be happening.

"Alright. Ehem, testing, testing," Bael croaked, attempting to pitch down his voice into a ghastly rasp.

"Are you going for an old lady or a frog?" she sneered.

"I could be the third hag sister, thank you very much. You and the other peanuts in the gallery have no room to judge," replied Granny Bael.

"It's not- it's not a gallery of peanuts. You know that, right?"

He shushed her into silence before squeezing through the crowd, clutching the caged fairy in one hand and pulling Oberon with the other. It was a sight that garnered a lot of attention, including that of the rosy cheeked merchant. His grin spread wide as he displayed every single one of his pearly whites, hands clapping in jovial excitement at the sight of an old woman. The people who were once blocking the way stepped aside; were it from respect or apprehension Bael couldn't be certain.

"Well, well, what brings a young lady out to the market this fine day? I believe I've a fine silver bracelet that would suit you very well. Care to take a look?" Every word the merchant spoke was oozing with wretched charm. Upon a closer inspection, Bael noticed his canines were capped with golden crowns. What a tasteless man.

Granny Bael wheezed, chortling exaggeratedly. He brushed the hair from in front of his eyes to better stare the merchant down. The merchant's friendly facade faltered, if only for a split second. He quickly regained his composure, pulling at the collar worn tightly around his neck.

"Jewelry isn't what's catching my eye today. I was hoping that you might be able to tell me some information I've been seeking. Not for free, of course," Granny Bael assured with a withered smile.

Instantly the merchant's eyes darted to Nyx in the cage, but also back at Oberon. More than likely he was admiring the wrapped rapier and glaive strapped to the saddle. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips.

"What information might you be looking for, Miss?" he inquired, poorly hiding his excitement at the idea of gaining atypical goods.

A gnarled finger appeared from the sleeve of the cloak, curling inward towards Bael in a come hither motion. "It's not for prying ears to hear, sonny."

The merchant leaned down, hands splayed on his table as he pushed his ear forward to be easily within Bael's reach.

"My grandson, you see, was taken. Snatched right off the streets of our dear city. Might you know who I can get in touch with to retrieve him?" Granny Bael asked.

As Bael imagined would be the case, the merchant began to sputter and his face turned white as snow. He reeled back into an upright position, reaching for a handkerchief in his breast pocket to dab at the beads of sweat on his forehead.

"You ought to go back home, old woman. I don't know what business your grandson has gotten himself into, but you'd best forget about him now. He won't be seeing the light of day again anytime soon," the merchant warned.

Bael's eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back. A snort was the initial response he gave before leaning in over the table with a sour expression. "I was afraid you might say as much. See, my other grandson is a soldier of this fine city." Bael cast his eyes back at Oberon, focusing on the weapons. When his face returned he saw that the merchant had followed his look exactly as intended. "If he learns that someone could have helped return our family to us, well, it won't be a pretty sight."

The merchant continued dabbing at his face, blinking down in fear at the words of an old woman. "If I tell you, will you leave and never speak of this again?"

Bael pulled himself back into his former position, grinning with false kindness. "Of course, of course. And as I said, I will pay you for your trouble," he reminded, patting the cage for good measure.

"Right." The merchant leaned forward once again to whisper so only Bael could hear. "Members of the family often hang out at The Bloody Fang. Now, it's not a place an old woma-"

"Do I look like I'm getting any younger, boy?" Granny Bael grumbled. His kind, matronly smile shifted into a frown. "Tell me where this place is and I'll be on my way."

"Er, yes- well, you'll find it on the west side of town. Near the old well. Really, ma'am, someone of your advanced age should-"

"Thank you very much, Mr. Merchant." Bael tossed the caged Nyx over the table into the merchant's unprepared hands. He narrowly maneuvered his arms just in time to catch it, but not without fumbling for a moment. "Treat her well; she is my family's greatest treasure." Bael winked then turned on his heels to leave the market and head towards his new destination.

Minutes later, as Bael crested the hill departing downtown, a cacophony of shouts could be heard behind him. The sounds of crashing tables, roaring monsters, and malcontent shoppers echoed against the mountains encapsulating the city. He smiled, but never turned his back to take in the sight of wreckage he was certain was behind him. His hand reached out with palm facing upward as shuffled forward through the streets, until he felt a gentle weight settle there.

"Sounds like you had fun making a mess," a partially glamoured Bael commented while sporting a mischievous grin.

"Considering how many times greedy humans have captured me for good luck, I'm never against causing people like that problems," Nyx panted, wings fluttering against his palm. "I am disappointed I couldn't make off with any of his jewels though, they were really pretty."

"I never took you to be the vain type." Bael was now standing up straight, with wrinkles gone but cowl still over his face.

"I'm still not. Nothing is beautiful enough to accentuate my beauty; it would only be a detriment," she quipped. "It would be for you, naturally."

Bael blinked and knitted his brows. "I barely wear a clean shirt everyday and you think I want some frilly necklace?" he queried.

"Not for you to have" -she paused, but continued when he responded with a confused stare- "for the love of the Giants, why do I have to spell everything out for you?"

"Because you're being purposefully vague. It used to be that you loved telling me why I was wrong and stupid. Now, well, you get mad every time I don't understand something."

Nyx sighed, her small body shuddering violently. "That's because I want you to learn how to read the room sometimes. If you want a relationship with that boy, provided we can rescue him-"

"We will. Don't humor the thought of failure," Bael gritted sharply.

"When we do rescue him, then you need to apologize for being an ass. I know you love playing around with people, but even you have to admit you're being confusing."

"He's the one that stomped on my foot!" Bael retorted.

"So you follow that up by kissing him with no warning?"

Bael began to respond but shut his mouth just as quickly. The majority of the time Nyx won these arguments and he had no energy to spare on keeping up with her ferocity. Once they finished climbing the series of hills leading to the back of Ikana City, they were presented with a junction. To the right appeared to divert into the wealthy residential district, full of immaculate mansions and lush greenery in contrast to the rocky earth of the rest of the city. In front was the entrance to the Spring Water Cave, the primary water source for the city that provided hydroelectricity and fresh drinking water for the citizens. It was open to public visitation and was quite the tourist destination for those interested in the dark history of Ikana.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The third option was much more unsightly, and down a less travelled path. In this direction lie the pointedly unmanaged seedy underbelly of the city, a fact everyone here was aware of. Given the dubious nature of the governorship, the existence of this sector was intentional and completely unprotected by city militia. Common people didn't venture this way, and if they did it was considered their own damn fault for trespassing if they got injured- or far worse.

That old well the merchant mentioned was deep in the heart of this area, and therein lie Bael's only known means of rescuing his friend. Without hesitation, he took his first step into the unknown.

In similar fashion to Clock Town's Shadow Market, this section of the city was more highly populated with the less accepted races of Termina. Just from passing through in a few minutes, Bael caught sight of lizalfos, moblins, and gerudo, just to name a few. Normally an unfamiliar human would alarm those who were typically discriminated against by them, but that wasn't the case. The gerudo eyed him suspiciously, but that could be explained easily by how close their blood was to Ikanian humans.

Monsters, however, regarded him as one of their own. He was fully accustomed to this response. Fairies did not get the same regard, so Nyx hid herself in his cowl and she often did. His eyes shifted from side to side as he sought out this supposed well and The Bloody Fang that coincided with, all the while a nagging thought clawed at the back of his mind.

"You never explained what the jewelry was supposed to do," Bael stated, ending their prolonged silence.

"What?" she whispered, startled by his sudden question. "Oh, that. You mean you don't get why that might be helpful?"

Unable to give her an impatient look at her current angle, Bael instead shook his head briefly.

"Gifts help people be receptive to an apology. If you haven't done something completely awful, of course. Plus, don't you think a pretty rich boy like him would find a lot of value in an expensive gift?" she answered.

"I thought that was something women were fond of, not men," Bael suggested. "You might be imposing your ideals onto someone else."

"How would you feel if Lance gave you a bouquet of flowers?"

Bael's lips pursed, heart fluttering at the thought. "Touché."

"Ha! Think again before doubting my understanding of the heart, little bro." Nyx's wings twitched against his neck as she flapped them with joy.

"You're forgetting something though. I only play around, nothing more. We're friends; that's all. Stop asserting that it's supposed to be something deeper," he responded bitterly.

She fretfully called his name, but it fell on deaf ears. What his heart may or may not want did not matter now, nor was it going to. His purpose was to protect the woods, thereby protecting the world connected to it from the dangers within. Once he quelled Dumah and his brethren, Bael would return to the woods once more. He did not belong in their world, and a soft spot for a sentimental young human wasn't going to change that reality.

"We're here," he announced, halting in place immediately. Before them was a surprisingly well kept building surrounded by the decrepit slums. It was large and dimly illuminated, sporting an ornate sign above the door with a depiction of a snarling wolf. The beast's canines dripped with blood that spelled out "The Bloody Fang" in an antiquated Ikanian script.

In the distance behind it Bael saw the old well, but it appeared to no longer be in use. The mouth was sealed with planks, along with an abundance of warding charms plastered all over the area. Bael couldn't make sense of the meaning behind it so he paid no mind and focused on the task at hand.

Bael secured Oberon's reins to a nearby post before giving the horse a reassuring pat on the neck. He pulled Lance's sheathed rapier from the saddle and secured it to his waist, opting for a less obtrusive weapon than the glaive. Hopefully it wouldn't matter what he used, he just needed to make a point.

His foot shoved the door open, slamming it against the wall and drawing the attention of everyone occupying the tavern. Several pairs -and other combinations- of eyes deigned to take in the cocky bastard who wanted to get their attention. Many people in the room bristled as Bael returned his own look, eyes flashing with wild intent as he stared them all down. The wise ones returned to their drinks while the rest continued to watch him apprehensively.

With all the swagger of a mafioso, Bael walked over to take a seat on a barstool. He propped his heels on the lower rungs before tapping his fingers on the counter. The bartender, a portly human with as many scars as he had stories, grunted in response. He stared Bael down with his one visible eye, the other hidden beneath an eyepatch.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked, voice gruff and bored.

"I'm just here looking for someone. Or some information, at the very least. I need to meet with a Valerio goon. They've taken something of mine."

The bartender's eye left him as it turned upwards to look at something behind Bael. Bael started to turn around when a large hand slapped him on the back giving him a jolt. He gritted his teeth.

"Have business with the family, do ya? Well I'm family, perhaps I can help you out, little man," the bold man sneered. He was as tall as he was wide and muscular as all get out. Bael wasn't impressed.

"Well then, you've saved me some time. Appreciate it, I really do," Bael answered with a smarmy grin. "As I was just telling this guy, your family has taken something of mine. I don't take kindly to people doing that, so I'd like you to return him."

The man pushed his wide-brimmed hat with his thumb and gave a dark chuckle. "You're gon' have to be more specific than that, boy. Everything in this city is ours, what right to it do you have?"

"I see. I didn't make myself clear. Earlier today, just a few hours ago, a goron goon of yours snatched a man from around Stone Tower. The boy is mine, so give him back," Bael seethed.

The man -no, this bastard- continued to laugh as Bael made his case. This further fueled the inferno in his stomach that was already raging against his insides. "You must be new around here. Tell you what, as a courtesy to a fresh face I won't kill you for trying to tell me what to do. If you run on out of here and make it out alive, it'll be like nothing ever happened." The bastard clapped him on the back once more to drive home his point.

Bael hummed, his arm closest to the man snaking up his arm to clasp at the nape of the bastard's neck. Bael grinned, which must have confused the man as he only nasally hummed in response. He kept his own arm firm against Bael's back.

"Let's try that just one more time."

With supernatural ease, Bael slammed the bastard's face onto the counter. The bartender jumped backwards, dropping a glass as blood spewed from the point of impact. Judging by the grotesque crunching sound, the bastard's nose was shattered into fragments by the force of Bael's strength. His wail was agonized, intensified as Bael's hand ground his face into the wood.

Bael pulled his head back up, nose mangled and two teeth popped out of their sockets. "You see, your family's goon took someone today."

Slam. More teeth popped loose and remained in a puddle of bloody spittle.

"A goron, I believe it was. It was around Stone Tower, just a few hours ago."

Slam. That time Bael believed he heard more bones cracking. Perhaps his jaw, or even an eye socket.

"He took a young man. Long brown hair, kinda tall, with a smile that could drive a man mad."

Slam. The bastard's face was now flush with the countertop, his body no longer putting up any resistance to Bael's assault.

"You probably didn't know then, so maybe I can overlook it, but that boy is mine. I'd like him back. Sooner rather than later, if possible." At this point Bael was standing up from the stool, holding the mangled face of the bastard aloft for all the patrons to see. He dropped him into a crumpled heap on the floor; the bastard had either long since went unconscious or died, Bael didn't particularly care which it was.

It went without saying that everyone in the room that had a taste for violence had risen to their feet, eager to pick a fight with Bael. Likewise, Bael's eyes went wide as adrenaline pumped in his veins. He didn't even draw the blade, feeling enough at ease to tear them all apart with his bare hands.

To his immediate right he heard the sound of a revolver hammer click into place. It was time to act, and act fast he did. Before the gunman had time to reposition his thumb from cocking the gun, Bael was charging head first at him, keeping his body low to the ground. In a panic the gunman fired, sending the bullet whizzing by Bael's head.

Bael leapt into the air, left hand moving quickly to his right as he pulled the off the glove he always wore. His now bare right hand gripped the gunman's face as Bael collided with his body, sending them both to the floor.

Now, release!

The gunman screamed. All at once blood spurted from every orifice of his head. His eyes were boiled out of their sockets, with only singed optic nerves and rendered tissue remaining in the dark hollows of his skull. The skin of his entire body tightened as all the lifeforce was expelled from it, resulting in a leathery husk that was merely a shadow of the human it had once been.

Bael stood up and re-covered his right hand. He dusted off his clothes as best he could from the spurts of blood, but inevitably it was going to stain. His eyes turned back onto the other patrons of the bar whose courage was shaken by the display he'd put on so far. With one step forward, they would take two backwards.

"Now, unless any of you dickless chickenshits wants your spine pulled out through your pisshole, would you kindly give me what I've asked?" Bael threatened. The blood smeared on his face only served to emphasize the intent behind his threats. They were far from empty.

"Now hold on, son," the bartender called out. His hand reached under the counter, which made Bael place his hand on the hilt of the rapier.

On the back wall a click echoed through the room and a portion of the wall swung inward. Bael looked at the bartender in confusion.

"That's the way to the hideout. None of us can take you to implicate ourselves. Just go; you've made plenty of mess here," the bartender pleaded.

Bael needed no other invitation.

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

The secret door immediately took him down a steep staircase that went deep underground. A musty odor of stagnant water and fresh dirt filled the air. The bottom of the staircase led to a stone hallway that split into a variety of branching paths, all narrow and darkened.

Nyx took it upon herself to fly out from his cowl and soar along the ceiling to begin her search for Lance's whereabouts. She took off to the right and Bael took the opposing left. As he brought himself deeper into what seemed to be ancient catacombs, he felt increasingly lost as the scenery barely changed from room to room. What also surprised him was that he did not encounter another living person during his search. The only things he found were scattered bones along the floor.

A man's howl of pain reverberated against the stone walls and immediately Bael was alert to the noise. Ignoring his instinct to run after it, he instead waited to see if he could identify the voice. As he edged closer to the source of the sound, the cries grew louder as they were accompanied by a group of threatening male voices cajoling the one in pain. The pained one would not waver, telling them they could hurt him all they wanted.

"You're all going to be sorry when my friend sees what you've done to me," said the all too recognizable voice. It was weakened, but still full of that insurmountable boyish pride.

Bael's heart leapt into his throat as he sprinted down the hallway, chasing his wails. Soon, Bael turned around a corner that led to the first door he had seen in the entire hideout. Candlelight flickered from under the door, illustrating the shapes of pacing shadows. Without further hesitation Bael bum-rushed the door.

There was the person he had been desperate to find. Lance was tied by his hands and feet onto a wooden chair, shirt ripped open exposing his stomach. There were several long slashes across his face, arms, and all over his chest. The wounds were deep, seeping long, thick streams of blood into pools on the floor. His face lit up upon Bael's appearance, though obscured by the purpled skin swollen around his lips and eyes.

Two humans were holding tools of torture that had presumably caused all the injuries he saw. A smaller, tweedly man held onto a pair of knives, while a larger fellow grasped a mallet. They turned in shock to see Bael having barged into the room and were already turning to meet him with weapons swinging.

Bael's right arm convulsed as he drew the rapier with his left. He deftly blocked the dual knife wielder with a grunt. With a firm step forward he pushed hard against the knife fighter, all the while pulling his glove off with his teeth. The knife fighter stumbled backwards from the force.

Before the mallet man was able to crash into Bael's skull, Bael's right hand shot out to press his palm on the man's chest. The convulsing became visibly noticeable as it cascaded down his arm into the other man's body. The mallet fighter violently shook as the bones of his body began splitting apart from the pulse radiating out from his core. Starting with his sternum, a chorus of snaps and cracks filled the room. He fell to his knees -or what was left of them- as blood spurted from his ears, nose, and mouth.

The knife fighter looked at his companion in horror as Bael quickly covered his hand once more. Lance's reaction was subdued as he was most likely delirious from the loss of blood. Bael raised the rapier and pointed the tip of the blade towards the only threat left in the room. The distinct scent of urine filled Bael's nostrils. Assumedly his opponent had pissed himself in abject terror.

"Get out of here. Let this be a lesson to the family to not take what belongs to me," Bael ordered, keeping the rapier pointed intently on the coward.

With a yelp, the coward shuffled around Bael's side until he could turn towards the door and begin sprinting to safety.

"Too slow, changed my mind." As if he were skewering a fish to grill, Bael plunged the rapier into the center of the coward's back. It was without a doubt Bael had severed his spine. Bael planted his foot on the dead coward's lower back to remove the dirtied blade with ease. He wiped it clean against the dead man's shirt before sheathing it once more.

Immediately Bael was at Lance's side to untie him from his binds. On closer inspection the damage they had done to him was much worse than he first assumed. Half of his fingers were mangled from having been smashed by something heavy. The entirety of his pants were soaked with sweat and blood, and his feet had been severely slashed and crushed as well.

Bael openly wept as he looked up into Lance's battered face that could only look down at him with a hopeful smile. All he had done, everything he went through was to keep Lance safe. None of what he accomplished or strived for held any significance if this one human was harmed. Bael had initially sworn to protect the woods, his only home, as well as the world at large. Now, however, his priorities had begun to shift. The moment Lance had opened his heart to him, to accept him as he was, it really had been Bael's undoing. It was a kindness he had never known from a human before and never would again.

"Hey...Bael," Lance whispered. His voice came out partially as a gargle with blood dripping from his open mouth. "I stayed alive. They didn't get to kill me. I did good, right?"

Bael's face sank to press against Lance's thigh, no longer able to maintain composure. His hands still fought at the ropes, needing desperately to get Lance out of here if he wanted to save him from dying to loss of blood. The struggle wasn't over just yet.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay? We're gonna get you fixed up. I don't care who I have to fight to get it done, I will save you," Bael sobbed.

He was answered with silence.

Upon looking up, Bael now saw Lance's head lolled to the side with lids partially closed. There was now a knife embedded in his throat, and the gasps for breath had ceased.

Bael rose to his feet, spinning on his heels. Immediately he saw a third person who either had been hiding in this room or had only just appeared to end their captive's life. It was a goron, a large muscular one covered head to toe with tattoos representing the tribe he originated from. Most curiously of all, instead of the typical black, he was sporting solid golden eyes.

"My my, Bael. You're quite a resilient one, aren't you?" the goron crooned. Its voice was soft and low, rather unlike what any typical goron would have.

Bael squinted, raising his sleeves to wipe at the hot tears stinging his eyes. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hiding deep in the woods still?"

The golden-eyed goron darkly laughed. "Oh, I'm always watching you, Bael. Just waiting for you to slip up. Which you did, it seems, but not in the way I would have liked." The goron stepped forward, making Bael instinctively take several steps to the side. A large hand reached out to grasp at Lance's jaw, angling his face side to side as the goron examined him. "You let my vessel get irreparably damaged. I can't have that." He clicked his tongue.

"He's not yours- he will never be yours, Dumah," Bael asserted, brows furrowed with teeth bared.

"Not this time, no. There will always be next time. One day you'll slip up, and I will be ready." Dumah turned around to face Bael, a large toothy grin shining in the dimly lit darkness. "You know how this goes. You messed up; time to do it again."

Bael's eyes darted to the ground as his free hand felt his pants pocket. Still, he dared not move.

Dumah sighed. The hand on Lance's jaw moved to grasp him by his hair as he shook his head. Dumah's face turned back to look at Bael, but this time in rage. "Let this be a reminder to you. So long as you fight me, my child, this will always be your result. Do it. Again."

Bael growled but relented in the end. From his pocket he retrieved the flute Lance had bought him just this morning. He squeezed it tight in his hands before raising it to his lips to play a somber tune.

The world around him faded; the last thing he remembered seeing was Dumah's golden eyes and Lance's ruined face. When he opened his eyes next it was the middle of the night and was laying on a leaf bed on the forest floor. A fire crackled by his side with Nyx sleeping on his chest. Lance was snoring peacefully on the other side of their camp.

It was nearing dawn of the day prior, and Bael was going to start again.