The silence in the cave was a living thing. It was heavy and cold, and it pressed down on Coker until he could barely breathe. It was worse than the silence in his village after the summoning. That silence had been filled with the echoes of laughter. This silence was filled with the echo of his own mistake.
Bren didn't look at him. He sat with his back against the cave wall, stroking Riley's head. The badger would occasionally look over at Coker and let out a low, disapproving grunt. Even Apex seemed to know something was wrong. It sat quietly in Coker's lap, its usual soft glow dimmed to a faint pulse, like a sad heartbeat.
Coker wanted to say he was sorry again, but the words felt useless and empty. 'Sorry' wouldn't have saved them if the bear had been faster. 'Sorry' didn't fix broken trust.
The hours dragged on. The light coming through the vines faded from gold to grey as evening fell. Neither of them moved to make a fire. Neither of them felt like eating.
Coker's mind replayed the moment over and over. The sleeping bear. The hungry feeling in his chest. The fear in Bren's eyes. The terrifying roar. He had been so focused on getting more power, he had forgotten why he wanted it in the first place. It wasn't just for himself. It was to protect the people he cared about. And the first person he cared about, he had almost gotten killed.
He was a fool.
As full darkness settled, Bren finally moved. He didn't look at Coker, but he spoke. His voice was flat and tired, all the excitement gone from it.
"We need rules."
Coker looked up, a flicker of hope stirring in his chest. Bren was talking to him.
"Okay," Coker whispered.
"Rule one," Bren said, still staring at the cave wall. "We both agree on a hunt. No one goes off alone. No one decides by themselves."
Coker nodded quickly. "Yes. Okay."
"Rule two," Bren continued. "If one of us says no, it's no. No arguing. No sneaking off. It's just no."
"I promise," Coker said, his voice thick.
Bren finally turned his head. In the dim light, Coker could see his face was serious, but the anger was gone. It was replaced by a grim understanding. "This power… it's amazing, Coker. But it's dangerous. Not just for you. For everyone around you. You can't just chase after the biggest thing you see. You have to think."
"I know," Coker said, hanging his head. "I wasn't thinking. I just… I felt like I needed to be stronger, right now."
"I get it," Bren said, and he sounded like he really meant it. "After what happened to you, I'd want to be strong too. I'd want to prove everyone wrong. But you have to be smart about it. Or you'll get yourself killed before you ever get the chance."
Hearing Bren understand, even a little, made the tightness in Coker's chest loosen. The flicker of hope grew stronger.
"Do you… do you still want to be my strategist?" Coker asked, afraid of the answer.
Bren was quiet for a long moment. He looked at Riley, then at the dark entrance of the cave, and finally at Coker.
"Yeah," he sighed. "I do. But it's a real job now. It's not a game. My job is to stop you from doing stupid things. And you have to listen. Or this partnership is over. For real."
It was a harsh truth, but it was fair. Coker nodded. "I will listen. I swear it."
Another silence fell, but this one felt a little less cold. The worst of the storm had passed.
"Is Apex okay?" Bren asked, his voice softer now. "It got hit pretty hard."
Coker looked down at the slime. He reached out with his mind, through their connection. He could feel it. Apex wasn't hurt, not exactly. But it was… tired. Drained. The bear's attack had taken a lot out of it.
"I think it needs to rest," Coker said. "It used a lot of energy."
"Okay," Bren said. "Then we rest too. Tomorrow, we stick to the plan. We find something small. We practice. We get better with the forms we already have. No new ones. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Coker said. The thought of a simple, safe hunt sounded like a relief.
The next morning, things were still a little stiff, but the terrible silence was gone. They ate a quiet breakfast of leftover rabbit. Bren didn't chatter excitedly about the future. He was all business.
"Right," he said. "We need to work on control. Your Thorn-Beetle form was slow and clumsy. Let's fix that. Riley, find us a clear spot."
Riley, who seemed to have forgiven Coker a little, grunted and led them to a small, sunny clearing not far from the cave.
"Okay," Bren instructed. "Turn Apex into the beetle. Just make it walk. Make it turn. Make it stop. Don't think about fighting. Just think about moving."
Coker did as he was told. He focused. *Become the beetle.*
Apex shifted into the large, spiky, blue form.
*Walk forward,* Coker thought.
The Apex-Beetle took a step. It was still clumsy.
"Slower," Bren said, his arms crossed, watching like a coach. "Think about each leg. You're not just telling it to walk; you're telling *how* to walk."
Coker closed his eyes. He focused on the connection. Instead of just giving a command, he tried to feel what it was like to be the beetle. To have a heavy shell. To have six legs. He pictured the movement in his mind, slowly, carefully.
*Left front leg forward. Right middle leg forward. Right front leg…*
It was hard. It gave him a headache. But the beetle took another step, and this one was smoother.
"Good!" Bren said, a hint of his old excitement returning. "Now turn. Gently!"
Coker kept at it for what felt like hours. He made the beetle walk in circles. He made it back up. He made it stop on command. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the effort. It was the hardest mental work he had ever done.
But it was working. With each passing minute, his control got better. The movements became less jerky, more fluid. He wasn't just ordering Apex around anymore; he was syncing with it. They were moving together.
Finally, exhausted, he let the form melt away. Apex returned to its slime form and sat there, pulsing calmly.
"That was great!" Bren said, a real smile finally breaking through on his face. "You see? Control is better than just more power. A controlled beetle is better than a crazy, out-of-control bear."
Coker smiled back, tired but happy. He felt like he had actually accomplished something real. "You're a good teacher."
Bren shrugged, but he looked proud. "I know. Now, let's try the Swift-Feather. I want to see if you can make it land on that branch over there instead of just crashing into it."
They spent the whole day like that. Practicing. Training. It wasn't as exciting as hunting new creatures, but it felt important. It felt solid. Coker learned to make the Swift-Feather glide in smooth circles and land softly. He learned to make the Rock-Tusk charge at a dead tree trunk and stop just before hitting it.
He was learning to be a summoner. A real one.
As the sun began to set, they were both tired but feeling good. The tension from the previous day was almost gone. They were a team again.
They were walking back to the cave, talking about what to practice tomorrow, when Riley suddenly froze. The badger wasn't scared this time. He was alert. He sniffed the air, then let out an excited series of grunts and trotted off the path, into a thicket of berry bushes.
"What's he found?" Coker asked.
"I don't know," Bren said, following. "But he's not scared. He's excited."
They pushed through the bushes. On the other side, in a small hidden grove, was a creature they had never seen before. It looked like a fox, but its fur was a beautiful, shifting mix of green and brown, like sunlight on leaves. It had large, intelligent eyes, and it was limping. Its back leg was caught in a cruel, rusty metal trap. The kind poachers used.
The creature was panting in pain and fear. It tried to struggle when it saw them, but it was too weak. It collapsed, whining softly.
"Oh no," Bren whispered, his face full of pity. "It's hurt."
Coker's heart ached for the beautiful animal. It was in terrible pain.
"We have to help it," Coker said, taking a step forward.
The fox-creature bared its teeth in a weak warning, its eyes wide with terror.
"How?" Bren asked. "If we get close, it might bite. And that trap looks strong."
Coker looked at the trap, then at the suffering animal. He couldn't just leave it. He remembered being alone and scared. He remembered how much it meant when Bren offered him help.
He had an idea.
"Apex can help," Coker said.
Bren looked at him, confused. "How? It's not a tool. It eats things."
"I don't know," Coker said. "But I can feel… I can feel that it understands. It doesn't just want to eat. It can feel what I feel."
He focused on Apex, who was in his pocket. He didn't send a command to eat. He sent a feeling. A picture. He sent the image of the fox, hurt and scared. He sent his own feeling of wanting to help. He sent a question. *Can we help?*
Apex glowed warmly in response. It didn't feel hungry. It felt… determined.
Coker placed the slime on the ground. "Go on," he whispered. "Help it."
Instead of sliding toward the fox to eat it, Apex moved toward the rusty metal trap. The fox whimpered, trying to shrink away.
Apex reached the trap. It didn't engulf it. Instead, it changed. Part of it formed into a hard, sharp, blue blade, like a crystal knife. Another part formed into a strong, flat prying tool.
With incredible delicacy, the Apex-tool slid the prying part into the jaws of the trap. With a soft *click*, the mechanism released, and the jaws sprung open.
The fox yelped in surprise and relief, pulling its wounded leg free. It tried to stand, but it was too weak and fell back down, licking its injured leg.
Apex's tool-form melted away. It then glided over to the fox's hurt leg. It glowed a soft, warm blue and gently covered the wound. The fox flinched at first, but then it relaxed. It seemed to feel the warmth, the lack of threat.
After a moment, Apex slid back, returning to its normal form. The wound on the fox's leg wasn't gone, but the bleeding had stopped, and it looked cleaner, soothed.
The fox looked at Apex, then at the two boys. Its intelligent eyes held no more fear, only a deep, strange gratitude. It struggled to its feet, gave them one last look, and then limped quickly away into the forest, disappearing into the shadows.
The grove was quiet.
Bren was staring at Apex, his mouth open again. But this time, it wasn't fear or shock. It was pure, utter wonder.
"It… it can do that?" he breathed. "It can make tools? It can… heal?"
Coker picked up Apex. It felt warm and content. He felt a surge of love for the strange creature. It wasn't just a weapon. It was so much more.
"I guess it can," Coker said, amazed himself. "It just… knew what to do."
Bren walked over and looked at the empty, broken trap on the ground. He shook his head in disbelief. "It's not just a mimic, Coker. It's… it's an adapter. It becomes whatever you need it to be." He looked at Coker, his eyes shining. "You wanted to help, so it found a way to help. It's not just a part of you. It *is* you."
Coker held the slime close. Bren was right. Apex wasn't just his summon. It was his partner. It reflected his heart. When he was hungry for power, it was a devourer. When he wanted to help, it was a healer.
He had been so worried about becoming strong enough to destroy his enemies, he had forgotten that true strength could also be used to protect.
As they walked back to the cave in the twilight, a new sense of peace settled over them. They had faced anger and fear, and they had come out stronger on the other side. They had rules. They had trust again. And they had discovered something new and wonderful about Apex.
Coker knew the road ahead would still be dangerous. The memory of the Grizzleback Bear was a sharp lesson. The threat of the Dragon Tamers was still out there.
But for the first time, he felt like he was on the right path. Not just to gain power, but to become someone who deserved it.
He looked at Bren, who was laughing as Riley chased a firefly, and he felt a happiness deeper than any he had ever known.
He was a Zero-Star Summoner. But he was not alone. And he was just beginning to understand what his summon could truly do.