The eggs sizzled in the pan, their edges crisping to a golden brown as Neto turned them with a wooden spatula.
He'd found their nest that morning, three speckled things tucked beneath a fallen oak, and counted himself lucky. Wild forage in winter was a gamble at best.
He crushed dried rosemary between his fingers and scattered it across the eggs, followed by a pinch of black salt he'd been saving for weeks. The aroma rose with the woodsmoke, curling into the grey morning air.
Around him, the forest stood silent and watchful, the trees stripped bare by the cold, their branches like black veins against the pale sky. His pack lay open to examine beside the fire. Its contents were neatly arranged in rows for examination. A length of rope, three days of hardtack, two ceramic vials stoppered with wax, a roll of bandages, and waterskin And beneath it all, a parcel wrapped in black silk.
Placing his hand on the soft fabric, he felt a weight like a second heartbeat, steady and patient. The sound of footsteps snapped him out of contemplation and he sealed the pack. Well-made boots, moving with a measured cadence.
"Well," a voice called out, warm with amusement, "at least one of us had the sense to start supper."
Neto raised a hand in greeting as five figures emerged from the treeline. Their breath misted in the cold. They looked tired and greedily eyed the food and fire.
The journey from Norhelm would've taken them at least two days.
"Plenty of fire to go around," Neto waved at the figure who'd addressed him.
The leader of the group, a broad-shouldered man with a close-cropped beard and the kind of easy confidence that came from years of experience, dropped his pack near the fire and stretched his arms overhead.
Neto had memorized that face from a charcoal sketch. He'd traced its lines until he could see the face when he closed his eyes. Zhenyue. For the others, he only bothered to learn their names.
"Appreciate it friend," Zhenyue smiled, settling onto a fallen log. "Fulai, get the kettle on. My bones are frozen solid."
A lanky man with a crooked nose and an easy grin moved to comply, rummaging through their anchored supplies.
"Sure thing. Does anyone else want tea?"
A chorus of affirmations rose from the group as they arranged themselves around the fire. Neto watched them from beneath lowered lashes, cataloguing faces, weapons, the way they moved. The woman with silver-streaked hair and sharp eyes would be Suyue.
Surprisingly young, with a nervous energy that hadn't yet been beaten out of her. And Fulai, already chattering away about the cold as he filled the kettle from his waterskin.
Neto reached into his pockets and produced a leather pouch, worn soft with use. He pinched out a measure of tobacco, rolled it in a thin slip of paper, and sealed it with a quick lick. Then he rolled another.
"Here."
He offered the second cigarette to Zhenyue.
"For the cold."
Zhenyue took it with a nod of thanks, leaning forward to catch a light from a burning twig. He inhaled deeply, held it, and let the smoke drift from his nostrils.
"Not bad."
Neto lit his own and let the warmth spread through his chest. The tobacco was good, one of the few luxuries he allowed himself. He'd picked it up in the port city of Jarlan six weeks ago, along with the job.
"You know," Zhenyue said, something playful in his tone, "you really shouldn't be smoking that."
Neto raised an eyebrow.
Zhenyue gestured with his cigarette.
"Tobacco's a wholesome herb, sure, but it's not meant for boys."
The words hung in the air.
Neto took another drag and said nothing. The silence stretched, awkward and sudden. Zhenyue's smile faltered. He glanced at the others, looking for support, but they were suddenly very interested in their own preparations: Fulai fussing with the kettle, Suyue adjusting her pack straps, Xiaoyan studying her boots.
"Right," Zhenyue muttered. "Well…"
"So!" Fulai's voice cut through the tension like a blade. Bright and deliberate.
"This branch we're heading into, do we know the characteristics? I couldn't find any information from the cartographers at our guild."
Neto felt the group's collective relief as the conversation shifted.
"Dense, but navigable," Suyue said.
Her voice was softer than Neto had expected, almost musical.
"I consulted the unbound energy permeating this forest on our journey. Three main passages, with the twigs branching off every fifty meters or so. The leaves are the real danger. They seem to be shifting."
"Shifting leaves." Xiaoyan made a face. "Wonderful."
"That's why we have him." Zhenyue jerked his chin toward Neto. "Navigation specialist. And that artifact of his."
All eyes turned to Neto.
He nodded and reached into his pack, withdrawing the silk-wrapped bundle. He let the black fabric fall away to reveal what lay beneath.
The artifact was a small thing, a disc of pale bone no larger than his palm, etched with lines that seemed to move when viewed from the corner of the eye. It hummed faintly, a vibration more felt than heard.
"I'm sure there's no problem if we verify its authenticity" Zhenyue prodded.
"Of course not."
Neto passed it to Suyue, who turned it over in her hands with the careful reverence of a woman who knew what she was holding.
The others leaned in, their expressions a mixture of awe and admiration for her unique abilities.
No one spoke as she examined the artifact, but Neto knew what they were thinking. Navigation artifacts of any caliber were registered, tracked, and jealously guarded. They were granted only to guild-affiliated parties of the highest rank, the ones who delved into the deepest, most treacherous stretches of unbound space. They were not carried by loose delvers cooking eggs in forest clearings.
No one mentioned it. The silence was its own kind of agreement.
"It'll do," Suyue said finally, handing it back with a hint of regret. "I can vouch for its authenticity."
Of course, her regret was not being able to use the artifact. Neto had already attuned to it, after all.
However, she would have sensed the energy of the unbound within it.
Neto wrapped the device and returned it to his pack. The smell of his breakfast had grown stronger, rich and savory, and he noticed the others glancing toward his pan with barely concealed longing.
"Don't wait for me," he gestured graciously. "I've already had my fill."
Zhenyue was the first to measure a serving of the meal onto a small stone plate, followed by the others.
"Why don't we formally introduce ourselves?" He spoke in between ravenous mouthfuls.
It was custom. You didn't enter unbound space with strangers, not if you wanted to come out again. The formal introduction was ritual, a declaration of trust that couldn't be taken back.
They arranged themselves in a loose circle around the fire.
Zhenyue, as leader, went first.
"Zhenyue," he said, his voice taking on an overly formal cadence. His eyes glimmered in contrast. "Gold bar. Combat epiphany."
He held up his left wrist, and the firelight caught the gleam of his bracelet, a band of worked leather with a single bar of gold inlaid along its length.
Then, in one smooth motion, he turned and lifted the back of his shirt.
Neto had seen Delver's marks before. He'd seen the faint tracings of bronze-bars, the modest etchings of silver. He was not prepared for what he saw on Zhenyue's back.
The mural was vast, covering the man's skin from shoulders to waist. Black lines, sharp as knife cuts, formed an intricate pattern, geometric shapes interlocking with organic curves, spirals that seemed to pull the eye inward, forms that suggested meaning without ever quite resolving into sense.
It was beautiful in the way a predator was beautiful: terrible and arresting.
The unbound had marked Zhenyue deeply. It meant he had survived more than most. It meant he had taken more than most.
Neto felt the others' admiration like heat from the fire. Even Suyue, silver-bar and magic-touched, was staring in awe. He caught himself frowning but forced a smile.
In a fight, he wouldn't be easy.
Zhenyue lowered his shirt and turned back to face them, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Fulai. You're next." The lanky man stood with a theatrical bow.
"Fulai here! Bronze bar, luck epiphany. That means I'm just talented enough to get into trouble and just lucky enough to get out of it."
His bracelet showed a single bronze bar, modest but earned.
When he revealed his back, the markings were sparse: a few sharp geometric shapes scattered across his skin like thrown dice. But they were there, clear and defined. The unbound had noticed him.
"Suyue," Zhenyue said.
The silver-haired woman rose with quiet dignity.
"Suyue. Silver bar. Incomprehensible epiphany."
The word hung in the air. Incomprehensible.
The polite term for magic. For the twisting of reality that defied categorization, that couldn't be explained or taught or replicated.
Incomprehensible wielders were rare. They were also, in Neto's experience, dangerous in ways that were hard to predict. Her bracelet showed silver. Her back, when she revealed it, was wreathed in what looked like black clouds. Soft-edged shapes that seemed to drift and merge, patterns that hinted at storms and depth and things best left unnamed.
She covered herself quickly, a faint flush on her cheeks.
Next, a bronze-haired girl stood with the nervous energy of someone who wasn't yet used to the ritual.
"Xiaoyan. Bronze bar. Combat epiphany."
Her back bore a single marking: a shape that looked unmistakably like a dagger, its lines clean and sharp. An auspicious mark. A promising one.
Then it was his turn. He stood, aware of every eye on him.
"Neto. Bronze bar. Navigation specialty."
He paused.
"No epiphany."
He turned and lifted his shirt. He couldn't see their faces, but he felt the shift in the air, the way the silence changed texture, became something softer, something almost like pity. His back was a ruin of scar tissue, pale lines crossing and recrossing in patterns that spoke of violence rather than transcendence.
No black marks. No etchings. The unbound had touched him, certainly, had torn him apart more than once, but it had never claimed him.
He lowered his shirt and turned back to the fire.
"I'll be in your care then."
No one spoke. But he sensed it; the subtle relaxation in their postures, the easing of tension they probably didn't even know they'd been holding.
A bronze bar with no epiphany and a back full of scars. Hardly a threat. Hardly worth worrying about.
Good.
"We should rest," Zhenyue broke the silence. "Two days of hard travel, and the rift won't be any easier if we tackle it now."
The group murmured agreement and began settling in, spreading bedrolls and arranging packs into makeshift pillows.
Neto stayed by the fire, feeding it small branches, watching the flames dance and pop.
One by one, they fell asleep. Fulai first, his snores starting almost the moment his eyes closed. Then Xiaoyan, curled tight beneath her blanket.
Zhenyue took longer, but eventually his breathing deepened and steadied. Only Suyue remained awake, sitting across the fire from Neto, her silver-streaked hair loose around her shoulders.
She was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Curious, perhaps. Or something else.
"Your scars," she said quietly. "And the bandage on your neck."
Neto's hand went to his throat involuntarily. The bandage was hidden beneath his collar, but she'd noticed it somehow.
"What about them?" "How did you get them?"
He considered the question. Consider lying. But there was an innocence in her eyes that pulled at his heartstrings. He found himself answering honestly.
"This is what happens," he chuckled, "when someone fails to reach an epiphany. Even when all the conditions are met."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face. Her lips parted as if to ask more, but Neto spoke first.
"Have you been traveling together long?"
Suyue smiled, "Not long. In fact, our first meeting was two days ago, at the beginning of our journey."
"You seem quite comfortable with each other."
"Yes, well. I'm sure it differs between delvers but most of the people I've worked with from the lotus guild have been this way. We seem to attract the easy-going type."
"Is that so?"
At her words, Neto relaxed. It'd be an easy job after all.
"Do you mind if I check something?" Suyue asked softly.
"What do you mean?"
"I may be able to decipher why you failed to reach epiphany."
Startled, Neto swallowed the back of his tongue.
"What do you have to do?"
She giggled and in one graceful motion, stood and sat beside him. She extended her hand, evidently asking for Neto to do the same.
He obliged with an upturned palm.
The warmth from her soft fingers seeped inside him. And seemed to spread through his blood vessels. He gasped at the unexpected sensation.
"Strange," She frowned.
"What is?"
"You," Neto sensed fear in her voice, "what are you…"
Exhaustion claimed her before the next words could form.
Dangerous.
Neto Shivered. He wouldn't carelessly offer his hand to a wielder of the incomprehensible again.
Her eyes drifted shut, and within moments she was asleep. Her breath soft and even against his shoulder.
Neto sat alone with the fire.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The constellations emerged slowly. Pinpricks of light appeared one by one as the clouds drifted apart.
The forest had grown quiet. That deep, watchful silence that came only in the coldest hours of the night.
The trees cast long shadows in the moonlight, black shapes that seemed to shift and reach when viewed from the corner of the eye.
The fire had burned down to embers, painting Neto's face in shades of orange and black.
He reached into his boot and drew his dagger.
A simple blade. Unadorned steel, well maintained, and sharp enough to split a hair.
He rose without sound and crossed to where Fulai lay sleeping. The man's face was peaceful, his crooked nose twitching slightly as he dreamed. Neto knelt beside him and felt his pulse.
Four hours, at most.
He repeated the process for the others.
Four, four… two.
Suyue's heart rate was already starting to stabilize. She certainly had an abnormal constitution.
However, the real problem lay ahead. Zhenyue.
Certainly, the gold plate would regain consciousness soon. He needed to finish this quickly.
With abnormal strength, Neto easily hoisted Zhenue on his shoulders and walked into the darkness without looking back. Soon, the pair arrived at a slit in the air. So subtle, yet emanating a terrifying presence.
The entrance to unbound space: a spatial rift.
Neto stepped inside.