The two headed out of the park and down the road, Raya still lost in thought. The memory of that sunlit garden clung to her, a vivid remnant of a life that now felt worlds away. Her steps felt slow, deliberate, as though she were wading through time itself.
"Do you really think finding one's way will be as fun as it's thought to be?" she asked quietly, almost to herself.
Koby glanced over at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm sure you'll find a way to make it fun. Because you are fun, Raynell Lockwood."
He stretched out his palm. She took it without hesitation. Their fingers intertwined, warm and familiar, as they crossed the road together. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears that she thought it might burst—a wild, hopeful rhythm that drowned out the sounds of passing cars and distant campus chatter.
And then, violently, she faded back into reality.
The pain hit her, sudden and brutal.
Lyrielle was already sending streams of pure, concentrated aura through her energy pathways, and it burned. It felt like molten wire was being threaded through her veins, searing and relentless. Raya gasped, her body rigid. She immediately activated her healing spell—a soft, green-tinged glow that wrapped around her skin—easing the agony for a few fleeting seconds.
But the pain reared back, stronger.
It intensified with each passing moment, a deep, grinding ache that seemed to hollow her out from within. The longer they worked, the worse it became. Raya's knuckles were white where she gripped her knees, sweat beading along her brow and soaking into the fabric of her tunic. Her breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps. For the first time since agreeing, a treacherous thought slithered in: I can't do this. I should give up.
"Lyrielle," she cried out, her voice strained and trembling. "I don't think I can handle this."
"Stay strong, Raynell. We're almost there. Hold steady," Lyrielle urged, her own voice tight with concentration.
"I can't! I can't!" Raya screamed, her body convulsing as she tried to twist free from Lyrelle's grasp. "Make it stop, please!"
Left with no other choice, Lyrielle summoned thick, sturdy vines from the stone floor itself. They slithered upward, coiling around Raya's wrists and ankles, holding her firmly in place. At the same time, a powerful surge of healing energy pulsed through the vines and into Raya's body—cool where the aura was hot, steady where she felt scattered.
"Remember your happy place, Raya," Lyrelle said firmly, her voice cutting through the haze of pain. "You want to be strong. So fight for it."
Hearing those words, Raya drew in one shuddering, deep breath. With the last grit of strength she possessed, she held on.
She felt it then—a wave of pure, warm aura circulating through her body, pulsing with her own heartbeat. It didn't hurt less, but it felt different—like a storm contained, a power recognized.
She screamed again, raw and guttural, but she did not let go. I want to fight, she thought fiercely. For once, I will be useful. Even if it kills me.
Rowan sat at the same tree trunk he had been occupying for hours, his posture relaxed but alert. Beside him, Axle moved through a series of handstand push-ups, his body steady even on the uneven forest floor. The night was fully settled now, dark and deep, broken only by the gentle, eerie glow of bioluminescent fungi and hanging moss. The howling of the Vharrows had faded into an uneasy silence.
"Shouldn't we check on them?" Axle asked, dropping smoothly to his feet and wiping his hands on his trousers.
"Nope," Rowan replied without looking up. He was whittling a piece of twig into a sharpened stake, testing its point with his thumb.
"What if they're in serious danger?"
There was no reply. Rowan continued his work, the sound of his blade against wood rhythmic and calm.
"I'm going to check—"
"Don't take a step." Rowan's warning was low, but it carried the weight of a command.
And on cue, the three boys emerged from the treeline.
They looked battered. Kai was limping heavily, leaning on Koby for support, while James led the way, his expression grim. A deep, gaping bite mark marred Kai's leg, dark with dried and fresh blood. Scratch wounds covered their arms and torsos, and their clothes were torn in several places. The look on their faces was sour—a mix of pain, exhaustion, and simmering anger.
"Why did no one come to help us?" Kai demanded, his eyes fixed on Rowan.
"You lot seem okay," came Rowan's casual reply.
"Okay? A Vharrow sunk its teeth into my leg and we're okay?" Kai snapped, then grimaced as Koby helped him ease down against a tree trunk.
"Let's go," Rowan said, standing.
James stepped forward, his voice tight. "Why didn't you come help us?" He wasn't willing to let it go.
"You're alive, aren't you?" Rowan asked, already turning away.
"What if we had died?" James pressed.
"You didn't."
"What if we had died?" James repeated, urgency sharpening his tone.
Rowan stopped and looked back at them, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Then you'd have died. And then you all would have learned the hard way how dangerous this world is."
A deafening silence fell over the clearing, thick and heavy.
"You think I'm here to play with you all?" Rowan continued, his voice flat. "I asked specifically if you wanted to train with me, and you accepted. I'm not going to pat you on the back. I will make sure that you're all prepared for whatever dangers you might face. So man up, clean your tears, and take your sorry selves home so we can get Kai's wound looked at."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving them in the cold quiet.
"We did ask for this, James," Koby said softly, helping Kai back to his feet.
"We asked for training, not to die in the process," James muttered, moving to support Kai's other side as they began the slow walk back to the cottage.
Axle fell into step beside Koby. "James is feisty," he commented quietly.
"He gets like that if one of us gets hurt," Koby explained.
"Still…"
"Still nothing. That was pretty careless of Rowan," Koby cut him off, his voice edged with frustration, before moving ahead to help steady Kai over a rough patch of ground.
In a cave somewhere—dark, damp, and eerily silent—a man moved with careful purpose. He was covered in a heavy cloak, a wide-brimmed hat shadowing his face, revealing only the lower half: a thin, unsmiling mouth. An unsettling presence hung about him, cold and deliberate. On the back of his cloak, a large, intricate pattern was embroidered, too faint in the gloom to make out clearly.
He stepped carefully over thin streams of water trickling across the cave floor, his boots making no sound. At the far end of the cave, untouched by any light, a figure loomed in the darkness—a silhouette of greater shadow.
"Why did you call me here?" the cloaked man asked, his voice echoing softly against the wet stone.
"It's time to put the cogs of the machine into motion," the figure answered, its tone low and resonant.
"The vessel has finally arrived in Nyxoria?" Surprise colored the man's words.
"Yes. And we must act quickly, before the Divinities take notice of it."
"Where is this vessel now?"
"The outskirts of Camelot. In a cottage that sits close to Mount Blackstone."
"Well then," the man said, a faint, cold smile touching his lips. "I'd better be on my way."
And without another word, he vanished into thin air, leaving the cave emptier than before.
From the darkness, a bright, chilling smile broke through. "Finally," the figure whispered, voice dripping with anticipation. "It all begins now."
Back at the cottage, the boys slumped to the ground just inside the doorway, breathing heavily. They groaned and complained about aching muscles and stiffening bruises while Kai carefully cleaned his wound with a damp cloth.
"How are you feeling, Kai?" Axle asked, passing him a skin of water.
"Surprisingly, the pain has subsided greatly," Kai said, taking the skin and drinking deeply. "Almost like it was just a scratch."
"Well, it's a minor wound, so your body has already started working on it. One of the benefits of being in this world," Axle explained.
"At least you're better. Raya will help heal it," James said, taking the water skin from Kai after he'd finished. He gulped down a few mouthfuls, then passed it to Koby.
Koby raised the skin to his lips and tipped it back—but nothing came out. He shook it once, then turned to James, who wore a faint, mischievous smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Really?" Koby said, side-eyeing him.
"Don't look at me—I drank the little Kai gave me," James defended, holding up his hands innocently.
"Sure," Kai said with a tired, sarcastic grin. "Blame it all on Kai."
And for the first time that night, a short, weary laugh passed between them—a small, fragile sound
in the quiet of the cottage, a brief respite before whatever came next.