Morning arrived, casting a soft, gray light over the camp. Songbirds welcomed the dawn. Dante y restless, his mind a whirlwind of memories of his old life: the mundane days at work, his cluttered apartment that he never bothered to clean, his family that he never contacted. He wondered if different choices might have kept the people he knew alive. Sebooro crossed his mind as well. What kind of choices did he have to make? After all, they could be the same person.

  Meanwhile, Silver stretched with a groan and dug around in his pack, looking for his pipe. He sat up and contentedly puffed on his morning pipe. “Ah, nothin’ like a good pipe in the mornin’.”

  “You sure like your pipe,” Dante commented.

  “Gets me movin’,” Silver said with a chuckle. He then offered Dante a try but was gracefully denied.

  “Alright,” Silver said as he rubbed his paws together. “Time for some grub! Let’s see here.” He rummaged in his pack. Dante could not understand how so much stuff could fit in that small pack, it seemed like a bottomless pit.

  After a sparse breakfast of eggs, the fragrant smoke drifted zily into the cool morning air as he extinguished the st of the campfire’s embers. The soft crackling of the dying fmes was the only sound breaking the stillness of dawn.

  Silver began a small workout routine; one-arm push-ups, lunges, squats, and leg lifts.

  “Problem?” Silver asked, feeling like he was being stared at.

  Dante shook his head, “Nothing…”

  “Gotta keep fit, ya know? Good lucks don’t maintain themselves…” he grinned slyly.

  “Oh, I know… I just uh – don’t work out.” Dante said, shrugging.

  “What? You mean… ever? How is it possible you lookin’ like that?”

  “Yeah, even before this whole transformation thing. Never been one to work out.”

  “Huh… You don’t eat, drink, sleep, go to the loo, or work out. Yeesh, what are ya?”

  Dante thought for a moment, he wasn’t Kaleidoscopic anymore but he also wasn’t his normal self. “I suppose I’m a killing machine…”

  “Now that I believe!” He said, finishing some cool-down stretches.

  Once he was finished, he gathered his stuff together and pced them meticulously in his pack. He then took the lead to their next destination, “There’s a small town up ahead, don’t worry none though, decent folk. Just need to get some supplies.” he said as he shook a few drops within his water pouch.

  Not much longer, they arrived at the small town of Pindor. Nestled between rolling hills and thick patches of normal forest trees, the settlement had an almost hidden quality. Despite its isotion, the pce was brimming with life. Wooden homes with reinforced stone foundations lined the

  Silver wasted no time heading toward the marketpce, where stalls lined the town’s square, filled with a variety of goods—freshly skinned pelts, hand-carved trinkets, dried meats, and exotic fruits from distant nds. He approached a merchant, an elderly Ferenzial fox with caramel-colored fur, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat.

  The old codger barely lifted his head, his eyes droopy with age and disinterest. “Eh, can’t compin. Ain’t had no raiders in a while.”

  “Raiders?” Dante raised a brow.

  “Yep. Used to be, we get some passin’ through now an’ then, swipin’ a bit o’ this, bit o’ that. Nothin’ too bad. But now?” The old fox scratched his scruffy chin and squinted toward the horizon. “Ain’t seen none in weeks. Think that cursed forest done swallowed ‘em up.”

  “That’d make sense,” Dante said. “We just came through it. Pce is a death trap.”

  Silver let out a snort. “Ha! Death trap’s puttin’ it lightly! That pce damn near chewed us up an’ spit us out!”

  The old fox’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter. “What?! Ya’ll done went through that forest!?” His gaze darted between them like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “An’ ya still standin’?!”

  Silver smirked. “Yup. Took down one o’ them forest guardians too. My friend Dante ‘ere’s quite the fighter, though he don’t look much.”

  The codger let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Well, hell… Maybe we can get our supply line open again. Ever since that forest started actin’ up, ain’t no goods comin’ from Artemis Roost. Just been makin’ do with Furthian trade. I ain’t ingrate though, just would be nice seein’ the rest of ‘em now ‘n then.”

  “How long that been goin’ on anyway? I passed through not that long ago… forest seem worse now.” Silver asked, tilting his head.

  The old fox thought for a second, rubbing his temples like he was digging through memories. “Hmph. Weeks, maybe more. That forest always been mean, but now? Now it’s downright evil. Like somethin’ in there don’t want folks comin’ through no more.”

  Dante exhaled. “Yeah, well… I can’t say it’s any safer now. You might still be out of luck.”

  The codger grunted, then pointed a knobby finger at them. “Well, as I tell them other folk. If ya do gotta go through it again, lemme tell ya one thing—dem pnts? They hate water.”

  Dante nudged Silver, “Water?”

  Silver furrowed his brow. “Ain’t never seen ‘em react to water before… but they be washin’ off real well. Now ya mention it, they don’t seem to grow near water much.”

  The old man nodded sagely. “Ayep. Give ‘em a good douse, an’ they curl up like a dead leaf in autumn.”

  Dante narrowed his eyes. “If it’s that simple, then why hasn’t anyone just dumped water on the whole damn forest?”

  The old man let out a dry chuckle. “Boy, ya think we ain’t tried? That forest drinks water like a damn sponge. Rains don’t st long enough to drown it, an’ anything bigger, well…” He gestured off toward the distance. “Ain’t got no rivers runnin’ close by, and any folk tryin’ to haul barrels in don’t make it out. Either the trees eat ‘em, or somethin’ else does.”

  Silver scoffed. “Bah, figures. An’ I bet tryin’ to flood it from the sky ain’t work neither?”

  The codger nodded. “Tried that too. One of them Furthian folks thought dumpin’ a whole mess o’ water from above would fix it. But the trees? They just opened up, soaked it right in like it was nothin’. Didn’t even flinch.”

  Dante folded his arms. “So, it’s not about the water itself—it’s about how much and how fast. If you just drizzle it, the forest drinks it up. But if you hit it hard enough, fast enough, maybe it won’t have time to recover…”

  The old man shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe. But unless ya got some way to dump a whole damn ocean in there all at once, I wouldn’t go testin’ theories.”

  Silver huffed. “Well, guess we’ll jus’ keep hackin’ our way through like we did before.”

  Dante smirked. “Or we find a way to make it rain harder than that forest can handle.”

  The codger chuckled. “Boy, if ya figure that out, ya let me know. Might be the first good news we had ‘round here in weeks.”

  Silver flipped a few coins onto the stall’s worn wooden counter, the metal clinking softly as the old fox behind the stand scooped them up.

  “Pleasure doin’ business,” the merchant muttered, eyeing Silver’s selections with a knowing nod. “Hope ya ain’t pnnin’ on travelin’ light. Raiders ‘round these parts been gettin’ bolder with their smaller numbers. Best keep yer wits sharp and yer supplies sharper.”

  Silver snorted as he packed away his haul. “Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.”

  He tucked away a bundle of dried jerky—seasoned with rare spices only found in Ferenzial territory—alongside wrapped parcels of dense travel bread, hard enough to crack a skull but guaranteed to keep for weeks. He also grabbed a few packets of pipeweed, a luxury but worth it for long nights on the road.

  A fresh whetstone found its way into his pack, along with extra bindings for his weapons—thin, flexible strips of reinforced leather, perfect for grip adjustments or emergency repairs. He secured a handful of throwing knives into hidden compartments and snagged a vial of thick, resin-like oil used to keep bdes from rusting.

  “Hold up.” The old fox reached under his counter and pulled out a small pouch, its contents rattling ominously. “This one’s on the house. Smoke pellets. Toss ‘em, and ya got about three seconds of cover. Might just save yer hide if things go south.”

  Silver’s ears perked, and he snatched up the pouch with a grin. “Now that’s a gift I can use. Appreciate it, old-timer.”

  Dante raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not just hoarding half the market?”

  Silver scoffed. “Pfft. We ain’t exactly strollin’ through friendly nds. If ya rather go empty-handed, be my guest.”

  Dante rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Silver, being mortal, needed all the extra amenities he could get his grubby paws on.

  With his pack full and weapons secured, they made their way out of the small town. Swiftly stopped by an old well to fill his water pouch and fastened it tight. The townsfolk paid them little mind, too busy tending to their own lives to spare more than a passing gnce. Yet, there was an unspoken understanding—strangers who walked into the unknown rarely walked back out.

  Once they were fully out of the town, Dante had a question. “Are there a lot of raiders or something?”

  Silver thought for a moment, “Come to think of it, there used to be lots of raiders in these parts. But like the old coot said, they just break stuff n’ steal a few things, then pass through. Back when I was a pup though, the raiders were more dangerous. It’s how I lost me siblings, especially me beloved sister, Ternavia, and me mother.”

  Their journey spanned days until they eventually reached a major river. A river that once marked a border was now able to roam freely across the lush evergreen nds. More paths trodden by the Chimerans lead them to an ancient, weathered bridge spanning a roaring river.

  The bridge was a skeletal remnant of its former self, with pnks missing and ropes frayed. Silver paused, his keen eye surveyed the structure with suspicion. “This used to be the main route to an old vilge,” he murmured, “a pce that was wiped out in a series of brutal raids. What’s left of it isn’t much, but we have to cross.”

  Carefully, they stepped onto the bridge, each movement deliberate, testing the wood beneath their feet. The river below churned violently, a reminder of the danger should the bridge give way. The crossing was tense, each creak of the wood sending a jolt of unease, but they made it to the other side unscathed. The vilge y before them, a ghostly echo of life, its buildings decayed and crumbling, overtaken by the relentless march of time.

  Despite the desotion, something urged them to explore. Silver’s sharp eye caught glimmers of metal among the ruins, remnants of a forgotten age that might fetch a price in the right market. Dante, though weary, couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward the vilge, as though something used to be there that didn’t belong. He could sense it.

  They moved cautiously through the broken thoroughfares, where shattered walls and crumbling doorframes whispered of past lives. Every step on the uneven ground kicked up a fine yer of dust and debris. Faded signs and rusted symbols hinted at a once-thriving community now swallowed by neglect and something far more sinister.

  Just as they were about to leave, the surrounding air thickened. Tension fell over the seemingly abandoned vilge, a silent warning that danger was drawing near. Shadows shifted in the broken buildings, and figures emerged. From behind toppled stalls and fractured archways, members of the Brov, a brood of rogue Chimerans, revealed themselves.

  They were surrounded—raiders crouched atop crumbling parapets, lean Ferenzial warriors prowling the alleyways and hulking Athros, their bear-like forms advancing with deliberate menace. Towering above them all were the Hoven, hooved Chimerans. There was an ox-like behemoth and a snorting warthog, their presence dominating. In the distance, the ground trembled with the rhythmic march of rhino-Largo brutes, their thunderous approach punctuated by the heavy, measured steps of the occasional elephant-Largo.

  Silver halted in his tracks and raised his hand. “Let me handle this, Dante,” he murmured, voice low and measured. He stepped forward as a massive ox Hoven Chimeran, scarred and resolute, emerged from the shadows. His broad face was set in a scowl beneath a heavy, horned brow.

  “This be Brov nds! Who do you think you are coming here?” the hulking Hoven bellowed, his voice echoing off the shattered stone.

  Silver held his hands high in a gesture of peace. “Friends, we come as simple travelers. This High Furthian and I must pass through to reach his friend in the Meorbin vilge up north.”

  A harsh, derisive ugh rumbled from the Hoven ox. “Huh. The Meorbin vilge up north eh? Nothin’ there but a bunch’o dead. Whatchu thinkin’ you’ll find there?”

  “Well… his friend, like I said, now. May we pass through?”

  “Somethin’ don’t smell right.” The big ox man peered over to Dante. “EH, you! Featherless Furthian. Get over here.”

  Dante approached cautiously, “Yes?”

  “Ya lookin’ familiar.”

  He shrugged, “I get that a lot. I can assure you… I got nothing to do with it.”

  One of the ox’s minions popped up, “Eh boss, this featherless freak be arguin’!”

  He put his hands up peacefully, “Hey now, I wasn’t arguing. I was just stating a fact!”

  “Heh, lil’ Ferenzial and a lil’ Furthian tryin’ to trespass. Then ya bein’ rude by arguin’ with what I be seein’? Humph, I demand a high fee for ya trespassin’. Times be tough now with dem forests eatin’ up my kind like some kinda sughterhouse. Cough up ya belongins’ then mebbe I’ll let ya by with a lil’ sp on the wrist.”

  Silver’s eye gnced at Dante as the tense silence of the ruined vilge deepened with every passing second. Silver lowered his tone, choosing his words carefully. “Me apologies, but… when did this nd become yers all a sudden? We’re only passin’ through.”

  The ox’s massive jaw tightened, and his lip curled into a snarl that made it clear his patience was long gone. From behind him, more Brov spilled from the broken buildings—archers with bows notched and trained on Silver’s every move, lithe figures of Vizun and Ferenzial warriors emerged from doorways, and silhouettes that hinted at more savage forms. The presence of these raiders was like an omen; every rustle in the debris, every echo down a ruined corridor, heightened the danger.

  “Do ya hear that?” Silver murmured, gncing toward the murk beyond the immediate clearing. There was a low, almost rhythmic cmor. The shifting of bodies, the creak of wooden barricades, and the subtle scrape of cws against stone.

  Bile’s eyes narrowed as he studied Silver. “This is our home now. Every ruin, every shattered dream belongs to us. And no traveler comes uninvited.” His voice was even but carried an unmistakable threat.

  Silver maintained his calm, though the tension in his stance was unmistakable. “We mean no harm. We only seek passage, nothin’ more. We don’t got much on us either, just bare essentials. So… we ain’t worth ya time.”

  A long, heavy silence followed as the ox considered Silver’s words. Around them, the raiders shifted restlessly. In one shattered window, a pair of crocodilian eyes glinted; from a toppled archway, the silhouette of a warthog Hoven could be seen sharpening a crude spear. Even in the distance, the ground trembled slightly as a massive rhino-Largo brute lumbered near a colpsed building.

  Finally, Bile’s deep, rumbling voice broke the stillness. “You talk pretty smooth for a Ferenzial, but words don’t always open gates. You best remember who rules here.” He gnced briefly toward the shadows where more Brov figures watched silently, every muscle tensed, every sense alert.

  Silver met Bile’s gaze steadily. “And ya best remember that sometimes even rulers know when to let strangers pass. I’m not here for a fight. I’d prefer to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

  At that, the tension in the air became suffocating. Every Brov eye in the ruined vilge focused on them, and every rustle of broken timber echoed like a drumbeat of impending conflict. The raiders’ formation tightened in silent communication, an unspoken signal that while Silver was trying to secure safe passage it just deyed the fact that the Brov never intended for them to get by. Their path back was soon blocked by heavily armored Hoven armed with axes.

  For a long, breathless moment, neither party moved, each waiting for the other to break the stalemate. They eyed each other. Dante and SIlver exchanged a gnce.

  Dante sighed, “Alright, well, enough of the pleasantries. This is getting us nowhere and my friend may be in danger or worse, so I say you just let us through and no one gets hurt. Ok?” he said, stepping toward the Ox man.

  Just then, an arrow whizzed towards his face. He turned and caught it in his hand and then broke it in half. His module burned with fury as it charged his body exponentially.

  “Ok… guess that’s that then.” He snarled as he darted to the big Ox and uppercut him in the jaw. The blow sent him through the air and smmed into the ground. The Brov whooped as they released volleys of arrows. Silver darted to take cover, slicing through a raider with his katana.

  Dante’s power bolstered, and he moved with inhuman speed, deflecting the arrows with precise defense of his limp wings, sending the projectiles cttering harmlessly to the ground. He darted toward the archers, hopping over the ruins and coming down with a swift blow, careful not to kill, though each strike was delivered with enough force to ensure they wouldn’t rise quickly. He unched from the top of the dipidated building to another across the alley and nded amongst more archers, repeating the same devastating attack that sent the attackers flying.

  But the battle was far from over. The Brov leader let out a boisterous bellow, enraging his fellow warriors to attack. The massive Hoven Brov towered over Silver, and charged forward, his mallet swinging with brutal force. Silver dodged to the side, but the bull’s relentless assault pressed him back. Dante could hear Silver’s heart pounding as he saw the mallet arc down toward his companion, a blow that would surely be fatal.

  Time slowed as Dante unched into the sky. He closed the distance between himself and the Ox in an instant. A quick lift of a wing stopped the mallet which sent vibrations through the Ox’s hands. He dropped the mallet and followed up to grab Dante. His wings carved through the tendons, the squelch of severed sinew drowned out only by the Ox’s bellow of pain as Dante’s wings sshed through, blood spraying across the ground in a gruesome dispy. The beast fell to the ground and crawled away bellowing in agony.

  Dante’s rampage continued, leaving nothing but carnage in his wake. The Brov raiders, once so confident, were now nothing more than frightened animals scrambling for survival.

  A towering Ferenzial came at him first, swinging a jagged axe. Dante caught it mid-swing, wrestling the weapon with such force that the brute’s wrist gave way with a pop. He then took the axe and splintered it in his hand. Then drove his knee into the raider’s ribs. There was a muffled crunch, followed by a guttural gasp as the Ferenzial crumpled, cwing at his shattered ribs.

  A pair of lizard-like Chimerans, they must be the Rezzo that he’s heard so much about, lunged at him from both sides, sabers fshing. Dante ducked just as the bdes sliced through empty air. He drove his elbow backward into one’s gut, knocking the breath from his lungs, while his free hand caught the other by the snout and twisted. Something in the Rezzo’s jaw gave way with a wet, meaty crack. The lizard shrieked, hands flying to his mangled face, blood bubbling between his fingers.

  An Athros grizzly raider, twice Dante’s size, seized the opportunity. He raised a rusted iron mace high above his head and brought it down with all his might.

  The weapon struck Dante’s skull. The shaft of the mace snapped apart, sending jagged bits of metal flying in every direction. The bear stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at the broken handle still clutched in his trembling hands.

  Dante cocked his head, smiling. Then, without a word, he smmed his fist into the bear’s stomach. There was a deep squelch as flesh and muscle compressed under the force. The raider lurched forward, eyes bulging, bile and spit flying from his mouth before he colpsed, twitching in the dirt.

  One of the Brov tried to make a run for it. Dante grabbed a discarded sword and hurled it. The bde spun end over end before burying itself deep into the raider’s calf. The impact sent him sprawling face-first into the ground, his scream cut short by the taste of dirt and blood.

  That’s when a Rhino Largo started backing away. He was a beast of a warrior, broad-chested and thick-skinned, but right now, he was nothing more than a trembling wreck.

  Dante took his time, his footsteps deliberate. “Goin’ somewhere?”

  The rhino shook his massive head, eyes darting around in search of an escape. “I… I don’t—”

  The ground rumbled as an Elephant Largo took action, hoisting a boulder the size of a wagon and hurling it toward Dante with all his might. The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield – dust and debris kicking up in every direction.

  The remaining raiders hesitated, waiting, listening. The silence stretched.

  Then came the sound of rock cracking, splintering, breaking apart piece by piece.

  As the dust settled, Dante stood beneath the boulder, one hand gripping its crumbling edge. His fingers had sunk deep into the stone, cracks of destruction spreading like a spiderweb on the boulder due to the pressure of his grip. He exhaled, rolled his shoulders, and with a single effortless motion, hurled the boulder back at its source.

  The Elephant Largo barely had time to react before the rock crashed into his chest, folding him like a ragdoll. Bones snapped, his massive frame filed backward, and he nded in a gnarled heap, groaning in pain.

  Dante turned his attention back to the Rhino Largo, who was already running for his life.

  He let him get a few paces ahead before appearing behind him in a blink. One hand grabbed the raider’s thick hide.

  Then came the knee.

  The sound was horrific—spine and muscle splitting apart, tendons stretching to their absolute limit before snapping with a wet, stringy pop. The Rhino Largo let out a strangled noise, caught somewhere between a roar and a sob, before colpsing in a useless heap.

  The remaining Brov raiders ran, scrambling over each other in blind terror.

  Dante stood in their wake hands twitching, the scent of blood thick in the air.

  Whispers of “Ravenwings” and “Sebooro returns” spread amongst them as they fled, their cowardice overcoming their bloodlust. They picked up their knocked-out friends and disappeared. Dante stood with blood dripping off of him. He looked over to Silver, who leaned against a broken wall in bewilderment.

  “What… was that…?” He gasped for air.

  “I’m not sure…” Dante looked at his palms. “I feel like maybe my strength is returning to what it used to be. I could have easily killed them all.”

  “I mean, ya shoulda. Them Brov be savages. Attackin’ innocence and travelers like this. Nonetheless, they shouldn’t be botherin’ us again..”

  Dante picked Silver up by the arm. “You good?”

  “Ya, I’m fine. Them be convinced yer not some ordinary Furthian. I say, no kiddin’. Ya never cease to amaze.”

  Dante smiled, and they gathered themselves, the silence of the deserted vilge felt lighter than before, as if the nd itself mourned the violence that had just occurred. Dante wiped off the blood from his wings and body, but no amount of cleaning could rid him of the feeling that something within him was festering. Much differently than before. He felt a darkness spilling into him. It wasn’t like killing the pnts, which were mindless monsters. These were Chimerans. Living, breathing, and thinking with a conscience. They may have been mean but they were the closest thing to humans that he almost put an end to.

  The two left the vilge and forged their path toward rugged verdant hills. Dense forests, where beams of sunlight filter through ancient canopies, created a mosaic of light and shadow on the forest floor. Fortunately, it was not one of the cursed forests. It was pristine and untouched with small paths winded precariously along rocky outcrops and descended into a secluded valley.

  Silver shared more stories, reminiscing about his sister Ternavia. He talked about how he and his sister would py games together. He expined one of the games which sounded a bit like soccer.

  “So basically you kick a ball into a net?” Dante grinned.

  “Yeah, how’d ya know?”

  “No reason…” Dante shook his head, “It sounded like a game that was popur in my world.”

  “Huh… interestin’. What else did ya have?”

  “Well, we had cars, pnes, boats, things like that so traveling would only take hours instead of days like this.”

  “Ah, sounds like how this world be before. Lazy be a curse amongst ya.”

  “Never thought of it like that but yeah, does seem a bit zy...” He remembered his countless hours sitting around sleeping and pying video games.

  Dante gazed out over the vast ndscape as they finally left the confines of the forest. The sight was overwhelming—sprawling valleys peppered with small towns and the occasional cluster of ancient ruins, all leading up to a jagged cliffside in the distance. Beyond that was their destination: the Meorbin vilge. Yet what truly caught his eye was the faint plume of smoke rising into the sky, a thin line that blurred into the horizon.

  “Look…” Dante pointed ahead, a sense of unease creeping into his voice, “There’s smoke over there.”

  Silver squinted, nodding slowly. “And where there’s smoke… There’s usually fire. Ain’t that a kicker? Could be yer dragon, after all.” He cracked a crooked smile, but his attempt at humor fell ft.

  Dante’s mind churned, and a gnawing feeling emanated from his module. He needed to find Ezekiel, but the smoke on the horizon bore heavily on his thoughts. Every step forward brought them closer to whatever y beyond that cliffside, and it was bothering him more than he wanted to admit.

  “Is there no faster way to get around?” Dante asked, his tone tinged with frustration.

  Silver shook his head with a grunt. “Nope. Human tech got banned, ‘member? Ain’t no Chimeran gonna be ridin’ around on those fancy contraptions without the Forever Queen’s say-so. Anything that even looks human-made’s gotta pass her approval first.”

  Dante gnced at his own wings, dragging slightly as he walked over the uneven ground. “What about something powered by the Furthians? Maybe a ptform or lift?”

  Silver gave a hoarse chuckle, “Not a bad idea, but good luck gettin’ the Queen to approve somethin’ like that. Maybe ya can bring it up when ya see her.”

  They continued on, but Dante couldn’t shake the growing tension building within. A whole day passed, and when they finally made camp near a small farming vilge, the smoke in the distance was still there—closer now, thicker. Furthian guards circled overhead, their sharp cries carrying through the night air like specters watching over them.

  One of them came down to check things out, “You there. Not a bunch of trouble makers are ya?”

  “No sir, we’re just passin’ through. Say… that smoke there… any news on that?”

  “Oh yeah, the whole vilge is torched. Something about a giant flying Rezzo came in burning it all up. There are some soldiers and mercenaries up there gathering to take the thing out.”

  Dante’s eyes widened, “No… we gotta get moving Silver!”

  The vulture Furthian shook its head, “Now, now, they ain't gonna attack it yet. Still got time to get up there if you wanna piece of the bounty.”

  “Bounty?” Silver’s eye sparkled.

  “Silver…” Dante said, gring at him.

  “Oh… right. Sorry.”

  As darkness settled in, Dante sat by the fire, his gaze repeatedly drawn toward the horizon, where that plume of smoke lingered. He couldn’t rest, his thoughts fixated on the source of the fire. The faint smell of charred wood seemed to drift with the wind, unsettling his nerves even further. “Ezekiel… what is going on?” he muttered, almost to himself.

  Silver, who had been puffing on his pipe in silence, gnced over. “It’s sittin’ at the back of yer mind, ain’t it?” He tapped the side of his head with a knowing smirk.

  Dante’s lips tightened. “Yeah… it is.”

  The night dragged on, with Dante unable to close his eyes. He knew there was still time but his thoughts kept returning to the smoke. It’s nights like these that I feel the most uneasy. Why does night take so long to pass? It’s like time goes by so fast when we’re walking but then night comes and it's like a screeching halt. He sighed, thoughts still caving in on him, What if Ezekiel is in danger? What if he IS the danger? Every minute they deyed gnawed at him.

  By the next morning, the smoke had grown darker and more pronounced. They broke camp quickly and resumed their journey, now heading straight for the cliffside. The once subtle plume of smoke had become a steady trail, ominously rising like a beacon of destruction.

  The air smelled faintly of burnt vegetation as they drew closer, the wind carrying with it the distant scent of ash. Dante’s module raced, and with each step, the pressure in his chest grew heavier.

  Finally, after hours of travel, they reached the towering cliff. The abrupt sight of the sheer rock face stopped them in their tracks. Silver’s face creased with embarrassment as he muttered, “Oh… right. I, uh, forgot this was here.”

  “Silver,” Dante’s voice was low and intense, “We need to get up there. ” He noticed that the wolf looked dismayed and ashamed, but Dante remained unfazed, his calm assurance a counterpoint to Silver’s self-reproach. “What’s wrong, Silver? Afraid of heights?”

  “Nah, I just prefer me paws on the ground. That’s all. I’ve scaled many a cliffside! Anyway, this is the only way up otherwise we’d have to go around that could take days. I’m sure ya wanna get to yer friend before then.”

  “Yeah, that smoke up there is bothering me… we just gotta do it.”

  Silver dove into his leather pack with a distracted air, rummaging for that elusive tool to help him scale the cliff. “I swear, if I don't find me climbin’ cws soon, I'll have to climb this thing with me bare paws,” he muttered, half to himself and half to Dante, who was already surveying the cliff's imposing height.

  With a confident stride, Dante studied the rock face, his eyes tracing possible paths of ascent. A surge of energy lit him up from within, and he couldn't help but fsh a mischievous grin at Silver—who was too absorbed in his search to notice Dante's brewing pn.

  “Hey, Silver,” Dante called softly, a pyfulness in his voice, “if you find a miracle in that pack, do let me know. I might need one myself someday.”

  Before Silver could reply, Dante's pn sprang into action. In a swift, fluid motion, he darted toward Silver, grabbed hold of his tail, and with a whoop of ughter, unched them both into the air. They soared above the cliff's edge, the wind whipping past as Dante spread his wings to glide gracefully toward the ground.

  As they neared the nding zone, Dante tried to set Silver down gently. But Silver, ever the unpredictable, began squirming uncontrolbly, sending their careful descent into chaos. Unintendedly, Silver was released a few meters atop the cliff instead of being set down softly.

  There was a heavy thud as Silver nded on his back, the impact robbing him of all wind. He scrambled upright, tail twitching with indignation. “Dante, what in the world was that?” he barked, annoyed and amused by the mishap.

  Dante tumbled down nearby, nding with a comical thud of his own. Between bouts of ughter, he quickly called out, “I am so sorry, friend! I thought you’d enjoy the flight. Are you hurt? Let me check your tail.”

  Silver crossed his arms and shook his head, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Me tail’s fine, ya reckless buffoon,” he replied, his tone a mix of pride and pyful scorn. “That ndin’ coulda turned me to a pancake. I ain’t in the mood for bein’ your test subject.”

  Dante grinned widely, rubbing his shoulder as he sat up. “Test subject? Please. I simply wanted to see if you could fly. I guess we learned you do prefer the ground.”

  Silver snorted. “Next time, warn me before ya decide to py airborne acrobat. I ain’t signin’ up for any more surprise drops.”

  Between chuckles, their banter carried the warmth of friendship—a bond forged through shared risk and unexpected moments of levity. As he gathered his thoughts, Silver patted his pack, resigned that he might never find his climbing cws.

  They soon both ughed at the absurdity of the event and decided it was best to make camp before going forward. It was dark and if there was a dragon ahead, then nighttime would not be wise. The cliff, the sky, and the lingering taste of adrenaline all seemed to promise that tomorrow held even more misadventures waiting just around the bend.

  The smoke kept Dante uneasy throughout the night. I sure hope he’s okay, he thought, but doubt gnawed at him. What if he’s not? What if I have to fight him? How would I even stand a chance against someone like that? He winced at the memory of their st encounter. He broke my wings… There’s something within me—something I can’t expin, something no one around me can. But maybe... maybe he knows? Oh, please be okay. He muttered a silent prayer. Please be a nice dragon...

  An ominous weight settled in his module, and a cold shiver ran through him.

  Tomorrow could change everything.