Arvey moved deeper into the forest for a few days now, his newly stolen cloak draped over his shoulders, its hood pulled low. The fabric was thick, heavy enough to keep him hidden in the shifting darkness beneath the canopy. The weight of his daggers felt reassuring at his waist, grounding him in the uneasy silence of the Abyss.

  Kozlo perched on his shoulder, bundled in a makeshift cloak that had once belonged to a goblin. It was too large, wrapped around his small frame like a tangled mass of fabric, but the owl didn't seem to care. He blinked up at Arvey, his eyes gleaming under the dim twilight of the Abyss.

  Suddenly a scream tore through the trees.

  Arvey froze mid-step and held his breath. The sound carried a human edge that yanked his attention, and the second scream came lower, strangled by a cough. His eyes moved across ground and branches in one sweep, looking for any kind of danger.

  Before Arvey could lift two fingers to signal danger, Kozlo raised one wing high under the cloak like a crooked little flag. “Danger,” the owl whispered urgently. Arvey flicked his eyes to him for half a heartbeat, then nodded once. “It’s very close,” he said in a low voice, and his feet started moving toward the scream.

  The trees thinned into a cramped clearing. Arvey crouched behind a trunk and pushed moss aside, careful not to shake it. Five goblins clustered near a shallow dip in the earth. Their weapons pointed inward like they were guarding a meal.

  The meal was alive.

  A woman knelt in the mud with her hands bound behind her back. Fox ears pushed through matted hair, one edge torn, and a thin tail lay pressed flat against the ground. Blood soaked her side in a dark stain that kept spreading, and the wound looked torn rather than cut.

  She lifted her head as if it cost her everything. Golden eyes caught the weak light for a heartbeat, and her throat worked around a swallow that didn’t go down. “Help,” she rasped, the word breaking at the end.

  A goblin kicked her shoulder and laughed. The woman bit down hard enough that her jaw shook, and she kept her eyes forward anyway. Arvey felt his decision settle as his hands tightened around his daggers.

  Kozlo shifted on his shoulder and leaned forward a fraction, feathers lifting along his neck. Arvey slid him off with two gentle taps and pointed toward a knot of roots where shadow pooled thick. “Hide,” he whispered. Kozlo nodded reluctantly and slipped into the roots, the goblin cloak swallowing him as he vanished.

  The goblins argued, snapping at the woman’s bindings and at the pouch on her belt. One held a crude spear, another gripped a jagged cleaver, and the biggest wore scraps of metal stitched to leather like it wanted to be armor. None of them watched the trees, and Arvey couldn’t decide if that meant stupidity or confidence.

  He didn’t care which one it was anyways. He drew a slow breath through his nose and watched how they stood around the dip. They were not packed tight and the gaps between them were wide enough to slip through if he kept their eyes pointed the wrong way.

  He slid out from behind the trunk low enough that fog and shadow did some of the work for him. He moved toward the goblin on the outer edge, the one that had wandered a few steps away from the others to paw through mud near a root. The rest kept their attention on the captive, shoulders turned inward.

  Arvey closed the last step and clamped a hand over the goblin’s mouth. He yanked it backward into the shadow line behind the trunk, keeping its feet from scraping stone, then drove steel up under the jaw with a short thrust. The goblin stiffened and clawed at his wrist, but Arvey held it steady until the struggle drained into weak twitching.

  He lowered the corpse into the leaves and let the cloak’s hem cover the shine of blood. He stayed still and listened, waiting for a shout, a scramble, any sign the others had heard the muffled struggle. They didn’t even look his way, busy punching the woman’s ribs and kicking her legs as they argued over something.

  "Scum," Arvey said. His left hand slid to his second dagger, and his fingers tested the balance without looking down. One of the remaining goblins lifted its head at last, more annoyed than alert, and it turned at the wrong time.

  Arvey threw.

  The dagger left his hand without a flash of hesitation and crossed the gap in a straight line. It struck the goblin in the head with a dull impact, and the creature’s legs buckled as if the ground had been kicked out from under it. It hit the mud and went still.

  The remaining three goblins snapped toward him, bodies stiff as the sudden quiet clicked into place. Arvey stepped forward with one dagger in his hand and blood drying on his knuckles. “Killed plenty of goblins over the last days,” he said in a flat voice. “Three of you are easy.”

  The cleaver goblin rushed first, feet slapping mud as it swung for Arvey’s head. “Split him!” it screeched, spit flying as it over-committed to the cut. The spear goblin barked back and jabbed forward as if trying to claim the kill. The biggest goblin snarled, shouting at the other goblins, "KILL HIM!!"

  Arvey dipped under the cleaver and felt air cut over his hood, then he drove his shoulder into the cleaver goblin’s chest and shoved it back. The spear goblin jabbed a heartbeat later, point aimed for Arvey’s ribs. Arvey turned his torso so the tip scraped cloak instead of bone.

  The biggest goblin came in after the spear, heavier steps, short blade held tight near its chest. Arvey took one step back to keep space, then shifted forward again when the spear drew back for another thrust. He slapped the shaft aside with his forearm, stepped inside the line, and drove his dagger into the spear goblin’s throat.

  Warm blood splashed across his fingers as the goblin tried to inhale. It folded into the mud and went still. Arvey yanked his blade free before the body finished falling. The biggest goblin cut at him at once, but Arvey twisted his hips so the edge skimmed past his belly.

  The cleaver goblin recovered and lunged again, screaming as it swung from the side. Arvey turned to meet it, ready to take the cleaver arm, but Kozlo hit the goblin’s face. Feathers and talons slammed into its eyes so fast, surprise hit Arvey. He hadn’t signaled Kozlo, hadn’t even looked for him, and the timing still landed like a slap. For half a beat Arvey stared at the feathers on the goblin’s face, then his grip tightened and his body moved.

  The cleaver dipped as the goblin flailed and stumbled. Arvey drove his dagger under the ribs and pushed until the scream died in the creature’s throat.

  Arvey grinned up at the branch where Kozlo beat his wings and glared down like he owned the kill. “Nice,” Arvey said. Kozlo spread his wings wide to make himself look bigger on the branch. “GOBLIN WEAK!” he shouted in a proud voice.

  The biggest goblin backed a step, eyes flicking from the dead bodies to Arvey’s smile. Its grip tightened on the short blade, then it spun and splashed toward the woman. It grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, dragging her backward through the mud to keep distance.

  Arvey took two quick steps to the first corpse and tore his other dagger free, fingers closing around the hilt. Mud clung to the blade, and he wiped it once against the dead goblin’s rags without looking away from the hostage. The woman made a thin sound as the goblin yanked her head back even more.

  "Let her go,” Arvey said in a flat voice, walking back into range. The biggest goblin tightened its fist in her hair and dragged her another inch, testing whether Arvey would flinch.

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  “Drop her,” he said, slower. The goblin bared its teeth. “That’s our prey,” it snapped. “Find your own.” It raised the short blade toward the woman’s throat, and the hand trembled despite the threat.

  Arvey watched the tremor as the woman’s eyes rolled toward him, not begging anymore, only measuring the distance between her throat and the blade.

  The goblin tightened its fist in the womans hair and tilted the knife closer to her throat. Its eyes flicked to the branch where Kozlo sat, and its lips peeled back in a grin. “Owl don’t move,” it snapped. “You leave. Walk away.”

  Arvey’s throat tightened as the woman made a thin sound through clenched teeth. “I can’t let her die,” he thought, and the words landed with a clean finality. Heat spread through his chest and down his arms, fast enough to make his skin prickle. He didn’t know why his body suddenly felt lighter.

  He didn’t wait to understand it. Arvey snapped both daggers into a throw, one after the other, and the steel cut through the damp air. One dagger hit the goblin and it flinched, knee bending as it tried to keep its hostage close. The knife wavered off the womans throat, Arvey sprinted straight in.

  He slammed his forearm into the wrist holding the knife, bone popped under the impact. The knife dropped into the mud, and Arvey caught the woman by the shoulder and shoved her behind him.

  The goblin roared and swung with its free hand. Claws caught Arvey’s cheek and tore a hot line across his skin, as blood ran into the corner of his mouth. Arvey took his dagger, driving it up under the goblin’s ribs and felt the blade sink into soft resistance.

  The goblin’s breath exploded out of it, and confusion flickered across its face as its body failed to follow its will. Arvey twisted once and ripped the dagger free. The goblin collapsed into the mud and stopped moving.

  He turned toward the woman and crouched close. Her breathing came shallow and uneven, and her wrists looked raw where the rope had cut.

  “Hey,” Arvey said, and the word came out rough. He kept his hands visible and moved them slowly, palms open, letting her see he didn’t intend another kind of capture. “Look at me. Stay awake.”

  Her eyes fought to focus. She tracked his face, the blood on his cheek, the dagger in his hand, and fear flashed once before exhaustion smothered it. Arvey sliced through the rope at her wrists with careful cuts, keeping the blade away from her skin, then eased her hands free.

  She dragged in a shaky breath that sounded like relief mixed with grief. Kozlo hopped closer along a branch and made a small worried noise. “Lady hurt,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Arvey murmured. He pressed a strip of cloth to her side and applied controlled pressure, watching her face for the edge where pain tipped into shock. Warm blood soaked his fingers, and his stomach tightened as he felt it continue.

  “Name,” Arvey said. He kept his voice steady. “Tell me your name.”

  Her throat clicked as she swallowed. “S… Seryn,” she breathed, the syllables barely forming. Her tail twitched once, then lay flat again.

  “Seryn,” Arvey repeated, anchoring the sound. He adjusted the cloth and kept pressure. “Stay with me. What happened. Where do you come from.”

  Seryn’s fingers fumbled at his sleeve and clutched it with weak grip. Her hand was cold through the fabric. “Don’t…” she whispered, then coughed hard enough to bring fresh blood to her lips.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Arvey said. He wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of his hand, then checked the treeline without lifting his head.

  Seryn’s eyes darted past him toward the deeper trees. Fear returned to her face in a sharp flash that cut through exhaustion. “Not… goblins,” she whispered. “They found... after…”

  “After who? Found what?” Arvey asked. He kept the question controlled, but his pulse climbed. Kozlo went still on the branch, eyes fixed on Seryn’s mouth.

  Seryn swallowed and forced the words through pain. “The cult,” she said. “They took me.”

  Arvey held his breath for a beat. “Cult?,” he repeated.

  Seryn tried to lift her hand, but failed. Her fingers scraped his sleeve instead, as if she needed proof he was real. “Slaves..,” she whispered. “Masks.. Ritual.."

  Arvey’s jaw tightened. "Where,” he asked, leaning closer so she wouldn’t need to waste breath. “How far.”

  Seryn’s eyes fluttered, then dragged open again with stubborn force. “Camp,” she rasped. “Stones.. Green light.” Her ears trembled as she tried to keep her focus. “Don’t… let them take me back.”

  “They won’t,” Arvey said. He shifted his stance and slid an arm behind her back, careful of the wound, then pulled her upright.

  Seryn’s weight sagged into him at once. Warm blood soaked his sleeve through the cloth, and he felt her breath scrape against his neck. Arvey swallowed hard and kept his grip firm without squeezing. “You stay awake,” he said, and he let the edge into his voice. “If you fade, you tell me.”

  Seryn’s lips parted. “I can’t,” she whispered.

  Arvey hooked her arm over his shoulder and adjusted her so her weight sat on bone rather than wound. “Kozlo,” he whispered, keeping his voice low.

  The owl leaned closer. Arvey lifted two fingers while holding her, then pointed up into the canopy. “Scout ten breaths ahead. Then back.”

  "Kozlo fast!", the owl nodded and launched into the branches, disappearing into leaves.

  Arvey counted under his breath while he listened to Seryn’s breathing. He shifted his steps to keep her stable. He tightened the cloth with one hand while walking, keeping the pressure on her wounds. “Talk to me,” he said. “Say anything.

  Seryn swallowed. “Your cloak smells,” she whispered, and the line came out like an insult offered as a gift. Her eyes half-lidded, but her grip stayed on his sleeve. “Like… goblins.”

  Arvey let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, then held it back. “Stolen,” he said. “Don’t judge me.” He shifted her higher and kept moving.

  Kozlo returned from the branches and landed on a low limb above Arvey’s head. Way free,” Kozlo whispered. “No feet. No voices.”

  “Good,” Arvey said. He shifted Seryn higher on his shoulder and tightened his grip under her arm so her weight sat on bone instead of the wound. His legs wanted to speed up, and he let his stride lengthen for two steps.

  But Seryn went slack.

  Arvey felt it in the way her fingers stopped clinging to his cloak. He stopped at once and lowered her to the ground with controlled care, keeping her head from snapping back. Her mouth and eyes hung open, and there was no air moving in her throat.

  “Stay with me!” Arvey said. He pressed two fingers to her neck and held them there, waiting for a pulse that never answered. He counted three breaths in his own chest, then four, and the silence under his fingertips stayed the same.

  “She’s dead,” Arvey said quietly. His face tightened, and he slammed his fist into the ground hard enough to splash mud up his wrist. “Damn,” he said, his voice rising. “My only source of information. Gone.”

  Kozlo leaned over the branch above him and looked down at Arvey. “Hey!” he said, voice sharp with offense. “Kozlo has information too!” His wings twitched as if he wanted to puff up again, then he held still and waited for Arvey’s eyes.

  Arvey looked up at him and let out a slow breath through his nose. “No offense, buddy,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I meant someone who knows things outside these trees, someone who can tell me what’s happening beyond this damn forest.”

  “Not whole forest!” Kozlo protested. He jabbed one wing toward the dark, then pulled it back and pointed the other way, as if drawing a border in the air. “Kozlo knows forest part. Not dome!"

  Arvey shook his head. “Right,” he said, letting the sarcasm sit on the word. “You’re the scholar of one small patch.”

  His gaze dropped back to Seryn’s face. Arvey crouched again and reached up with two fingers, then used his palm to ease her eyelids shut. “May your soul find peace,” he said in a low voice. Just as he said it, heat slid into Arvey’s palm, gentle at first and then insistent. Arvey stiffened and stared at his hand.

  It flowed from Seryn’s body into his skin in a slow pull that made his forearm prickle. The warmth did not burn, yet it moved with purpose, threading up his wrist and into his chest like something finding a home. Arvey jerked his hand back and stared at it.

  “What was that,” he said in a low voice. The feeling sat in him as foreign and familiar at the same time, and it made his heartbeat thud harder. Kozlo leaned forward on the branch, feathers tight.

  “Mana,” Kozlo said. Arvey stared up at Kozlo, surprised that the owl knew what it was. “Scholar of one small patch, huh?” he said, then looked down at Seryn again.

  He realized he had felt it before and ignored it. He had felt it after fights, after every kill. The first time had been in the water in the Abyss, before he lost consciousness.

  “That must be it,” Arvey said, voice steady as he forced the thought into place. “The thing my uncle taught us.” He swallowed hard and stared at his hand as if it could explain itself. “How could I forget?” His jaw tightened. “That means I get stronger when I beat something.”

  He looked up at the owl. “Kozlo, can you feel what tier I am,” he asked. His voice stayed low, but his eyes didn’t blink.

  “Tier two,” Kozlo answered. Arvey’s mouth pulled into a hard smile.

  “I knew it,” Arvey said. He exhaled and felt the warmth still sitting in his chest. “In that fight, something changed. I felt it.”

  Kozlo puffed up on the branch and stared down with pride. “Arvey always strong,” he said.

  Arvey shook his head once. “I learned to fight in my village,” he said. “My Corriph bloodline also helps.” He looked from Kozlo back to Seryn, the warmth inside him made the air feel thinner. “But this is different.”

  "I have to figure out how to use this mana,” he said in a low voice, and the warmth in his chest answered with a quiet pull. "But for now...", his throat tightened as he forced himself to keep thinking.

  “..we have Abyss monsters, goblins, and on top of that a cult running some kind of twisted rituals on slaves,” he said, bitterness sharpening every word. He let out a short breath that sounded too close to a laugh. “Nice. Anything else?”

  He wiped his palm on his cloak, then looked into the trees. The forest stayed quiet. "We move,” he said. Kozlo nodded from the branch.

  Just as Arvey stepped forward, a voice ripped through the trees. “HEEY!”