The medic house was dim, steeped in the sharp scent of bitter herbs and the soft flicker of candlelight. Blood lingered faintly in the air, mingling with crushed leaves. Rein lay motionless on a cot, his body a map of pain—ribs cracked and aching with every breath, a deep gash along his side pulsing beneath fresh bandages. Still, the worst of it wasn't physical. His mind reeled with fragments of the battle—the beast's deafening roar, the clan's cries, his blade driving home. Fear had wrapped around him like a noose, heart pounding, hands slick. He had buried it behind clenched jaws and forceful strikes, playing the fearless warrior. Alone now, it broke loose. You nearly died, whispered a cold voice in his head. His hands trembled beneath the blanket. He clenched them into fists, forcing the dread down.
Lyra sat at his side, a quiet constant in the chaos. She hadn't left since he'd been brought in, moving with practiced care as she adjusted his bandages or pressed cool cloths to his brow. But something had changed. Her fingers lingered. Her green eyes softened when they met his. She had seen him unguarded—rushing the beast, mind racing, risking everything to protect the clan. His courage, wit, and selflessness had struck her deeper than she'd expected. Rein felt the shift, even as she kept her tone brisk and her smiles faint. Her concern came through anyway, unspoken and warm, stirring something in him that ached beyond his wounds.
"You're awake," she said, her voice firm but laced with relief. She leaned in, brushing aside his dark hair to check his temperature. "How do you feel?"
"Like I wrestled a mountain and lost," he rasped, grinning weakly despite the pain. "But we're alive. That's a win."
Her lips curved briefly, but her eyes remained shadowed. "We are. Thanks to you." Her hand settled gently on his arm. "You were… incredible out there. Reckless, but incredible."
He let out a pained laugh, ribs flaring. "Reckless is my specialty. Couldn't have done it without you."
Her gaze faltered, something raw passing through it. For a heartbeat, he thought she might speak the truth pressing between them. But she pulled back, smile sharpening. "Rest, Rein. You've earned it."
He watched her go, the click of the door soft, her warmth lingering like a question he couldn't quite form.
The next morning brought Arlen, his silver hair catching faint light from the window. He moved with the weight of a man long accustomed to loss, his frame taut as he eased down beside the cot.
"You look less like a corpse than you did last night," he said, voice rough but carrying warmth. "Gave us a scare."
Rein shifted slightly, stifling a grimace. "Takes more than a beast to kill me. How's the clan?"
Arlen's jaw worked, his hands clasping tightly. "Wounded. We lost eight. Good people. That thing tore through us, and Thorne—he vanished. The elders are scrambling, but everyone's looking to Lyra and Emri now."
Rein's focus sharpened. "Thorne's behind it. Him, Kael, the beast—it's all connected."
"Aye." Arlen leaned closer. "We found signs in his quarters—burnt letters hinting at some pact with Kael. Something about the Heart. Power he couldn't resist. He sold us out, and the elders didn't see it coming."
"What's the plan?"
"We find Thorne. He's the thread to Kael—knows his hideout, his play. Word is, he fled into the woods, maybe north. But you're not ready, Rein."
"I'll manage," Rein said, his voice steady. "I won't sit this out."
Arlen studied him. A flicker of pride passed through his expression. "Stubborn as ever. Heal first. Then we'll need that mind of yours. This fight's just starting."
In the days that followed, the medic house saw a quiet stream of villagers. Some brought warm bread, others a carved charm or a blanket—small tokens paired with gratitude. One grizzled hunter clasped Rein's hand tightly.
"You saved my daughter when that beast charged. I owe you everything."
"Anyone would've—" Rein began.
"No." The man's eyes burned. "Not like you."
Even the elders came. Rowan led them, her sharp features dulled by remorse. She faced Rein and Lyra directly and bowed.
"We failed you," she said quietly. "Lyra, we dismissed your warnings. Rein, we doubted you. Thorne's betrayal is ours to bear."
Lyra crossed her arms, voice cool. "Words won't fix this. Help us stop Kael."
Rowan met her eyes. "You have our support. The clan is yours to lead."
The clan's fury smoldered into purpose. In the village square, Arlen's voice cut through the murmurs.
"Thorne betrayed us—sold us for power. He's out there, and we need him alive. He knows too much."
Lyra stepped beside him, bow slung across her back. "We'll split. Rein and Emri, take the eastern woods. My father and I will scout the ridges. Dusk rendezvous."
Rein caught Emri's grin, sharp and familiar. "Ready, big brother?"
He returned the smile. "Let's hunt, little sister."
Since the battle, their bond had strengthened—easy banter and hard-earned trust. She'd started calling him 'brother' after he tripped on a root mid-patrol; he'd retorted with a lesson on grace. It was a shared levity they clung to.
The eastern woods were dark, wet, and tangled. Rein moved with care, dagger in hand, ribs still tight with pain. Emri ghosted beside him, alert.
"Think he's here?" Rein whispered.
"Could be. He's got loyalists. But they'll be skittish now."
A crack to their left. Emri's voice dropped. "Trouble."
They crept toward the sound. In a clearing, Thorne stood by a dying fire, arguing with two cloaked figures. Rein's pulse surged. His grip tightened.
Then, from the west: Lyra's voice, cutting through the trees. "Thorne! Stand down!"
Thorne ran. They chased. Branches whipped past. In the next clearing, Arlen and Lyra waited—bows raised. Thorne skidded to a stop, hands up, sneer in place.
"You're too late," he hissed. "Kael's won. The Heart is awake. Its power will bury you."
Lyra didn't flinch. "Talk, or die."
He laughed. "You think it's just him? There are others—outside the clan. They're already—"
A horn blared from the north, deep and mournful.
Thorne's face drained of color. "They're here."
The trees shuddered. From the shadows came figures cloaked in black, eyes glowing with corrupted mana—the same that had fueled the beast.
Rein took a breath, hand steady on his blade.
Lyra's voice rang out, calm and unshakable.
"Brace yourselves."