The Western Wilds had a pulse, one I understood better than most. It wasn’t the gentle rhythm of nature or the harmonious song of life. No, this forest breathed in a way that reminded me of the shadows in Shadowstorm Vale—mysterious, untamed, and indifferent. A place where even the light fought to break through the thick canopy, leaving the shadows long and unchallenged. This was where I belonged, not in the cities or among councils, but here, among the wild things.

  The ground was soft beneath my boots, the undergrowth thick but silent, as if the forest itself recognized my presence and allowed me passage. My cloak, dark and unassuming, fluttered with each step, the edges frayed from years of wear. It was a modest outfit, deliberately so—nothing extravagant to draw attention, just enough to blend into the shadows I so often wielded.

  But I wasn’t here for the shadows today.

  I had come for her.

  High above, I heard the faintest rustle of feathers, then a familiar, low whistle, one that only I could understand. A smile, faint but genuine, tugged at the corner of my lips. She was near.

  As I moved deeper into the forest, the trees parted, revealing a clearing bathed in faint daylight. There, perched on a towering oak, was Seraphis.

  She was a creature of myth, a bird whose existence many doubted. Her kind were called Nycteriels, majestic beings that ruled the skies in ancient times. Her plumage was a deep, iridescent blue, shimmering with a hint of silver when the light struck her just right, as if the stars themselves had woven her feathers. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, were a piercing gold that seemed to see far beyond the physical world. Her wingspan easily stretched over three meters, and when she moved, it was with a grace and precision that made even the wind seem clumsy.

  She didn’t come to anyone—not even to those who spent lifetimes searching for her kind. But Seraphis came to me.

  As I stepped into the clearing, she descended from the oak with a single, powerful beat of her wings. The air stirred, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and wildflowers. She landed softly before me, tilting her head ever so slightly, a silent greeting.

  “Hello, old friend,” I murmured, reaching out with a gloved hand. She nuzzled against my palm, the coolness of her feathers a stark contrast to the warmth of the connection between us. It wasn’t the bond of a master and pet—no, that would be far too simple, too mundane for a creature like her. It was something deeper. We were both exiles in our own way. She, a relic of a forgotten time, and I, an outsider in the world of men and magic.

  I often found more solace in her presence than in any company of my kin.

  Seraphis let out a soft trill, her golden eyes watching me closely. There was something almost knowing in her gaze, as if she could sense the weight I carried, the unspoken burdens that had piled upon my shoulders over the years. I let my hand rest on her beak for a moment longer before lowering it, the silence between us comfortable, like the pause between breaths.

  “You know,” I said, my voice low, “if the Conclave of Shadows saw us here, they'd call it weakness.”

  Her wings shifted slightly, a sign that she had no regard for such trivialities. Neither did I, in truth. The Conclave’s opinions were like a wind that blew in every direction—chaotic, ever-changing. But Seraphis? She was constant.

  “You’re right, of course. It doesn’t matter what they think.”

  She raised her head, her sharp beak pointing toward the horizon. The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the forest, and I could feel the world shifting—just slightly. It was a familiar sensation, the faint hum of magic moving beneath the surface, intertwining with the natural forces around us. And somewhere, buried in the depths of my mind, I knew this moment of calm wouldn’t last.

  Seraphis let out another call, this one a little sharper, and I felt a twinge of something. Not fear, but a premonition—an understanding between us. There was something coming, something the forest could sense even before I could fully grasp it.

  “I know. I can feel it too.”

  Her golden eyes remained fixed on mine, unblinking, as if urging me to act. There was a part of me that wished I could stay here, in this quiet solitude, with only Seraphis and the wilds to remind me of the world’s raw beauty. But that wasn’t my path. Not anymore.

  A cold breeze swept through the trees, carrying with it the scent of approaching danger. I glanced at the sky, then back to Seraphis. The Nycteriel shifted on her talons, restless, as if she knew our time here was short.

  “Come on then,” I said, stepping forward and moving through the underbrush once more. Seraphis followed, her massive wings creating a shadow that trailed over me as we walked side by side. There was a comfort in her presence that I could never explain, a quiet reassurance that, despite everything, I wasn’t truly alone.

  But as we moved, my mind began to wander. I knew that, sooner or later, the inevitable would happen—two forces far beyond my control were closing in, and I was caught in the middle. It wasn’t a question of if, but when. That creeping sensation, the weight of things set in motion long before I could stop them, gnawed at me.

  I glanced at Seraphis, her feathers glinting faintly in the dim light. A pang of guilt settled in my chest. She didn’t know. Couldn’t understand what was coming.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, barely audible, as if saying it louder would make it more real. “I won’t be able to protect you from what’s about to happen.”

  She tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes fixed on me, as though she sensed the tension but didn’t fear it. I smiled, bitterly.

  “But I trust you,” I added, my voice firmer now. “I trust your strength. You won’t be overwhelmed by it. Not you.”

  Seraphis let out a low trill in response, unshaken, her gaze never wavering. There was something unbreakable about her, something I envied.

  Suddenly, the air shifted. The magic around me became wild, unpredictable, like a storm breaking just above the surface. It was sharp, invasive, as though it was reaching into the very marrow of my bones. My pulse quickened, and with it, the rush of adrenaline surged through me. This wasn’t the natural hum of the Western Wilds anymore. This was something far more dangerous.

  I didn’t need to turn my head to know where the disturbance was coming from. My eyes snapped to Seraphis.

  She felt it too.

  Her massive wings unfurled slightly, feathers bristling with a tension I had never seen in her before. A soft, almost imperceptible glow had begun to pulse under her skin, like veins of magic coursing through her. Her golden eyes flickered—just for a moment—turning a deep, unnatural shade of green. I tensed.

  “Seraphis…” I called, low and measured. I didn’t know if she could hear me through whatever force was trying to take hold of her, but I had to try. She shifted, her eyes locking onto me.

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  And in that moment, I saw her struggle.

  Her gaze wavered, the golden gleam fighting against the invasive green that threatened to consume her. The magic was manipulating her, twisting her instincts, pushing her to act against her will. Her claws scraped the ground, tense and sharp, and then her eyes flickered back to gold. She was fighting it. She was resisting.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  With a sudden, violent motion, Seraphis lunged toward me, talons outstretched. My instincts screamed at me to move, but I didn’t want to. This was her. She wouldn’t harm me—would she? I barely managed to dodge to the side, feeling the sharp wind from her wings as she pulled back at the last second, her talons missing me by a hair’s breadth.

  “Seraphis, no!” I shouted, my heart pounding in my chest, but I knew it wasn’t her. Not truly. She was caught in this, a pawn to forces even she couldn’t comprehend.

  The green flickered again, overwhelming her for a moment, and she let out a screech, a sound I had never heard from her before. It was wild, feral, not like the calm, proud creature I had come to know. Her body tensed, and she lunged once more, this time with even more ferocity.

  I ducked, rolling to the side, my cloak barely missing the strike of her claws. The ground shook from the impact, sending dirt and leaves into the air. My pulse raced, but my mind remained sharp.

  She turned, ready to strike again, but then—just as quickly as the frenzy had started—her eyes flickered gold once more. She froze, wings beating frantically, as if she was trying to stop herself. Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, it was Seraphis again. The real Seraphis. She let out a low, mournful trill, and I saw the regret, the sorrow in her eyes.

  “Fight it,” I whispered, stepping forward slowly, cautiously. “You’re stronger than this. You are.”

  But before I could get any closer, the magic surged again. Her eyes flared green, and she recoiled, letting out another screech. She was struggling—desperately. Her wings beat against the air in violent bursts, and she tried to pull away, retreating into the shadows of the trees.

  I couldn’t let her go. Not like this.

  “Seraphis!” I shouted, moving toward her, but she flared her wings wide, sending a gust of wind that forced me back. My feet stumbled, but I held my ground, refusing to let her disappear into the chaos.

  The struggle continued, her golden eyes flickering in and out of control, fighting the external force trying to dominate her will. Every time the green threatened to overtake her, she would resist, her golden eyes blazing bright for a brief, defiant moment.

  But the next time she lunged, it wasn’t a half-hearted strike. This time, it was faster, more deliberate.

  I barely had time to react as her beak came dangerously close to my face. I twisted out of the way, my heart slamming in my chest, but I could see the hesitation in her movements. She was holding back—struggling to protect me even as something tried to force her to attack.

  “Damn it, Seraphis!” I growled, as she reared back once more. I couldn’t afford to simply dodge forever, but I couldn’t hurt her either. She was too important, too connected to everything I was.

  I raised my hand, summoning the shadow magic that always lingered just beneath the surface. It coiled around my fingers, dark and potent, and I thrust it forward, not to strike, but to create a barrier between us—a shield of darkness that might hold her back just long enough for her to regain control.

  She crashed into it, the force of her momentum shaking the shield, and for a brief, agonizing moment, her green eyes locked onto mine. Then, with a powerful flap of her wings, she retreated again, struggling to regain control, but this time it was different.

  The green in her eyes flickered, dimmed.

  And then, it was gone.

  Seraphis stood there, panting, her body trembling as if she had just fought a war within herself. Her golden eyes were back, fully hers again, but the exhaustion was evident. She let out a soft, weary trill, her wings folding against her sides as she took a tentative step toward me.

  I lowered my hand, the shadows retreating as I cautiously approached her. My heart was still pounding, but this time, I wasn’t afraid. Not of her.

  “You did it,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. She nuzzled her head against my hand, the gesture full of unspoken apologies.

  A sharp sound cut through the tense atmosphere like a blade. A screech—unnatural, pained—rippled through the air, shattering the quiet connection between Seraphis and me. I stiffened, every sense on high alert. It wasn’t the sound of a creature native to these woods, and it certainly wasn’t Seraphis.

  It was something worse.

  I turned my head, eyes scanning the treeline just as a violent rustling echoed from deep within the forest. There, in the distance, stood a figure I didn’t recognize—powerful and precise, his long blond hair tied back, glowing in the fading sunlight, and his eyes burning with fierce concentration as he faced down a Furybeast.

  For a moment, I froze, a sharp jolt of recognition and conflict seizing my chest.

  An Arcanist.

  I had heard of them, studied them from a distance, but never had I been this close.

  The very magic that had exiled my kind, the force that had stripped us of our home in Aether, now stood before me, embodied in this figure. I couldn’t help but feel the pull of old hatred, the echo of betrayal that still lingered deep within me. Yet, watching him, seeing how effortlessly he wielded the elements, there was a sense of fascination as well.

  He was fighting, though the creature attacking him was partially hidden by the dense undergrowth. I caught sight of him as he dodged a vicious strike, his body moving with the grace that only a Sylphar could possess.

  He moved with precision, every gust of wind, every tremor of earth controlled with such mastery, and despite my instinct to despise him, I couldn’t deny the power he held. I should hate him, but instead, I found myself curious. There, in that clearing, facing the Furybeast, was the very thing my people had feared. And yet, I felt no fear—only intrigue.

  The creature was relentless, its venomous fangs gleaming as it lunged at him. The growl that followed was deep, primal, echoing through the trees. It was inches from his face, its massive body towering over him, threatening to overpower him at any moment. But the Sylphar was quick, the power of air swirling around him, kicking up leaves and dust as he countered the beast’s assault. The ground beneath them shifted as he summoned the earth, rocks rising in sharp formations in an attempt to halt the Furybeast’s charge.

  He was holding his ground, but the fight was drawing him farther and farther away from his team, who were likely battling other creatures, as expected. I could see the struggle, not in his eyes, but in the increasingly erratic movements of his body—each strike more hurried, each dodge a fraction slower. The weight of the battle was beginning to wear on him, even if he hadn’t yet realized how cut off he had become.

  For a moment, my instincts told me to intervene, to rush into the fray, but a hesitant sound from beside me pulled my attention.

  Seraphis let out a soft, uncertain trill, her golden eyes flickering between me and the distant battle. The struggle she had just endured left her drained, and though her loyalty to me was fierce, I couldn’t risk her getting caught in whatever chaos was about to unfold.

  “Seraphis,” I murmured, keeping my tone calm but firm, “you need to go.”

  She didn’t move, her wings shifting slightly as if she was preparing to stay by my side. I sighed, running my hand over the soft feathers near her beak, feeling the tension coiled in her body. She didn’t want to leave.

  “I can handle this,” I said, my voice dropping lower, my words a command wrapped in reassurance. “But you need to return to your nest. It’s not safe here.”

  Her golden eyes bore into mine, and for a brief moment, I thought she might defy me. But she knew me better than that. With a reluctant trill, she stepped back, her massive wings spreading out, casting long shadows over the clearing.

  “Go,” I insisted, this time more firmly.

  With one last glance, she took off, her wings cutting through the air as she flew high above the trees, heading toward her sanctuary. I watched until she disappeared from sight, my chest tight with the knowledge that I couldn’t protect her from everything. But she would be safe now—far from this madness.

  I turned my attention back to the Arcanist.

  He was still in the thick of it, fighting with everything he had. His movements were precise, calculated—annoyingly so. I could see the strain in the way he moved, each step a little more desperate, each gust of wind or tremor of earth a little more forced. The Furybeast wasn’t backing down, and honestly, part of me was curious to see how far this Arcanist could be pushed before he broke.

  He dodged, rolled, and countered with a gust of wind, forcing the creature back just long enough to catch his breath. I couldn’t help but smirk. His control over both earth and air—something that would’ve impressed anyone else—was just another reminder of the power his kind had lorded over mine for centuries. Still, the way he wielded them, never letting one dominate the other, was intriguing. A rare skill, and damn it, I hated to admit it, but it was impressive.

  Even in the midst of chaos, he maintained this irritating calm, as if he believed he had everything under control. Arcanists always did have that ridiculous confidence. But the Furybeast didn’t care about his composure, and with each passing second, the creature pushed him further and further from his team.

  He needed help.

  And I found myself grinning at the thought.

  “Looks like I get to save an Arcanist,” I muttered, already moving toward the fight. Oh, the irony.

  A blast of dark energy hurled the Furybeast into the trees with a bone-rattling crash. In the next second, I stood in its place, shadows at my feet.

  Taron’s spikes shot up in defense, eyes wide.

  I smirked.

  "Little late for that, don’t you think?"