Conjuration is too often dismissed as one of the "lesser" domains, though this distinction is more cultural than empirical. Where Evocation imposes energy and Abjuration imposes limits, Conjuration redefines the fundamental substrate of spira, transmuting the abstract into the real. In this way, to conjure is to enact creation itself.
At its core, the discipline draws upon the caster's spira—and at times, a sliver of their own soul—to breathe form into the formless. The clearest expression of this is the conjured familiar—a creature forged from spira and purpose, molded through self, embodying a unique blend of raw magical energy and the very essence of its creator. Familiars are not mere pets or servants, but rather bestial reflections of their conjurer: half-memory, half-mirror, carrying traces of the conjurer's soul in both form and spirit. No two are alike, and over time they evolve, shaped by the growth of the soul from which they sprang.
Beyond the forging of familiars, Conjurers command a diverse arsenal of artes—walls of stone or mud that erupt from barren ground, spears of hardened water hurled with lethal force, air twisted into choking mists or slicing winds. While they lack the raw destructive potency of Evokers, their strength lies in adaptability. Conjurers shape the very environment around them, molding the battlefield to their will and turning it into a canvas of endless possibility, overwhelming their foes through unparalleled versatility.
But such power is not without cost. Each act of conjuring leaves an imprint on the soul, and the overuse of one's spira for creation can lead to a subtle fraying—an erosion of self. Many senior Conjurers develop peculiar oddities: strange tics, fragmented dreams, or moments when their familiar acts unbidden, as if possessed by a will of their own. Whether these are side effects of prolonged casting or symptoms of a deeper, more spiritual entanglement is a matter of ongoing scholarly debate.
As the adage goes: "A Conjurer is never truly alone."
The fog clung to their path like a thick, damp shroud—an ever-present mist that swallowed the township and blurred the forest's edges. Kai glanced around as they walked. Through the haze, Merrowbrook appeared like a ghost, its buildings dim silhouettes against the gray.
Grant's voice broke through the heavy silence, tinged with a subtle unease. "A strange little place," he muttered, his words barely louder than a whisper. "Quiet as a crypt."
As they neared the northern gate, torches flickered along the village's edges. In the flickering light, a figure stood—Cain, the village elder—silent by the gate.
"Warden," the elder greeted. "That's no short road you've walked. Cain, I'm called. Can't say when last we saw your like."
"Grant Devlon. Warden Second Class. Monster Hunter." Grant inclined his head with a weary smile. "The Wardens heed all calls for aid, Elder Cain. Tell me about the beast."
"There's a stirring out there—unnatural and foul. It feels like it draws closer with each day."
A small movement caught Kai's eye, drawing his gaze to the ground near Cain's feet, where a peculiar shape rested amid the swirling fog. He squinted, trying to make sense of it—an oddly shaped turtle, but unlike any he'd seen before. Its shell was mottled with shifting patches of gray and pale green, resembling lichen or weathered stone—rough and cracked, yet alive with a faint, shimmering glow. The creature's limbs were thicker and more angular than a normal turtle's, and a faint mist emanated from it, curling around like a living aura.
Kai barely had a moment to register the strange sight before Oro jerked back, pointing at the creature. "What in the— It's here!"
Cain held up a steadying hand. "No, no. That's Beal—my familiar, guardian of Merrowbrook. Not one to fear."
Beal shifted slightly, the fog thickening around its form, curling like a protective veil.
"The fog you see, shrouding the village—that's Beal's hand. It folds 'round us like a cloak, hiding us from eyes meant to harm. It has kept the darkness of the forest at bay... for now."
"But this new beast," Cain stared into the mist, almost reverent. "Nothing we've faced before moves like this one. It don't see—not with eyes. Just... knows. Crawling through the dark, beneath the fog."
Grant crossed his arms, as he mulled over the elder's words. "Doesn't need sight…" he mused. "Could be a Varyn—they navigate with sound, echolocation. Hunt by screeching through the trees and listening for what bounces back. Nasty things, but not too terribly difficult to deal with. Weak to sound."
His gaze drifted into the treeline ahead. "Or maybe a Weaver. Some of the bigger ones string silken threads across the forest floor—feel every footstep through the threads. You don't even see them coming till you're already tangled up."
Rell glanced at the monster hunter. "You've faced both before, haven't ya?"
"Of course. I can deal with both of them with ease. Still, there's a dozen other monsters that could hunt without sight, even more if we're talking about mutants or chimera. Whatever it is, blatantly hunting humans is a bad sign." Grant replied.
Cain gave a solemn nod. "What worries me most is this—it's been taking people for days… but it moves slow. Like it's waiting. Watching. Maybe it wants us to see it coming."
Kai stepped forward, resting one hand on the hilt of his black sword. "Whatever it is, we'll stop it," he said confidently. "The road north will be clear again."
Grant laughed and clapped Kai on the shoulder. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Elder, you've nothing to fear—this thing's as good as hunted already."
"Road?" Oro squinted toward the trees and tangled underbrush ahead. "A rather generous term, if you ask me. I'd sooner call it a path—or perhaps an animal trail at best."
"May your blade strike true." Cain said with a slight bow.
With that blessing hanging in the fog‑laden air, together they stepped beyond the gate and into the waiting woods, the thick veil of mist closing behind them like a silent door.
The four moved in a close line, the mist parting ahead of them in wisps, thinning just enough to show the path between the trees. Their footsteps broke the hush—crunches of old twigs, the faint drag of boots over stone. Beyond that, the forest held its breath.
The terrain had grown increasingly unfriendly. Trees, thin and spined, shed their bark in curling ribbons like sloughed skin. Branches reached low and crooked, clawing at cloth and flesh alike. They ducked and twisted, forced off-path into nests of thorns just to press on. The forest felt hollow and hostile—like walking through the bones of something ancient, something that didn't want them there.
Kai felt it before he could name it. That same sensation from the wyrmwood—a deep, gut-level wrongness, like the forest had turned in on itself. There were no sounds of birdcall or insect hum. Even the trees didn't creak. Only fog holding around them, and the brittle, starved limbs of twisted trees reaching towards them.
It churned in his gut. The air felt dense—tainted, as though decay had seeped into it. A wave of nausea rolled through him, and he had to pause—just for a moment—to steady himself. His fingers twitched against the hilt of his sword, anchoring him in the familiar shape.
He glanced at the others. Rell's movements were sure, her cloak slipping past brambles with ease as she walked. Oro muttered under his breath, swatting at branches with a scowl, but said nothing more. Grant's face was set—stern and watchful, moving with the quiet confidence born from years of hunting monsters as he trudged through the brambles.
None of them felt it.
Kai grit his teeth and pushed forward, nausea still clawing at his belly. Whatever this was… he'd have to bear it.
Oro broke the silence with a whisper that carried louder than he likely meant it to, wincing slightly at the sound. "Grant, earlier you mentioned mutants and chimera—could you elaborate on what exactly you meant by those terms?"
Rell turned with a sharp look. "Keep yer voice down."
But Grant shook his head. "No need. Whatever's out here… it already knows we're coming."
Kai blinked, slowing his steps as his eyes swept the fog-drenched trees. The woods remained still—no shifting shadows, snapping twigs, or unnatural rustling. He stood tense, every sense alert—waiting for the creature to strike. But nothing stirred or showed itself. Just more of that heavy silence.
How does Grant know?
"Wait—knows? Then where might it be?" Oro eyed the forest around them nervously.
Grant ignored the question and returned to Oro's initial one. "Monsters are categorized in a few different ways. Not every threat fits in a tidy box, but classifications help us spot patterns. Mutants are monsters that've evolved past their original form. All monsters adapt, sure, but mutants do it faster. Smarter. They change to survive."
He pushed aside a low branch, which snapped sharply in the stillness as they continued.
"Say you fight one with fire," Grant went on. "Maybe you kill it. But if you don't—if it gets away—next time it might not burn so easily. It might not burn at all."
Rell cast a wary glance into the gloom. "An' this thing out here… it's already took a few of the villagers, ain't it?"
Grant gave a grim nod. "If it's a mutant, then yes—it's already adapting. Smarter than before, learning as it goes."
A quiet settled over the group, disturbed only by the sounds of their passage as they pushed through the brush.
After a moment, Grant continued. "Chimera are different. Rarer. Not always more dangerous, but unpredictable. They've got traits from two separate monsters—glands from one, bone structure from another. Claws like one beast, venom like another."
"How's that possible?" Kai asked, stepping around a twisted root.
"There's a few theories," Grant said. "Sometimes it's crossbreeding between closely related species. Sometimes a monster absorbs corrupted spira that carries traces of another's essence. There might be dormant traits that activate under stress."
He shrugged. "Or maybe some mad enchanter stitched two beasties together just to see what would happen."
Oro scoffed. "Oh, please. That sounds like a tale spun straight from a fairytale."
Kai stopped abruptly, shoes grinding against the brittle leaves and dead roots. He slowly turned his head, eyes fixed on the trees to their right.
Something was there. He could sense it.
It couldn't be seen or heard—but he felt it all the same. A sickly ripple through the air, like a heat shimmer. It washed over him—sharp pain, a clawing hunger, the hollow ache of something broken and desperate. It wasn't his—of that he was certain. Yet it surged through him as if it were.
It was calling to him.
It didn't speak—it pressed. A quiet throb at the edge of consciousness, like a drumbeat buried beneath the dirt. A siren's song spun from sorrow and longing, tugging at his mind, drowning his thoughts.
Before he knew it, his body was moving—drifting toward the trees. One step. Then another. Off the path following this phantom sensation.
"Kai?" Oro's voice sounded far away, like it was behind a wall. "Where are you headed?"
But Kai didn't answer. Another step, the forest growing closer.
Continuing forward, he felt the brush that had impeded their progress give way, as if the forest itself was clearing a path for him. Ten feet, then twenty. Trees blurred past. His thoughts floated hazily, like bubbles rising through murky water, slow and disconnected from him.
He tried to stop, to fight it—but his legs moved like a puppet on a string, heavy and slow, carrying him forward step after relentless step.
The forest gave way to a rise—an unnatural knoll nestled among the spiny trees, its rounded shape half-swallowed by roots and moss. From its side yawned a gaping hole, jagged and raw, like a wound torn open..
He knew immediately this was no mere burrow, it was an entrance.
Kai stood at the edge of the void, his eyes struggling to pierce the dense darkness spilling from within. Shadows clung so thickly that even the faintest glimmer of light seemed swallowed whole. It felt less like a cave and more like a threshold—One step beyond, and he would cross into something else entirely.
And still, the pull persisted.
Down he went—into the hollow, below the forest floor, leaving the mist and the world behind. The air here hung heavy with rot. From the ceiling, dead roots drooped like withered veins, and he navigated carefully between their grasp while treading over decaying moss.
In the inky abyss, a pallid gleam flickered ahead—pale and ghostly, an unnatural green shimmering faintly in the dark, like a dying ember refusing to fade.
The weight that had pressed on him eased slightly, and with a steadying breath, Kai regained control over his limbs. He crept forward, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword, the other trailing along the wall for balance. The air grew colder the deeper he descended, not in temperature but in presence—like something was watching, waiting, starving.
The light pulsed again, weaker this time, flickering just beyond a bend in the passage. As he stepped closer, his breath caught.
A Verdwyn.
But unlike the gentle, bulbous forest spirits back home— that danced and flitted through the wyrmwood groves. This one was withered, its once-glowing body shriveled down to a puckered husk, like a grape left too long in the sun. It lay sprawled across a large stone, its translucent skin dulled to a bruised gray-green, yet a faint, sickly glow pulsed faintly beneath. Every breath it took a struggle against oblivion.
It raised a tendril—amorphous and trembling—reaching for him.
Not attacking.
Begging for succor.
Kai knelt beside it. His instincts screamed caution, but the ache radiating from the creature was too pitiful. His fingers extended slowly, almost unwillingly, until skin met spirit.
The moment they touched, agony ripped through him like a thunderbolt.
His entire body seized—jaw clenched, limbs locked. His spira, the energy flowing within him, surged outward in a torrent, draining from his core like a flowing waterfall. The Verdwyn drank it greedily, hungrily, its tiny frame convulsing as it absorbed the stolen energy.
Kai tried to pull back. To wrench his hand away. But nothing responded. His muscles were locked in place. His vision blurred. He fell sideways, barely able to brace his fall as his body hit the ground.
Then the room lit up—blinding, emerald, and terrifying.
The glow did not come from the husk alone.
The chamber was full of them.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of Verdwyn, all fused together in a single hideous mass of writhing bodies and curling, translucent tendrils. They pulsed as one. Each eye, black and slick, swiveled independently within the gelatinous blob. Unblinking stares, every single one turned toward Kai.
Watching him.
Hunger radiated from the creature—not the need for food, but a deeper, darker craving. A yearning to survive, no matter the cost.
With a wet, sickening sound, the sprawling mass began to pull itself upward, the countless husks and tendrils coiling tighter as they rose together. The monstrous shape towered before Kai, eyes gleaming with ravenous intent. Slick tendrils reached outward—hungry.
Paralyzed, helpless—he couldn't move.
He could only watch as the starving abomination dragged itself nearer, its hunger clinging to the air like heat.
A flaming orb cut through the air, hissing like a comet, shadows dancing wildly in its wake. It slammed into the bloated mass of Verdwyn with a sickening splorch—bursting into a roar of flame.
Fire exploded across the chamber, drenching the spirit-blob in golden fury. The fused Verdwyn screeched, its many eyes rolling madly, tendrils flailing as it shrank from the blaze. The tendrils that had begun to coil around Kai loosened, dropping him hard onto the ground.
He collapsed onto his side, coughing and gasping, too weak to rise. He tried to lift himself but managed only to shift a shoulder, before two strong hands hooked under his arms.
"Got you," Grant said, dragging Kai backwards across the scorched floor.
Flames raced upward, licking the roots thrust from the walls and splintering across the moldy ceiling. Crackling heat drove the blob deeper into the chamber, forcing it away from its prey. The blaze hissed and cracked, filling the cave with choking smoke and scorching heat—an unforgiving furnace.
With the roar of fire behind them, they fled the cave's burning jaws and into the chill of the forest. The cold fog greeted them again as they stumbled towards the path. Kai's knees buckled—but this time, he caught himself. His strength wasn't fully back, but it was trickling back. Grant stood beside him, steadying his trembling frame as he straightened with a shudder.
"That's twice now I've pulled you out of a monster's jaws," Grant said, giving a crooked grin. "Starting to think you enjoy the thrill."
Kai coughed and managed a breathy, hoarse, "Thanks."
Oro marched up behind them, "Ahem. That fireball was mine, if I may be so bold. Should thanks be given, let them be directed my way."
Kai let out a weak laugh. "Thanks, Oro."
"By all means, continue with your praises." Oro grinned, his chest puffed with pride.
Rell's voice was quiet, but edged with concern. "Will that be enough to put it down?"
As if in answer, the cave behind them shrieked—a discordant, nerve-wracking wail.Then came the tendrils, glowing green and slick, they shot from the smoldering mouth of the burrow, lashing wildly for anything within reach.
Grant moved forward, his Alter weapon twisting in his hands. It reshaped in his grip, transforming from axe to a massive steel shield with a series of grinding metal clicks. He slammed it down before them just as the tendrils struck, the impact ringing sharply against the shield.
Oro stepped beside him, his hands alive as flames flickered and danced across his palms. With a sharp sweep of his hand, a towering wall of flame blazed to life, swallowing the cave entrance in searing heat.
A scream echoed from within as the tendrils violently recoiled.
The screeching faded beneath the blaze, replaced by the crackling of dry wood and underbrush consumed by flame. Smoke curled up in greasy tendrils, and the woods fell eerily silent.
Oro coughed into his sleeve, squinting through the shimmering heat haze around the burning knoll "So then… is it truly dead?"
Grant rolled his neck with a grunt. "Oozes don't like fire. Even the big ones. If it's not dead, it will be soon." He turned to glance at Kai. "You alright? They can suck the life right out of you… horrible feeling."
Kai stayed silent, legs trembling faintly. He could still feel the Verdwyn's tendrils clinging to his skin—like frostbite and decay combined. Like a soft current filling a hollow shell, his spira had begun trickling back into him.
He started to answer, but then—he felt it.
A hum. Faint. Distant.
Run.
It wasn't a sound. It came like a ripple in his bones, a vibration in his skull. Not his own thought—but something else. Weak. Fading. Familiar.
"Run." Kai said.
"What?" Grant asked—but the question was answered for him as the knoll exploded.
Roots and scorched soil tore outward like jagged shrapnel. A terrible screech ripped through the air—high-pitched and warped, like metal screaming in agony. The charred shell of the mound cracked open, and from its depths surged the ooze, no longer confined by form or weight. It had swollen, bloated with everything the burrow once held.
It paused for a moment, tendrils waving absently, then its eyes snapped into focus on them. With a sudden, furious lunge, it charged.
A sea of green-black tendrils writhed forward, ripping bark from trees as it used them to push itself onward, snaking between trunks and uneven ground.
"Go!" Grant barked, already transforming his shield as he launched a volley of crossbow bolts into the writhing mass. The quarrels splashed into its body like stones skimming across water—just enough force to make it hesitate, diverting the nearest tendrils from latching onto them.
Oro pivoted sharply mid-sprint, unleashing a spiraling wave of fire in a wide arc. The flames carved a brief gap in the advancing mass—but it didn't stop. Instead, it hurled itself into the air above the blaze.
Kai ran, his legs moving like he was slogging through deep mud. He pushed through the underbrush, his spira still weak. He couldn't fight—not like Grant, not like Oro—but he could move. Using the little strength he had left, he yanked Oro to the side just as the ooze slammed down where he'd been, its massive weight pressing into the forest floor. It whipped its tendrils into a furious rampage, tearing up the ground around it.
Just ahead, Rell ducked behind a wide stump, loosing arrows in rapid succession into the flailing limbs. Each shot struck true—but the tendrils didn't slow. Her arrows lacked the force to stop them. One coiled around the stump shielding her, another snaked in low from the side.
"Watch out!" Kai shouted.
She turned—too late.
The tendril lunged from her flank—
Kai dived, slamming into her from the side and knocking them both into a roll. The tendrils whipped past, tearing into the stump and splintering it. Wood chips sprayed into the air.
Kai rolled into the ground hard and groaned. As he tried to sit up a crushing pressure coiled around his ankle—and jerked sharply.
"No!" Rell's voice rang out.
Tendrils whipped Kai off the ground by his leg, suspending him upside-down as more lashed toward his chest and face. He felt the cold spread where they touched—draining him once more. The countless black eyes in the mass had merged into a single, pulsing core at the creature's center. It no longer resembled the Verdwyn. This was something else entirely.
Then—
A flash of heat, as a wall of fire erupted around him, severing the tendrils holding him.
Kai fell to the ground, dead roots snapping beneath him, knocking the wind out of him.
Grant rushed in beside him, his weapon shifting back into a shield, raised high. "I swear, kid, this is turning into a habit!"
Kai wheezed. "Sorry… thanks…"
"Enough talk—how exactly do we dispatch this creature?" Oro shouted, exhaustion fraying his voice..
Flames poured relentlessly from his outstretched hand, casting his face in a flickering orange glow. Beads of sweat clung to his brow, sliding down his temples to soak the collar of his shirt. His breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his arm trembled with the strain—but still he held the line, fingers splayed, teeth gritted.
"It shows no sign of relenting!"
Rell knelt beside Kai, gripping her bow with white-knuckled fingers. "Can ya stand?"
Kai nodded faintly, forcing himself to rise.
The air hung thick and heavy, a furnace blazing all around them. Oro hurled a final, blazing fireball into the ooze's mass, the creature's screech piercing through the heat. The impact boomed like thunder, searing a blistering hole straight through the gelatinous flesh and exposing the shifting, pulsing core—a tangled mass of writhing black eyes shifting back and forth, staring at them hungrily. The heat radiated outward, warping the air and making the creature writhe in agony. But it wasn't enough.
The hole began to close, viscous flesh knitting itself back together with sickening speed.
Oro stumbled forward, ash-faced and swaying. He raised a trembling hand to conjure another spell, but no flame came. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Oro!" Kai shouted.
Grant cursed and leveled his weapon. "Hit it now! Everything you've got! This is do or die!"
With no other choices—they had to attack now.
Kai rushed forward, drawing the last of his spira into his limbs. Tendrils whipped down from the canopy above like iron chains, but Grant met them with a roar, his weapon shifting into a jagged cleaver mid-swing. He hacked a path through the onslaught, carving open seconds of opportunity.
Kai didn't waste them.
He ignored the swingin tendrils trusting Grant to cover him, focusing entirely on the smoking crater Oro had torn in the ooze's hide. The core pulsed within—raw and exposed, wounded but not for long.
The tendrils converged on him as he got close lashing at him from every angle. Kai ducked a flailing swing, then rolled under another, landing hard in the muck. Scrambling to his feet, he slashed at a vine-thick limb rearing to strike, his blade slicing through the gelatinous mass with a sizzling hiss. Another lunged from the side—he pivoted and hacked again, barely deflecting it as it curved mid-swing toward his ribs.
He pressed forward, desperate to reach the wound and get a clean shot at the core—but it was aware of him. A dozen new limbs unfurled like blooming roots, slamming down before him. One clipped his shoulder, spinning him off balance and forcing him to skid back in the mire.
He couldn't get close. Not without being overwhelmed.
Kai planted his sword in the muck and looked up—heart pounding, chest heaving. The ooze was healing, the hole almost gone.
"Rell!" he shouted. "Now!"
She was already in position—perched on a high tree branch, bowstring drawn tight. Her eyes locked on the shrinking wound, just a sliver left, tendrils writhing madly in its defense.
She let the arrow fly.
It bent—spira guiding its path as it weaved through gaps, slipping around lashing limbs like a serpent in flight—and struck the core dead center.
Its body began to break down. Limbs flopped and spasmed violently as its motor functions failed. Its death throes launched great hunks of slime, flung like wet mulch that melted, steaming on the forest floor. The creature convulsed with a final, ear-splitting shriek—tearing through the air like a rift.
But the core still pulsed, cracking but not shattered.
Grant didn't give it a chance to recover.
His weapon transformed into a crossbow and he fired a heavy bolt with a thwip.
For a heartbeat, the world went still—the writhing cluster of eyes fixed on Kai.
Thunk.
The bolt hit home with a sickening crack. A geyser of green-black ichor erupted as the core split, its contents splattering lifeless across the steaming ground..
Silence settled over the clearing. Rot hung heavy in the air and dying embers hissed as they faded out.
Kai stumbled back from the collapsing ooze, breath ragged. The smoking mass sagged in on itself, the green glow at its core sputtering, then dying. He turned—and his stomach dropped. Oro lay face-down near the treeline, unmoving save for a faint twitch of one hand.
Kai sheathed his sword and sprinted to Oro, dropping to one knee. He hauled the limp arm over his shoulders, gritting his teeth against the weight as he forced himself upright. His legs nearly buckled, but he staggered forward, one step at a time, dragging them both toward the others.
Rell clambered down from her perch, landing with a soft thud. She took one long look at the remains of the beast and exhaled deeply. Her legs trembled beneath her, and she sank down onto a patch of mossy stone, arms resting on her knees. She drew a deep breath. Then another. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ooze's carcass—as if it might rise again.
Grant hovered near the remains, watching them writhe. The final scraps of slime bubbled and twitched around the ruined core, but their movements were aimless—empty.
"If you three hadn't been here," Grant said quietly, still staring at the corpse, "there'd be one less Warden in the world."
He gave a soft, weary chuckle, but there was no lightness behind it. His shoulders were stiff, his expression grim. "Not ashamed to admit it—I would've been lunch."
Kai didn't respond. He was still holding Oro up, but his gaze had dropped to the dirt. The guilt weighed on him heavier than the man slumped against his side. He had been so dead set on pushing north. If he hadn't waited for Grant… if Oro and Rell had followed him into that fight alone…
He might have come back to life. But they would have died.
And it would've been his fault.
He clenched his sword tightly, knuckles whitening.
Grant's eyes flicked over the group, the silence thick and heavy. With a low grunt, he forced a rough smile and tried to break the tension.
"Well, at least we know the ooze has terrible hygiene. Makes it easier to spot next time." He declared as deadpan as he could.
A pause. Then Rell laughed—really laughed. It wasn't her usual dry huff or sardonic chuckle, but something raw and unguarded, a breathy sound that slipped free before she could cage it. It caught Kai off guard. For someone so guarded, so cutting and cold, the laughter felt out of place… yet utterly genuine. He found himself smiling before he realized it.
"A most harmonious sound," Oro mumbled, eyes blinking open as he lifted his soot-streaked face from Kai's shoulder. "You ought to laugh more often. Suits you better."
Rell wiped her eyes and gave him a half-lidded smirk. "Really? I kinda like it better when you're out cold. Do you always pass out after casting your artes, or was today just special?"
"I reserve my complete unraveling for truly momentous occasions." Oro croaked. "One must manage expectations, after all."
Kai couldn't help it—he laughed too.
Grant walked over and clapped Kai on the back—hard. The force of it nearly knocked him and Oro to the ground.
"Remember," Grant said with a grin, "laughing means you're still alive."
Kai gave a half-smile, still catching his breath. "That's one way to look at it."
Rell, now composed but still sitting in the dirt, shook her head. "Well, I don't plan on laughing in death's face too often. Once was more than enough."
Grant let out a booming laugh and rolled his shoulders. "Suit yourselves. I'm heading back to let Cain know the job's done. You three planning to come along?"
Kai opened his mouth—ready to say they had to head north. But the words faltered, choked back by the guilt gnawing at him. He remembered Oro's fever after their last fight, the way he barely held himself upright during the train ride out of Aldinia. They should rest. No… they needed to.
Oro stirred in his arms and murmured—speaking the words Kai couldn't—"We've affairs to attend to in the north. Time is a luxury we can't afford."
Kai glanced at him in surprise. For all his exhaustion, Oro sounded certain.
"Also," Oro added with a grimace, "I should like proper bread—real bread. Not… mushrooms masquerading as it."
Grant raised an eyebrow at that. "Can't argue with priorities." He gave them all a final nod. "Well then... this is goodbye—for now."
He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back, thumb hooking toward his chest with a broad, toothy grin.
"If you ever need a Monster Hunter... you know who to call."
"I'm hopin' we won't be needin' your services." Rell responded dryly, standing up and patting herself down.
Grant just laughed and trudged off into the trees, his silhouette vanishing into the thinning smoke.
The trio stood in silence for a few long seconds, watching the forest sway in the wind.
Rell broke it first. "North, then?"
Kai glanced down at Oro, who looked ready to pass out again.
"North," Oro said, voice weak but firm as he shifted his weight and Kai steadied him. "Let's get moving—before we have to eat mushloaf again."
Rell laughed, a spark of mischief softening her usual sharp edge. "Typical noble. One bite o' somethin' strange and suddenly it's, 'Where's my fresh-baked loaf?' Gods forbid yer highness dines like the rest of us."
Oro groaned. "That wasn't bread—it was a damp sponge in disguise, parading as something edible."
Together, they stepped onto the overgrown path, their laughter mingling with the awakening sounds of the forest—birdsong weaving through the gentle buzz of insects. Before them, the mist parted on its own allowing shafts of daylight to spill through the dense canopy and paint the undergrowth in soft gold. The dark woods of Greyhallow soon to be behind them.