The night wrapped itself around Arthur as he strode through the narrow streets.
His cloak snapped at his heels, but his steps were steady, unhurried.
A man who knew he was being watched, yet feared nothing.
He left the last flickering lanterns of town behind and walked into the trees, where the dirt road bent toward shadows.
It was not long before the hidden trail opened, a path no common villager would notice unless taught where to look.
Arthur slipped into it without breaking stride.
By the time he reached the old stone outpost buried deep in the forest, the air smelled of damp moss and smoke.
A fire burned low inside, its glow spilling across the walls.
Dark silhouettes moved around it—men and women dressed alike in plain black funnel-neck shirts, the mark of their clan. Their crimson eyes reflected the firelight like live coals.
Arthur pushed back his hood as he stepped into the chamber.
The conversation stilled at once. Heads turned. Every gaze, every red glint, fixed on him.
"Leader," one of the older men said, bowing his head slightly. His hair, though black as the others. "We've been waiting."
Arthur's eyes swept across them, counting. Fewer than thirty souls sat or stood in the shadows.
Once, long ago, the Fossa clan had numbered in hundreds. Now, the curse had thinned them to remnants. Yet every one of them carried the same sharp features, the same red gaze.
He moved closer to the fire, hands clasped behind his back. "You already know why I called this meeting."
Murmurs rose—resentful, weary, angry.
A woman with a scar across her cheek stepped forward.
Her crimson eyes burned brighter than most. "We're tired of waiting, Lord Arthur. Always hiding. Always hunted. Tell us this isn't another warning to keep our heads low."
Arthur looked at her directly. "It isn't."
The room quieted again.
"I've had word," Arthur continued. "From the capital. They want us to surrender. If we run, bounty hunters will follow." His voice dropped lower, firm. "You know as well as I do—we won't survive forever if we keep scattering like frightened prey."
A younger man leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "So what then? We fight back with empty hands? No spiritual weapons? What good are we against the rest of the world?"
Arthur's jaw tightened. He stepped closer, his presence filling the space. "We are Fossa. Cursed, yes. Empty of the gifts the gods gave others. But we've survived every blade, every kingdom's wrath, every lie whispered against us. You've all fought with your hands, your teeth, your blood. And you're still standing."
The scarred woman gave a sharp nod. "He's right. Enough running. If we must die, let's die with our fists in the world's throat."
Others murmured in agreement, louder this time.
Arthur raised his hand and the voices hushed again. "Not yet. Not here. We won't throw ourselves against the walls of the capital and burn out in a week. First, we gather. All of us. The clan has scattered across kingdoms, hiding in shadows. I want every one of our blood brought back together."
The silver-haired elder frowned. "And where will you keep them, Leader? No town will take us. Not openly."
Arthur's gaze hardened. "There is a place. A village buried deep in forest, forgotten by kingdoms. Few even know its name. We'll go there. But first—"
He turned slightly, scanning the faces, "—we divide our strength. Some of you will seek out our kin and bring them home. Some will gather intelligence: who our enemies are, what they plan. Others will scout the path, clear it, and keep watch."
The young man leaning on the wall pushed away, his red eyes flashing. "And when we're together? Then what?"
Arthur's voice was steady, iron in its calm. "Then we take back what belongs to us. The world has cursed us, spat on us, hunted us. It's time we make them remember why they feared our name."
A silence followed. Then one by one, heads bowed, voices answered as one:
"We follow you, Arthur Fossa."
Arthur let the words settle, the fire's glow painting the determination on every face.
Arthur raised his hand, and the murmurs dimmed. "Listen carefully. Tonight isn't only about words. It's about survival."
He stepped closer to the fire, the glow catching the hard lines of his jaw. "We can't move blindly. We're too few, and we have too many to protect. We've women heavy with child, little ones who can't yet run, mothers who've carried our clan on their backs for years. If we rush ahead, they will be the first to fall. That, I will not allow."
Several of the clan nodded, grim recognition passing over their faces.
"So we divide into three groups," Arthur continued, voice steady, measured. "The first—" he lifted one hand, counting with his fingers, "—will search for our scattered kin. Every cousin, every uncle, every lost Fossa hiding under false names. Find them, bring them home. Without numbers, we are nothing."
He lowered that hand and lifted the next finger. "The second will gather knowledge. We need to know who moves against us. Who gave the order to burn Porter Village. Which kingdom's hand is in this. No whispers, no rumors—facts. Bring me names, bring me reasons. Only then we can decide who bleeds first."
The scarred woman from earlier smirked sharply, approval gleaming in her crimson eyes.
Arthur raised the third finger. "The last group will scout. Roads, forests, rivers. You'll move ahead of us when we travel. Keep watch for ambushes, for soldiers, for bounty hunters. The strong must shield the weak. Pregnant women, children, the ones who can't fight—they'll walk at the center. We clear their path, or we don't walk at all."
A silence hung over the chamber after his words. The fire cracked softly.
Finally, the silver-haired elder bowed his head. "Clear, Leader."
Others followed, one after another, answering in low voices. "Clear." "Understood." "We'll do it."
Arthur let the weight of their voices fill the space before he spoke again.
"At dawn, five hundred meters south of Aetheria's gate. Be there, ready to move. If you fail, you'll be leaving kin behind to die. And I'll not forgive that."
A ripple of unease passed over a few faces—but none argued.
Arthur drew his hood up again, shadows swallowing his eyes. "This meeting is over. Tomorrow, the world begins to remember the Fossa name."