Date: October 14, 542, from the Fall of Zandra the Dishonorable.
Sobra surfaced from the white water, and the world around him changed.
The milky, warm pond was gone. Beneath his paws was familiar gray gravel. Above him was not a white, featureless sky, but the diffuse light he had known for many months. The air smelled not of ozone and cold metal, but of sulfur, damp stone, and something else—that special scent found only at hot springs.
He looked around. White cliffs, low stone terraces, several small pools from which steam rose. And the familiar outlines of the valley where they had rested with the squad two months ago.
*The hot springs,* Sobra realized. His heart beat faster. *I'm back. I know this place.*
He climbed ashore and shook himself. Water streamed from his fur. His silver stripes, dull before, once again pulsed steadily and calmly. The wounds on his thigh and shoulder were nearly healed—regeneration had done its work, leaving only pink scars that would vanish completely in a few days.
*The tower isn't far,* he thought, recalling the path. *Two days' journey. But before returning, I should gather more leaves.*
---
The week passed quickly, and Sobra made his way back to the tower.
He moved swiftly, but did not run. The energy control technique he had been honing worked smoothly, without faltering. His paws landed softly and silently, and he hardly tired.
Along the way, he found leaves. Not many—sometimes two or three, sometimes five or six.
And finally, he saw the tower.
It rose on the horizon—white and smooth, its walls seeming to glow from within. Sobra quickened his pace. His tired but happy heart beat in time with his running.
*I'm back,* he thought. *I'm back.*
---
He ran into the tower. The glowing lines on the walls flared brighter in welcome. The corridor, the platform, the familiar silence—all of it was so dear and right that his eyes stung.
On the central platform, training was in progress.
Datuk stood on his track, legs wide, knees slightly bent. His face was red, sweat beaded on his forehead, but he stood motionless as a rock. Rosh was running the outer circuit, his movements economical and precise. His fingers, folded in their familiar pattern, traced no vectors—he was learning to manage without them. Ulvia sat on a stone, repairing her gauntlet—the metal plates had been bent in battle, and her right hand needed protection.
Seeing Sobra, Datuk lost his rhythm and nearly fell, but caught his balance at the last moment.
"Sobra!" he shouted. In his usually mocking voice, there was such joy that even Rosh stopped.
Ulvia raised her head. Her tired face lit up with a smile. Rosh nodded silently—but in his mismatched eyes, green and brown, something like relief flickered.
"So, how was your vacation, Sobra?" Datuk asked. "Tired from all that resting, I bet, and decided to come ba—"
He didn't finish. Sobra licked his cheek, and Datuk, laughing, pushed him away.
"Alright," Datuk said, wiping his eyes—whether from laughter or something else, it was unclear. "Tell us. Where were you? What did you see? Why so long?"
---
Sobra stepped back a few paces, sat on the floor, and began to tell his story.
He couldn't speak. But he could show.
He raised a paw and traced a circle in the air—the portal. He jabbed his chest, then pointed up, then down—the fall. He froze, stretched out, mimed flying—the bird. Then he crouched low, bared his teeth, and growled—the crocodiles.
He rose onto his hind legs, showing their height. He flailed his paws, demonstrating their strikes. He jabbed his claws at his own shoulder—*here is where I was wounded.* Then he stroked his fur—*the wound healed.*
He showed how he swam across the lake. How he dove into the white pond. How he surfaced in the hot springs. How he walked, gathering leaves.
He snorted, growled, and struck various poses. His silver-striped fur pulsed with every movement.
Datuk watched intently, nodding.
"Got it," he said. "Uh-huh. Right, right. Whoa, seriously?"
Ulvia and Rosh exchanged glances.
"You understand him?" Ulvia asked.
"Of course," Datuk replied, not taking his eyes off Sobra. "We've been together for many years. I know his language better than my own."
Sobra snorted—a short, sharp sound—and jabbed a paw in Datuk's direction.
"He says it's true," Datuk translated.
"I thought he just snorted," Rosh observed.
"Well, that's because you don't know how to listen."
Sobra continued his tale. He mimed how the girl in white robes had floated above the transparent floor, how she had spoken of the compass, how she had waved her hand—and the floor vanished, and he had fallen.
"And she just let you go?" Datuk asked.
Sobra nodded. Then he showed how the bird had led him to the crocodiles, how he had fought them, how he had won.
"Three of them?" Datuk clarified. "Pillars?"
Sobra snorted smugly and puffed out his chest.
"Well done," Datuk said. "A real man. I'd have done the same in your place."
---
Sobra paused. He looked at Datuk. Then, slowly and majestically, he exhaled through his nose—a puff of white steam emerged from his nostrils.
He was pleased. Very pleased.
Datuk laughed.
"Alright," he said, clapping Sobra on the neck. "Enough sitting around. Let's go train. You've gotten soft."
Sobra nodded and rose. His paws were ready, his body warmed up, his silver stripes pulsing in time with his heart.
They walked toward the tracks. Ulvia, watching them, shook her head.
"Are they serious?" she asked.
"It seems so," Rosh replied. In his cool, even voice, something like a smirk sounded for the first time in a long while.
Datuk and Sobra were already on the platform. Datuk hefted his axe; Sobra crouched low. Their eyes met. In those green and amber depths was something Ulvia couldn't quite grasp.
"Begin," Datuk said.
And they began. The axe whistled through the air. Sobra's paws moved with incredible speed. White dust flew up around them like snow.
Ulvia watched them, and her heart felt warm. Sobra was back. Alive. Mostly whole. And once again, their team was complete.
Rosh stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't smiling—but in his eyes, in that cool, calm appraisal, there was something like satisfaction.
"Did he bring leaves?" Rosh asked.
"Probably," Ulvia replied. "We'll count them later."
They stood and watched as the two—a dwarf and a bear—circled the platform. In that dance, in that rhythm, there was something ancient and true, something beyond words.
*Sobra is back,* Ulvia thought. *And tomorrow, a new phase begins.*
She didn't know what awaited them. She didn't know how many more leaves they needed to gather, how many more battles to endure, how many more wounds to heal. But she knew one thing—they would manage. Together.
And tonight—tonight, they could simply be glad. And watch as two friends, reunited, relearned to feel each other's movements.
Datuk dodged a strike from Sobra, laughed, and swung his axe at empty air. Sobra snorted and nudged Datuk's shoulder with his nose.
"You've gotten weak," Datuk said.
Sobra made a sound—not a growl, not a snort, but something in between. And in that sound was something like laughter.
They continued. And Ulvia and Rosh watched.
And in that silence, in that light, in that tower that had become their home, there was something that made their hearts beat more steadily.
*We'll manage,* Ulvia repeated to herself.
And she smiled.