Altent and Rynne moved as one, a seamless unit forged by years of fighting together.
Rynne abandoned her task and stepped in front of Ash and the sleeping girl, her hunting blade already half-drawn in a low, guarding stance. Altent lunged forward, leveling his massive greatsword at the two stumbling strangers.
"Halt! Who are you? State your business."
The two newcomers were far too busy gasping for air to care about the steel pointed at their chests.
"See?"
The man in the shredded tunic rasped, his eyes locking onto the campfire’s warm glow.
"I told you I saw light..."
Beside him, the woman half-hidden in the ragged cloak gave a shaky, relieved nod.
"You were right, my lord."
Altent didn’t lower his blade an inch.
"I’m still waiting for an answer."
The man straightened his posture, trying to reclaim some of his noble dignity despite his tattered appearance.
"Lower that weapon at once! Do you have any idea who you are addressing?"
The cloaked woman groaned softly.
"Please, my lord... do not provoke them. They do not know us."
The man waved her off with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
"They should. This is our kingdom’s territory."
He took a tentative step forward, angling toward the fire’s heat. Altent’s massive sword shifted instantly, blocking the path like an iron portcullis.
"And what if you are a noble?"
Altent countered coolly, his eyes sweeping over their bedraggled forms.
"You don’t look like a Godborn to me."
The stranger scoffed and shoved the flat of Altent’s blade aside with the back of his hand, puffing out his chest.
"Of course I’m not! And thank the stars I wasn’t cursed with such a burden."
Watching from behind Rynne, Ash narrowed his eyes.
’Well, he’s not wrong about that. Being hunted for the crime of existing isn’t exactly a privilege.’
The man slammed a palm against his chest.
"I am Nerion of House Thalvos, son of the Godborn, Breaker of Shores! Which makes me your superior."
Rynne tightened her guard in front of Ash and the girl.
"Thalvos? That would make you a member of the Reef Kingdom’s royal lineage."
Her eyes narrowed.
"The coast lies far down the mountain pass. What brings a lordling this deep into the High Woods?"
Nerion coughed into his fist, suddenly finding the dirt near his boots very interesting.
The cloaked woman stepped in to fill the awkward silence.
"Lord Nerion was leading an expedition to secure a high-tier nightcore. But a nightwave caught our party on the descent... It was horrific. We lost nearly everyone."
She lowered her head.
"Please, travelers. We mean no harm. Allow us to share your fire for the night, and we shall depart at first light."
Nerion snorted.
"Osyra, why are you begging? They should be honored to offer us shelter. It is the bare minimum expected of commoners."
Osyra didn’t raise her head.
"My lord, they don’t seem to be commoners. Also, courtesy costs nothing, especially when addressing armed veterans."
Her eyes lifted, her gaze inadvertently slipping past Altent’s shoulder to lock onto Ash. Her pupils dilated for a fraction of a second before she snapped her head toward the warrior.
"Forgive me, sir... but is the boy... a Godborn?"
Altent took a heavy step forward, his broad frame completely blocking her line of sight.
"No. What you sense is a catalyst we carry in our pack. And no, you do not get to inspect it."
Ash blinked at the back of Altent’s armor.
’Strange. Why hide it? Do titans kill each other over this godborn status?’
Osyra bowed even deeper.
"Forgive my overstep. I should not have pried. May we enter the camp? The mountain chill is bitter."
Altent hesitated, scanning the perimeter one last time before casting a quick glance over his shoulder at Ash. His jade eyes asked a silent question: Your call, young lord.
Ash stiffened.
’Why are you looking at me? Oh, right... I’m supposed to be the Young lord here.’
He gave the smallest, most imperceptible nod.
Altent lowered his blade, though his stance remained braced for violence.
"Fine. But you step out of line, and this arrangement ends. Also..."
He jabbed a thick finger toward Ash and the sleeping girl.
"You’ll do nothing to upset those two."
Osyra nodded tugging gently on Nerion’s ruined sleeve, guiding him past the wall of Altent’s greatsword and into the fire’s embrace. Nerion grumbled under his breath, but eagerly stretched his hands toward the flames as if he owned them.
As the strangers settled near the embers, Altent leaned close to Rynne. His voice dropped to a low rumble meant only for her and Ash.
"Well? Did you sense anything off?"
Rynne’s gaze remained fixed on the newcomers.
"Their heartbeats are irregular. It could be from running, but... the rhythm sounds unnatural. Like a drum struck by two different hands at once."
She paused, tilting her head slightly.
"Still, the fear on them is genuine. I believe they were attacked."
Altent let out a long breath.
"If you’re certain, perhaps I can ease up."
"Don’t."
Rynne snapped quietly, her eyes never leaving Nerion and Osyra.
"Stay sharp. There are men who can suppress their pulse as easily as they change their clothes, and beasts that wear human terror like a mask. This world of ours is filled with far too many unknowns."
Altent gave a grim, understanding nod.
Rynne stretched, her joints cracking softly, and inhaled deeply through her nose. The savory scent of game simmering in the pot briefly eased the tension, and a faint smile touched her lips.
"Dinner’s almost done."
She glanced back at Ash, her expression softening as her eyes fell on the girl resting against his side.
"Look at you two. Brother and sister... I wish one of the kingdom’s court painters could capture this."
She stepped forward and gently lifted the sleeping child from Ash’s arms.
"You must be starved, young lord. Go warm yourself by the fire. I’ll handle the rest."
Rynne carried the girl over to a bedroll Altent had laid out, tucking the heavy wool blankets around her with surprising care.
Ash slid closer to the campfire, taking a seat directly opposite the two strangers. They stared at him with an unsettling mix of curiosity and scrutiny, their eyes lingering far too long on his features. Ash met their gaze with a flat, unimpressed glare.
’What? See something you like?’
*
*
*
A moment later, Earung finally emerged from the shadow of the nightspawn carcass, wiping his blood-stained hands on a coarse rag. The tiny man wore an uncharacteristic, almost overly friendly smile. It was a stark contrast to the fury he had displayed hours earlier over the destroyed nightcore.
"I overheard you mention a nightcore."
Earung spoke up smoothly, taking a seat by the embers.
"Dangerous business hunting those abominations. Did your party manage to secure one?"
Nerion flicked a smug glance at Osyra before leaning back.
"Of course we did. We are House Thalvos."
Osyra sighed softly into her cloak.
"Lord Nerion... we agreed not to speak of the haul."
"What’s the harm?"
Nerion scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.
"It’s not as if these wanderers possess the strength to take it from us. And even if they tried, they would face the wrath of the Reef Kingdom."
Osyra let out a heavier sigh.
"Yes... we secured a core. But please understand, we paid a terrifying price for it. Many brave men bled in those woods."
Earung raised his hands in a peaceful, disarming gesture.
"Oh, no offense intended, my lady! We’ve no interest in theft. I merely wished to admire one. You see, our squad had a core earlier tonight, but someone..."
He cast a sharp, accusatory glare at Altent, who pointedly ignored him.
"...shattered it before I could perform an evaluation."
Nerion’s eyes widened in shock.
"He destroyed a nightcore?! Does he not realize their astronomical market value?!"
Rynne stepped over, tossing a handful of wild herbs into the simmering pot over the fire.
"Rare, yes. But extraordinarily volatile. Why do you think nightwaves stalk these woods? They are drawn to unrefined cores like flies to rotting flesh."
Earung tilted his head toward her.
"There are containment protocols, Rynne... specialized warding cases."
His gaze snapped back to Osyra, his eyes lighting up with curiosity.
"Wait. You do possess a proper containment vessel, don’t you? You wouldn’t be foolish enough to carry a raw core through the High Woods... would you?"
"Of course we have a case! What do you take us for... uneducated peasants?"
Nerion snapped, reaching into his tattered tunic, the noble produced a small, intricately engraved metal case. With a soft metallic click, he released the latch. Nestled inside sat a jet-black gemstone, its surface pulsing with a faint, sickly purple light.
Osyra reached out to stop him.
"My lord—"
"What are you fussing about?"
Nerion interrupted with a triumphant grin.
"Show them the second one!"
Earung froze mid-breath. His friendly demeanor shattered instantly.
"You have... two?"
Nerion nodded proudly. Osyra hesitated, her nervous eyes darting between Earung’s intense, unblinking glare and her lord’s arrogant face. Reluctantly, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a second, identical container, cracking the lid just enough for the same eerie glow to seep out into the dark.
"Impressive, isn’t it?"
Nerion smirked.
But Earung wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked onto the open cases, wide and completely unblinking. Something within the sickly glow, some minute detail in the way the gems pulsed, had caught his attention. Something the others had missed entirely.
In a fraction of a second, every drop of color drained from Earung’s face. His forced smile vanished.
Rynne’s sharp voice cut across the firelight.
"Earung. Don’t even entertain the thought. Whatever greedy scheme is brewing in that stunted head of yours, drop it. They’ve suffered enough losses."
Osyra slammed her case shut with a sharp snap, pulling it tight against her chest. Her body went rigid as she watched the human’s reaction.
"Sir... are you alright?"
Earung startled violently, blinking hard as if being yanked from a trance. His jaw worked soundlessly before frantic words tumbled from his lips.
"H-ha! Yes! Fine! Perfectly fine! Just... astonished, that’s all. Two cores. That is... an extraordinary haul."
Nerion leaned forward, his smirk returning.
"Then why are you staring at us as if you’ve gazed upon a corpse?"
Earung’s facial muscles twitched. A smile forced its way back onto his face, but it was a brittle, horrifying facade. His eyes kept skittering back to the closed metal cases, unable to hold still.
Ash, observing silently from across the flames, recognized that look instantly. It wasn’t greed driving the human’s reaction. It was fear. Pure fear.
"Oh, it’s nothing at all."
Earung stammered, his gaze darting frantically toward the dark treeline, the starless sky, the cooking pot... anywhere except the strangers.
"Look! Rynne has finished preparing the meal! Let us eat, shall we? I’ll... I’ll help serve!"
The tiny man scrambled to his feet with sudden, frantic urgency, practically bolting toward the stew pot.
Rynne frowned, staring after him in confusion.
"I was just about to dish it out... What has gotten into him?"