Night settled deep around Arnvale.
The forest bordering Lyra's cottage swayed with wind, leaves shimmering silver under moonlight. Crickets sang in the dark grass. The night sky was vast and cold — too wide for a creature who had only known ceilings and stone.
Inside the cottage, the warm glow of two lanterns flickered gently.
Lyra slept lightly on her bed, curled under a quilt.
Arden dozed in a chair, hand resting loosely on his sword hilt.
Friezzar sat on the floor with his back to the wall, lantern held against his chest like a treasured heart.
He wasn't asleep — he didn't need sleep — but stillness comforted him.
The soft light soothed his core.
The warmth kept the memories of the dungeon's darkness away.
The faint breathing rhythms of the humans calmed him.
For a moment…
He felt safe.
Then something changed.
A whisper of movement.
A shift of air.
Too soft for humans to detect — but Friezzar wasn't human.
His eyes snapped open.
Blue glow flaring.
He turned his head sharply toward the window.
Something was outside.
A Presence in the Trees
The world beyond the glass was moonlit and quiet. But the wind carried something else — a pressure, a weight, something wrong.
Friezzar placed the lantern down.
Slowly stood.
Moved toward the window on silent wooden feet.
His carved fingers touched the glass.
A shape stood near the treeline.
Motionless.
Cloaked in black.
Face hidden.
Eyes faintly glowing — not blue, but red.
Staring directly into the cottage.
Friezzar froze.
The presence radiated something he recognized—
Essence.
But twisted.
Warmer than dungeon monsters.
Colder than humans.
Something old.
Something wrong.
Something dangerous.
The figure tilted its head slightly.
As if amused.
Friezzar's runes flared.
A protective instinct — new, powerful — surged inside him.
Not hunger.
Not fear.
Protection.
He stepped away from the window and moved toward Lyra.
She slept peacefully, her chest rising softly beneath the blanket.
Friezzar crouched beside her.
He touched her arm lightly.
"…Ly…ra…"
Lyra stirred, eyelids fluttering open.
She blinked sleepily.
"Mm… Friezzar? What's wrong…?"
He pointed toward the window.
"…danger."
Arden jolted awake instantly, grabbing his sword.
"What?"
Friezzar pointed again.
"Outside."
Lyra sat up quickly.
"Something's out there?"
Before Arden could answer, a loud knock slammed against the cottage door.
Startlingly gentle.
But deliberate.
Arden stood.
Lyra stiffened.
Friezzar moved between them and the door instinctively.
The Visitor
"Whoever's there," Arden growled, "speak."
Silence.
Then — a voice, muffled through the wood.
"You've brought something dangerous into your home."
Lyra's blood ran cold.
Arden stepped forward, blade raised. "Identify yourself!"
Another pause.
Then:
"I want the puppet."
Friezzar stiffened, shoulders rising slightly. Runes along his chest flashed a defensive red.
Lyra moved behind him.
"You can't have him."
"I wasn't asking," the voice replied calmly.
Arden snarled, "You're threatening a guild-protected entity. Leave, or—"
The figure outside cut him off.
"The puppet does not belong to you."
Lyra's breath hitched.
"And why," Arden spat, "would it belong to you?"
"Because," the voice said softly…
"…he was our creation."
Friezzar's eyes widened.
Lyra froze.
Arden's sword trembled in his grip.
Friezzar took a step toward the door, something inside him tightening painfully.
"…ours…?"
The voice hummed.
"Yes. Our little vessel. Our experiment. Our unfinished work. His awakening was no accident — he carries a piece of us."
Arden shouted, "Show yourself!"
The door creaked open.
Not from force.
From will.
The hinges groaned as if commanded by an unseen hand.
Friezzar stepped in front of Lyra instantly, posture low, runes flaring bright red.
The cloaked figure stepped inside.
Tall.
Thin.
Face hidden in shadow.
Hands pale, fingers twisted like roots.
The figure looked directly at Friezzar.
And smiled.
"You've grown," it whispered. "How lovely."
Friezzar's essence surged violently.
He did not know why—
but everything inside him screamed:
Danger.
Enemy.
RUN.
FIGHT.
He stepped backward, instinctively shielding Lyra with his body.
The figure chuckled softly.
"Protecting humans? How adorable. But pointless. Their warmth cannot fill the emptiness in you."
Arden raised his blade.
"Step away from him!"
The figure ignored him.
"You are incomplete," it said to Friezzar. "A vessel without a soul. A tool without purpose."
Friezzar flinched.
The figure leaned forward.
"Come with me. I will finish what was started. You were not meant to walk beside humans. You were meant to ascend."
Lyra grabbed Friezzar's arm.
"No," she whispered fiercely. "You don't belong to anyone."
The figure tilted its head.
"I wasn't speaking to you, girl."
Arden growled, "One step closer and I cut you down."
The figure turned slightly.
Its eyes glowed red.
And the temperature in the cottage dropped several degrees.
"Silly humans," it whispered. "You cannot harm me."
Suddenly—
the cloaked figure raised a hand.
The flames in the hearth extinguished.
The lanterns flickered dangerously.
Friezzar's runes dimmed sharply, his legs buckling.
Lyra gasped.
"Friezzar!"
He caught himself on one arm, shaking violently.
His essence—
his very core—
felt like it was being pulled from him.
The figure's voice grew soft and cruel.
"Return to me, little vessel. You were never meant to stray."
Lyra stood between them, trembling but defiant.
"No! He's not yours! He is his own!"
Friezzar forced himself upright.
His legs trembled.
His runes flickered.
His essence screamed.
But he stepped forward.
"…Lyra…" he whispered.
Lyra grabbed his hand.
The figure's eyes narrowed.
"How sweet," it sneered. "You've grown attached."
It raised its hand—
—aimed at Lyra.
Friezzar reacted instantly.
His runes ignited in blinding blue fire.
His arm swung forward—
instinctive, violent, protective—
—and slammed into the intruder's gesture, disrupting the spell.
A crackle of force shook the cottage.
The figure staggered back a step.
Arden's eyes widened.
Lyra gasped.
Friezzar stood between them—
—eyes blazing bright.
Runes flaring like a newborn star.
His chest vibrated with a new voice:
"No."
Silence.
The figure slowly straightened.
"…So. The puppet has chosen."
It extended one gnarled finger at Friezzar.
"Very well. Then you will face the consequences of your defiance."
It stepped backward—
—and evaporated into the shadows.
Leaving behind only a whisper:
"You will fall with them, little vessel."
The cottage fell silent.
Lyra collapsed against Friezzar.
Arden dropped his sword in shock.
Friezzar knelt beside Lyra, placing a wooden hand over her trembling shoulder.
"…safe…" he whispered.
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.
"You protected me."
Arden stared at Friezzar, breath shaking.
"This changes everything.
That thing…
That was no ordinary mage."
Lyra whispered, voice trembling:
"Friezzar…
Who were you made for?"
Friezzar looked down.
Chest dim.
Eyes hollow.
"…don't… know…"
Lyra placed her forehead against his.
"It's okay. We'll find the truth. Together."
Friezzar's runes glowed softly.
For the first time, not from instinct—
—but from a choice.
"…Lyra…
safe…"
And in the darkness outside, a wolf-like shadow loomed.
Watching.
Waiting.
Following.
The danger wasn't gone.
It had only just begun.