The aroma led Serena to a compact kitchen adjoining the living area. Salih stood in front of a counter, pouring steaming water from a kettle into two sturdy ceramic mugs. He glanced up as she entered.
"Sit," he said, not unkindly. He brought the mugs to a wooden table, pushing one toward her. "It's just pine needle and winterberry. No caffeine. Shouldn't affect your... unique physiology."
Serena took the offered seat, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. The scent was sharp and clean. She took a careful sip. The taste was earthy, slightly tart, and wonderfully warm. A simple, profound pleasure. "It's delicious. Thank you," she said aloud, smiling.
Salih gave a noncommittal grunt despite not understanding her language, taking a seat opposite her. He cradled his own mug, his expression turning businesslike. "Now, your probation. You will remain under my direct supervision. Do not interpret the guest room as full autonomy—I am a credentialed battle-mage. I have means to detain anomalous entities, should it become necessary. I would prefer not to use that on a housemate."
The warning was delivered calmly, a simple statement of fact. Serena believed him. There was a certain weary confidence in his posture that suggested he'd dealt with worse than a confused transmigrator.
"The plan," he continued, sipping his tea, "is to evaluate you tomorrow. Nine in the morning, at the training yard. We will test the limits and control of your magic. Non-destructively. Assuming you don't vaporize the yard, you may then tag along on a patrol or expedition—as an observer." He set his mug down, his fingers tracing its rim. "Now, the bears. They appeared roughly four years ago. No one knows how or why. They do not forage. They do not eat—not salmon, nor seals. Their sole observable behaviour is extreme, volatile aggression toward humans."
He pushed his glasses up. "I was dispatched by my university two years ago to research with the other residents and, ideally, neutralize the phenomenon. We have suffered twelve casualties. Do not let that number fool you—it is low only due to constant vigilance and the hunters' considerable skill. The bears grow more volatile by the season, and their numbers incrementally increase each year. I have formally requested additional support from the university."
Serena listened, her scholar's mind slotting the data into categories. A predator with no need to consume, only to attack. It was less like an animal and more like a curse given form.
"And your research?" she prompted gently.
A flicker of frustration crossed his face. "Stalled. The specimens are... ephemeral. Upon death, their cellular structure undergoes rapid, total disintegration. Within hours, there is only a residue of unusable, corrupted mana. No anatomy to study, no biology to comprehend. Attempts at live containment have failed. They are impossibly strong, resistant to most magical bindings, and singularly focused on breaking free to attack."
He leaned back, his gaze distant. "The source is still unknown. Where do they come from? How do they procreate? We have no answers. Their behaviour is also consistent in one aspect: detection. If a human enters a radius of a few hundred meters, they react. If perceived as weak, they chase. If recognized as a dangerous individual, they often flee—only to stalk and ambush later. But you," He focused on her again, his eyes sharp. "You walked for months through their heartland. They did not chase you. They fled from you, without even knowing what you're capable of. Unless you were suppressing your presence and lucky enough not to run into any, then you're an outlier."
[I don't know how to 'suppress' my presence,] she confirmed.
Serena considered this. It made sense. The bears were most likely drawn to or aggravated by something intrinsic to humans. Her body wasn't human. It was most likely a vessel crafted from stolen souls and divine magic. To them, she might register as something else entirely—a void, a predator greater than themselves.
[If the situation is this dire, and your university understands it, why have they not sent more help?] she asked.
Salih let out a short, humourless laugh. "Without tooting my own horn, typically, a mage of my calibre is a sufficient solution to most regional infestations. The issue is that these are not 'most' infestations. They are an anomaly without precedent. But by the time the full scope of that became clear, other factors intervened." His mouth tightened. "This region is considered a remote backwater by the academic consortium. A cold, distant corner of the world. Nowadays, resources and mages are mainly allocated to crises that threaten trade routes and population centres. Our slow-burning, isolated nightmare is a low priority."
He picked up his tea, frowning at it. "Normally, the focus would be on research—but the university and the nations it advises are currently preoccupied with... geopolitical tensions. My requests for reinforcements are logged, acknowledged, and perpetually deferred."
He stood after chugging his tea down, taking his already finished mug to the sink. His back was to her, his shoulders set with resigned frustration. "So, we hold the line. We've studied what we can with what we have. And we hope the solution presents itself before the line breaks." He turned, leaning against the counter. "Tomorrow, you present yourself as a potential new variable."
Serena finished her tea, the pleasant warmth now undercut by the chilling scope of the problem. It wasn't just bears. It was a mystery with a body count, a symptom of a larger world too busy to notice. She nodded, rising from the table.
[I'll be ready,] she sent. This wasn't just about earning a place. It was about understanding a threat.