The sun hung low, painting the sky and clouds in ember. High above, a weaver's bird glided, watching the travelers below. Peter rode at a lazy march, bored, a wheat stem hanging from his mouth. Beside him, Jonathan glanced back at the wagon where Ren and Shin were talking.
"Does he not resemble Nate?" Jonathan asked.
Peter's expression shifted. He looked at Ren, and for a second that other face overlaid the boy's. "Maybe a little," he said, then faced forward again in silence.
On the wagon bench, Bjorn steered with his usual calm as the younger ones talked beside him. He scratched his thick beard and let out a slow sigh.
"Akrion , a red mysterious energy that flows through the human body. No one really knows its origins , but it's the only reason humanity has survived this long. It bends reality, lets humans do things once thought impossible for our kind. We use it to push beyond our limits—but only through hardship." Shin was saying , and Ren's pupils were wide with fascination.
"I want to test something," Shin added. "Can you see this?"
He channeled Akrion into his hand. Red energy wrapped around his fingers like heatless flame. Ren squinted… and saw only Shin's hand.
"No," Ren said, disappointment creeping into his voice.
"I suspected as much," Shin replied. "Your body doesn't have a single shred of Akrion. You can't even sense it."
Bjorn, hearing that, turned sharply and stared at Ren, then nudged Shin with his elbow.
"Yeah, I know," Shin said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Ren watched them, confused.
"Ren," Shin asked, "how are you this strong without using Akrion—and without even knowing it exists? You never heard people talk about it?"
Ren lowered his head, sadness and frustration mixing on his face. "I lived my whole life in the forests of the Steel Mountains, on the edge of the Northern Empire's borders. There was a small isolated village there. I used to visit them. Life in the forest felt less lonely with those people." He paused. "As the years passed, they left. The village emptied. I couldn't leave the forest, so I stayed."
"But why?" Shin asked.
"I lived there with my mother," Ren said quietly. "She's buried there. I couldn't leave her alone on those mountains. As for my strength, I don't really know. I used to think everyone had it. My mother was also this strong. I was wrong. It made me feel… different, at first. But when I met the chimeras, I realized the world is much more terrifying than I thought."
Bjorn held the reins with one hand and wrapped the other arm around Ren's shoulders, pulling him into a gentle one‑armed hug and patting his back.
Up ahead, Peter whistled. "We're close," he called, pointing to the tip of a watchtower jutting above the trees.
They reached it soon after—a tall cylinder of stone, thirty meters high and twelve across, with a single door at its base. As they dismounted, the door swung open and a woman stepped out.
"Hello. My name is Irene, guardian weaver of the 131st Watchtower. I hope you didn't encounter any—"
Shin was already walking toward her, speaking low before she could finish. Ren watched, curious, but couldn't hear the words. Irene nodded. "I'll get on it immediately, but it will take some time."
Shin dipped his head in agreement.
"The first floor is ready," Irene added. "The stable is small, but you can let your horses rest there." She pointed around the tower and went back inside.
Shin turned to the others. "Jonathan,Peter take the horses . We'll empty the wagon."
A couple of hours later, Peter snored on a lower bunk, sprawled on the rough wooden frame. Above him, Ren lay awake. Across the narrow room, Lili slept on another lower bed while Shin stared at the ceiling from the one above.
By the fireplace, Jonathan and Bjorn finished cooking. They called the others over. Ren and Shin climbed down, and the four of them ate warm bread with soup thick with bird meat. Ren devoured his first bowl, then a second. Jonathan chuckled and slid his own bowl across; Ren emptied that too before Jonathan finally stood up and headed for bed.
Irene appeared in the doorway and cleared her throat. Shin looked up and rose. "And?"
"I found them," she said. "Come with me."
Shin called Ren and followed her out. Jonathan stayed where he was on his bunk, staring at the dark ceiling, sleep refusing to come.
Irene led them through the forest with a torch in hand, Shin and Ren following. Ren had no idea where they were going. Several hundred meters from the watchtower she stopped at a fallen tree overgrown with thick brush and pointed the torch toward the bushes.
Shin and Ren stepped closer. Hidden beneath thin tangles of vine, something caught the light. They pushed aside the greenery and uncovered two dry corpses locked in an embrace, time's passage plain in the shriveled flesh and faded cloth.
Ren stared at their clothes. Recognition hit. They were the village boys Gorann had sent to carry a message and report the fortress incident. He lifted his head and saw the watchtower's silhouette above the trees, realizing they had nearly made it there on foot, through snow and cold.
"Do you remember their names?" Shin asked.
Ren's mind drifted back to a village fireplace, to laughter and steam rising from boiled potatoes. He smiled faintly as the memory of them introducing themselves while laughing and dancing . "Albert and Tom. Best potato farmers in Maarath."
Shin crouched to inspect their bodies. "No wounds. Looks like they collapsed on their own. Probably died from the cold," he said softly. "But they did well. We'll honor them uppon arrival ." He stepped back and touched his torch to the brush, setting it alight and burning their remains.
Jonathan wandered in the dark outside, muttering to himself. He stumbled into the stable. "No, no… it's not real," he whispered, as if arguing with something only he could see. He scooped water from a bucket and splashed his face. The cold bit hard enough to clear his head.
He walked back to the tower and began stacking wood into a proper fire. Then he ducked inside and re‑emerged carrying a small barrel of mead, sat with his back to the tower entrance, and stared into the flames.
Shin and Irene returned with Ren, who now held the torch, walking ahead to light the path. Irene's voice trembled as she spoke. The winter had been too harsh, she said, and maybe it was her fault—she had stayed in the warm tower while those two boys froze outside. Shin shook his head. "Staying at your post was the right choice. It's not your fault," he told her.
They reached the tower and found Jonathan sitting by the fire, drinking alone. Ren jogged ahead. "Hey, Jonathan," he said with a small smile.
Jonathan just stared at him, face empty.
"You couldn't sleep, huh?" Shin asked.
Jonathan lifted his mug in silent agreement. Shin and Ren joined him. Irene slipped inside the tower and closed the door behind her.
Peter staggered out a moment later, yawning. "So you're hiding from me, you rascals. Pour me a drink," he said, grinning as he dropped down beside them. Laughter passed around the circle.
Moments later, Bjorn arrived with Lili, newly awake, walking beside him. She stepped up to Jonathan and Peter. "Sorry, guys. I almost hurt you," she said, voice small.
Peter smiled and passed her a mug. Bjorn smiled too and sank down next to Ren as the circle closed.
Ren watched the party's easy harmony. Shin asked, "What do you think? Want to join us?"
"I don't even know what you guys do," Ren said.
"We seek strength," Shin replied. "To reach our goals, wherever hardship takes us. It's the journey, not the destination." He studied Ren. "What is your goal, Ren?"
Ren's smile faded. The reason he'd left the forest surfaced. "Revenge," he said.
Shin's smile vanished as well. He set a hand on Ren's shoulder. "Revenge it is."
He stood, and one by one the others rose with him. Ren stared for a moment, then got to his feet as well.
"Welcome, Ren, to the Southern Wind," Shin said.
Everyone raised their cups and shouted together. They stood in a loose ring, faces tired but smiling.
Whoosh.
A shadow formed behind Jonathan.
They were still smiling when their eyes widened, the expressions draining in slow motion. Jonathan's smile faltered as he saw their gazes shift to a point just behind him. The moment stretched thin, as if time itself were holding its breath.
A man floated there, wearing all black, hovering in midair. A lion half‑mask covered part of his face; the rest was swallowed in darkness, except for two crimson, glowing eyes. His hand rose behind Jonathan's head.
Boom.
The sound and the horror hit together. Jonathan's head exploded, replaced in an instant by a floating metal cube where his skull had been. Blood sprayed across the circle. The figure hung there, staring at them with those burning red eyes.
Whoosh.
He vanished.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Jonathan's headless body toppled forward. Their eyes were still fixed at the height where his face had been.
They jolted back to themselves as blood poured into the fire, hissing and smothering the flames. Lili screamed and fell to her knees, sobbing. Shin's hand flew to his sword, half an instant from drawing—then stopped. He did not move.
Everyone else only stared at the body.
Bjorn stepped forward at last, gathered the wailing Lili into his arms, and carried her inside the tower, her cries echoing behind them.