Eryndor rode in grim silence.
The path back into the fog was the same, he wasn't going back for himself, he was doing it for a dying ratfolk whose last wish was to see his home one more time… even if that home was a nightmare.
Every step closer made Eryndor's stomach twist.
The hound tribesmen walked freely beside the cart now. They were no longer prisoners but just like Eryndor, they couldn't shake the feeling that something about their "victory" didn't make sense.
Hours passed before the blackened outline of Mistden emerged from the fog. The catfolk guards recognized them and wordlessly opened the gate. Eryndow found no warmth, no welcome here. Only weary eyes and empty faces.
Nothing had changed.
Ratfolk were still chained, their bones visible under tight, bruised skin as they dragged crates, moved stones—anything Tornak demanded. Not a single one looked properly fed. The few catfolk who weren't guarding the walls worked with the same hollow exhaustion.
Mistden had not improved.
The guards led the party toward the council hall. It towered over the rest of the village—polished, decorated, lined with flags and torches. A place that pretended to be a "hall" but stood like a throne room stolen straight from a tyrant's dreams.
Inside, Tornak lounged on a massive carved chair, legs spread wide, greasy fingers dripping meat juice onto the polished stone. Platters of fruit and roasted meat—the same food Eryndor had delivered for the starving village—were piled high beside him. He had eaten well.
The guards at the sides looked malnourished. Sunken cheeks. Shaking hands.
Tornak wiped his mouth lazily and smirked.
"Well, well… the Saviour returns."
Tornak's voice oozed satisfaction as his eyes lazily drifted over the group—Eryndor, Xaren, Krog, Elara, the hound tribesmen… and then they stopped.
On Nyko.
A slow grin stretched across Tornak's face. "Ahh… I see we have an addition. A ratfolk."
He chuckled. "So you finally took a slave for yourself. About time. They're useful creatures—obedient and easy to break."
Eryndor's jaw tightened, but his expression didn't betray a thing.
Nyko didn't speak.
He simply stared at Tornak.
His entire life began flashing through his mind in a torrent of memories.
"Brother! Brother!"
A tiny voice tugged at Nyko's arm.
He turned and saw his little sibling—small, bright-eyed, tail flicking with excitement.
"Mom said we'll be having a feast tonight!" the young one chirped.
Nyko ruffled his head. "Sure… but only if you work hard, Bow."
The younger ratfolk puffed up proudly. "I will!"
Their home—a cluster of shabby huts crammed together—smelled of damp straw and thin soup. Ratfolk families huddled inside, exhausted from a day's labor. It wasn't much, but it was home.
Heavy footsteps approached.
Two catfolk guards strutted toward the huts, bored and annoyed.
The first guard muttered, "Why does the lord want two siblings from the rat tribe today?"
The second snorted. "Who knows? Who cares? Lord says fetch—we fetch. I'm tired. Let's just grab the first pair and go."
Their eyes scanned the area.
The first guard pointed directly at Nyko and his little brother. "Those two. They look related. Good enough."
The second guard shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. I'm starving. Let's take them and get this over with."
They marched straight toward them.
Nyko frowned. "What's happening?"
"Hey! You two!" the first guard barked. "Come with us. The lord wants to see you."
Before Nyko could react, rough hands grabbed them both.
"W-wait! Let us go!" Nyko's brother squeaked, terrified.
Their screams brought their parents rushing out of the hut.
"Stop! Where are you taking our children!?" their father shouted, grabbing the guard's arm.
The guard shoved him back hard. "Speak with the lord if you've got complaints!"
Their mother reached out desperately. "Please—please let them go! They've done nothing wrong!"
But the guards didn't even look at her.
They dragged the two siblings away while the parents cried and begged behind them.
Nyko remembered turning his head, trying to reach out, trying to hold onto his mother's hand—
But the grip on his arms tightened, ripping him away.