Heron stood frozen, watching as the guard handed his carefully harvested specimens to another soldier for disposal. Everything he'd worked for, all his careful planning, was destroyed in moments by a misunderstanding he couldn't explain.
Numbly, he turned and walked away from the gates. His legs carried him to a fallen log just off the main road, out of sight of the guards but still within view of the city walls. There, finally alone, he let his composure crack.
The sobs came quietly at first, then with increasing force as the full weight of his failure crashed over him. He had been so careful, so strategic in his approach. But none of that mattered now. He was banned from the city, his chance at joining Richard's party destroyed before he could even complete the trial.
"Rough day?"
Heron's head snapped up to find Richard standing before him, his red uniform catching the late afternoon rays. The party leader's expression was unreadable as he studied the young man's tear-stained face.
"I failed," Heron said, his voice raw. "The guards thought the Crossus was for making drugs. They confiscated everything and banned me from the city. I'm sorry. I tried to explain, but they wouldn't listen."
Richard's expression hardened. "Is that it then? You're giving up?"
Heron looked up, confusion mixing with his despair. "But I—"
"The trial isn't over," Richard cut him off sharply. "You still have until sunrise to bring three intact Crossus specimens. That was the agreement."
"You mean I can try again?"
"I'll be waiting here, outside the gates, at six tomorrow morning," Richard said firmly. "Bring me three intact specimens, and we'll talk about your trial. Fail, and you can go back to whatever life you left behind."
With that, Richard turned and walked away. The sun was already beginning its descent toward the horizon. If Heron wanted to try again, he'd need to hurry.
Heron watched Richard's retreating form until it disappeared through the city gates.
There is still time. I need to hurry back to that field.
Standing up, he checked his remaining supplies. He still had the trowel and wrappings; the guards had only taken the flowers. The vial of preservative was still secure in his pocket. All he needed were three more Crossus specimens.
This time would be different. He knew where the flowers grew, knew the monsters' patterns, knew exactly what he needed to do. Playing it safe had gotten him the flowers, but by the time he arrives back, it will be night. Time to wait the beast out is something he no longer had if he wanted to meet Richard by six tomorrow morning.
The sun was already low in the sky as he jogged back toward the forest.
He returned to the previous site. No need to scout other locations now; he knew this spot had what he needed. As darkness had already fallen, the familiar blue glow of the Crossus began to emerge, and with it came the shadows of the monsters he'd observed before.
But this time meant he was taking calculated risks.
I've seen their patterns, he reminded himself. I know when they turn, when they pause, when they move. I just need to be quick.
Heron crept toward the first flower, timing his movements with the creatures' patrol patterns. His fingers had just brushed the glowing petals when a twig snapped beneath his foot.
The sound, barely louder than a whisper, was enough. Two of the smaller shadow beasts whirled toward him, their forms rippling like smoke in moonlight. Before Heron could retreat, they lunged.
He drew his sword in time to catch the first beast's attack. The impact sent shockwaves through his arm. These creatures might look like shadows, but they hit with genuine force. The second beast circled, looking for an opening.
In the dim light, Heron could barely track their movements. As the first beast lunged again, he didn't dodge. Instead, he met its charge head-on, his blade finding purchase in its shadowy form. But it was not without a cost. Its fangs pierced his right arm, and the creature's momentum carried them both backward. Heron used the beast's body as a shield against its companion.
His sword struck again and again, each blow weakening the shadow beast's form. But the second creature wasn't waiting around. It latched itself on top of its friend and started to rake, trying to reach Heron. The first creature was done, but the second one struck. Its claws raked across Heron's neck as he tried to pierce it from beneath. Pain exploded through his body, fresh blood trickling down his collar.
Its teeth snapped inches from his face. Heron's arms trembled from the force.
With his sword still stuck in the first creature. Heron's free hand found his digging tool. In one desperate motion, he wrenched it free and drove it up into the second creature's throat.
The beast's form shuddered as it tumbled down. Heron collapsed onto his back, gasping for air, his neck wound burning. His fingers fumbled for the healing medicine in his pocket, but his strength was gone. He couldn't even pull the cork free.
Then he heard it. A low, rumbling growl that made his blood freeze. The massive shadow creature from the treeline, drawn by the commotion. Its eyes glowed like dying embers in the darkness.
"So this is how it ends," Heron whispered, his voice barely audible. The blood loss and exhaustion had taken their toll, and he was trapped.
The beast reared up, its form blotting out the stars above. Heron closed his eyes, making peace with his fate.
An arrow streaked through the night, trailing red light. It struck the massive creature's shoulder, erupting in a fire that illuminated the entire clearing. The beast roared in pain.
Through blurred vision, Heron saw a figure drop from the trees, landing between him and the wounded monster. It was Lucia whose face was kindled by flaming arrows she was shooting in darkness.
The beast charged. Lucia's arrow took it in the throat, exploding in a burst of flames that reduced the monster to wisps of shadow. In the sudden quiet that followed, Heron could hear his own ragged breathing.
Consciousness slipped away from Heron, and the world around him dissolved into darkness. Within that void, whispers emerged. They came from everywhere and nowhere, speaking in tongues he couldn't understand, yet some words felt familiar. Then whispers started shaping faces that formed in ripples of dark water that shouldn't exist in this nothingness.
-.. --- -. .----. - / .-.. . .- ...- . / -- . / to die.
-.. --- -. .----. - / leave / me