By evening, the decisions had already taken shape.
Mokai remained in the settlement and began with the plants. He confirmed and summarized Ashen's records, checking growth rates, cross-compatibility between different herbs, and energy yields, comparing them against known baselines from Pantax and other charted worlds. Nothing was new in name. Everything was excessive in result.
Between observations, he worked through Ashen's documents. They spoke of yields, planting areas, and cultivation methods. There was no speculation, no experimentation. Ashen had not been testing the limits of the land - he had simply been harvesting it. After identifying what worked here, he scaled it.
Fengyu's work was less tidy. He returned to the poachers' outpost.
Now under the Temple's control, the place felt smaller, its wilderness reduced, like a frontier suddenly tamed by rules.
He inspected the storage hut at the back of the gorge where the beasts had once been kept. The hut was mostly empty – only the white fox was still there.
The cages were built to different specifications - height, spacing, reinforcement - each clearly matched to a particular kind of creature. He went through the feeding and handling notes, surprised that such records had been kept at all in a place like this. The fox was identified as a mist-fox, a Veylith, with a warning against prolonged eye contact.
He questioned Karsh. After their escape through the gates, Karsh anticipated the business could be disturbed in the future so they emptied the storage and tried to sell as quick as they could. The storage was only a temporary holding point.
Then he asked the handlers and remaining men. About their routines, ways and places where they hunted. The answers aligned more or less.
Certain beasts were taken only at dusk, along the sun-warmed slopes where the heat rose from the stone. Others were hunted once the mist thickened, deeper in the forests where visibility collapsed and sound carried poorly. Riverbeds yielded a different kind - creatures drawn to running water and smooth rock, taken only after nightfall. Some could be approached from downwind; others tolerated no scent at all and required absolute stillness. There were strict rules about eye contact, about exposed light, about how long a hunt could last before a creature turned erratic or violent.
It was not chance. It was accumulated knowledge, gathered in the field and refined over time.
It also provided him with information of how much of the terrain had been scouted and explored. He painstakingly created a map of their hunting areas.
Fengyu compared the hunters' routines with the entries in the bestiary Seline had given him. The names matched – clearly to get the right price the poachers needed the right name. The descriptions matched the sketches too. The bestiary spoke in symbols and moral notes, while the hunters tested the reality. Where the bestiary cautioned to approach an Isharael during "hours of purity," the hunters simply said: dawn, upwind, no sudden movement. Where another creature was described as "a guardian of flowing paths," the practical wisdom marked: riverbeds after dark; avoid reflections.
Fengyu found it both funny and unsettling - how different the hunters' notes were from the bestiary, and yet how they matched perfectly. Even more shocking was how easily he had accepted the myths as reality.
He thought of the egg he had touched, the strange shimmer clinging to his skin… the little-beast-bracelet. None of this - not the handling schedules, not the feeding logs, not the careful tracking of every beast - mentioned how these creatures came to be. None mentioned… an egg.
For a moment, he allowed himself to consider the implications. Was what that then? He searched the hut thoroughly, but did not found any traces of more eggs or any remains.
He could not ask the handlers directly about his experience – mentioning it would sound like madness. Still, the creatures were animals, and animals reproduced somehow.
He approached Karsh, choosing his words carefully. "These creatures… do you ever try to breed them? Not just catch and sell - I mean, keep them in the long term, raise them?"
Karsh blinked, then chuckled. "Breed them? Who has the patience for that? They're wild. Dangerous. Even the small ones… aren't… that predictable."
Mirok snorted. "And even if you tried, you'd need a lifetime of learning. Most of these beasts don't live comfortably in captivity to… you know, make more. Besides the Guild has a never satisfied demand… Why bother?"
"And the Guild… Brug - how did they handle these creatures?"
Karsh shook his head. "We don't deal with them. Just Ashen. We see the crates go out - that's the end of it. Fine by me. Master Brug isn't the approachable type. In this business, more middlemen is actually smart. Safer if something blows up. The less you know, the longer you live."
Fengyu sat for a long time, going over his notes, the bestiary, and the map of the hunting grounds. Karsh and Mirok had explained the hunting, the handling, the deliveries - but the egg was still missing from the story. A lie? Or was it possible that even these men didn't know about it? And yet… it had been there, in their hut. Had they collected something they hadn't understood? But then why did they never mention it?
In the end, he set the thought aside and gathered his notes. He sought out Joy, hoping the seer could shed some light on the life of these beasts - or at least point him in the right direction.
Master Kaelji had already returned to the gates, drawn back to what interested him most. Master Lira had gone on to Mytharok to report the mission and prepare for the inevitable confrontation with the Guild, leaving the practical work behind. Joy had accompanied them to the gates, then returned to the settlement.
After hearing Fengyu out, he only shook his head. "Hunters track what they can see - where they feed, when they move, how they behave. But these creatures… they don't follow ordinary biological rules."
"You could say they 'emerge' where conditions favour them. Certain currents of energy… in certain places in the world they accumulate. Every significant concentration of spiritual energy seeks a form. They are manifestations. Thoughts given shape, emotions crystallized, fragments of dreams that escaped into our world. The sorrow of dying on the remote battlefield becomes a whisper-wolf, Glythar. The collective ambition of a rising empire coalesces into a sun-stag, Pyrelith. Residue left behind by events the world's fabric hasn't fully absorbed."
"So in the end, they are not animals?", asked Fengyu.
And they are not lying eggs…
Joy shrugged. "Not in the sense we usually mean. They look like animals, and we treat them as animals."
"But they are not," insisted Fengyu.
"That is the question of terminology. As matters stand, they are considered animals," answered Joy calmly.
"Is there any record? Of what is the source of individual kind of beast?" Fengyu did not give up. He did not remember the bestiary mentioning that.
Joy considered him for a moment. "The examples I gave… they're just legends, where the appearance of a beast became woven into local folk tale, a symbol of something the people wanted to believe. On the scientific level, we don't exactly know, how it happens, but there are theories."
He paused.
"If this interests you, you should continue your studies in the Temple when you have the chance. The most widely accepted hypothesis connects beast formation to energy layering."
"Tharos' legend again?"
Joy allowed himself a thin smile.
"Tomorrow we'll return to the settlement and compile everything we've gathered. The Guild negotiations will require it. We need a complete asset ledger."
"Asset ledger?"
"Yes. Anticipation is leverage." He tilted his head. "And speaking of assets - what about the amplifier you took from Ashen? Do you want to learn how to use a focus?"
Fengyu reached inside his robes and drew the pendant out. The spiral knot caught the low sunlight, its metal warming as it shimmered faintly. He studied it for a moment before turning to Joy.
Joy smiled, understandingly.
"It's a powerful tool," he said. "Someone influential - or very rich – must have provided it." He took it briefly, weighing it in his palm. "They chose well. In Firme, it's exceptionally useful."
Fengyu stayed silent, waiting for Joy to continue.
"It doesn't give you power," Joy handed the pedant back, "but it gives you control. It gathers the energy around, aligns it, and makes it easier to shape. It compensates for limited control or training of the wielder. For Ashen, it is precious."
"I understand how it compensates for limited training," Fengyu said slowly. "Firme seems to bleed energy into everything. In those herb fields, Ashen was standing in a reservoir. He used the focus to draw on what the plants had accumulated."
"It's a very specific usage," Fengyu continued. "Are there many places like Firme? Is that why this artifact was created?"
"Not exactly," Joy replied. "Here, the plants provided the power - but a focus doesn't care where it draws from, only that something is there to draw from."
"The first focuses weren't made for power," Joy continued. "They were made for recovery."
Fengyu looked up.
"When a mage was injured, exhausted, or permanently impaired, they sometimes couldn't rely on their own reserves anymore. A focus allowed them to draw on external energy - but only with consent. Other mages would anchor a transfer. Shared strain, shared burden."
"So it was cooperative," Fengyu said.
"But energy doesn't belong only to mages," Joy continued calmly. "Plants, animals, unaware people possess life force — usually in very small amounts. Insignificant on their own. But unlike trained mages, they cannot refuse. The focus was modified – to be able to tap into the smallest threads of that life force. From there," Joy went on, "others learned to use it opportunistically - in forests, in cities, even in crowds. Anywhere density replaced consent."
"Just like that it became a dark object," murmured Fengyu.
Joy gave a faint, almost wry smile. "Not inherently dark. The focus is a tool. It's the intent of the user that makes it dangerous."
Fengyu's fingers tightened around the pendant. The metal felt heavier now. "So… if it draws from anything around me, how do I control it? Can I control from where it draws? Not just direct it?"
"Yes, you can, but it's more difficult." Joy looked around the outpost. "We shouldn't continue here," he said. "The forest around is a better place."
They moved out of the outpost and into the surrounding forest.
Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy, catching motes of dust and giving the impression that the undergrowth itself was alive with faint, shifting threads of light.
Joy stopped at a small clearing, a quiet pocket where the canopy opened just enough to let slanted shafts of sunlight spill across the ground. The soil was soft, covered in a carpet of fallen needles and leaves, faintly damp from an earlier mist. Around the edges, young saplings of leafy trees stretched toward the light, their thin branches still flexible and trembling in the breeze. Here and there, sturdier pines rose taller, their dark green needles forming a patchwork of shadow and sun. Ferns clustered in the shadier corners, their fronds unfurling delicately, glistening with droplets that caught the light like scattered gems.
A narrow stream ran through the centre of the clearing, its water clear and bubbling over smooth stones, reflecting the dappled sunlight in tiny flickers. The gentle trickle added a soft, constant melody to the quiet of the forest.
"This will do," he said, reaching his hand towards Fengyu for the pedant. He placed it on Joy's hand, who put it around his neck.
Then, Joy crouched and touched the forest floor, letting his fingers linger over a bed of ferns. A subtle glow ran along his hands, tiny threads of light crawling up his arms toward the spiral pendant. "See this? That's not mine. It belongs to the plants. The focus can draw it, concentrate it, even shape it, but it always flows from the source. With this small amount of simple life force, it is usually not visible. I make it visible on purpose to show it to you."
Joy looked up at Fengyu. "Now, to use the pendant, you must first let it connect to you." He held it out, the spiral catching the dappled sunlight through the canopy. "Take it in your hand, feel the weight. Don't think of it as forcing energy out. Think of it as inviting energy in."
Fengyu reached forward, hesitating only a moment before wrapping his fingers around the cool spiral. A faint warmth pulsed through his palm, almost like a heartbeat.
"Now let it feel the surroundings," Joy instructed. "Focus on what's immediately around you - the soil, the plants, the faint threads of life moving through the air."
Fengyu closed his eyes and let his awareness stretch into the forest. Almost imperceptibly, he felt the tiny threads Joy had shown him - vibrations of life, faint and tentative, weaving through the ferns, the moss, even the air itself. The pendant hummed softly in his hand.
"Now, once you sense it, you can begin to shape it. Start small. Bend a single thread of energy - just enough to lift it off the fern and guide it along your palm."
He stepped back, giving Fengyu room to experiment.
Fengyu squinted his eyes, trying to sense the faint threads Joy had shown him. He focused on a single fern, tracing the delicate glow along its fronds - but the moment he thought he had it, the filament wavered and slipped away.
Panicking slightly, he adjusted his grip too sharply, and instead of the fern, a thread of energy leapt from a nearby sapling. The leaves shivered, a faint shimmer running along the bark like sunlight caught in water. A branch twitched, responding to his unsteady tug, a few leaves lifted from the crown and almost immediately they withered, curling at the edges before letting go. They drifted down slowly, twisting in the sunbeams seeping through the canopy, until they settled softly on the forest floor, a quiet testimony to his clumsy attempt.
"Well," murmured Joy, "it is a tricky part. As if the energy protects itself, being flimsy or hiding behind other threads. That is why so many resolves to blanket coverage. You have plenty of time, try again."
Fengyu took a deep breath, forcing his hands to steady. He crouched lower, letting the cool dampness of the forest floor seep through his robes, listening to the gentle murmur of the stream.
He let his senses stretch, feeling for the delicate threads of energy weaving through the leaves and soil. He thought carefully, willing himself to follow the subtle currents.
And yet, despite his concentration, he misjudged - and a thread leapt from a nearby pine instead. Its needles quivered, the bark shimmering faintly.
"It's okay, you may work on that part again," said Joy calmly. "By now, keep it. Now try to shake it gently, move it toward the stream. Feel how it flows."
Fengyu adjusted his hands cautiously, letting the thread of energy slide along the spiral of the pedant. The pine's needles trembled, shimmering in the lines of light as if resisting him. He willed it gently, thinking less of force and more of direction, feeling the subtle tug of the life force beneath his fingers.
The thread moved like water, following his guidance with a hesitant grace. A few stray needles lifted and hovered for a moment, glinting in the sunlight, before settling softly on the forest floor. The stream gurgled beside them, and as the faint shimmer of energy seeped into the water, a thin veil of mist rose from its surface. Sunlight struck the droplets, and for a brief moment, a delicate rainbow arced across the flowing water, bending and twisting like liquid colour, a quiet, magical testimony to his touch.
"Interesting," commented Joy, watching the rainbow shimmer over the stream. "I was expecting something more… like a strike against the water, splashing, crashing, like energy hitting with intent… But you… created a rainbow. What were you thinking about?"
Fengyu hesitated, then admitted, "I wanted it to become something beautiful."
Joy gave a faint smile, almost wry. "Beauty is fine. Try again, try commanding it with certainty - let it hit, let it strike, let it splash."
Fengyu took a deep breath, gathering the thread of energy again. He felt its hesitant pull, the subtle shimmer along the pine needles, and guided it toward the stream. This time, he tried to follow Joy's instructions - commanding, decisive, almost harsh. The thread surged forward, striking the water with a sharp ripple. Droplets leapt into the air, catching the light like tiny stars before splashing back into the stream.
And yet, in his heart, doubt lingered. He didn't like to take the energy of this serene clearing just to make it crash and splatter. Something about forcing it here felt… wrong.
Over the next hours, Fengyu repeated the motions: seizing threads from ferns, saplings, even stray grasses, then guiding them to strike a patch of earth, a small pile of leaves, a sunlit stream. Each attempt refined his attention, his sense of the flow, and his ability to measure the force of the strike.
Joy watched silently, occasionally offering correction.
By the end of the day, Fengyu could select a thread at will, move it along the precise path he intended, and strike with the exact amount of force he desired.