Ori woke to the warmth of a sleeping Ruenne’del curled beside him, her bare feet stretched towards the fire’s dying embers, her head resting on his stomach. Her soft breaths rose and fell in rhythm with his own, the last trace of warmth from their shared body heat lingering against the morning chill.
The fire had long since burned down to embers. Above them, the realm’s version of daylight seeped through the dense forest canopy, casting a pale glow over the snow-dusted earth.
Ori let himself wake slowly, taking a few moments to sort through his thoughts, a small smile tugging at his lips as he relived the memories of his dream walks. Poppy had kept her promise. Their training in Void Dancing had turned into an entirely different kind of dance. Meanwhile, his time with Raven had been something he hadn’t realised he needed, a reminder of home, of normality, even amid the chaos of his current life.
‘Freya, I’m up. If you’d like to rest.’
Freya buzzed lazily around him. ‘Wake me when you reach Ike,’ she yawned, before vanishing into his skull and retreating into the depths of his soulspace.
Stretching out his limbs, Ori carefully eased himself out from beneath Ruenne’del before moving to store the rest of the reindeer carcass inside his Void Storage Ring. With Lysara following deep underground and Freya fast asleep, the two of them set off towards the valley.
Their walk was quiet, unsurprising given that Ori’s overwhelming Presence likely still affected the wildlife, keeping even the smallest creatures at a distance. When he wasn’t actively controlling his emotions, the subtle effect of his power rippled out unconsciously, pushing the natural world away from him. Ruenne’del had taken it upon herself to teach him better control, and their conversations drifted between theory and practical application as they walked.
Even so, through their bond, Ori could feel her general mood: calm, content, never pressing for conversation when it wasn’t needed.
He, on the other hand, often found himself lost in thought, taking in the serene landscape and marvelling at a world that felt full of limitless possibility.
It wasn’t long before they reached the top of a valley ridge, the forest falling away steeply below them.
Nestled in a clearing on the floodplain, a small village lay several miles beneath them, cradled by the winding bends of a narrow river. A thin column of smoke rose from the only brick-and-mortar building. The village below, which Ori believed was called Ike, felt isolated, seemingly cut off from civilisation. Situated more than a hundred miles from Ghigrerchiax, the former infernal prison at the very edge of the realm, it was the closest settlement regardless of direction.
With no visible roads and no sign of industry beyond that solitary wisp of smoke, Ori could only imagine what a lifetime spent here would be like, what kind of people chose this existence, or had no choice but to live it.
Ori took a deep breath before nudging his familiar awake. “Freya, we’re near the village.” As she stirred, he turned to the fairy princess at his side. “What do you think, Rue?”
She smiled. “I don’t understand why you’re so excited.”
Ori shrugged, hesitant to reveal the real reason.
By the time they reached the clearing at the village’s edge, it was lunchtime. The surrounding land, stretching one to two hundred metres around the settlement, was a patchwork of wild grasses and farmland. Horses and cows grazed together, unbothered by each other or by the new arrivals.
As Ori scanned the area, his gaze settled on a young boy, his cloven feet marking him as a satyr. The child darted into a nearby shack, his faint cries of excitement, or alarm, drifting on the wind and signalling that Ori and Rue had been noticed.
“What can I do you for?” a craggy voice called from a distance.
A satyr, likely the boy’s father, emerged from behind a fence gripping an actual pitchfork. His stony glare made it clear they were not welcome. His furred legs were thick with dust, his broad shoulders wrapped in a coarse, patched wool cloak. Deer-like horns protruded from a greying mop of hair, his expression one of suspicion hardened by years of caution.
“Hi, yeah, just passing through. Looking to trade, some food, a place to stay for the night, and, erm... some information.” Ori stopped about twenty yards away, noting how more faces appeared and vanished behind shutters, the village retreating inward as if bracing for a storm.
The village itself was a scattering of wooden cottages built from rough-hewn logs on stone foundations. The only brick-and-mortar structure stood near the centre, likely an inn or gathering hall. A small river ran beside the settlement, its banks lined with fishing nets and drying racks. The smell of fresh earth, livestock, and woodsmoke hung in the crisp air.
“Information? What kind of information?”
“We’re with the Summons Guild. I believe there have been reports of monsters, or Aether-warped beasts, in the area. We’re here to find out more.”
The farmer’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve come from the south?”
Ori hesitated. Something about the man’s tone put him on edge. “Yeah?”
“So, you aren’t with them? The flesh traders?”
“No. You mean the infernals? Fuck no. Any information you have on their whereabouts would be appreciated too.”
The farmer grunted, then gestured at Rue. “Does she speak?”
Rue met his gaze evenly. “I do.”
“What are the Seelie doing in these parts?”
“As he said, Guild business.”
The farmer held her stare for a moment longer, then turned away. “Come, then. I’ll take you to see the hunter.”
They followed the satyr farmer to a modest homestead, where the village hunter was already waiting by a chopping block, sharpening an axe. His piercing gaze flicked over Ori and Rue as they approached, but instead of the usual wariness shown to strangers, there was something more.
He was a grizzled elven man, his face weathered and lean, like dried leather stretched over sharp bones. His scarred hands, lined with old burns and knife cuts, worked methodically as he honed the blade. A cloak of wolf pelts draped over his shoulders, its edges ragged from years of use. His long greying hair was tied back loosely, revealing long ears and sharp, calculating eyes that measured them with the focus of a man used to tracking prey and spotting weakness. The high elven hunter’s grip tightened on the axe handle.
Ori felt the weight of that scrutiny pressing down on him, the way the hunter’s Nascent-rank aura flared, testing and probing. Ori’s rank was the same, but the difference in Presence was staggering. Even with Harriet’s Soulcraft masking it, there was no hiding the latent force of his existence. Bound by Taurna’diem, his connections to elven royalty rippled beneath the surface like an undercurrent, and the hunter, whether through instinct or experience, sensed it.
“What are ya?”
Ori frowned. “What do you mean?”
The elven man’s gaze searched his face, lingered on his ears and his shimmering eyes, flicked down to his feet, then rose again, suspicion etching deeper lines into his already weathered face.
“You human? Fae? Some mudblood?” The hunter’s gaze drifted down to Ori’s feet as if searching for some obvious giveaway.
“Fae-touched human, I think,” Ori hedged, ignoring the man’s unfriendly tone for the moment.
The hunter tilted his head, then gestured towards Rue. “Her doing?”
“No. Why do you ask?” Ori replied.
“Just curious. Rare to see humans in these parts, unless they’re with the traders. Even rarer to see one of the Seelie.”
“They said them be with the guild,” the farmer interjected, suspicion still colouring his voice.
“Oh. Got any proof?” the hunter asked.
Ori turned to Rue. Holding out her palm, she produced a gold-and-glass medallion that emanated a tangible aura. Ori looked back at the hunter, the furrows in his brow easing as he recognised the token.
“Fair enough. I’ve got it from here, Riddy,” the elven hunter said dismissively, their exchange likely reflecting the power dynamics of an Awakened among mortals.
Ori watched the farmer leave before circling back to the point. “You said traders? You thought we were the flesh traders? They’re slavers, aren’t they?”
The hunter let out a dry chuckle. “Nah. Slavers suggests they mean to keep ’em. They don’t keep ’em.”
Ori grimaced. “Right. Well, yeah. I’m Ori. I’m looking for any information you have on Aether-warped creatures. And the infernals, for that matter.”
The hunter scratched at his unshaven jaw, giving Ori another long, hard look. “Name’s Horace. Aye... I’ve got a bit to tell ya on both counts.” Horace let out a slow exhale as he leaned against the chopping block. “Hunting’s been getting harder. Season after season, it’s worse.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Merchants stopped coming last year. Used to send pelts, dried meat, even antlers downriver. Got a fair bit in return. But since the last caravan never came back... I decided not to risk making the trip to the larger settlements. Not worth it, not with the way things are now.”
Ori glanced at Rue, who remained impassive.
“And now monsters?” Ori asked.
Horace grunted. “Aye. Spotted my first Aether-twisted bear a month back. Greater ranker. Almost got me. Big bastard, half-twisted but still moving, claws like knives. I was lucky it couldn’t climb trees any more.”
Ori frowned. “How near? Have you seen any more?”
“First and only time was within this valley. But since that bear, hunting’s been scarce. Game’s either gone or turned. The village has suffered for it.”
“Any idea where they’re coming from?”
Horace shook his head. “That’s the thing. You’d think there’d be a nest, but it doesn’t feel like just one. They come from all over. East, west, even from the north. But not from the south.”
Ori exchanged a glance with Rue. Not from the south. The direction where Ghigrerchiax once stood.
“And the flesh traders?” Ori asked. “Still a problem?”
Horace’s eyes hardened. “Scattered. Haven’t seen a sign of ’em since last season.”
“They never came through here?”
A shadow passed over the hunter’s face. “Likely took Old Marla,” he admitted. “She went missing last winter, rest her soul. Wouldn’t be the first time one of ours disappeared without a trace. But since the traders stopped, there’s been no more missing.”
Ori let the information settle before changing the subject. “Is there anywhere to stay?”
Horace nodded towards the centre of the village. “Longhouse, next to the hall. Acts as an inn. Headman Jasson’s the man to see for that.”
“Got it,” Ori said.
Horace studied him for another moment. “I could guide you if you want. Through the forests. I know these lands better than anyone, and you lot, no offence, don’t look like much for tracking and hunting.”
Ori hesitated, appreciating the offer but knowing it was impractical for several reasons. “Thanks, but we’ll manage.”
Horace didn’t press, but his doubtful expression made it clear he didn’t approve. “Kids these days. Suit yourself,” the hunter muttered.
Ori nodded. “Anything else we should know?”
Horace shifted his weight, then frowned. “Aye. About five days ago, we heard a loud bang, echoing across the valley. Might’ve come from the south. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Ori and Rue exchanged knowing looks.
“Do the words volcanic eruption mean anything to you?” Ori offered.
“Aye. Didn’t think much of it at the time,” Horace admitted. “Did you see it?”
“Saw the ash from a few days back south.”
“Figured it was a landslide or a distant storm. But now, with everything else...” Horace shook his head.
“Yeah, I get you. Anyway, thanks. Your information is appreciated.”
Horace gave a final grunt of acknowledgement before returning to his axe, scraping the sharpened edge against the worn leather of his belt as Ori and Rue left the hut.
Ori had just finished draping the leftover tent canvas from his paraglider over a mound of hay, marking out their corner of the longhouse. The headman, the village leader, had been relatively welcoming after the tense but productive conversation with the local hunter and farmer.
Finding a Nascent-rank High Elf in these parts had been a surprise, but not one Ori found especially unusual. Given the hunter’s exploits, especially against the Aether-warped beasts, progression to at least that level seemed reasonable. The elven hunter was also likely the main reason this small, seemingly defenceless village remained relatively untouched by the infernal flesh trade. A skilled, evolved Nascent-ranker would easily overwhelm almost anyone of the same rank or below.
‘What’s the plan, Ori?’ Freya asked silently over their bond.
Ori laughed aloud. “I’m going to check on my first patient, then have a wash in the river, get some hot food, then sleep in that mound of hay, then have another wash in the river in the morning. Surely you’ve slept in worse places than this?”
Rue squinted at him in displeasure. “If the choice is between sleeping in a barn or not, I’d rather not,” she said, showing more of her royal upbringing than she had in a while.
Ori arched a brow. “What’s the difference between this and the forest?”
“The fire kept the fleas away.”
Ori shrugged. “Alright, well, Lysara will head west overnight to scout. Once we find the first nest, or rift, we’ll head out, deal with it, then return. We’ll use this village as a base for the next few days, but be ready to leave as soon as we’re no longer welcome.”
A Sciuruqin, a Fae with squirrel-like features, sat in a rocking chair outside the back of the longhouse. Likely the headman’s daughter, who also managed the lodging, she watched the valley in quiet contemplation.
Like the Vulpixin Ori had seen before, she appeared mostly human, apart from the buck teeth and hazel-coloured fur around her head, tail, and ears. Her eyes followed the darkening horizon, where Twilight’s celestial band deepened and shifted into nighttime hues. Above, the evening aurora shimmered, its colours growing more vivid as the sky darkened into dusk.
“Da said you’re a healer?” the girl asked, her voice bold and direct.
Ori nodded, Vision of the Progenitor flaring as he instinctively sought the source of her ailment. His frown deepened. His initial hope of treating a simple mortal illness in exchange for lodging faded with the dying light.
“Can you see what’s wrong with me?”
Ori did his best to keep his expression neutral as his gaze traced the rampant damage Aether Warping did to both body and soul.
“Yeah. But it might take me a little while to fix it.”