On the continent of Elysia stood the city of Calamor, a city where human supremacy wove beastfolk into servitude like thread through a needle's eye. For centuries, they were tools. Backs bent in gem-mines, bodies traded in velvet-draped chambers, lives spent as adventurers' disposable shields. Now, rebellion hums louder than tavern songs and drunken revelry. Claws will no longer scrape stone. Collars will crack open. Freedom will not whisper here. It shall roar.
. . .
The city square bustled with the usual cacophony of merchants' calls and the clatter of hooves on cobblestone. Amongst the chatter, a young human male, not more than 18 winters old, stood tall in his imperial armor. His emerald gaze held the earnest fire of a boy who'd memorized every knightly oath. He was still getting accustomed to the armor he wore, his wavy brown hair itching beneath his helmet.
Being a fresh addition to the Imperial Guard, he was determined out to make a name for himself. He would become a hero to the citizens he watched over. Then… movement. A female catfolk, fur dark as the abyss, slipped between carts. 'Almost human,' he thought, wonder softening his stare. 'But why hide?'
Her disguise was careful. A dress drab lumber, with a shawl pulled high. But moonlight fur tipped her fingers, and those ears... obsidian triangles trembling at every shout. Her tail flicked anxiously as she peered from the alley, a shadow among shadows. No brass collar. No stamped tag. The guard's call came not as a bark, but a concerned hail: "Miss? Are you lost?" He moved nearer, gauntlets raised palm-out. "The city's unsafe without identification. Where are your owners?"
Her eyes darted around before snapping to his. She edged from the shadows. Tail coiled tight around her legs, she murmured, "N-no home." A pause, then defiance sharpened her whisper: "Just… after something better."
The guard approached, tone softening. "Alarming you wasn't my intent," he said softly. "There's a beastfolk enclave west of here. They'd shelter you."
Her ears flattened, and her eyes narrowed. "Why?" The word was a dagger. The words 'kindness' and 'human' rarely went hand-in-hand for her. "Humans don't help strays."
His smile was weary but earnest. "Nonsense," he spat. "My oath is to all citizens, even those without collars. Every creature deserves a chance at a better life. Now, I know the laws can be cruel, but I believe in the spirit of peace that Lord Aldric is trying to bring. I won't stand by while others suffer."
He took her hand in his, not waiting for her reply. He guided her along the cobbled streets. Tall, grey buildings cast shadows over their path. The air became fresher as they left the city. The smell of pine and earth danced among the winds. They arrived at a small, hidden village nestled deep in the forest's embrace.
The village unfolded like a secret: cedar homes carved with beast-gods' faces, wind-fluttered banners dyed berry-red. Silence fell. Mothers paused their weaving; fox-children froze mid-chase. Their stares prickled her fur. But they gazed not not at her, she realized. No, they were locked on to the guard's Imperial sigil blazing across his pauldron. He halted before an elder boar-man, tusks yellowed with wisdom. "Sir," he began, "this lost one needs—"
"We don't take kindly to humans bringing us their discarded 'property'." His eyes bore through the guard's. His tone dripped with a mix of anger, tempered by years of such displays.
"However, we'll not leave her to fend for herself." Behind faded tusks, he asks the girl, "What is your name, child?"
The catfolk's ears flattened against her head as she took a step back. She shrunk into herself, feeling exposed. She hadn't thought of names for a long time; to most humans, she was simply 'the stray.'
"I-I don't have one."
The Chief's gaze lingered on her, snout twitching as he considered her words. He took in her delicate features, the stark black and white fur that danced along her limbs. He narrowed his eyes before he spoke. His voice rumbled low. "You will be known as Gala, little one. After the moon that graces our nights with its tranquil beauty and guiding light."
Her ears perked up at the sound of her new name, and she looked at the Chief with wide eyes as a smile began to form. "Gala? That's… that's a pretty name," she murmured, her voice a soft purr. She glanced back at the guard, a hint of gratitude in her gaze. "Thank you. Could I get your name?"
The human guard smiled at Gala, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No need for thanks, Gala. It's what any decent person would do." He leaned slightly on his sword. "And as for my name, it's not relevant right now. What matters is that you're safe. Let the Chief and his people take care of you."
With a shallow nod that was more of a bob of her head, Gala looked at the guard. A sense of longing was in her eyes, as if searching for something more in his gaze. "But, I want to know," she insisted, her tail swaying gently. She stepped forward, gently clasping his hand. "Every human has a name, don't they?"
Something about her innocent persistence touched his heart. He straightened, the weight of his armor seeming to lighten a touch as he reached up to remove his helmet. Off came the helm, releasing a flood of sweat-dark curls that clung to his temples.
"Alright, Gala. Since you're so curious, you can call me Cas." He flashed her a salute that was crooked, almost bashful. "Just Cas." Sunlight caught the sweat on his neck, the boyish crinkles at his eyes. For a heartbeat, his Imperial rigidity dissolved. In its place stood someone young, earnest, and terribly afraid of failing her.
Gala let out a small giggle at the human's unfamiliar display. She returned his smile and slowly turned away. The Chief led her into the village. The crowd of beastfolk parted like a river around a new stone. Cas's heart felt a pang of something unfamiliar, something that reminded him of the warmth of a fire he hadn't felt in years.
Weeks unfurled to months. He'd appear at twilight with sacks of grain, bolts of undyed wool, and other human pleasantries. Each visit brought with it a new excuse. "City gossip," he'd claim, handing Gala honeycakes wrapped in parchment. "I thought you might like these…" His fingers would linger on hers a little longer with each gift.
Cas would learn Gala's tells and quirks. How her ears would twitch when she lied, or how her tail would curl for each question she had. He brought her stolen books, watched her trace human letters with claw-tips. Was this just duty?
Perhaps.
But each visit unraveled Imperial lies: elders whispering of forced labor quotas, cubs snatched for 'training', beastfolk blood staining noble silks. Cas's fists clenched during night watches. Training echoed: Beastfolk are beasts. Yet Gala's gentle hands mended his torn cloak. Her questions about stars carved cracks in his certainty. 'Why,' he'd think to himself while alone in his bunk, 'does kindness feel like treason?'
. . .
The seasons painted a new picture on the rolling hills of Elysia, the leaves shifting from a vibrant green to a fiery array of oranges and reds. The days grew shorter, and the nights colder. Cas's visits stretched long past curfew. Beneath a gnarled oak, they huddled, breath misting between them. He spoke of barracks loneliness, the weight of a sword never used. She confessed alleyway terrors: the gnaw of hunger, human boots too close. Tonight, moonlight gilded Gala's fur as Cas leaned against a cedar post.
"You know," he began, voice rough as bark, "you pester me endlessly." A pause. Her ears flattened until his chuckle warmed the space between them. "But… I've grown fond of it. Of you." His gauntlet ruffled the top of her head. "Your charm's a thief, catgirl. And it has stolen my peace."
Gala pressed closer, fur catching moonlight, tail arcing high. "Really?" Hope trembled in her whisper. Then, daring: '"What if I'm tired of just being your little stray?'"
Cas stiffened. His stare sharpened, soldier's instinct battling boyish yearning. "Explain."
Panic flared in her amber eyes. Ears pinned back, she shredded a blade of grass. "You…" Her voice frayed. "You give without taking. Smile without deceit." A shuddering breath escapes her . "Other humans see something to collar. You see… me." She dared a glance upward. "Aren't I worth more than pity?"
Cas took a deep breath, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn't felt in some time. His palm settled on her shoulder; warmth bled through into her fur. "In truth?" His thumb brushed her collarbone. "You're sunlight after endless drills." A grimace twisted his lips. "But I wear Imperial steel. You wear…" His gesture took in her feline- ears, her wary stance. He averted his gaze and spoke with a sigh. "This isn't some tavern ballad of wistful love and fate's machinations."
Gala's tail stilled, then swayed again, deliberate as a pendulum. "You promised better lives." Amber eyes pinned him. "Doesn't friendship fit?" Her claw-tip traced his vambrace. "Or are your sworn oaths just… pretty words?'"
"Friendship." Cas tested the word. The syllables felt like stones in his throat. Relief warred with grief behind his eyes. "I… didn't mean—' His thumb moved against her fur, slow circles weaving apologies. "It's not you complicating things." His gaze drifted to the distant city lights. "Out here, beneath the stars and leaves? We're just Cas and Gala." His smile frayed at the edges. "But dawn brings barracks. Patrols. Whispers." He leaned closer, voice dropping to embers. "They'd brand you a spy. Me, a traitor. Some walls are simply too vast to climb."
Gala pressed into his palm, whiskers trembling. "If peace can be real," she whispered, "why do their eyes say thief?"
Cas's breath hitched. His hand slid upward, fingers sinking into the dense fur between her ears, the gesture both tender and weary. "Fear," he murmured. "It twists hearts. It's simpler to fear change in the world around than to enact it." Suddenly, his gaze sharpened. "But those oaths…" His thumb brushed her brow. "They are not just words. They're a vow. Not just to banners. To better. For you, and all of my citizens."
Gala froze, her ears pivoting toward distant snapping twigs. Her pupils narrowed to slits. Cas didn't seem to notice. "Promise?" The word barely a sound.
Cas nodded. "On every star watching."
Her tail coiled tight. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, her arms enveloping Cas. Fur brushed stubble as her forehead pressed against his jawline. Warmth. Breath mingling. "Then," she murmured into his collar, "teach me the city's rules." A pause. "So I don't… steal purses." Her claws pricked his skin. The gesture was half threat, half plea. "And Cas?" Her amber eyes lifted. "Don't become… them."
Cas's thumb stilled on her shoulder. Another snap of branches, this one deliberate.. Behind thorny bushes, silhouettes shifted: three caracal-kin elders, ears flat, an icy gaze reflecting the pale moonlight. One hissed, tail lashing. Cas's hand dropped in an instant. Gala whirled, fur bristling. "Elder Lyn?" Her voice cracked.
The eldest caracal stepped forward, muzzle wrinkled in disgust. "Fraternizing with the collars now, girl?" Her gaze scraped Cas's insignia. "Or have you traded freedom for… honeycakes?" Gala shrunk back. Cas's fist clenched as he stepped in front. "She's done nothing wrong."
Elder Lyn's muzzle wrinkled. "We tolerated your crumbs for long enough, guard." Her gaze pinned Gala. "No more. You linger like a fog." She seized Gala's wrist, claws pricking the flesh beneath fur. "Come."
Gala resisted, amber eyes pleading toward Cas. "Elder, he—"
"Silence!" Lyn snarled. "Or shall I remind you of our last citizen who trusted human kindness?" Her voice dipped low, now venomous. "They found her collar snapped… throat torn open, and her body… defiled."
Cas lunged forward. "Wait!"
Lyn spat at his boots. "Visit again, steel-skin, and I will make her vanish deeper than any Imperial leash can reach." She dragged Gala into the gloom, leaving Cas alone with moonlight… and the crushing weight of promises shattered.
Spring thawed Elysia's streams, but a frost gripped the pair. Cas came, as always. But there was a shift. Gala stood apart, tail rigid, eyes avoiding his. No honeycake crumbs littered her paws; no questions spilled about city stars. He thought it was just caution, but this was more. Tiring of the tension, Cas confronted her during a visit. "Gala?" he ventured, offering a spool of blue ribbon— her favorite.
She recoiled. "Don't," her voice staccato. "Lyn says ribbons are leashes in disguise."
Cas's hand faltered.
The visits grew shorter. Some nights, she wouldn't appear at all. Weeks piled like fallen leaves. Her laughter died, replaced by snaps and accusations. Once, she shredded his gift—a book on constellations—before his eyes.
"Why?" he rasped, his heart as torn as the pages.
Her ears flattened. "Because hope," she hissed, "is a human luxury. We starve on it." She turned, the shadows of the village swallowing her whole.
Cas stood at the forest's edge week after week, calling her name into the abyss. Only wind answered. Defeat settled in his bones. Back in Calamor's barracks, drills blurred. He polished insignias until they reflected hollow eyes. Nightmares came: Gala's amber gaze vanishing behind Lyra's claws. Her whisper, 'Don't become them', twisting into accusation. He traced Imperial vows on parchment, the ink smudging beneath sweat and a stray tear. Dawn patrols began… and ended… with Cas scanning alleys for her monochrome fur. No trace remained.
Gala... was gone.
. . .
The morning air was cool as Cas donned his armor for another day of duty. He stepped into the bustling barracks, the clank of steel and shuffling boots a rhythmic backdrop to his thoughts. His gaze drifted to the wooden post that held the latest missives from the city's watchtower. As he searched for his assignment, a clamor was growing outside.
Clang! A guard stumbled in, breastplate dented, eyes wild. "Breach!" he rasped, blood flecking his chin. "Northern gate. The market is overrun with beastfolk!" Chaos erupted: swords unsheathed, shields snatched. Cas froze.
Beastfolk? The word struck like a hammer. Memories flashed. Gala's laughter, Lyn's snarl. Then, the lieutenant's roar: "Form ranks! Show no mercy!" Cas's hand trembled on his pommel. Outside, distant roars tore the air. Smoke plumed against the rising sun. He pictured beatfolk ears flattened in terror… or fury. His oath tightened around his throat.
Chaos erupted across the cobblestones as townsfolk scattered. Guards charged toward the shattered gates, blades gleaming under the climbing sun. Cas stood frozen at the edge of the fray, his platoon surging ahead without him. His thoughts clung to Gala—her laugh, her hopeful eyes—a fragile anchor against the screaming.
The beastfolk tore through disciplined ranks like parchment. He gripped his sword... but couldn't move. He merely watched the chaos unfold as the sun climbed higher. The guards were skilled and disciplined, but they couldn't handle the feral beastfolk.
Cas's breath seized. These weren't strangers. He knew these beastfolk faces from the village visits. Now they ripped through steel like parchment. The steel of his brothers-in-arms. Entrails glistened on the streets where citizens would barter daily. Why? The question choked him as blood misted the air. He didn't understand. He couldn't.
The city crumbled around him. But all he saw was her. "Gala wouldn't be part of this carnage…" Would she? He raced through Calamor's now-quiet streets, boots kicking up ash. Every shadow twisted into a memory: the flick of a tail, a laugh like wind chimes. His uniform clung to him, a beacon for the teeth and claws. One misstep, he thought, and I'm just another stain in the alley.
Cas froze at the northern gate. Beyond the shattered arch, Gala stood like a statue forged from war, backlit by dying fires. The ruins of the market square lay at her feet. Trampled silk, splintered carts, the faint scent of spices clinging to the rubble. Beastfolk warriors circled her, heads bowed not in submission, but allegiance. Her voice cut through smoke, "This is our reckoning." Cas's breath stalled. His elusive phantom… She held the blade.
The beastfolk cheered, their voices a cacophony of roars, growls, and howls. Cas slowed his steps, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he took in the scene before him. Many lives he had sworn to protect lay in ruins, and the… creature he had come to care for was at the forefront of the calamity.
"Gala," he called out, his voice strained. "What is this? What have you done?"
Gala didn't look at him. Not yet. She knew the voice all too well. She expected his interference. Her gaze stayed level with the burning horizon, where dawn bled into pyre-smoke. Slowly, she turned. Ash caught in her fur like gray snow. "What had to be done," she growled. It was a low, resonant thrum that vibrated in Cas's very marrow. "Generations caged. Whispers choked to silence." A claw rose, sweeping over ruins. "This?" Her tail lashed once. "Our only hope."
Cas's face fractured with fury, terror, and grief. He lurched closer, drawing his blade as boots crunched smoldering wood. "Hope?" The word cracked as his weight shifted. "Look!" He danced the tip of his sword to a doll half-buried in cinders. "Innocents. Dead." His breathing became stilted. "They'll hang you in the center of town for this."
Gala's ears pinned flat; her tail stabbed upward like a dagger. "Innocents die all the time, Cas," she snarled. Smoke coiled between them. "Human hands. Beast claws. It doesn't matter who held the blade. The blood smells the same." Her eyes locked onto his. "You know. The kicks in alleys. Stones thrown at our children." A low growl. "This isn't freedom." She bared teeth. "It's survival."
Cas stared as a crackle of flames punctuated the morning air. "What are you saying?" He stepped back, . "You've slaughtered them! My friends, my colleagues… The people I swore to protect!"
Her tail flicked one final time against the rubble. He needs to hear this, even if it shattered him. "You vowed protection," she said, the words raw. "Not just for them. For me too." Her ears flattened. "This isn't war-games. Nor is it vengeance." Exhaustion threaded her voice. "We wish to breathe without chains." Head bowed, she breathed out—a sigh that stirred ash at her paws. "Go to Aldric." Her claws flexed. '"Tell him: parley" The word hung, cold. Calculated. "Negotiate our freedom... or Calamor continues to burn."
Cas's fingers uncurled from the sword's grip as he sheathed it. His movements were slow and deliberate. "I…I understand," he said, the admission scraping his throat raw. His gaze locked onto her. "If this path leads to peace?" He straightened. "Aldric will hear your words." Ash settled on his shoulders like snow. "But if it's vengeance wearing freedom's mask?" His jaw clenched. "I will not simply stand and watch as you set yourself ablaze to light the way."
Gala's pupils widened. The wildfire in them cooled to embers. "Peace," she breathed, the syllable soft. "I swear it…" Her eyes pierced through his, pleading, "on every star watching." Her ears did not twitch, and her claw brushed his sleeve. The glancing brush of a specter.
Cas turned. The castle loomed through smoke. "Then I'll carry your voice," he murmured. Boots crunched glass. He didn't look back.
. . .
Cas's boots rang hollow against marble—too loud in the citadel's quiet. Crimson banners hung limp, the chained griffon seeming less a symbol of strength than ever. Elegance felt brittle here, like frost creeping under his collar. Aldric's guards know Cas... but their eyes lingered a moment too long on his soot-streaked armor. Suspicion? Or just shared dread?
Cas pushed open Aldric's door. The lord stood at a leaded window, back turned, silhouette sharp against the city's glow. Not golden anymore. Orange. Burning.
Aldric didn't turn. "Guardian, why do you stand idle as the city burns?"
Cas's throat tightened. "My Lord," voice scraped raw from smoke. "The beastfolk responsible… They offer... terms." A beat. "They wish to negotiate for freedom."
A heavy silence followed. Then, Aldric turned. Slow. Deliberate. "Negotiate?" Blue eyes pinned Cas, like a hawk sighting prey. "They sent… you?"
Cas stiffened. "The catfolk who leads them." Uttering her name was too intimate for this cold room. "She's..." His knuckles whitened. "...known to me."
Aldric's laugh was ice cracking. "Known." He traced the word. "This beast?"
Cas nodded, his hand welded to the hilt of his sword. "She speaks of peace, not vengeance." Liar, quipped the memory of the grocer's corpse.
Lord Aldric's gaze remained, his expression a stone mask. After a long moment, he nodded once. "The envoy shall leave at dawn, with you at the head." He leaned forward, eyes like a snake. "But hear this, boy. The beastfolk are creatures of the wild, not fit for the bonds of civilization."
Cas turned from Aldric's chamber, the lord's warning ringing hollow beside the chaos outside. Debriefing passed in a haze. His orders were now to gather the dead.
First corpse: A fellow guard, eyes glassy. Cas knew him—Joren, who'd shared rations.
Second: An elderly merchant, coin pouch still clutched.
Then, the child.
Huddled in a doorway, trembling. Cas reached. The boy scrambled back, shrieking. "Monster! Beast-thing!"
Cas froze. His reflection in a puddle: armor smeared with soot and... blood? He soon got through to the boy, ushering him to safety. Yet, each fresh corpse… each home reduced to rubble… It all served to kindle the embers of hate within.
. . .
Dawn bled across Calamor's ruins as Cas fastened his breastplate—steel biting cold against yesterday's sweat. Echoes in his mind: Glass shattering. That child's scream. Gala's request. Outside, soldiers formed ranks. Sunlight glanced off polished helms, catching the tightness in their jaws. Determination. Dread.
Then Aldric.
His garish armor glinted, the gilded edges sharp as his gaze. He reined his horse beside Cas, the beast snorting steam into the chill. "Steady, Guardian," he murmured, eyes scanning the smoldering city. "Today, we see their true nature."
They approached the beastfolk village with the cautious grace of diplomats entering a foreign court. Hooves crunched gravel as the delegation halted. Beastfolk watched from all directions. Lynx eyes gleaming, wolf ears flattened.
Cas slid from his saddle, hand tight on steel. Where was she? His pulse hammered against his ribs. Then—he saw it. A flash of monochrome fur near the village longhouse stone. "GALA!" His shout tore the stillness. "We parley!"
Silence thickened. Only wind whistled through the makeshift structures. Cas's gaze darted to Aldric. The lord waited motionless, as if carved from glacial ice.
Gala stepped from the gloom. Her eyes... were hollow. Haunted. She halted ten paces away, tail rigid. "Cas," her voice rasped. There was no warmth to her tone, nor her gaze.
Two fierce beastfolk guards flanked her. She gave Cas a single nod, a faint smirk touching her lips. Her gaze swept the humans, lingering on Lord Aldric for a moment. "Follow me." As she led them through the village, beastfolk whispers grew to nervous chatter. Tension ran thick, but Gala's stride never faltered as she guided them toward the longhouse.
Firelight spilled from its open door, warm and beckoning. She gestured inside. "The Chief expects you."
As they entered, the Chief rose beside the crackling fire, tusks framing a knowing grin. His eyes locked with Gala's. Behind their glance was a silent exchange Cas didn't miss.
"Lord Aldric," he began, voice resonant. "I apologize for the rogue faction's attack on your city. They don't reflect my people." Every word shielded Gala, veiling the uprising's truth, "They were merely… rebels," he said, "driven by anger and thirst for change." A deliberate pause. "But we seek peace. Abolish Calamor's slave trade, and I shall quell the uprising." His tone softened—a veneer of concern—as he neared Cas."We want Calamor to endure."
Silence draped over the room. Aldric's gaze sheared between Gala and the Chief. Cas braced for the bluff's exposure—then Aldric's cackle iced the air. He advanced, boots striking stone. The Chief waved toward fire-warmed chairs, smirk deepening. "Sit. Let's discuss peace... and our lands' future." With a nod, he reclaimed his seat, tusks gleaming..
Cas's eyes locked on Gala. Less than a day passed, yet it felt like a lifetime. He searched past her, hunting the playful spark he knew. It was gone. Only terrifying will remained. He stayed silent. Her actions screamed the bitter truth: she was merely a savage beast craving control. She never cared. She used him. Was still using him. Whatever bond they'd forged? Dust. His human companions came first now.
Aldric's gaze pinned the Chief. "Peace? A noble end." His voice mirrored the beastlord's serpent-hiss. "But your freedom has a price." A pause. Eyes slid to Gala. "You demand slavery's end, yet bring war." He leaned down to her. "One messenger to the capital," he spoke with cold precision. "and your village burns so fiercely not even Leviathan could quell it."
Gala's hand snapped toward her weapon. "You stole our dignity! Now you plan to steal our lives?"
Cas's blade hissed free, blocking her path to Aldric. "Gala, no!" The shout cracked like ice. Guards tensed; steel sang. He held firm, gaze locked. "We negotiate, not slaughter. However…" A bitter laugh. "You yourself taught me beastfolk are too conniving for that."
Aldric's stare slid from Gala to Cas. One finger tapped his chair arm—tap, tap—like a clock counting down. He inhaled, gaze darting to his guard before settling on the Chief. "Guardian," he rumbled, velvet over gravel. "Your loyalty is… touching. But unneeded." A pause."'I'll speak with the Chief. Alone." His hand flicked. "Clear the room. Now."
The Chief's tusks lifted in a slow nod. Eyes locked on Aldric. "Agreed," he growled, resonance shaking dust from the rafters. "No further distractions. Gala, leave us." Guards retreated like shadows. Others slipped out until only firelight danced between the two. Silence swallowed the longhouse whole.
The door thudded shut. Gala spun to Cas, eyes wildfire. "How could you?" Her voice scalded the air. "You know our truth! Our suffering!"
The words gutted him. Iron-scented memories flooded in—human terror, shrieks in smoke, comrades bleeding out in mud. His sword rose, tip kissing her throat. "Suffering?" A strangled laugh. "What of the butchered families? Children orphaned by your rebellion?" Blade steady, voice fraying. "The Gala I knew died yesterday. I guard Calamor, and will do so to my last breath." His next whisper chilled her fur. "You… mongrel"'
The word echoed through the square, the slur searing her ears. Gala froze—disbelief cracking her mask of stoicism. Him. The human she'd… trusted. Cared for. Crimson fury flooded her vision. Fur bristled; claws unsheathed. Muscles coiled, taut as a trap-spring. Vengeance roared in her blood—for her people's scars, their stolen dignity. This human would burn.
Cas braced, expecting a strike. However, an invisible vine snaked through Gala's mind. Rage muffled. Senses dulled to cotton-thick numbness. Foreign thoughts whispered to her: Peace… serenity…
Outside, beastfolk murmured. Pupils dilated; bodies swayed. Golden light haloed their silhouettes—warmth blooming from within. A sigh swept the square. Cas exchanged stunned glances with his men. No breeze stirred… yet the air hummed with stillness.
The longhouse door groaned open—a sound that split the village's trance. Aldric emerged first, face carved from ice. The Chief followed, fur bristling at a wind only he felt. His gaze found Gala's: Steady, child.
No words. Just the ghost of a nod before turning to the crowd. The unknown force held… but cracks spiderwebbed through its glow.
The Chief's voice boomed—but Cas flinched. "Lord Aldric and I… understand each other." A pause thick as tar. Cas sensed a change in the Chief's voice. It was… Hollow? "Tomorrow, midday, he'll stand before Calamor. And declare…" The word choked out. "Abolition."
Beastfolk erupted. Shrieks tangled with sobs—hugs crushing ribs, tears carving dirt-caked fur. Victory tasted like ash and honey. Cas stood frozen, knuckles bone-white on his sword's pommel. The Chief's eyes met his: empty. Wrong.
Then, normality crashed back. The alien feeling from before evaporating. Guards sheathed blades; metal sighs cut the din. Cas's gaze locked on Gala for but a moment before turning. His men marched behind him, boots echoing the Chief's promise.
Hooves once again crunched gravel. No one spoke. Unsaid accusations hung like swamp-mist. Cas clenched his reins. What did we just unleash? A cold stone settled in his gut. This was…Too clean. Too quick.
The midday sun gilded Aldric's profile as Cas nudged his stallion closer. "My lord?" Aldric didn't turn. Only the tightening of his gloved hand on the bridle answered. Ahead, Calamor's walls swallowed the light.
Cas leaned closer, knuckles white. "What happened in there, my Lord? What… bargains sealed this?"
Aldric's stare stayed fixed on the horizon. "The terms… are mine and the beast's alone." A glacial pause. "Order returns. Life resumes." Then, slowly, he turned. Eyes like grave dirt. "But to corner a caged animal?" A smile thin as a blade. "That is most unwise. Inquire no further, guardian."
. ..
Lord Aldric's voice boomed through the square, "Hear me, citizens and beasts alike!" Rainwater pooled on the stones, reflecting Aldric's silhouette like a dark stain. "Hear me!" His voice cracked the sky. "A new dawn rises for Calamor! The barbarous enslavement of the beastfolk ends today!" A tidal wave of shock rolled through humans. Beastfolk didn't move. Not a whisker twitched. Eyes froze, waiting. "You will return to your village today." He paused. "Free."
The crowd's murmurs grew louder as Lord Aldric raised a hand for silence. "The recent attack," he said softly, "was a desperate cry. Those long silenced by oppression, used their voice. We must listen. Not to debate, but to learn. To ensure that desperation ceases to fuel conflict. Let us stand united, as one people, and move forward to forge a new destiny for Calamor and the beastfolk!"
Murmurs swirled below. Human voices rife with confusion, beastfolk whispers trembling with fragile hope. Aldric's gaze found Cas, smile widening like a crack in stone. "Guardian Cas… No… Hero of Calamor!" The title rang like a cracked bell. "Your wisdom guided us to this sunrise." Humans blinked, some nodding slowly. Beastfolk ears pricked, tails twitching tentative relief. Cas dipped his head, jaw tight. Aldric raised a fist. "Honor him!" The cheer that followed felt… thin. Like applause for an execution.
Days bled into weeks. The beastfolk returned to their village—guarded, quiet. Cas avoided the woods where Gala once laughed with him. Mongrels, he'd curse, polishing his blade. Aldric's peace settled like dust on Calamor's streets. Unease coiled in Cas's ribs, sharp as shattered glass. He failed. Lives lost to the beasts. As he buried his comrades, the questions lingered. His only answer was silence. Only the echo of chains he'd helped break… and the heavier ones he'd unwittingly forged, remained.