The square smelled of blood, iron, and something sweeter, the faint perfume of roses blooming where they should not. The corpses of the beasts had been dragged into the open by stout-armed villagers, their hides already being carved into slabs of meat. Children peeked out from doorways, staring wide-eyed at the hulking carcass of the largest wolf, its ribs caved inward by Rosaria's thorns.
Amabel stood at the edge of the square, arms folded tightly against her chest. Her brown hair, usually tied neatly, hung loose from the long night, and her eyes were fixed on the massive beast. It dwarfed the men working its carcass, its head alone the size of a cart. She had lived in Korrin her entire life, had heard every tale of the dangers in the forests, yet never had she stood so close to something like this.
Her lips tightened. She should have felt relief and safety that such monsters had been slain before they could rip through their homes. Instead, unease twisted in her gut.
The villagers cheered when they split the beast's chest and drew out the glowing aether core. It pulsed in the butcher's hands like a living heart, shimmering veins of blue-white light running through its crystalline surface.
The crowd gasped as one. For them, it was not just a prize. It was hope.
"Look at it…" whispered one of the younger hunters, eyes wide with hunger. "That core could change someone's fate."
"Not someone," an older man corrected. "The whole village. If we share it, piece by piece, those with the talent can grow stronger. It'll keep us safe."
Amabel's arms tightened across her chest. She knew the truth well enough. The aether core was the path upward and absorbing it, slowly merging its essence with one's own inner core, was how knights, sorcerers, and hunters climbed the ladder of power. But it was not a path open to everyone. Most villagers didn't have the talent or control. Some would sicken trying, others would break entirely. Only a handful in any generation could truly grow strong this way.
Her sigh escaped before she realized it.
"You look troubled, Amabel."
The voice came from her right. She turned to see Bram, a broad-shouldered farmer with hands scarred from years of toil. He carried a knife slick with beast blood, his expression open and curious. "What is it? That beast alone could feed the whole village for two days, and that's not even counting the meat."
Amabel forced a small smile. "I know, Bram. It's not the food I'm worried about."
"Then what?"
Her gaze flicked past him, to where Rosaria sat in her canopy of roses, veil dripping blood onto the book in her lap, Ethan beside her. The villagers gave her a wide berth, yet every eye carried a mix of reverence and fear.
Amabel's voice dropped low. "Why is it that so many are suddenly so trusting of her? That woman… we don't know what she is, where she came from, or what she wants. And yet you've all agreed to let her stay."
Bram scratched at his beard. "Because we need protection. You've seen what she can do. Alone, she's worth more than a hundred hunters. With her here, maybe the Crows won't dare return."
Amabel shook her head. "I just hope you didn't agree simply because she's… she's stunning."
Bram blinked at her, then flushed. "Of course not! Gods above, yes, she's beautiful, anyone can see that, but that's not why. No one's that foolish, Amabel. We all know what's at stake. If beauty could keep beasts at bay, we'd crown our daughters queens. No… we let her stay because without her, this village is a meal waiting to be devoured."
Her lips pressed thin. She looked down at her hands, then let out another sigh. "…I hope we all picked the right choice."
Bram gave her shoulder a reassuring pat before returning to the butchers. Amabel lingered only a moment longer before stepping forward. She cut a slab of meat from the beast's flank, wrapped it carefully in cloth, and began the walk back to her home.
On the way, she passed beneath the canopy where Rosaria and Ethan sat.
The roses swayed lightly though there was no wind. Rosaria did not lift her gaze from the book, but Amabel could feel the weight of her presence all the same. Ethan leaned back in the vine-hammock, his eyes half-closed, saying something soft that made Rosaria tilt her veiled head in quiet response.
The sight made Amabel's skin crawl.
Yet… curiosity gnawed at her. She had watched Rosaria long enough to notice the way she spoke to Ethan is always with respect, with gentleness, sometimes with a devotion that was unsettling. The villagers whispered that she treated him like her master, or perhaps something more.
Amabel chewed the inside of her lip. Could it be… that Ethan was stronger than her? That he was the true power here, merely hiding his strength? If Rosaria was already terrifying enough to crush the Crows and slay beasts in her sleep, then what did that make Ethan?
The thought chilled her more than the cold air.
She quickened her pace, clutching the wrapped meat tightly until she reached the safety of her door.
---
Far away, deep in the forest on the border of Elarion, boots crunched against damp leaves.
The Virehall army moved like a dark tide of rows upon rows of armored soldiers, banners furled to hide their colors. A thousand strong, the column wound through the trees, their armor muffled, their torches hooded.
At the front rode Captain Drevas, a hard-eyed man with a scar across his jaw. He held a map open in one hand, the parchment trembling faintly in the lantern light. His emerald rank aura, carefully restrained, pulsed like a steady drumbeat, guiding the soldiers forward.
His second-in-command, Lieutenant Kael, marched at his side. "Captain, by my calculations, we should reach the village by tomorrow afternoon."
Drevas studied the map, then nodded curtly. "Good. We'll take supplies there, their food, water, perhaps some livestock. Then we continue the march."
Kael's expression was grim. "And the infiltration of Elarion's city?"
"Still the plan," Drevas said without hesitation. "We'll move under cover of night, split the force, and let our gold-rankers clear the path. By the time Elarion realizes, we'll already be in their city and already completed our mission."
Kael hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Sir… are you certain no one has seen us? A thousand men marching through these woods... it's not easy to stay hidden."
Drevas' scarred mouth curved into a cold smile. "No one escapes the eye of our gold-rankers. Even a hawk that flew too close had its wings burned. I promise you, Lieutenant, there will be no warning for Elarion."
Kael exhaled, reassured but still uneasy.
The forest swallowed their words as the march continued, the sound of a thousand armored boots beating a muffled rhythm into the night.