With a shudder, the massive form of Joe crumpled to the forest floor. His elk silhouette, now lay still in the middle of the battlefield.

Jaxon's roar resounded, raw and primal, while Jabor echoed the grief with a guttural bellow that set even the wolves trembling.

"Brother!" Jaxon's voice was a serrated edge, slicing the air. He knelt beside Joe, hands rough against the smooth fur as he initiated the cervidian ritual. Jabor joined, their movements deliberate and their chants deep and melodic.

Nearby, Cal parried a lunge from a wolf, its eyes wild with hunger. The beast snarled, jaws snapping inches from his flesh. Elena loosed an arrow, her aim true even as her body quaked with fatigue. Blue arcs flickered over her skin, the oversoul lightning that had become her signature in battle, now sputtering like a dying star.

"Keep them off Jaxon and Jabor," Cal shouted, words punctuated by the clang of his dagger against the wolves' sharpened teeth.

Elena nodded, sending another shaft flying. "For Joe," she whispered, her breath coming in short bursts that misted in the cool air.

Cal ducked under a swipe, rolled, and thrust upward. His blade found purchase in the soft underbelly of his aggressor. Grief surged within him, for Joe, for this senseless conflict. He was fatigued and sorrow dulled his blade—he fought it, not yet. He could mourn when the living were safe.

"Jaxon, Jabor, hurry!" Elena called over her shoulder, voice strained.

The brothers chanted low, their tribute to Joe rising above the fray, a haunting dirge for the fallen.

Wolves surged like a relentless tide, their howls loud. Cal felt the weight of the situation, but he knew they didn’t have much time. The wolves pressed closer, a wall of snouts and teeth.

"Can't keep this up forever!" he yelled, feeling the burn in his arms, the pull of weary muscles.

Elena's bowstring hummed in response, another volley cutting through the horde. "Then don't plan to," she shot back, voice edged with steel.

Cal parried a snap from the left, kicked out at a shadow to the right. His mind raced, calculating odds, exits, the dwindling time. The wolves were many, their assault unyielding. He searched the dark for signs of reinforcements, knowing Tobin Rill's ambition would not let the fight end here. Not after how they dealt with his team. The seed of vengeance was planted.

"More might come," Cal warned between breaths, eyes scanning the nearby cavern entrance.

"Focus on the now," Elena replied, drawing her blade.

Together they stood, backs to the funeral ritual, to the fallen Joe, guardians amidst the onslaught.

Jaxon's roar pierced the night once more, a sound of both sorrow and rage for Joe. He and Jabor, their ritual complete, stormed toward Cal and Elena, their cervidian forms powerful and swift. Their hooves crushed the wolf carcases in their wake, their antlers glistening with remnants of the ceremony.

Jabor’s minions were crushed, the other wolves focusing their rage on them first, sensing the incongruity.

"Move!" Jaxon barked, plowing through the wolves with brute force.

"We’ll covering you!" Jabor shouted, falling in beside him.

Cal looked back, but Joe’s body was gone. They advanced amidst the chaos.

The quartet became a storm. Cal ducked a lunge, his blade finding the soft underbelly of his assailant. Elena slashed out her sword, brimming with electricity. The electricity was largely superfluous, but remnants of her body charge.

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"We charge through!" Cal called out.

"Keep up!" Elena snapped, as she slashed out and stunned the nearest wolves with bolts of electricity.

Teeth bared, the wolves recovered and encircled them, a tightening noose. The battlefield echoed with their guttural snarls, the air rank with the scent of wild aggression.

"Keep moving," Jaxon’s command was terse.

The wolves lunged, their movements a symphony of hunger and hostility. But there was no breaking the team’s circle, no severing the strengthened bond that held these four fighters together. With each step, Cal and Elena carved their intent through the horde, while Jaxon and Jabor defended from behind.

"Push!" Jaxon bellowed.

There was poetry in violence.

"Almost out!" Elena called over the clash of battle.

"Run!" Cal's voice was a whip-crack, propelling them onward.

The caldera blurred into a maelstrom as they sprinted past the final wolves. They were clearly more interested in the encampment, than the few stragglers that escaped.

Cal was concerned. This was a scouting party, not the true wolf pack.

They continued onwards, until they reached a familiar cavern.

Jaxon's antlers were slick with blood. Jabor limped, favoring a leg, but his jaw was set, eyes blazing with determination.

"Inside, quick!" Jaxon thundered, pushing through the pain.

They stumbled across the threshold of Kristina's cavern, the scent of damp earth enveloping them. Shadows cloaked their retreat as the cave's cool embrace welcomed them. Their chests heaved, drawing in the musty air as they leaned against the jagged walls for support.

"Safe," Elena muttered, her bow slipping from her grasp.

"Joe..." Jabor’s voice caught.

"Rest, but keep your ears open," Cal instructed, his authority born of battles past.

Together, they sank to the ground, their bodies protesting every movement. Exhaustion claimed them, but their spirits remained broken, united in their loss and their resolve to continue.

The chill of the cavern seeped into their bones as they collapsed, a heavy thud marking each body's surrender to fatigue. Elena's breaths came in ragged gasps, her violet eyes dim with the weight of the battle just survived.

"Joe," she whispered, her voice barely above the sound of dripping water.

Jaxon's hands clenched into fists, the knuckles white—a stark contrast to the dirt and blood that marred his skin. Jabor sat beside him, silent, the bravado stripped away by the rawness of their reality.

"Should've been me," Jaxon's voice was a growl, his gaze fixed on the darkened recesses of their sanctuary.

Jabor stared at him, not disagreeing.

"Wasn't," Cal said, the words like gravel. "Joe knew the risks of your scheme."

"Doesn't make it right," Elena replied, her fingers tracing a gash along her arm.

They drew closer, their bodies forming a weary circle amid the shadows. Their shared silence spoke volumes of their bond, tighter with loss. Eyes met, held, then shifted away—each lost in their own reflection of Joe's final moments.

"Remember him as he was," Elena’s command cut through the quiet, "Strong. Fearless."

"Annoyingly innocent," Jaxon added, a faint smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth.

"Relentlessly loyal," Jabor chimed in, his voice thick.

Echoes of their chuckles filled the cavern as Jabor began sharing memories of Joe.

"Remember when he convinced the crypto witch to trade her potions for a bag of worthless rocks?" Jabor chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with sadness. “I really think he thought they were treasures. Poor witch probably felt pity for him.”

There was a shared laugh around the circle, even Jaxon managed a brief smile.

"Or when he ate that gorgon fruit on a dare and couldn’t stop belching fire for hours?" Jabor reminded them, a faint smile illuminating his solemn face.

Jaxon finally spoke up, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. "How about when he single-handedly finished off that band of Skullcrushers?"

"Then celebrated with an entire keg of dwarf brew?" Jabor added, chuckling despite himself.

A pang of sorrow swept through them, but they continued, knowing that honoring Joe meant remembering him in all his glory and foolishness.

Grief seeped into their laughing, bitter like poison in sweet wine. Jaxon and Jabor shared. The memory game became an exercise in endurance; each remembrance a stab of pain that was somehow soothing. In this collective remembrance, they found real catharsis.

The air in the cavern seemed to lighten at that, chuckled ringing through the stalactites. But then, as quickly as it had come, it left. Again they were surrounded by silence.

Jaxon's chest heaved, his breaths a ragged counterpoint to the stillness. He locked eyes with Cal, and in that gaze, an understanding passed between them—a silent pact forged in the heat of loss.

"Joe would've hated this, us, just sitting here," Jaxon muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand swept across the air, a gesture encompassing their grim surroundings.

From the darkness, a subtle rustling emerged, growing closer. A slender form slithered into the dim light—their companion Jobe, unassuming yet ever-present. It approached Jaxon and Jabor, its tongue flicking the air, tasting their sorrow.

Jaxon knelt, extending a hand. Jobe coiled around his arm, its scales cool and smooth—a contrast to the heated skin. Jabor reached out too, allowing the creature to entwine with him. They shared a look, the bond with Jobe a small comfort, a reminder of life persisting amidst grief.

"Even Jobe knows," Jaxon said, tears forming in his eyes.