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Chapter 2 - Ch 2: His Bone, His Breath

Moonlight spilled over the village—and over me―as I stepped into its quiet embrace. Once filled with life, it now settled into a hushed stillness in the absence of the sun, save for the occasional murmur and the distant sounds of night.

I passed shuttered shops, only a few lanterns still glowing, casting a warm light on the darkened street. My destination was the small house the village chief had lent me. I could've let the shadows carry me there effortlessly, but there was no need to rush.

As I moved forward, I came upon an open shop. The owner shot me a glance, panic flashing in his eyes. He hurried to grab a knife and planted himself in front of his stall, clearly thinking I was some sort of bandit clad in black.

As I neared, his glare sharpened, chest puffing with defiance.

But the moment I stepped into the lantern's glow, everything shifted.

The stall owner caught sight of the six burgundy-laced feathers hanging from my coat and conical hat, and I watched as his tough-guy facade crumbled in an instant. The stiff posture, the narrowed glare—they all collapsed under the weight of recognition.

His knees hit the ground with a hollow thud, hands trembling as he clutched the dirt beneath him.

A choked sob escaped him, followed by a torrent of desperate apologies spilling out like water from a shattered dam. He bowed so low that his forehead brushed the ground, voice breaking as he pleaded—pleaded as if he truly believed I would crush his throat and hang his lifeless body for the village to see when dawn broke.

Not that he was wrong to fear it. Had his blade so much as twitched toward me, I would've gutted him where he knelt.

Wraiths were known as the protectors of this continent–of Treazur–and received the utmost respect. But our methods of dealing with threats, whether to ourselves or to the people here, have never been gentle. It was a pitiful sight before me.

Sure, this shop owner was just trying to protect his goods from what he thought was a bandit. But that didn't change the fact he was about to raise a weapon against me.

"Go..."

He lifted his gaze from the ground to look at me, confusion flickering across his face. "I'm...sorry?"

"Return to your fucking stall. Or am I to take that knife in your hand as a threat?"

His eyes widened in horror as he dropped the knife. He scrambled back over the wooden counter, his movements frantic and clumsy.

Great. A peaceful walk ruined. Maybe I should shadow travel there.

I continued on until I reached the edge of the lantern's glow, then melted into the shadows as I passed through the fading light.

A few moments later, I stood at the doorstep of the old wooden house—my temporary home until I cleared this area of any threats.

I pushed the door open, expecting to find Kyr waiting for me, arms crossed, already pouting about how long I'd taken. But to my surprise, no one was there. The lamp was on, so she had to be somewhere inside.

Or maybe not.

There had been times when she'd forgotten to turn off the lights before leaving.

Or maybe she hadn't forgotten at all—perhaps she was just being lazy.

Whatever.

It had been a long day, and I couldn't care less right now.

Finally able to rest, I strolled through the living room lazily when suddenly I heard a muffled gasp. A restrained shuffle, followed by movement from behind me. 

"Touch that boy, and I will expose every bone in your body."

I spun around, facing the open door, and there was Kyr. She clung to a man's back, one arm locked tightly around his neck. The other hovered just before his face, from which a blade of bone erupted, piercing just enough to let a single drop of blood trail down the man's cheek.

I took a moment to process the situation before gazing up into the man's eyes. I stepped forward, then another, until I had to tilt my head back to look at him. He was too terrified to move, frozen in place, his eyes tracking me in silent fear.

I reached over, fingers curling around the ivory blade nestled along my upper right arm, slowly unsheathing it. The man's breath hitched. Then, without warning, he crumpled—collapsing like a felled tower, taking Kyr down with him.

"Whoa—wait, wait, WAIT!"

She let out a startled grunt, followed by a thud as they hit the floor.

"Ouch... No need to get so close, y'know," she muttered, pushing herself off the wooden floor.

"And next time, it wouldn't hurt to close the door beh—" She froze, eyes darting between the damaged brim of my hat and the red-stained hole in my left arm.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked—not with concern, but with surprise.

"I... failed—immediately." I admitted, avoiding eye contact.

She looked at me, surprise growing in her expression.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then tilted her head, as if assessing whether she'd misheard.

"...Immediately?"

I nodded.

A short exhale slipped past her lips―less concern, more amusement.

"What, you tripped right out the gate?"

I shot her a sharp glare, but before I could fire back, Kyr leaned forward, inspecting my wound with the detached curiosity of someone poking at a broken watch.

"You gonna pass out or can I yell at you first?"

I scoffed, shifting my arm slightly, the blood smearing unevenly across my sleeve.

"Yell all you want."

Her lips parted, ready to fire off something snide-but then she paused.

I followed her gaze: The man lay limp, unmoving.

"Soo... You friends with this guy, or can I kill him?" she asked.

"Don't," I replied. "I might need him."

She looked back at me, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

"I was attacked the other night by a band of people. Unfortunately, none of them made it out alive, so this guy will give me the information I so recklessly erased."

A flicker of something—thoughtful, contemplative—passed behind Kyr's eyes. Then, with a sharp inhale, she straightened and gestured toward the doorway.

"Fine. But let's get you patched up before you start bleeding again."

There was no softness in her tone, no worry, no tenderness—just Kyr, her usual self.

***

I winced a bit as Kyr tightened the last knot around my arm, securing the blood-soaked bandages in place. "You're lucky our bodies can take a beating," she said, inspecting her work with a casual tilt of her head.

"That organization has been moving faster than I expected," I replied, shifting my injured arm slightly to test it. "More bodies turning up drained of mana." My words felt steady and precise, but Kyr watched me closely.

"You think they're close?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I flexed my fingers and carefully rotated my arm. The pain was duller now, but I needed to take it easy and let it heal. I figured I'd be fine in a week or two.

"I think they're desperate. That means they know I'm getting closer."

Kyr huffed and lifted her legs to cross them atop the wooden chair. "And that's why they've beensloppy."

Silence settled between us for a moment, then I stood up. "He's all yours."

Kyr grinned. "You're gonna regret that."

***

The felon was trembling, tied securely to a chair in the dimly lit room. I could feel his gaze flicker nervously between my back—now turned—and Kyr, who was crouched before him, chin resting on her hand, studying him like an insect pinned beneath glass.

"Your friends made quite a mess," she murmured, her voice light. "How long do you think ittakes to fully drain someone of mana? Minutes? Seconds?"

The captive stayed silent.

"Since you don't have any mana yourself, you wouldn't know what that feels like, would you? But don't worry. I've found... an alternative for you."

Kyr's fingers flexed slightly against her knee.

Crack.

The man gasped as his wrist twisted—just a fraction—pulling against itself in a way no human body should.

He sucked in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the restraints. Kyr tilted her head, watching him with an idle curiosity—the kind a child might show while testing the limits of a fragile toy.

Well, I guess she was a child. All of us Wraiths were, despite our diverse appearances.

"No answer, huh?" she murmured, tapping her nails lightly against her knee. "Shame."

Another crack—this one sharper, the unnatural bend of his wrist more pronounced. He choked back a cry, teeth clenched, body trembling.

I stepped toward the doorway, letting my gaze skim over Kyr's work. The captive's breathing had grown uneven, ragged.

"You're taking your time," I remarked.

Kyr exhaled through her nose, amused. "You don't rush a conversation. Well... you might."

Her hand ghosted over his forearm, hovering just above his skin, as if she was deciding her next move.

"Last chance," she said softly. "Tell us what we need to know—or I find out just how long it takes before a bone snaps clean."

Silence hung in the air.

Then, barely audible, a whisper came. "They're... close."

Kyr's smile sharpened.

"Good choice."

It seems I was right to have Kyr handle this—though I'd never doubted it.

"Alright, I'll be on my way. Find me when you two... get along."

"What? Where are you going? You just got back a couple of hours ago."

"I'm going to report on Wraith—Wanderer Areer's current status to High Lord Mournis."

"But I can come with y—"

"Don't become a liability, Kyr. Need I remind you that I only allow you to tag along because you haven't become a burden to me?"

Silence followed. Nothing but the captive's jagged breath in the background.

"Fine," she muttered, pouting.

With that, I stepped out of the room, shutting the splintered wooden door behind me. I strode purposefully through the house, the distant screams trailing after me as I approached the front door.

With my uninjured arm, I twisted the knob and pulled the door open, revealing the vibrant autumn world outside. The trees blazed in vivid oranges, their glow spilling into the vast sky over the lively Marisel village.

But I had already wasted too much time to linger and admire the beauty of Treazur. Right now, I needed to find my Faunae–my messenger–and report on the mission's outcome.

I walked with purpose, my steps measured as I wove through the village, the midday sun casting sharp shadows beneath my feet. The lively village pulsed with quiet activity—the scent of baked goods and drying herbs filled the air, and the distant murmur of traders added to the backdrop of my thoughts. But none of it lingered in my mind. I focused on the cliff ahead.

I spotted my Arav before I reached the ascent. The Faunae perched in the gnarled limbs of an elder tree, its burgundy-laced feathers rustling against the wind. The bird didn't move as I approached, simply tilting its head in quiet observation—waiting.

I adjusted my footing and started up the mountain path, keeping my injured arm close as the incline steepened. The ground was uneven beneath my feet, fractured stone and dry roots testing my balance with each step, until the slope eased, revealing the cliff stretching wide before me.

The Faunae flew down as I neared.

I reached into my coat, fingers skimming the edge of a metal capsule nestled within. The letter inside was brief, but its weight was undeniable.

Carefully, I pried apart the thickest layer of the Arav's feathers, pressing the capsule deep into its plumage where no passing glance could catch it. The bird barely reacted, accustomed to the process.

"Deliver this to Sir Mournis," I murmured.

The Arav trilled sharply, then lifted off, cutting a line through the sky, its dark form swallowed by the autumn blaze.

I exhaled, watching the horizon where the bird had vanished.

The message was sent.

And now I had only to wait for what followed.

After a moment of acknowledging the land of Treazur, I heard footsteps behind me soft, measured. Then they stopped.

I turned.

Kyr stood there, sharp golden eyes shining, a grin breaking across her face. Six white feathers in her hair swayed in the breeze.

"That was fast," I said, keeping my expression unreadable.

"Nothing torments a human more than using their own bones to mutilate their insides," Kyr replied, amusement dancing in her grin.

She... didn't kill him, right? I might still need him.

"What?" She frowned, catching the concern in my expression.

"Ohhh, don't worry. I left his vitals untouched." She set her hands on her hips, proud of her handiwork.

"O-Okay. Good," I replied, relieved. "Let's get going."

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