Pain came before consciousness. A fire burned in his chest, as if something inside him had broken and now scorched every piece of himself. Air entered his lungs with a harsh sob, his eyes opened violently, tearing through the darkness.
"Love."
The word came before the sound, before the complete thought. An ancient blade slicing through his mind.
Cael Rhun awoke. The Gray Wolf.
His eyes scanned the low ceiling, the smell of herbs and dried blood. He tried to sit up, but a sharp twinge cut through his body.
"Where… where are we?" His voice was hoarse, strange even to him. "Where am I?"
The reply came firm, yet not hostile:
"In the doctor's office. In the village of the children you… or that thing… took."
Silence weighed heavily. He lowered his eyes, fists clenched. Every word hit like a blow.
"Why… why did you save me?" His voice nearly broke. "I… this thing… doesn't deserve it…"
It was more than guilt. It was self-destruction. A man trying to devour himself from within.
"Don't worry." The voice replied, softer now. "The village chief is good."
He closed his eyes again, trying to find some meaning in the chaos. Then, another voice, soft as a whisper, brushed against his ears:
"Are you okay?" It was a nurse.
"Yes. Just… leave me alone." He turned to the side, pain ripping through every muscle.
"If you keep going like this… nothing will change."
He tried to find something to retort. Any word. But there was only emptiness.
The next day.
He tried to wake. He tried. As if leaving that heavy sleep were like crossing an iron swamp.
"Are you okay?" The same soft voice, almost a breath, returned to touch his ears.
He opened one eye, slow, irritated. "Will you come back every day?"
"Well… I work here." A light, almost teasing tone. "You'll have to put up with me."
A deep, gravelly groan escaped his throat, more animal than human.
"Come on, tell me what you want."
She smiled — he didn't see it, but he felt it. "I just want to know if you're alright."
His chest burned again. But now it was different. It wasn't the pain of the wound. It was something else. Something he didn't want to name. He tried to push the feeling away, but it wouldn't work.
Here… something was moving inside him.
"Yeah… you're right. This really is a fine romance." Bruno spoke to Kaerlin, his tone half teasing, half admiring. A touch, louder than it should be, spreading a strange vibration through the air.
"What was that?" The almost-couple looked toward the window, but there was nothing there. Only silence, heavy and unsettling.
"Wait… I can do this." Kaerlin raised her hand, focusing, trying to understand what was happening with her power.
"You always could."
"Anyway… what are you going to do about the mages?"
"Sit and pray. It's very hard to find a mage, even harder when he doesn't want to be found."
The three fire mages: the two siblings Lério, who controls the fire of the soul, Líria, who controls her own fire, and Tenório, the father, fire of emotion.
"It's hard to know what will happen… but probably you already have a plan," Kaerlin tried to lighten the mood.
"Uh… I at least know how the ending will go. The 'boss' will arrive and the village will be attacked."
"That's the worst possible ending."
"The only thing we can do is make sure no one dies."
"Exactly."
"Bruno!" A cheerful shout came from behind him. He turned, and you already know who it was.
"Tila… something with taxes already happened early today."
"The Harvest Festival is coming up in less than a month," she put her hand on her chin. "But with everything happening… I'm not sure it'll even take place." She glanced at Bruno. "They say if you dance on the day, you end up with the person forever."
"How cliché," Bruno muttered.
"How cliché," Kaerlin followed. "But I love it."
"What? How… that's so cliché!" Tila couldn't believe what she'd heard.
Bruno sighed, letting out a light laugh, running his hand through his hair.
"Well… Harvest Festival… seems the world won't wait for the calendar, huh?" he replied, trying to sound light, though the weight of events still pressed on him.
Tila frowned, looking at him.
"And the mages? Are you really just sitting there thinking… or…" she gestured vaguely, as if asking for action, "are you going to try something?"
Bruno stepped back a few paces, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"We can't just attack blindly. Lério, Líria, and Tenório are not only strong… they're unpredictable. If I try anything without knowing for sure, we could lose more than we gain."
Tila crossed her arms, impatient.
"Always planning, huh? And what if the worst is already happening while you plan?"
He took a deep breath, feeling the morning chill rise through the village.
"That's why I need to think. If every step is calculated, maybe we can minimize losses. I can't afford to fail."
Tila looked at him, and for a moment, silence fell between them. The weight of responsibility hung heavier than any conversation.
"So… for now, you're just going to sit there looking at the sky, Bruno?" she asked, a mix of reproach and concern.
Bruno finally turned to her, expression serious but firm.
"No. I'm watching the sky because I need to understand where every move will lead us. Every detail matters. Every suspicion, every whisper. And if I fail, neither the Harvest Festival nor anything else will matter."
Tila sighed, half resigned, half impressed.
"Alright… but don't forget the village also needs someone who looks at the now. Not just the future."
Bruno nodded.
"I know. But the future will knock on the door faster than we imagine. And when it does…" he paused, gaze firm, "we'll need to be ready."
The morning wind rustled the leaves, as if reminding everyone that time waits for no one.
Kaerlin, perched on Bruno's shoulder, let out a small melodic laugh:
"Always so dramatic, huh? But I like it. At least someone's thinking."
Bruno smiled to the side, finally.
"Someone has to. And if we don't think… the worst will catch us before we even know it arrived."
Tila looked at him for a moment, then turned her gaze to the horizon.
"Then let's see what we can learn today. Every step counts."
"Yeah, you can go. I need to finish my search for those damned mages who break our silence."
"Sure." In an instant, she returned to her routine.
Bruno returned home after a long walk, and someone appeared on his roof, seemingly wanting company.
"Can I join the conversation?" he said, without any double meaning.
"This isn't your house," Seralyne retorted.
The wind blew gently, carrying the scent of wet earth and burned leaves. Bruno and Seralyne sat side by side, away from the village, looking toward the horizon tinged with orange by the morning sun. The silence stretched, both comfortable and tense.
"Sometimes…" Bruno began, voice low, "I wonder if we ever really get past these things."
Seralyne turned her face toward him, watching.
"Me too. But we learn to carry it in a way that doesn't destroy us completely. It's not always pretty. Not always clean."
He sighed, tapping his fingers against his knee.
"When I see these souls… these things we face… you can't help but feel guilt. No matter how much we try to justify it."
"I know," Seralyne replied, eyes fixed on the horizon. "I felt it too. Every time I failed… every time I stayed still. Every life that passed through our hands and we couldn't save… I felt it heavy in my chest."
Bruno looked at her with a sad half-smile.
"And yet, we survived. We're still here. That's something, isn't it?"
"We survived. But survival isn't forgetting. It's learning to live with it. To become… more careful. More aware." Seralyne paused. "I tried being harsh with myself. But I realized harshness alone fixes nothing."
He nodded slowly, staring at his own hands.
"I tried convincing myself I had to be the Summoned Warrior… always perfect, always right. But… no one is. And the more I lie to myself, the heavier it gets."
"Exactly…" Seralyne breathed deeply. "It's in that weight that we find our limit. And our strength. I learned that facing it with someone else, or at least sharing, helps. It doesn't solve everything, but it keeps you from sinking alone."
Bruno glanced at her sideways, feeling something strange and heavy, but not painful.
"Sharing the weight doesn't lessen the pain. But it lessens the loneliness."
"Exactly," Seralyne murmured, a faint tired smile. "The pain remains, but you don't have to swallow it all alone."
Silence returned. This time, it wasn't heavy. It was just… presence. Two survivors, sitting under the sky slowly brightening, thinking of all they had lost and all they still needed to face.
"And if the next fight is worse?" Bruno broke the silence.
"Then we face it. Together, or with whoever we can trust. Always with someone." She shrugged, looking at him. "That's what keeps us human."
Bruno exhaled, feeling some relief mixed with the responsibility that never left him.
"Humans… right. Good to know we still are, at least."
Seralyne frowned, leaning slightly toward him.
"Humans?" she asked, voice low, almost a whisper. "Bruno… you're human?"
He turned his face, half surprised, half thoughtful.
"I know. But sometimes… I try to cling to that. Remind myself there's something simple in human fragility. Something we lost."
Seralyne exhaled, playing with a strand of hair over her shoulder.
"Lost? You, who are… an orc of beauty, rarely allow yourself to feel the world as it really is. Humans suffer, but they feel without filter. We… carry memories, responsibilities, things that make us less free to be."
Bruno looked at her, the weight of ages reflected in his eyes.
"And that's exactly what scares me. The more powerful you are, the harder it is… to be human. To love, to err, to feel true guilt."
Seralyne observed him for a moment, silently. Then spoke, almost as if sharing an ancient secret:
"But that's exactly why we connect. Not by what we are… but by what we perceive. Humans feel the weight of life, we feel the weight of the whole world. And yet… we persist. That's something humans rarely understand."
Bruno let out a slow breath, his mind spinning.
"So… we're not human. But we can try… to understand the human within us?"
"Exactly." Seralyne smiled, almost imperceptibly. "Not by instinct, not by flesh, but by what we choose to carry. Choosing to feel, even knowing it will hurt."
He looked at the sky, the weight of eternity still on his shoulders, but something lighter in his chest.
"Choosing to feel… even when it hurts." he repeated, as if engraving the phrase. "Maybe that's what keeps us… close. Human or not."
Seralyne nodded, lightly leaning her shoulder against his.
"Close, yes. And aware of what we carry. That… is already a lot."
Silence returned, this time more comfortable, as if both had finally recognized each other — not just in differences, but in what made them strangely alike.
---
A latent noise ran through the forest, as if every tree whispered while fire burned in a strange, unfamiliar way. Bruno stopped, eyes firm, feeling the tension in the air vibrate across his skin.
"Just when I wanted…" a voice murmured. But he was not alone this time. He felt Líria's presence weigh down even before he saw her.
The ground trembled lightly. A faint thread of light rose from the earth, wrapping around Bruno's chest, pulling him, calling him. The Fragmented Eden moved like a living current, drawing him into the subterranean cave. A shiver ran down his spine: inside, something older and more powerful than he could measure awaited.
While Bruno was sucked into the magical vortex, Tila and Seralyne stayed behind, feeling Líria's energy surge before them. The elf and the warrior exchanged a quick, silent glance, full of understanding. They knew they would have to contain the mage's power alone — at least for a few moments, until Bruno returned.
The air around them crackled with heat and magic; the forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the first move. Tila felt the weight of responsibility and still pressed her club to her shoulder. Seralyne raised her daggers, eyes gleaming with determination and caution.
Inside the cave, Bruno felt the Fragmented Eden swirl around him, his eyes reflecting the abyss of contained souls. Each fragment seemed to whisper, warning, challenging: "If you want to save the world… you'll have to enter our hearts first." A creature of a thousand arms and a thousand legs, its strength immense.
Outside, Líria's first magical blaze lit the clearing. Tila breathed deeply. Seralyne took her stance. And on the horizon, the sky suddenly darkened, as if day and night had chosen a point of collision.
Silence fell, heavy, deadly. An instant before the storm.
And then, in the last gasp of air before chaos, the entire forest seemed to whisper the same warning:
"What's about to happen… no one will emerge unscathed."