Annum 378 : 12M/29D
They took a short break in a crag between two large stones—smooth, worn by time. The snow here was deeper, the ground uneven, but the trees bent low, leaning toward one another like wary sentinels, forming a canopy that blocked out most of the wind.
Ilra gave a sharp nod. "Quick rest. No fire. Stay on guard.
The group settled in with quiet efficiency. Durei stripped off his gloves and rubbed his raw hands, wincing at the cold. Edrin leaned back against the stone, eyes half-closed. Nire sat cross-legged, muttering quietly to himself—his words lost beneath the muffled quiet of the forest.
The others just minded their own business, sitting to conserve energy in their legs. Energy that might prove to be the difference between life or death.
Slothi didn't sit.
He stood at the edge, his sharp gaze darting from tree to tree, always alert. His hand brushed the dark weight of the Grimoire beneath his cloak, feeling its faint pulse—a reminder of the burden he carried, something he'd rather not confront.
The silence pressed down on them, broken only by the soft creak of branches and the occasional rustle of hidden creatures. The cold was their companion, their bodies weary from days of travel, yet the threat of danger never far from their minds.
And then, something moved.
Slothi's gaze snapped to the ridge ahead. A shadow. A figure. A subtle shift against the white expanse of snow.
His mind raced. Was that... just a trick of the light?
He blinked, narrowing his eyes. The figure moved again—too deliberate, too careful. No, that's real.
"Did you see that?" Slothi's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he leaned toward the group.
His eyes focused, the figure suddenly was surrounding by a mirage of other figures. All green haired, all wearing brown garments.
Nire, who had been muttering under his breath, froze. His eyes locked onto the same point. "I see them. Four... no, five? There's more."
Ilra's head snapped up. "What is it?"
"Uolians," Nire said, voice low but sharp with recognition. "I'm sure of it. Those aren't Thesians. They're Uolians. Their hair is forest-green, and they're wearing hide-armor."
The entire group turned, looking at the far away figures whilst keeping their bodies tucked down, their heads barely creeping over the snow.
Slothi felt a strange chill creep down his spine. Uolians?
His heart pounded, but his gaze was locked on the figures ahead. They were too far to make out clearly, but their movements—the way they slipped through the snow like ghosts—felt... different. Too deliberate. Too practiced.
His stomach churned.
They look like me.
His green hair. Their green hair. It was the same. It had to be. Their faces, hidden beneath cloaks, their clothes—rough wool and fur, a patchwork of survival. And something in the way they moved. It was so familiar to him for so reason.
It wasn't the first time he felt a strange connection to the Uolians. Brax's comments about his hair and eyes had done the same. But now they were here in the flesh, and he felt tied to them, in more ways than one.
His thoughts swirled. His parents were a myth, but perhaps... Perhaps one of them was a Uolian.
The sensation gnawed at him, and for a moment, the forest around him seemed to blur. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his parents. But heritage was irrelevant.
His family had done nothing for him, but sold him to the army.
His purpose was for the empire, for Thesia.
One of them had stopped moving, allowing Slothi to get a better look at him.
He had short dark-green hair, coupled with a heavy brown fur cloak. His body was gargantuan, as wide as a boulder and as tall as a small tree. The sight of him terrified Slothi, who was so small.
Slothi looked at his own clothes, which seemed much more elegant in comparison.
The Thesian insignia. His cloak. The way he wore it like armor, the way it clung to him in the snow. It felt a little strange, as he looked at the Uolians in their animalistic garments. They looked like his family, yet he knew they were monsters. Uolians who lived in the Uolia forest... People who were savage and brutes.
Slothi's breath came out in a shaky exhale ."No. No, I'm not one of them. I can't be."
Nire's voice cut through the fog in his mind. "Slothi, shut up!"
Ilra was already speaking, her voice low and sharp. "Keep it down. We can't afford to make a sound."
Durei shifted, adjusting the grip on his weapon. "What do we do? If they're Uolians, we should kill them. They're a threat."
Ilra's voice dropped lower, her eyes shuddering slightly. "Our chances of beating them in a fight... We don't know how strong they are."
Slothi's heart still raced, the tension gnawing at him. He forced himself to focus on Ilra, forcing the thoughts out of his mind, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling deep in his gut. No. Focus. They're Uolians. "They're the enemy." He muttered, trying to clench the uncertainty in his mind.
"No shit." Nire grinned, spinning his dagger in his right hand. "I'm going to kill all of them."
As he said that, a high pitched scream struck through the frozen air. And Ilra's voice, full of chills for the first time, came out raspy.
"They spotted us."