The sound of rain drummed against the cave entrance, but inside it was quiet, save for the occasional mellow crackle of the branches in the fire.
Gaia sat across from Isgram, her eyes locked on his. She had been watching him for a while now, noting how his mind seemed to be elsewhere. She hadn't missed the tension in his jaw when they left the clearing.
"Isgram," she started, her voice calm, "you've been quiet since we left Fujin. What's on your mind?"
Isgram shifted slightly, his fingers drumming against his knee. He stared at the fire, his thoughts clearly churning.
"I'm thinking about Davra," he finally said. His tone was flat, like he was testing the words before fully committing to them.
Gaia raised an eyebrow. "Davra? What about it?"
Isgram shook his head, and waved his hand to signal her to leave it.
"Isgram, you don't think I should know such things if we're to decide this? I can't be trusted, is that what you're implying?"
Isgram sighed, and took a long minute to think about it.
He took a couple of bites from the meat they cooked.
His eyes flickered to her for a moment before drifting back to the fire. "It's... complicated. I've been there before, traded with them for some weeks.
Never guessed their chief will remember me.
Gaia's gaze sharpened. "How long ago?"
"A couple of years," Isgram muttered. "Traded ore. talked to a few of the locals. The place is really beautiful. But People don't just come and go, it's all under the chief's control. Fujin's no fool."
Gaia leaned forward slightly, her interest piqued. "What do you know about their alliances? Who do they answer to?"
Isgram clenched his fists, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "No one. They think they're above everyone else. They've made deals with the Elven Empire, but it's all on their terms. Davra doesn't really answer to anyone, not even the Empire. They're isolationists, but powerful."
He paused, then added with a hint of bitterness, "They only care about their own strength and survival. Everything else is just bargaining chips."
Gaia studied him, her voice softening. "You sound like you've seen this firsthand."
Isgram nodded stiffly. "I've seen it, but it wasn't exactly a warm welcome. They don't trust outsiders, especially not those who don't fit into their little power games."
"Did you get involved in those games?" Gaia asked quietly.
Isgram's eyes darkened. He didn't want to say too much, didn't want to reveal how much of his own past was tangled up in places like Davra. But he couldn't deny it either. He had spent enough time in their presence to understand their twisted sense of honor, their need for dominance. "I stayed out of their politics. But you can't be around them without picking up on things. They're... dangerous."
Gaia was silent for a long moment, letting his words sink in. The rain outside intensified, but the air inside the cave remained still, thick with the weight of what was unsaid.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Do you think Fujin's offer is genuine?"
Isgram looked at her then, his face a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. "I don't know. Part of me says he's playing us. He's too calm, too controlled.
On the other hand, he is bound by his sense of honor, so he won't make such an alliance unless he is serious of being tied to us. His relationship with the empire is really bad if he dares to propose such an alliance with us."
Gaia nodded, her expression thoughtful. "But if we don't accept it, we risk Fang's life. And if we do, we could be walking straight into another trap."
Isgram exhaled sharply, frustration building. "I don't trust him, Gaia. And I don't trust the people of Davra. But we're running out of options."
Gaia's gaze softened, but her words were firm. "Isgram, I know you don't like this, but we have to consider all the angles. Fujin's offer might be our best shot."
He shook his head. "I've seen how they operate. I've seen what they do to people who don't fit their mold. We can't be their pawns."
Gaia held his stare for a moment longer before speaking again, quieter this time. "I'm not asking you to trust them completely. I'm asking you to think about what's best for Fang. We'll make our decision together."
Isgram met her eyes, the weight of his internal battle clear in his gaze. For a moment, it felt like the whole world hung in the balance.
Finally, he nodded. "I'll think about it. But I'm not letting them use us. We will give them the iron, but nothing more. Every trade after that will be made by Fang and not us, we need more leverage."
Gaia gave him a small, understanding smile. "That's all I need to hear."
-----------------------------
The rain had thinned by the time Fujin and his daughter crested the ridge overlooking Davra. Mist clung low over the treetops, curling between the trunks like spirits reluctant to return home. Neither of them spoke.
They took the long path back, a quiet trail through the outer forest—one he used when he didn't want to be seen entering from the front gates. It was peaceful, cloaked in birdcall and dripping branches.
Until it wasn't.
A sharp rustle. The snap of a branch. Then, from between the trees, came movement.
Cloaked figures stepped into the open one by one, a staggered fan formation. Their hoods were pulled low, armor worn for function not form, bows already in hand.
Fujin's daughter reacted first, fingers twitching toward the hilt at her back.
"Hold," Fujin murmured.
There were forty of them. They hadn't been tracking Fujin. they were on a mission. They stumbled across him by accident, but opportunity shifted their posture.
One of them stepped forward. "You're far from your borders, Chief."
Fujin studied him. No imperial insignia. The kind of group hired by coin, not oath. "And you are far too tense for someone who just made a mistake."
The speaker ignored the warning. "You come from the deep woods. Where the chosen ones were seen."
Fujin's tone turned lighter, almost amused. "Do you interrogate every traveler? Or just those who carry titles you can't pronounce?"
"We ask questions of everyone," another snapped. "But we hold arrows for the ones who answer like cowards."
Fujin smiled faintly. "You are not the first to think arrogance can be aimed from a string."
The speaker raised his bow, string creaking. "Then let's see what answers we find when we take your head."
That was enough.
Fujin exhaled slowly. The wind stopped.
He raised one hand, two fingers extended, like brushing invisible threads.
Then—
A shriek of air. But not wind. Not pressure. The absence of it. A razor-thin horizontal wave surged from Fujin's hand like a silent scream from nature itself.
It passed through the entire group.
No sound.
Then, forty bows fell to the dirt. Then bodies. Each with a single clean line carved across the neck. The blood gushed slowly as they choked on their own blood.
Fujin dropped his hand.
His daughter stared, frozen.
"Did they even feel it?" she whispered.
"They felt the moment they miscalculated," Fujin replied. "The rest was mercy."
He stepped past the bodies as if they were stones on a path.
"Send word to the outer scouts. If more stumble in, they'll find the same fate. And send a message to Whitemoor."
She fell into step beside him. "What message?"
"We found their warriors loitering at the forest's edge. The chosen ones were kind enough to send them home—in pieces."
His daughter looked at the bodies on the ground, then back at him. She wasn't as cold as he was, but also no stranger to how the world worked.
"This is going to escalate things," she said. "You know that, right?"
Fujin gave a half-smirk. "Only if anyone finds out I was involved. We'll burn the bodies. Let them guess."
She raised an eyebrow. "And the message?"
"Simple," he said, brushing ash off his sleeve. "The chosen ones have decided to enter diplomatic talks with Davra. If the esteemed mayor of Whitemoor feels left out, he's welcome to drop by the village anytime he dares."
She exhaled through her nose, amused despite herself. "That'll go over well."
Fujin chuckled. "Good. If he's going to send mercenaries into our forests, the least he can do is come get them himself."