The flicker vanished.
Only the dull, barely glowing stone remained in Fang's hand.
Fang tried to channel more mana, but it didn't work; his mana couldn't find a way inside the stone.
"Shit..."
Smoke slithered closer from the shadows, its form twitching, as if aware of the failed resurrection. Fang gently placed the mana stone back into the wooden bowl and sat down again, staring at it for a long moment in silence.
Isgram finally broke it.
"I'll take a guess and say the gods said no."
"It didn't work," Fang admitted. "Whatever lives inside the stone is bound by how much energy remains. That one…" he nudged the dim stone with a finger, "…might be too weak."
Isgram grunted. "Looks like the gods want you to work for your death-pets."
Fang leaned back against the cave wall, the firelight warming his face. Outside, rain kept falling like a steady drumming on stone. Smoke coiled up beside the fire, curling like a content cat, its body faintly pulsing with darkened purple magic.
"They always do."
"You ever think about what that thing is now?" Isgram asked, his eyes on Smoke. "It's not just a pet, Fang. It's a soul in a cage. You ever wonder if it remembers being alive?"
Fang didn't answer right away.
He leaned his head back till it touched the cold wall.
"I've wondered. But it follows me.
Whatever it was before… it chose something else now."
Isgram's brows furrowed, his voice dropping. "Or maybe it didn't have a choice."
Fang shot him a glance, sharp as a blade. "Neither did we, Isgram. I certainly didn't choose this life, as the other option was guaranteed death."
They both went quiet again.
The fire crackled. The cave walls seemed to breathe in rhythm with the flickering flames, and the sound of rain outside grew louder.
Isgram tossed another branch into the fire, watching it catch with a soft crackle. "There's another one who didn't choose," he said after a moment.
Fang glanced over. "Another what?"
"You know what," Isgram said, not looking away from the fire.
"Another chosen one?" asked Fang as he exhaled.
Isgram nodded. "She's from your generation."
That caught Fang's attention.
'A woman then, that's interesting.'
Isgram leaned in, his voice a low rasp that barely carried over the wind.
"She's been spotted a few times now.
The adventurers claim she's a demon.
One even told the Eldranor elders that she has horns.
Even the bounty hunters stay away, and you know those freaks would usually sell their own mothers for a purse of gold."
Fang felt a shiver running down his spine as he remembered the stories Isgram told him about the demon war.
"You said all demons were purged.
Yet the gods chose to make her one?"
Isgram shrugged. "That's what the stories say, but she's alive and powerful.
Any adventurer who tried hunting her didn't return, or at least not sane."
He paused, then added, "Some even say she talks to shadows."
Fang stared into the fire, jaw tight.
Isgram nudged the embers, watching sparks rise.
"You know what that tells us. The demons were never just strong.
They were the god of death's chosen people. He was their highest god, the source of their creation, because they lived by consuming death. Where others feared it, they thrived on it. As the war approached, his order was simple and absolute. A sacrifice."
He met Fang's eyes. "And a sacrifice was made.
Necromancers, fire mages, ice mages, anyone who used mana to the point of being considered a genius was hunted down by those demons.
The demon kind didn't just want war; they wanted the extinction of all things that could resist their plan.
And now one of them walks again, under the guise of a chosen one's soul."
The silence that followed was thick and heavy, broken only by a loud crackle of the coals.
Fang stared into the fire as if weighing the possibilities.
"You know," Fang began slowly, his voice steady, "I'll defend every chosen one. No matter what. That's what I was sent here to do. Protecting all of us."
Isgram's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes narrowed.
He leaned forward, his voice low.
"That's noble, Fang, but you're talking about a demoness. Not just any chosen one."
Fang snapped, "She's one of us. Same fate, same curse."
Isgram didn't let him finish. "Then remember what she is," he said coldly. "Defend her if you want, but don't be naive. You have no idea what's been twisted inside her. She's a demon. Nothing else changes that."
Fang's expression was reddening, and the anger in his heart was only becoming harder to contain.
"Is that all that matters to you!? You and I are looked down upon just like her.
She must be scared right now, being alone in this fucking calamity of a world!
Since the moment I got here, I was defending myself, even at the cost of my humanity, my childhood!"
The silence once again plagued the room.
Isgram looked at his feet and felt shame for the first time in a long time.
'I sometimes forget he's a boy...'
Fang shook his head, trying to push past the concerns. "She's not a demon, Isgram. She's been resurrected, just like me, so she is from Earth as well.
She was chosen for a reason. Maybe it's time the chosen ones stick together and find common ground. We can be more than what we think we are."
Isgram's lips thinned, and he looked at Fang. "I know that you have your goal, and maybe you're right.
I only ask you, is the outcome worth it? What will you do if she turns on us?"
"I'll take my chances," Fang said. "I'll deal with her if it comes to that. But I'll defend her first."
Isgram sighed, rubbing his temple. "Just... don't go in blind.
You must have a clear plan and a plan B.
I've seen empires attempt to do what you're doing, and they all failed.
We're not exactly easy to control, lad."
Fang gave a half-shrug and a glance at the rain-soaked world outside.
"I understand, we will sit and plan this properly. I will not give up without trying."
The fire crackled, the shadows flickering in the dark cave.
'I will make her stand with us, no matter what.'
----------------
Fang awoke with a groan, his body stiff from the hard ground.
'For fuck's sake, we really need to get ourselves something softer to lie on.'
'Well, no need to worry about it now. I should tend to the garden first.'
Isgram had already stirred, sitting by the edge of the dying fire. His eyes were distant, the weight of their conversation still hanging over him, but there was a hardness in his gaze. It was as if he, too, had been up all night thinking about the consequences.
Fang sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Morning."
Isgram grunted in acknowledgment but didn't look over immediately. Instead, he stared at the remnants of the fire. "You didn't sleep much."
Fang huffed a tired laugh. "Neither did you."
A beat of silence passed between them before Isgram spoke again.
"I meant what I said last night. Don't go in blind. You might be willing to die for her, but there's a lot at stake, Fang.
You'll be dealing with something far worse than just some warriors of the guild."
Fang's gaze was steady, but he nodded.
"I know. For now, let's go to the garden.
We've got work to do, Isgram.
Let's start building a fence before the plants grow beyond our control."
Isgram chuckled, rolling his shoulders as if the simple motion could shake off any lingering tension. "Always ready to get my hands dirty, Fang. It's nice to have a change of pace from all the... drama." He winked, and the light in his eyes matched the cheer of the day.
The sun was just starting to peek through the trees, casting golden rays across the forest floor. The air felt warm, fresh, and full of life. Birds sang their cheerful melodies, and the rustling of leaves sounded almost like a soft breeze dancing through the branches.
The yellow light was starting to filter through several cracks in the cave's ceiling.
Fang stretched as he stood, the ache in his body from the night before easing away with the morning light.
Fang nodded, his smile widening. "A little farm work never hurt anyone, right?" He started to walk toward the small garden they'd started setting up days ago, a mix of plants beginning to sprout from the rich soil. He had already started some herbs, but the potatoes were growing leaves now. The ground had been well-tended, and the garden was looking promising.
"Right," Isgram agreed, walking beside him. "I've been thinking about adding some new stuff. I will try to forage in the forest for more vegetables. What about you?"
"We'll need to set up a little fence to keep the critters out. I think I will gather some branches and tie some vines to make it."
Isgram was deep in thought, but then said, "I think you can do it more efficiently if you use Smoke to kill the vermin around the garden.
I do think the fence will be good for the long run, especially against animals like rabbits and boars, but we should start with the most immediate problem."
Fang was surprised at Isgram's idea. "Then I will have to rely on my buddy here for now.
Smoke will eat some mana as well, which is always good."
Isgram gave a quick nod, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Glad you like it. Better to make use of what we have.
We're not exactly swimming in resources, so we have to be clever."
Fang considered this for a moment. Smoke had been a useful tool, and the more they utilized it, the more efficient they could make things. He glanced at the shadowy form of Smoke, coiled nearby, seemingly unfazed by the conversation. The creature's ethereal nature was both a gift and a curse, feeding off of life energy, but it had its uses.
"Alright, Smoke," Fang muttered. "Time for some gardening assistance."
He extended a hand toward the creature, and it responded immediately, its form unfurling with a slight tremor of darkness. Smoke's eyes, two glowing orbs, locked onto Fang's and then drifted toward the garden.
"Let's take care of the vermin first, then. We'll get to the fence after."
As the words left Fang's lips, Smoke slithered off toward the patch of garden, its shadowy body gliding silently over the earth. It moved like liquid darkness, merging into the surroundings until it was almost invisible. The faintest flicker of energy surged around it as it began hunting.
Fang watched with a quiet sense of satisfaction. There was something strangely satisfying about watching Smoke work. It wasn't quite alive in the traditional sense, but the instinct to protect, to hunt, was unmistakable. Even if Smoke had once been an animal, it was now a tool. No, a partner. And its actions had become an extension of Fang's own will.
'This will be a good day.'
Little did he know he was being watched.