Evening draped itself gently over Riverbend Village, pouring soft amber light across the river until it shimmered like molten dusk. The wind carried hints of wet grass and warm bread, fading slowly as lanterns flickered to life one by one.
Arcanis stepped out of the cottage, stretching his arms as if loosening a quiet weight from his shoulders. His white eyes reflected the mellow horizon—two calm moons watching the day exhale.
Merrin followed him out, rubbing his temples.
"You look unusually relaxed," he noted dryly.
Arcanis offered a small, warm smile.
"I think the river likes me. Or maybe peace is contagious."
Merrin snorted.
"Peace? You've been staring at the forest like it owes you answers."
Arcanis hummed thoughtfully.
"Well… peace and unease can coexist. Humans are complicated."
Merrin blinked.
"Since when do you get philosophical at sunset?"
"Since always," Arcanis replied mildly. "You just don't pay attention."
Merrin shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping.
"You're impossible."
Arcanis's smile deepened—gentle, grounded, the kind of warmth he rarely showed in the palace.
---
Families passed them with baskets of vegetables. Children ran through patches of fireflies, their laughter floating like glowing ribbons. An old man waved at Arcanis.
"Boy! If you're staying, come eat supper with us. My wife cooked too much again!"
Arcanis bowed his head politely.
"I'd be honored, but I've already eaten. Next time."
"Hold you to that!" the man chuckled before wandering off.
Merrin nudged him.
"You're popular."
Arcanis shrugged lightly.
"I'm polite. People appreciate polite."
"Polite?" Merrin scoffed. "You nearly tripped over a bucket earlier."
Arcanis exhaled a small laugh.
"Fine. They like me because I'm clumsy and harmless."
"Harmless?" Merrin snorted. "You're many things, Arcanis—but harmless isn't one of them."
Arcanis didn't argue. He only lowered his voice a little.
"…People aren't afraid of me here. It's nice."
Merrin's expression softened.
"Yeah. It is."
---
As they continued walking, Arcanis caught sight of Sylas again.
The boy stood under a lantern, adjusting rope on a wooden crate. The gentle glow softened his pale skin, caught the curls in his black hair, and deepened the quiet intensity in his onyx eyes.
Arcanis slowed without realizing.
Sylas noticed.
Their eyes met—white and onyx, soft depth meeting quiet steadiness.
Sylas gave a small smile.
"Took another walk?"
Arcanis stepped closer, hands slipping casually into his pockets.
"It's calming. I'm beginning to understand why villagers sleep early."
Sylas chuckled.
"Because we wake early. You'll see tomorrow."
"You're assuming I'll survive the night," Arcanis teased.
Sylas raised a brow.
"Should I be worried? Are you planning dangerous things?"
Arcanis's lips curved subtly.
"Not planning. Just… sensing."
Sylas's expression shifted—thoughtful, quietly concerned.
"You feel it too, don't you? The air's strange."
"…You noticed?" Arcanis asked softly.
"Hard not to," Sylas murmured. "The animals moved oddly today. Even the river felt tense."
Arcanis studied him—impressed despite himself.
"You're perceptive."
Sylas tilted his head.
"Is that a compliment or a warning?"
"A compliment," Arcanis said, voice warm.
"A warning will come later."
Sylas snorted.
"Fair enough."
They lingered a moment longer, a comfortable quiet settling between them, before Sylas returned to his work. For reasons Arcanis didn't yet understand, a soft warmth unfurled in his chest.
---
Later, Arcanis and Merrin returned to the cottage. Merrin lit a lamp while Arcanis leaned against the windowframe, white eyes fixed on the dark treeline.
"You're doing it again," Merrin muttered. "Watching the forest like it owes you money."
Arcanis exhaled slowly.
"I can't shake the feeling. The mana… it's wrong."
Merrin approached.
"Wrong how?"
Arcanis frowned slightly, searching for the right words.
"It feels like the forest is holding something. Or hiding something."
"You mean danger?"
"I mean hunger."
Merrin stiffened.
Arcanis turned toward him—calm, focused, the quiet edge of ice beneath warm breath.
"If something happens tonight, stay behind me."
Merrin frowned.
"You're level one."
Arcanis smiled lightly.
"Exactly. If someone dies first, it should be me."
"Arcanis—!"
He raised a calming hand.
"I'm joking. Mostly."
Merrin groaned.
"There it is—the cheeky humor."
Arcanis blinked.
"Cheeky?"
Merrin looked personally offended.
"Never mind."
---
A sudden cold gust swept across the village, rattling the shutters. Lamps flickered violently—several went out in an instant.
The night fell silent.
Too silent.
Arcanis's voice lowered to a whisper.
"…It's here."
Merrin's hand shot to his dagger.
"Where?"
Arcanis stepped closer to the window, eyes narrowing.
"Forest edge. To the left."
Merrin squinted.
"I see nothing."
"Don't look with your eyes," Arcanis murmured.
"Feel with your breath."
"What does that even mea—"
Merrin froze.
Because he finally felt it.
A presence.
Cold.
Predatory.
Measured.
Like a wet paw pressing into the soil with slow, deliberate intent.
Merrin swallowed.
"That's… not a deer."
"No."
Arcanis's voice softened into razor clarity.
"That's a beast."
A growl rolled across the night—low, spine-deep, vibrating through the wooden walls.
Merrin's eyes widened.
"Arcanis…"
Arcanis stepped forward—steady as water, calm as ice.
"When it comes," he whispered,
"stay close. And whatever you do… don't run."
The growl deepened.
The trees trembled.
The night shifted.
And something stepped out of the darkness.