Brindle watched Kline and the River Guardian stare each other down. Despite being grossly underpowered, Kline didn’t back down, and he wouldn’t hesitate to attack.

Yet Kline was not hostile, and the River Guardian wasn’t, either. There was an agreement between them, a statement that hostility may be destined but not for personal or petty or emotional reasons. It was the natural order. The nature of life.

Oniron.

That’s what the gods called it—Oniron—a mutual acknowledgment that one’s opponent does not bear a grudge or disdain.

Kline would fight to protect Mira; the River Guardian would fight to protect its forest. Neither blamed nor disdained each other. It was just the natural order—the destined way.

The River Guardian finally spoke.

If we must, we will fight—but the time hasn’t come, she said. If I find your master’s motives impure, then I will fight you first.

Kline ignored the guardian’s snub and nodded, walking toward Mira—preparing to fight if necessary. It was written in his body language, sizing the River Guardian up, looking at its legs, examining its back. On the River Guardian's part, she didn't treat it as a snub or as a threat. She asked him to wait, so she exercised patience.

It didn’t take them long to reach Arithiel Pond, which was now a ghost yard of empty black-striped lignan nests the size of boulders.

Kline cut them down with Phantom Claws, sending them flying to the ground, exploding like water gourds, spewing sickly sweet ooze, clouded liquid, and combs full of eggs from bugs not yet born. The River Guardian smashed the pieces underfoot, using a frost spell to freeze the embryos and a shatter spell to break them into dust.

No trace.

Once they finished, they moved to the edge of the pond, staring into the clouded waters. The area was filled with souls, bubbling like a cauldron, wisping with water that was rotating hypnotically. In the center of it was Brindle’s prospective pupil, creating a soul core.

Brindle and Kline and the River Guardian all waited—

—waited for Mira to return to dry land.

2.

I was unsure how much time had passed since I started developing my soul core. Hours? Days? I wasn’t even underwater anymore. I had perched myself on a foggy rock in the center, like some wraithish mermaid, developing my core, but I didn’t remember it. I was just chanting, following instructions, then I suddenly felt the breeze and knew I was breathing normally—

—that increased my core building speed immensely.

Creating a soul core was easier than threading my normal core. The pattern was far simpler, and the sensations felt very natural. It was so smooth that I anticipated it getting harder when Yakana unmerged from me—but then I realized that he never merged, to begin with.

That’s when I questioned if he taught me how to do things correctly—or if I was just lazy and complacent. I closed my eyes and focused on the chant, focusing deeper, trying to understand it. Soon, I could feel a sharp contrast.

I even tried to call apokálypsis, but it didn’t work because souls weren’t mana. That said, I focused on that feeling and tried to do the same with souls.

It led to some strange sensations, and I panicked, feeling like I could do the wrong thing and mess up my core. But at one point, it clicked, and I felt something come together. It felt natural and good and right, so I continued on.

Minutes melded with hours, hours melded with unknown passages of time.

At some point, I cried out and called to Kline, only to hear him meow in a way that said, It’s okay. It was soothing, full of confidence—no fear or anxiety. Then I drifted back asleep, feeling my core building.

I “awoke” to the sound of birds chirping and strange bugs. I felt my neck sunburnt, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a bright white stack of trees that blinded me.

“Wha…?” I turned and looked around, searching for Kline. I saw a flash of orange through the light fog, and my heart jumped for joy—then I saw the silhouette of a train of a creature, an anteater in appearance with centipede-like limbs next to him, and all I could think was, Hostage.

“K-Kline…”

Kline meowed reassuringly, leaving me confused. I put my legs in the water, preparing to swim and prostrate, but he meowed with a sharper tone, warning me off.

The River Guardian scoffed and snorted at him, but Kline didn’t flinch away for some strange reason. There was also something else strange. Kline was… larger.

No, that wasn’t it. Kline’s silhouette was as small as it always was, but there was a second outline that was the size of a mountain lion around him, confusing me. The River Guardian was the same. Around its gigantic form was an even larger outline, shimmering like a mirage, but… there was something wrong with it.

It’s hard to explain what it was like, but it felt deformed at a glance, like a beach ball that had been stabbed and hadn’t quite lost its shape but was slowly collapsing in on itself.

“You’re hurt…” I whispered.

Silence human.

A drum beat of a voice—female and haunting—entered my mind, followed by the sound of Kline hissing at the River Guardian. She scoffed at him and took a step forward, walking right into the fog, making Kline howl and growl, jumping to the edge of the fog and pulling back, yowling at me as the River Guardian entered the water.

Run!

That’s what he was saying, but I was too entranced and terrified for the centipede-like creature to enter the water, surfacing like the Lochness monster as it moved through the fog.

“I-I’m sorry…” I said, walking backward, preparing to swim away. “I-I didn’t mean to cut your plant. I was just trying to survive.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Everyone seeks to survive, she replied. Yet eating the cubs of a beast incurs wrath, stealing begets punishment—and disrupting the balance warrants death.

I turned around, wondering how fast I could run. Probably fast enough to get a head start, but not much more than that. Yet I didn’t.

Yakana… I pleaded. He told me to be here. A god asked me to provide repentance. I needed to do this. So I lowered myself slowly, trembling, voice shaking.

“I-I was wrong. I-If I didn’t ask to be sent to a forest, I wouldn’t have been in a position to—”

You do not believe your own words, she sneered, shaking her fur. Kline started howling. Why would you lie to my face? Are you not prideful enough to own your decisions?

I gripped the jagged rocks, feeling an intense desire to leave after that question.

“Lie…?” I chuckled, pressing my lips tight and taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I am lying.” The River Guardian took another step, but I continued. “I didn’t ask to come here. All I wanted to do was study plants and live in nature!”

She stopped stepping forward, staring at me from the mist, towering above me—listening.

“I just wanted to garden and grow plants and live my life. But a bunch of crazed gods ripped my life away, destroyed my planet, and when I told them I wanted to live in nature and avoid killing people, they sent me here!” My knuckles whitened on the rocks, fingers hot and stinging as I released my anger. “And while I’ve accepted my short sightedness, and acknowledged the role I played in landing in this forest, I refuse to accept fault for people kidnapping me! For people destroying my planet! For thrusting me into a world where strength and killing and immortality go hand in hand! So yeah. While I understand the depth of my wrong and feel remorse for disrupting nature, I can’t possibly feel true remorse…”

The River Guardian fell still, watching me with its glassy eyes, extra-black silhouettes in the milky fog. She seemed contemplative, thinking deeply.

And of this… stunt? Do you feel as little remorse? For the hundreds of beasts, these bugs killed after you… drove them mad?

I propped my forearm against a rock so I could cup my face. I was pissed off. I ridded this place of a pest, doing what no other beast could, and now I was being blamed for a tragedy.

So no? she asked pointedly.

I shook my head. “A god told me to steal that plant. Another god told me to kill these bugs as recompense.”

The River Guardian narrowed its eyes. Which gods?

“The Guide didn’t say. But I know the one that told me to kill these bugs was a soulmancer god.” [1]

River Guardian’s demeanor suddenly shifted. making it cock its head and back up a few steps, shifting like a rolling wave.

Brindle? she whispered.

My eyes widened, and my heart rapped against my ribcage. I had heard that name many times.

“Wait… Brindle is a soulmancer?” I asked.

The River Guardian narrowed her eyes. How do you know Brindle?

“He… authors all my books,” I said, referring to what Lithco taught me while researching solutions for these quests. “I didn’t know how to kill the lignan bugs because he hadn’t done it. I… have also met Yakana. I believe they had a relationship.”

The River Guardian’s voice turned feral. How do you know that name?

I stumbled back. “Whose name?”

Yakana!

“I… was just speaking to him!”

Lies! The River Guardian rushed forward, water splashing in chopping waves as Kline howled. In an instant, I saw its anteater snout explode from the fog, leaving churning circles as it passed by me.

I trembled as I looked to the side and saw its long snout. It was as tall as my body, and it was split down the length like a crocodile, and even the breath escaping my side pushed my wet hair back. I slowly turned and saw a huge glassy eye the size of a beach ball staring down at me, gold with slit pupils—anger burning within. Kline howled on.

“I-It’s true…” I stammered. “I’ve spoken to him twice. He helped me develop my cores.”

The River Guardian snorted, training her eyes on my chest and then my collarbone—looking toward my spine. The more she looked, the more confused she became, likely seeing my cores.

You? she asked. Why would Yakana choose you as a guardian?

“I… what? He never asked me to be a guardian.”

Yakana does not ask. Yakana does not decide. Yakana merely sees and acts upon the will of the forest.

“Okay…?” I said slowly, frustrated by the confusion I was experiencing.

Tell me, human, the River Guardian said. Do you wish to protect this forest?

I could feel her scorching eye burrowing into me, begging me to lie so she could swipe me away.

“I love nature,” I said. “And I try to preserve it. But… I don’t want to make it my job.”

The River Guardian’s mouth curved into a wicked sneer, curved like a scythe—damning as a guillotine. Of course not. Your kind only takes. Your kind only ruins. I’m appalled by this decision.

I kept silent, trying to prevent things from getting worse.

She glanced at me one last time before turning upriver. You have erred but sought atonement. That is enough. I’ll let Yakana’s guidance be proof of your innocence. And Brindle… she paused but opted not to finish her statement, wading through the water, uphill against the tide.

I heaved a breath of relief, the pump of my pounding heart making me weak. I didn’t understand how stressed I was until the stress faded; once she started walking, I felt like I could collapse on my knees.

Is it over? I silently asked.

I looked up and found it wasn’t a dream. Her silhouette had darkened in the fog, showing the distance. It was over, but… I felt it shouldn’t have been. The deformity in her greater outline was even more pronounced, and I was strangely certain it was her soul.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the soul repair elixir—only half drank—and extended my arm, opening my mouth as if to say, Take this. It will help. but I was afraid to anger her again. I doubted she would accept it from me, let alone drink a strange liquid from a human she expressly didn’t trust.

For whatever reason, I felt sad to watch her go and wanted to step in. Yet I didn’t. I put the elixir back in my pocket hesitantly and thought, I’ll check in on her later… before turning back to Kline, whose silhouette was pacing back and forth on shore. Poor little guy… I’m coming. There was just one last thing to do.

I entered the water, submerging myself. Thank you, Yakana, I said, but got no reply. Then I swam to shore, emerging like a dilapidated swamp monster as my little warrior yowled and jumped back and forth, greeting me. The moment I left the fog, he bounded into my chest. I caught him, laughing and crying, surprised and grateful and relieved to be alive, holding him tight and celebrating. For the first time, he didn’t protest. He just rubbed his face on me and cried out.

“I love you, Kline,” I said.

Kline meowed and rubbed on my cheek.

Suddenly, I got three notifications. One I expected, one that pissed me off—and one that stunned me and set my heart ablaze.