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"Do you have any suggestions on where we should start, at least?" Kyro asked, pushing his chair back and rising from the table. His voice carried a restless energy, though his shoulders were slightly tense, as if bracing for the weight of the answer.
"South of the village, there's a place called Lostwood Meadows," Elaara replied without hesitation. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes flickered briefly, betraying a concern she didn't voice. "Most sightings have been reported from there. If you're going to start anywhere… start there."
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And so, they found themselves standing at the edge of Lostwood Meadows—two figures facing a vast stretch of frost-tipped grass and twisted oaks, their dark branches clawing at the overcast sky. A chill wind slid across the open field, stinging their cheeks and carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic… perhaps old blood, perhaps just their imagination.
Kyro's boots crunched softly in the brittle grass as his eyes swept the area. There was no immediate sign of wolves, yet the stillness of the meadow pressed in on him, heavy and unnatural. He felt the familiar knot coil tight in his stomach again, that same uneasiness that had been creeping back into him more and more often.
Tharic's gaze caught the subtle movement, Kyro's hand pressing against his stomach. His brow furrowed, irritation bubbling up.
"Seriously?" he muttered, voice edged. "What's the point of all this if you're going to get anxious over every little thing?"
Kyro met his glare, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Because there are people in Sylmora who need help who can't defend themselves. I can't… I won't let my fears take control of me."
He let his hand drop from his stomach, the cold air prickling his palm. "I thought about what you said the other day, and you're right. If I let fear control me, maybe I'm not cut out for this. But I still want to help Sylmora. I want to save others. This isn't just a dream, it's a calling I felt deep inside since Willow Village. And I'm going to answer that call, no matter what it takes."
Tharic's left hand curled into a fist so tightly that his knuckles whitened. "You can't be serious! This isn't some fairy tale! For over a hundred years, people have tried to break the cycle—over and over again. Even our own kingdom has thrown everything at it, and nothing has worked. What's the point of trying when you know it's going to end the same way?!"
Kyro said nothing, his eyes unreadable.
The silence seemed to push Tharic further. He stepped in, grabbing Kyro by the collar with a rough jerk. "We aren't guaranteed another day. Every sunrise is just another step closer to being killed by an Aether hunter. And then what? Your silly dream dies with you. You'd be better off going back home—helping the few you know and accepting that our days are numbered."
His voice dropped to something almost fragile. "Because one day… they'll be gone. Just like my mother."
A faint crunch of movement broke the tension.The sound of paws pressing into damp grass. From the far side of the meadow, three wolves emerged, their coats mottled with shades of gray and black, eyes glinting like molten gold in the weak light. Their breath steamed in the cold air.
But Tharic didn't loosen his grip. His focus was locked entirely on Kyro, the growing danger almost invisible to him.
Kyro's voice was calm when he finally spoke. "If you hate this so much… then why did you come with me?"
"BECAUSE THAT OLD GEEZER CONVINCED ME!" Tharic snapped, the sudden volume startling even himself.
"I had no intention of following your idiotic plan," he continued, his words laced with bitterness.
"But one day, while you were training, I overheard something that reminded me of my mother… and out of guilt, I couldn't let you go. Plus, you mentioned something about your memories, and I was curious. I let myself get dragged into this mess. Honestly, after Ashcrest, I thought you'd finally give up. But you didn't, and I was irritated."
He shoved Kyro hard to the ground, the impact sending a jolt through Kyro's spine. "Tell me what's going on in that hollow head of yours!"
Kyro pushed himself up slowly, brushing loose dirt from his clothes, his breathing measured. "So that's what this is about, huh?"
The wolves padded closer now, forming a slow, deliberate circle, their ears twitching at every sound.
"I wish I were as lucky as you, Tharic," Kyro said evenly, eyes never leaving his companion.
"To remember my parents. To remember my home. Someone like me, no Aether, no ties to the past century, probably does sound foolish thinking he could save Sylmora. The odds are against me, and the threats out there are stronger than anything I've faced."
His hand moved to his axe, drawing it free with a metallic rasp.
"But here's the difference: you've let that truth chain you down. You hide behind the certainty of failure because it's easier than risking hope. I can't do that. My heart aches when I see people suffer, and I'd rather do something about it than bury it like you have."
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
"I have no family here, no home to lose—only the will to see this place free. Maybe that's why you call me foolish—because I've never felt loss like yours. I can't imagine the pain of losing a mother… but that's exactly why I fight. To stop others from going through the same thing. If my days are numbered, then I'll spend them fighting until my last breath. I don't care about the last hundred years. I care about what I can do now. If I fall, I'll fall moving forward, maybe even inspiring others to rise and keep fighting."
He leveled the axe, the cold metal gleaming faintly. "I don't want to just delay the inevitable. I want people to see a future where they don't have to suffer anymore."
"SHUT IT!" Tharic roared, jerking his spear into position. His voice was almost shaking with frustration. "You're even more stupid than I thought! Only someone who's never seen real pain could say something so ridiculous. You're lucky you're even alive! You couldn't save anyone if you tried!"
The wolves' growls were low, rhythmic, circling closer.
Kyro stabbed the axe into the ground to try and break the tension, but his attention flicked to a shadow moving behind Tharic. Two wolves, bodies low, preparing to spring.
"This is bad… if I don't move now, they'll be on him before he can react."
"Are you even listening, dumbass?" Tharic barked.
Kyro sprinted forward without answering.
"What the—" Tharic raised his spear defensively, but Kyro didn't strike. Instead, he seized Tharic by the arm and hurled him sideways, just as the wolves launched themselves. The impact knocked the breath from Kyro's lungs as the wolves slammed into him.
"RUN!" Kyro shouted, wrestling to keep their snapping jaws away from his throat. "I'll hold them off!"
Tharic froze, watching in disbelief. "Why are—"
"GO! Don't waste time on me!" Kyro's voice was raw, strained with effort.
Grinding his teeth, Tharic turned and bolted, his boots pounding against the frozen ground.
"Tch… that idiot. He's going to get himself killed."
Minutes passed in a blur of ragged breaths and pounding footsteps until—
"Tharic!"
The voice stopped him cold.
His mother stood there in the middle of the path, looking exactly as she had in his memories, yet there was something distant in her eyes.
"Mother!" His voice cracked.
But she turned away.
"Why are you turning away? It's me—your son!"
"That's no son of mine," she said flatly. "No son of mine would abandon a comrade."
Tharic reached for her, but she slapped his hand away like it was nothing.
"You know the suffering our country endures, yet the one person brave enough to stand against it, you cast him aside out of fear."
"Mother, please… you don't understand. He's just a fool. I wanted to stop him from dying a meaningless death but he wouldn't listen!"
"His death," she said sharply, "would mean more than yours. Because he didn't let fear rule him. He protected you, even knowing you might not last much longer. And all you've done is insult him and try to make him give up."
Her voice dropped to a deadly calm. "You think yourself strong, but he's stronger than you've ever been. That boy fights for our freedom and our people, while you fight only to protect yourself, hiding behind walls built from your own fear."
A cold wind swept between them. Tharic looked down at his palm, his breath shaking. When he looked up, she was gone—like smoke carried off by the breeze.
"Mother…"
The sound of rapid pawsteps came from behind. He spun just as a wolf lunged, jaws snapping. He sidestepped, then kicked it hard in the ribs, sending it sprawling. Before it could recover, he drove his spear into its skull. Warm blood spilled across the grass, the metallic tang filling the air.
"Damn it… what am I doing…"
The chill seemed to sink deeper into his bones as he stood there, the weight of his choices pressing in heavier than before. Tharic began to deeply ponder his mother's words, letting his thoughts drift back over his past.