The trees didn’t sway.

  They listened.

  Thessia walked slowly through the outer roots of the beast sanctuary. Her boots crunched twigs, but even the sound felt swallowed by the forest. It wasn’t the same as last time. The air had weight now—like the whole jungle held its breath.

  She brushed a vine aside and looked ahead.

  A clearing.

  The same place where she and Rell once trained. Where the spirit beasts gathered. Where Umbwe often stood, silent and watching like some ancient guardian.

  But tonight...

  He waited in shadow.

  At the edge, just before the moonlight split through the tree gaps.

  ?

  Thessia stepped into the light.

  “Umbwe,” she said softly.

  No answer at first.

  Then:

  “You not supposed to be here.”

  His voice was rougher than usual. Not just from irritation—but something deeper.

  “I know,” she admitted, bowing slightly. “But I needed clarity. About Rell.”

  Umbwe paced slowly from the shadow, his mane catching fragments of silver light.

  “Clarity... from me?”

  “You hate me.”

  “No.”

  Thessia blinked.

  “I don’t hate,” he continued. “Hate… is loud. Makes you miss what quiet shows.”

  She folded her arms. “You tried to hurt me.”

  “I tried to protect the balance,” he said. “You… threaten that.”

  A silence lingered between them like mist.

  ?

  Thessia took a breath.

  “I didn’t come to fight. I came because I can’t sit around anymore. Rell’s out there, hurting. He left because of you.”

  Umbwe growled low—not hostile, but frustrated.

  “He left… because he confused. Think he can carry both worlds. Beast and man. Balance and heart.”

  “He *can*,” she said, stepping forward. “But only if he isn’t alone.”

  Umbwe’s ears flicked.

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  “You love him?”

  “I do.”

  “Enough to leave?”

  She hesitated.

  “I came here… not to leave. But to understand what he needs. And if leaving helps, I will.”

  ?

  A long pause.

  Then Umbwe’s eyes narrowed. “You… not jungle-blood. But… you listen. More than most.”

  “I learned that from him,” she said with a small smile.

  “He taught you?” he asked with a sniff. “Funny. He still boy.”

  Thessia chuckled lightly. “Yeah. But he’s *my* boy.”

  Umbwe’s tail twitched.

  Then, slowly, he sat. The clearing grew still.

  “You want truth?”

  She nodded.

  He looked up, toward the canopy.

  “Spirit beasts vanishing. Humans poach. Curse-creatures crawl from the cracks. Forest scream, but no one listen.”

  “I’ll listen,” she whispered.

  “You will. But him? His heart too loud. Needs silence.”

  “And I’m not that.”

  “No. You are fire.”

  She didn’t deny it.

  “But sometimes,” he added, “forest needs fire.”

  ?

  The conversation was over.

  Not through dismissal—but understanding.

  She bowed again and stepped back toward the path.

  He didn’t stop her.

  But before she left the edge of the clearing, his voice followed her like wind:

  “Tell Rell… forest not done with him.”

  Thessia opened her mouth to respond—

  BOOM.

  The ground trembled.

  A thunderous crack echoed through the canopy—bright orange light exploded from deep within the forest belly. Birds scattered. A distant beast howled.

  Umbwe stood up in an instant, mane bristling.

  Thessia turned sharply, instincts flaring.

  Smoke curled into the air behind the trees.

  Umbwe’s eyes narrowed.

  “Trouble come fast.”

  Thessia drew her weapon.

  “No more waiting then.”

  Together—one lion, one warrior—they sprinted into the dark.