Rox turned the corner, the bustling market noise fading behind him. In the shadow of a crumbling wall, a tent of faded canvas stood, reeking faintly of cow dung and stale incense. He pushed the flap aside.
A woman sat within, her face obscured by a dark woolen cloak. "The fact that you're here means you found something," Rox said.
"Wow. Not even a 'how do you do, Viul?
"Her tone was light, but it died under his unwavering stare. She sighed, the playfulness draining away.
"Alright. Two things." She tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto the small table between them. It held a rough, of a sigil. "The Hollow Cult has grown significantly. Although Kiera is a hard place to enter, I was able to confirm they have a settlement there."
"Is that it?" His voice was flat.
"I said two things." She reached into her bag, her movements now deliberate, solemn. She placed an object on the table with a soft, heavy thud. It was a bronze skull. "I found your brother. Or where he was laid to rest. North of the continent, near Mona. He had a family there. They showed me the grave."
his thumb tracing the bronze bone. He remembered after the fire incident, his father had basically turned into a shell of himself. Before answering the Calling, Victor had made an inquest to investigate the fire, but it turned out to be a dead end. For fifty years, Rox had tried to find answers—or even his brother—all to no avail.
Until sixty years ago. That was when he got a letter from Calat. An apology. Calat claimed he was threatened, forced by someone from the Hollow Cult with the help of corrupt Nobles. That letter started Rox's obsession with the Cult. He had found nothing tangible until he hired Viul—his former Lieutenant—to help him search.
"How do I get into Kiera?" he asked.
"Didn't you hear me? It's impossible. That's assuming you can pass the Mist—which you can't. The whole kingdom is a Fleshborn Supremacist region with orders to kill any non-Fleshborn on sight. So even the information I have isn't fully trustworthy. My source is… a little shady."
"How much do I owe you?" Rox asked. His gaze was still locked on the skull.
"Thirty thousand Cowries."
"I don't have that much on me. You will have to follow me home." Rox walked out of the tent.
"Aren't you a little forward?" she quipped, a grin in her voice "At least buy a girl a drink first before taking me home."
"Do you have news on the war?" Rox ignored her taunt.
"Wow, I couldn't even get a laugh." She scowled. "Like the Hollow Cult, everything is kept under wraps. But at least I'm pretty certain that it possibly won't start in the next few years. Most of these countries benefit more from the time before the war, so they will take their precious time."
"Hmmm. Even my contacts in the Royal Cities are not telling me—"
He glanced at the street as he saw Artemis and Arthur running in the opposite direction.
"I thought I told them to go home."
***
"Did you see the look on his face?" Artemis said, swinging the empty basket by the handle.
"Really scary! And we forgot to ask about enlisting."
On their way out of the Callen, Artemis glanced at a shop with the glyph for Books. Most commoners had basic reading, writing, and arithmetic skills taught to them as kids in communal lessons. After that, basic learning ended, and you chose to apprentice in a particular field. Only Nobles could actually go to Academias to learn fully—but commoners had one stroke of luck: Book Merchants.
"Let's check there. They might have something about military school." He pointed to the shop, and both of them motioned to it and entered.
The shop was a canyon of parchment and leather. "Welcome, young men, to the World of Books," the shopkeeper said, putting down her quill. "What is it you seek? Stories, history, philosophy? Your limit is but your imagination.'
"Blessed Bell," Artemis said awkwardly. "We want a book about military school."
"I see. Aspiring soldiers," She turned to a high shelf, selected a volume with a plain brown cover, and handed it over. "Well, this is what you need. It contains the guidelines for answering questions if you want to enter the Dual Bracket."
"Dual Bracket?" Artemis asked, collecting the book.
"Yes. That is military training combined with Academia."
"But I thought only nobles could go to Academias?"
"Yes, but as commoners, if you apply in the Dual Bracket and pass the entrance exams, you will be given access to select courses from the Academia." She smiled.
"Thank you very much. How much is it?"
"Wait, how much is your basic arithmetic book?" Arthur chimed in, pointing to the top shelf. "Lyra needs one."
"Two Cowries for both."
Artemis got out his pouch and paid. "Here. Thank you."
"Not at all." She collected the money. "Come back anytime."
Artemis nodded at her and walked out, handing Arthur the arithmetic book, which he put in his own pouch.
"We're choosing Dual Bracket, right?"
"Yes. I mean, I don't want to become a foot soldier."
"Thank Glass the enlisting is three months away. We will have time to—"
"ARTHUR!"
Garet shouted, his voice cracking with rage. "I am going to kill you, you bastard!"
A fresh, swollen bruise distorting his left cheek."
"What did you do?" Artemis asked, tilting his head as they started walking in the opposite direction, gradually picking up the pace.
"I didn't do anything!" Arthur said, confused.
"You bastard! You told my father about what I did!"A sharp knife of bronze shimmered into existence in his hand. Garet screamed, breaking into a charge three other boys followed after him.
"Wait, you told his dad?"
"Again, no, I didn't!"
"He thinks you did," Artemis said with a heavy breath as they broke into a run.
"Why are you smiling?" Arthur looked at him, panic rising.
"Well… I may or may not have hinted at it to his dad."
Arthur almost paused for a second, his mouth agape, before bursting into nervous laughter. He turned to look at Garet. "When did he become good enough at creating weapons?" His voice held a hint of fear.
"Let's try something." Artemis made a sharp turn.
"Are you crazy? That leads to—"
"Griff Forest. I know." His breathing hardened. "He won't follow us in."
"Oh, so you're crazy."
They plunged into the tree line, Garet's enraged shouts following them, then cutting off abruptly at the forest's edge.
Griff Forest wasn't just a jungle—it was a living, breathing colossus, an entity older than the Kingdom of Tamas. It seemed to inhale the fragile silence of the dawn and exhale a palpable miasma of danger. As they entered, the transition from Ocela's scrubland to its threshold was abrupt. One moment, the air was crisp with salt and distant sea spray; the next, it hung thick and suffocating with the cloying musk of damp, fecund earth and centuries of decaying leaves. Sunlight, weak and grudging, filtered through a canopy so dense it knitted day into perpetual twilight. Ancient roots, thick as a man's thigh and knotted like arthritic fingers, erupted from the black soil, twisting across the forest floor like sleeping serpents frozen mid-coil. Thick, ropy vines, slick with moisture and bearded with moss, draped from the towering giants above, dripping shadows and cold condensation onto the detritus below. A profound, watchful stillness pressed down, broken only by the irregular plip-plop of moisture falling from unseen heights and the unsettling, constant rustle of things moving with deliberate stealth in the perpetual gloom. The sheer density of life felt oppressive, a physical weight pressing against the chest.
Garet and his thralls stood outside the forest. If he was afraid, his face didn't show it—but his inability to follow them did.
Artemis and Arthur hid behind a massive oak, watching Garet pace around.
"You useless bastards! Come out now!" he shouted, but was met with silence. "You think you're smart going in there? I know you're too cowardly to actually leave the edge and go deep, so I will stay here and wait for you."
He took a seat on a nearby rock, brandishing the knife in his hand.
"He is right," Artemis whispered, glancing around the woods, afraid something would jump out at any moment. "We can't enter deep into the forest."
Arthur paused as though to think.
"Why don't we just walk across the edge to a point where he can't see us and run away?"
"And I am the crazy one?" Artemis cocked his head. "Why don't we just take our chances with him? He wouldn't actually kill us."
"He actually might. He is too angry." Arthur watched Garet sharpening the bronze blade on a stone. "Besides there are four of them, He will probably calm down after some time, but not now."
They agreed to move east so they could come out of the forest near Rox's house.
They walked along the edge of the forest for about an hour and a half, gradually ensuring not to run into any danger—until they did.
Just a few paces near their familiar scrubland visible through a final screen of trees, they heard the sound of a twig crack just ahead. In fear, they paused, hoping that whatever that was would go away.
As they waited, they saw the eyes of a predator. A low, rumbling growl vibrated through the ground.
In unison, they spun and sprinted deeper into the forest. The beast—which looked like a jaguar—exploded from its cover, its maw revealing silver fangs.
"A Silverline Jaguar! It has been stalking us since the start!" Artemis shouted from behind Arthur. "We need a distraction or it will drag us further in!"
They kept running, but the space between them and the Silverline kept shrinking. Its speed was overwhelming but controlled, it enjoyed the pursuit.
"I will distract it! You run out of the forest!" Arthur halted, his legs shaking.
"What? No!" Artemis slowed down.
Arthur turned to face the beast, forming a crude, buckling bronze shield. He took a shaky stance.
The Jaguar halted as though amused by his bravery. It had never had prey who realized that running was pointless, so this act intrigued it. It walked slowly toward Arthur.
"Come at me, you overgrown cat!" Arthur shouted, banging his shield, his arms shaking in fear.
As if answering the invitation, the Jaguar cut into a sprint in Arthur's direction. With massive force, it slammed into Arthur's shield, shattering the bronze instantly. The impact threw him hard into the tree behind him, breaking his ribs. Blood gushed out as he hit the ground, painting the tree red. His vision blurred; he tried to stand up, but the pain kept him down.
The Jaguar stepped back as if disappointed by the battle but thrilled by the retaliation. He walked toward Arthur's barely conscious body but was interrupted by his other prey.
Artemis ran up, placing himself between the beast and Arthur, holding a stick he found in the woods in one hand. The Jaguar looked at him, and fear consumed Artemis. He stood there paralyzed, the Jaguar drawing closer.
Move, you fool, move! Artemis screamed to himself.
His legs finally listened. He stepped forward as the Jaguar leaped, its mouth opening to reveal rows of sharp silver fangs targeted at him. Eyes closed, he brought his hand upward instinctively to defend from the attack.
The teeth sank into his skin but stopped at his hard bone.
The pain seared through his body as he was pushed back by the force of the bite, causing him to fall to the ground. He opened his eyes, shocked to see obsidian-black crystal. It sprouted from his arm like a grotesque, protective armor where he was beaten.
The Jaguar, surprised by the outcome, recoiled, its teeth aching from the impact against the impenetrable crystal.
In that moment, the roles reversed. The Jaguar, once confident, was now wary. Its instincts kicked in as it realized what it was up against. This was not prey; this was something wrong. In a flash, it turned and ran, disappearing into the dark foliage.
Artemis stood there, shocked, not understanding what had just happened. He tried to stand but stumbled, his adrenaline fading, so he crawled to Arthur who was now unconscious.
***
Rox heard a knock on his door while he was seated at his table, looking at the diagram Viul gave him.
Who could it be at such a late time?
"Yes, who is it?" he asked, walking to the door.
"It's Rhea," the person behind the door answered.
Artemis's mother? He opened the door.
"Blessed Bells," she greeted, though her voice was tight.
"Blessed Bells," he greeted back. "Is there a problem?" He stepped aside to let her in.
Are the boys here? With you?" Her eyes darted around the empty room. "Anne said Arthur never came home. I thought…"
"No, they aren't. I sent them back home hours ago," he said, remembering how he saw them running earlier while that boy Garet was chasing them. "They are possibly just roaming around."
She sat down, a hint of fear appearing on her face. "I thought they were with you talking about going to military school."
"No. When we brought it up the first time, they seemed quite reluctant."
"It appears they changed their mind."
Rox glanced at her, remembering the first conversation he had about Artemis when he found the truth about his teeth—he was a Silverstone, so his senses picked up on the anomaly early.
"If he is going to military school, you know you have to tell him the truth, right?"
She tensed up. "Yes... I haven't found the right time."
"I get why you hid it, but from this point on, it will only hinder him."
"I know." She stood up, ringing her hands. "Where do you think they would have gone to?"
"I am not sure but..." He stood up too, grabbing his coat. "I know someone who might. That boy Garet should know."
***
Rhea followed Rox through the quieting streets of Callen as dusk surrendered to full night. Only three of the four moons were visible, casting a pale, grey-blue light that turned the coastal world into a ghost of itself.
They found Garet exactly where Rox had suspected: perched on a rock at the forest's edge, a silhouette against the wall of oppressive darkness. Three other boys loitered nearby.
"Garet." Rox's voice was a low rumble. "Where are Arthur and Artemis?"
The boy looked over, a smirk tugging at his bruised cheek. "Oh. It's their Old Man." He jerked a thumb toward the silent, waiting trees. "They're in there."
Rhea's breath hitched. Her heart seemed to freeze mid-beat.
"You sent them in there?" Rox's anger was a visible heat in the cool air.
"I didn't send them. They ran. I chased. They chose the trees." He shrugged, the gesture careless and cruel. He turned to his friends. "I mean, it's the Bloodless. What's the worst that could happen to him?" A low chuckle escaped him.
Rhea moved before thought could catch up. Her hand flashed out, a sharp crack splitting the night as her palm connected with Garet's face, snapping his head to the side.
"Don't you ever call my son that again." Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with a fury so cold it burned.
Garet's eyes widened with shock, then darkened with rage. He raised his own hand, but it was caught in mid-air by Rox's vise-like grip. Rox squeezed. A distinct, sickening pop sounded from the boy's knuckles.
"I overlooked your petty games," Rox said, his voice dangerously quiet. "Because they never brought their troubles to me." He released the grip, and a short, brutal blade of solid silver flowed from his fist. "That was my mistake. If I see you near either of them again…" He leaned in, his words a hushed, deadly promise meant for Garet's ear alone. "…I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?"
Garet cradled his injured hand, his bravado shattered, replaced by pure, animal fear. "Y-yes, sir." He scrambled to his feet and fled, his friends scattering after him into the gloom.
"What did you say to him?" Rhea asked, tucking a strand of her white hair—so like Artemis's—behind her ear.
"Nothing of importance." Rox's attention was already on the forest. "I can't pick up their scent from here. Too much interference. But I have an idea." He turned east, starting down the path that skirted the woods. "They're not stupid. They'd work the edge, try to circle to my house. Come on."
They moved in a tense silence, the only sounds their footsteps and the distant, haunting calls of night birds from within the forest. The moons painted their path in washed-out silver.
After twenty minutes of hurried walking, Rox stopped dead. His nostrils flared. "I smell blood."
He broke into a run. Rhea followed, a silent prayer screaming in her mind. Holy Glass, protect my son.
They rounded a bend. The coppery tang was unmistakable now, mingling with the scent of damp earth and fear.
"I have to go in," Rox said, planting himself between her and the trees. "You wait here—"
She walked straight past him.
"Rhea, what are you doing?"
"I am going to find my son." Her voice was iron, leaving no room for argument.
"It's too dangerous. I will bring them back. I promise."
He moved to block her path again, his back to the consuming dark of the forest. "I know you will. But my son is in there, and so am I—"
A rustle. A stumble.
Two figures staggered from the blackness of the tree line.
Artemis emerged first, coated in dark, gleaming blood, his face pale with shock and exhaustion. Arthur was a dead weight across his shoulders, one arm dangling, his breathing a wet, ragged sound.
Artemis's eyes, wide and glassy, found them. A shattered, single word escaped his bloodless lips.
"Help."
His legs buckled. He collapsed to his knees, Arthur spilling onto the moss beside him.
"Arty!" Rhea's cry tore through the night as she sprinted toward her fallen son.