The storm broke just before dawn.
Vaelrik stood atop the Hold's outer wall, the wind cold against his face. Rain lashed the stone, seeping into every crack, but the moss held firm beneath his boots. Below, the courtyard was quiet. Gairos stood near the gate, still as stone, eyes fixed on the horizon.
The air felt wrong.
Forge stood at Vaelrik's side, chains loose and ready. "They come."
"I know," Vaelrik said.
Lightning flashed in the distance, briefly revealing the far ridge. Shapes moved there. Small. Quick. Not beasts.
Skarn growled low from below. "Humans."
Brand Thieves.
They had not waited long.
The first scouts had watched from the ridge. Now they returned with more, just two nights later. This time, they carried something different.
Vaelrik could feel it. The Vaulting pulsed uneasily beneath his skin. The land did not want them here.
A horn sounded.
Not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the wind. Gairos stirred, his massive head turning. Mournroot hissed from the courtyard's edge, vines twitching. Zephyrion circled high above, lightning dancing along his wings.
Vaelrik raised his hand.
"Let them come."
---
They did.
Not in open formation. The Brand Thieves crept through the ruined paths outside the Hold, using the same ground they once claimed. Five at first. Then ten. Light armor, short weapons, no banners. But Vaelrik saw what they carried.
Chains.
Forged and blackened, the same kind used on Karnyx. Meant not to crown, but to bind.
Forge stepped forward, chains tightening. "They do not seek battle. They seek to take."
"Then we give them nothing," Vaelrik said.
He leapt from the wall.
The beasts followed.
Skarn was the first to strike, claws ripping through stone as he hit the ground. Valgrin landed beside him, flame flickering in his breath. Karnyx moved next, silent and grim. Forge's chains sang through the air.
Vaelrik reached the first of the invaders before they could raise alarm. Tempest Fang flickered in his hand, lightning trailing along the blade.
The fight was quick.
The Brand Thieves were not ready for a direct assault. They had expected weakness, not war.
Vaelrik left no survivors.
Only one fled.
He watched the figure run, slipping between trees beyond the Hold. Not toward reinforcements. Away. Toward the hills.
Vaelrik narrowed his eyes.
"Let him go," Forge said.
"No," Vaelrik replied. "I want to know who he feared more than us."
---
He followed the trail through rain and mud, moving fast. The Vaulting stirred beneath his feet, guiding him. Skarn and Zephyrion stayed behind. This path was his.
The ground sloped downward, the storm breaking above. Light returned slowly, grey and cold.
Then he heard it.
Not chains. Not shouts.
A beast's cry.
Wounded. Defiant.
Vaelrik slowed, slipping between the trees. The clearing opened ahead. Rain soaked the ground. And there, standing alone, was a girl.
No, not just a girl.
A woman, holding a spear with both hands, blood on her arms, mud streaked across her face. Her beast lay at her feet, a lean creature, all fur and claw, breathing hard.
The Brand Thief Vaelrik had followed was dead.
Her spear was still in him.
Vaelrik stepped forward.
She turned instantly, spear raised again.
"Stay back!" Her voice was sharp. Clear. Not afraid, but protective.
Vaelrik held up one hand.
"I'm not with them."
She didn't lower the spear.
"I saw what they did," she said. "They came for him." She looked down at her beast, fury in her eyes. "I won't let anyone chain him."
Vaelrik studied her.
Then the shadows shifted.
Forge appeared at his side. Chains loose, eyes narrowed.
The woman's eyes widened. Not in fear.
In recognition.
"You don't chain them either…"
Vaelrik met her gaze.
"No. I don't."
Her spear lowered.
And for the first time in a long while, Vaelrik saw something he had never expected to find in this ruined world.
Someone like him.
The clearing stayed quiet.
Vaelrik didn't move. Neither did the woman. Rain dripped from the trees around them, soft and steady, soaking the ground beneath her boots. Her beast let out a low growl, but it was weak, more pain than warning.
Vaelrik stepped forward slowly.
"I'm not here to take him," he said.
She narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you here?"
Forge stood behind him, silent, watching everything.
"I followed them," Vaelrik said, nodding to the body on the ground. "He ran from the Hold."
Her eyes flicked to Forge's chains, then back to Vaelrik's face. "You rule that place?"
"I reclaimed it."
She didn't answer right away. Her beast shifted slightly, lifting its head with effort. It was smaller than Vaelrik's, built for speed, not power. Dark fur, lean frame, sharp eyes. One leg was bleeding, but the beast made no sound.
"You crown them," she said. "The ones with you. They're not forced."
"No," Vaelrik said. "They chose it."
She seemed to breathe for the first time in minutes.
"I thought I was the only one left," she whispered. "The only one who didn't chain them."
Vaelrik said nothing.
She sank to one knee, placing her hand on the wounded beast's head. "His name's Riven."
Vaelrik raised an eyebrow. "Not many name them anymore."
She looked up at him. "They should."
Forge stepped forward. "He is dying."
She glared at him. "I know."
Vaelrik crouched near her, studying the wound. "There's moss in the Hold. From the last crown. It heals slowly, but it works."
She hesitated.
"You want me to come with you?" she asked.
"You won't last out here," Vaelrik said. "Not now that they know you're alive."
She looked down at Riven. The beast's breathing was shallow. Pain clouded its eyes, but it stayed close to her, tail twitching.
Finally, she nodded once.
"Fine. But I stay with him."
"You will," Vaelrik said.
---
They moved fast.
Vaelrik led the way, Forge watching their flank. The woman carried Riven across her shoulders despite the weight, refusing help. Vaelrik didn't argue. The rain lightened, the sky clearing by the time they reached the outer edge of the Hold.
Gairos stood waiting.
The woman stopped at the gate.
Her eyes widened.
The moss-covered beast stood like a living mountain, unmoving, eyes calm.
"You crowned him too," she whispered.
"Yes," Vaelrik said.
She stepped inside.
Mournroot appeared from the shadows, vines curling along the walls. The woman tensed, but Vaelrik raised a hand.
"He won't harm you."
Mournroot's gaze settled on Riven, then on her. The vines stilled.
Vaelrik led her through the courtyard. The moss underfoot pulsed faintly, responding to their presence.
"You said you thought you were the only one left," Vaelrik said.
She nodded. "Everyone else I met… they just wanted control. Power. They chained every beast they found. Said it was the only way."
"And you?"
"I'd rather die than chain him."
Vaelrik stopped.
He looked at her, truly looked. Mud on her face. Rain in her hair. Arms shaking from carrying the beast. But her eyes were steady.
"You don't belong out there," he said.
She raised an eyebrow. "And I belong here?"
"For now," Vaelrik said. "You and your beast."
She lowered Riven to the moss-covered ground. The beast curled close to her, breathing shallow but steady.
"What's your name?" Vaelrik asked.
She glanced at him, then smiled faintly.
"Lira."
Vaelrik nodded once.
The Hold had gained something new.
And the world had changed again.