Lihuen stepped out of the fissure without a sound.
Nothing had changed outside. The light was the same as when he had disappeared—stable, diffuse, dull. The pale sky still carried that shadowless clarity that made the hours uncertain. Below, the camp. The great Black Stones, tarps stretched between rocks, two wagons resting side by side, beasts at ease. Shapes moved about the fire without urgency. A few laughs. The clink of weapons or utensils. Nothing hinted at his absence.
He descended the rocky slope slowly, Sen following close. No one looked up. He crossed the edge of camp as if he had never left. One of the younger ones—the one with the yellow scarf, always cleaning a blade or chewing something—spotted him first.
— "Hey, the mute's back."
Another, crouched by the fire, shrugged.
— "He wasn't far. Maybe he was meditating."
Lihuen didn't answer. He resumed his place by the fire, just like before. Sen stretched out and lay on the edge, head resting between her paws, calm. A slice of meat smoked on a hot stone; he didn't touch it. He observed. The movements, the voices, the placements. Everything was locked in a silent routine. And yet, he felt the shift—like a thread stretched between two worlds: the camp where nothing had changed, and himself, no longer quite the same.
The leader appeared shortly after. Tall, his back bent more from habit than age, a travel-worn coat on his shoulders, embroidered with faded geometric patterns. He carried a roll of oiled cloth, which he unrolled slowly on a flat slab laid on the ground. A map, old, marked with scratches and hand-drawn symbols. The others gathered around him without a word needed.
— "We leave at dawn," he said simply. "Two days' walk southeast. Through the hollows, then we climb to Braûm Pass. No delays."
He tapped a spot marked with a black circle.
— "Delivery to the Circle of the High Rocks. An enclave held by a tribe allied with Skar'Ael. Loyal, or close enough to be interested in what we're bringing."
The scarred veteran—the one who had already questioned Lihuen's presence—lifted his head.
— "What exactly are we giving them?"
— "A Fragment," replied the leader. "Fossilized remnant. Part of a giant's heart. Stabilized. Transportable."
— "Brilliant," muttered the veteran. "So we're wandering around with a creature magnet in a wooden cart?"
The leader met his eyes without raising his voice.
— "Yes. And that's what we're being paid for."
A younger voice, hesitant—the boy with too-light eyes—cut in.
— "Paid by who, exactly?"
The leader shrugged.
— "We got the funds upfront. Through the Free Network's messengers. No names. No sigils. No trail. The kind of job that doesn't come back around if you turn it down once."
— "And if we deliver it? What do the tribes want with it? Are they trying to wake a giant?"
— "We don't ask. What they do with it is their business. Ours is getting through the Grey Zone without being crushed."
He rolled the map lower, pointing to a narrow path.
— "We pass between two Watcher territories. Three days under cover, no fire. Not a word too many. No signs. Those things don't see like we do. They sense anything that shifts the air. That doubts. That thinks too loud."
Murmurs faded.
The leader rested his hands on his knees and looked at Lihuen.
— "You were gone a while."
No accusation. Just a fact.
Lihuen met his gaze directly.
— "Not that long."
The leader nodded.
— "Maybe. But you weren't there when you were supposed to be. And no one saw you go. We're not enough to just disappear behind each other's backs. So I'll ask this once."
A pause.
— "Are you walking with us, or going your own way?"
Sen lifted her head quietly. Just a flick of her ears.
The veteran cut in immediately.
— "And his Kal'ra? Are we gonna talk about that? We're already hiding with a Fragment strapped to us, and now we're adding a living lantern?"
— "She caught two traps before they dropped," came a calm voice—the tall one in the black-and-white tunic, the one who rarely spoke but was always heard. "I call that help."
The leader raised a hand.
— "Enough. I decide. If he wants to stay, he stays. He carries. He stays quiet. He fights if we fight. He obeys when the time comes."
Then he turned again to Lihuen.
— "So? You staying or going?"
Lihuen answered without strain.
— "I stay."
The leader nodded. No more words. He rolled up the map, slid it into his coat, and walked away, steps steady.
No one moved right away. The fire crackled gently. Glances slid toward Lihuen—some direct, some sidelong. Sen laid her head back down. Lihuen leaned toward a metal cup someone had left him. It was warm. He drank it down in two gulps.
Farther off, the veteran grumbled something into his beard. No one responded.
Lihuen remained still. His body calm, his senses sharp. He observed the gestures, the silences, the spaces between decisions. He understood better now. What a group meant. What collective tension was. What it meant to be in the middle of a mission, without needing a full explanation. He could see. He could feel.
That Fragment they carried—this wasn't just cargo. It was a core. A trigger. A magnet around which the world's contradicting intentions swirled. You didn't drag a giant's relic across the wilds for no reason. You didn't visit an exiled tribe at the edge of the cliffs without expectation.
This mission was a tightrope. A thin, strained path.And for him, it was a first real trial.
Not a formal test. Not a puzzle. Not some ancient presence to convince.
It was instability. Unknowns. Decisions to make. A group. A journey. And at the end—maybe a surprise. Maybe a tragedy. Maybe a lesson.
He looked at his hands. The rune hadn't glowed once since his return. And it didn't need to. It was part of him now. Not an artifact. Not a title to wave around. A fact—quiet, buried, but weighty. It would pulse when it was time. And only then.
He looked up at the grey sky.
He was no longer inside the Domain.But he knew it still lived… somewhere in him.
Tomorrow, they would walk.
And this time, he wouldn't just follow the path.
He might be the one drawing it.