"Put me down."
Eya's voice cut through the climb, sudden and firm.
Kael eased her off his back with a grunt, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off more than her weight. "Finally got embarrassed, did you?"
Her eyes flashed, quick and sharp. "Oh? So you didn't want to carry me?"
"Who would?" he muttered under his breath. "So stingy with your tricks…"
The memory of her Void Ward still burned in him—how she'd hidden things, hidden people, hidden truths. It left a sour taste he couldn't quite spit out.
Eya watched him, something like amusement flickering behind the tension in her face. Then it was gone. She drew in a quiet breath, her posture tightening.
"You walk ahead," she said. "Careful now."
That tone—no teasing, no softness—made Kael's instincts prickle. He didn't argue. He stepped forward, eyes scanning the narrow path that cut through the bamboo thickets. The ridge peak wasn't far now. Half a mile, maybe less.
Behind him, Eya moved in silence.
He glanced back once. She held a strip of violet ward-script between her fingers, delicate as a petal. It pulsed faintly. A yard behind him, always.
"What's the big mystery…" he muttered.
"Don't talk," she snapped softly. "Watch your step."
Kael scoffed, though quieter this time. "We're almost there. Could sprint it in a breath. Why all this—"
A whisper.
Grass shifted. Bamboo leaves trembled.
He turned.
Nothing.
"Something—" he started.
"Here!" Eya's voice cut sharp.
Violet light flared.
Four glowing orbs burst into existence around her—rich, electric purple, humming with contained violence. They circled her body in tight, controlled arcs.
"Careful what?" Kael snapped, tightening his arm as the Eight-Claw Flamescourge coiled along it like a living thing.
Then—wind.
A flicker across his skin.
A sting.
His left arm jerked. Cloth split. Blood sprayed in a thin arc.
"What the—"
Before he could finish, one of Eya's violet orbs shot past him with a shriek.
BOOM.
A burst of purple flame detonated midair, and something screamed.
High-pitched. Wet. Wrong.
Kael caught it in that instant—a shape writhing inside the fire. A spider. But not right. Its limbs bent too many ways, its body too thin, like it was half there and half somewhere else.
His stomach twisted.
He snapped his arm forward. The Flamescourge lashed out, cracking like thunder. The thing split apart midair, its body torn into burning fragments.
Silence fell for half a breath.
Then Eya was at his side, eyes scanning his wound. "Is it bad?"
Kael barely heard her. He stared at the twitching, burning remains on the ground.
"What the hell is that?" he demanded. "And why couldn't I see it?"
Eya let out a small breath, almost a laugh. "Ghost Spiders. Not as poisonous as Fire Spiders. Not as fast as Tiger Spiders. But the strangest kind here."
She looked up at him, faint smile returning. "They turn invisible."
Kael's jaw dropped. "Invisible? And you didn't think to mention that earlier?"
"I told you to be careful," she said lightly.
He stared at her, then at the four violet orbs circling her like loyal hounds. "And those?"
"Not a weapon," she said. "A ward. The Violet Thunder Aegis."
"Ward?" Kael's eyes lit despite himself. "That's a ward? That strong?"
"I told you. It's decent."
"Decent?" He clicked his tongue. "My Elder Soror said some wards could fight like weapons. Didn't believe it until now. How long does it last?"
"Half an hour, if I don't dismiss it."
Kael rubbed his hands together, practically drooling. "Half an hour… how many of those do you have?"
Eya shot him a glare. "Stop eyeing my things. Move."
He swallowed his greed and stepped forward again, this time slower.
Every step felt wrong.
Every rustle made his skin crawl.
He lashed out at empty air whenever something shifted, the Flamescourge cracking uselessly more often than not. The spiders were there—but nowhere. His arms, his back, his legs—small cuts kept opening, shallow but stinging, blood soaking into his torn clothes.
Behind him, Eya moved like a shadow.
Every time one of her violet orbs fired, something screamed.
Every time something screamed, it became visible for a heartbeat—and Kael pounced, whipping it apart with savage satisfaction.
"Come on!" he shouted at the unseen. "Stop hiding! I'll rip you all to pieces!"
But more came.
Two. Three. Four at once.
They slipped through gaps in his guard, their strikes quick and precise. His body burned with dozens of shallow wounds. None fatal—but enough to fray his nerves raw.
Eya said nothing.
Her eyes stayed cold. Focused. Efficient.
She killed without wasted motion.
Kael stumbled forward, cursing under his breath, when a thought slammed into place.
He turned his head, shouting back at her. "I get it now! You're using me as bait!"
Eya blinked.
Then she laughed—a soft, breathy sound. "No choice. This place doesn't let you pass any other way."
"My ass it doesn't!" he snapped. "You had that wooden phoenix earlier!"
"It got destroyed," she said simply.
"And now I'm the replacement?" His face flushed red. "You tricked me into being a walking target!"
She gave him a pitiful look. "Brother Kael… we're in the middle of nowhere. If you don't help me, who will?"
"Help you?" he barked. "I'm a shield! A big, stupid meat shield!"
Something slashed across his back.
He hissed, teeth gritting as blood soaked through his torn shirt.
Eya's ward flared. Another spider exploded into flame behind him.
"You are helping," she said quickly. "Without you, I couldn't get through."
Kael opened his mouth to argue.
Then paused.
Damn it.
She wasn't wrong.
The irritation drained, replaced by a reluctant calm.
And then—clarity.
The Eye of Formlessness.
Lyra's voice echoed in his memory. The way she'd guided him. The way she'd forced his perception open.
Detection. Not sight.
If these things hid from the eye—
His lips curled.
"Let's see you hide from this."
He stilled.
His breathing slowed.
The world shifted.
The Eye of Formlessness opened.
At once, the air around him changed.
Faint distortions—ripples where nothing should be—slid into view. Shapes half-formed, lurking just out of reality.
There.
One. Two. Three.
Kael grinned.
"Found you."
He lunged.
The Flamescourge snapped out in a blazing arc, striking empty air—
—and connecting.
Fire erupted.
Three spiders shrieked into existence, their bodies writhing as they burned.
Eya froze for a fraction of a second.
Kael didn't stop.
He moved like a predator now, eyes tracking the unseen, every strike precise.
Another flick. Another lash.
Two more revealed. Two more torn apart.
Eya's voice broke through, sharp with disbelief. "You… how are you—"
Kael spun, pointing past her. "Behind you. Left. Three."
She reacted instantly. The violet orbs shot out in a storm.
Explosions cracked.
Three spiders screamed into visibility.
Her eyes widened. "You can see them?"
Kael scooped up the charred remains, tossing them into his Wardian Satchel with a smug grin. "My Order's got tricks for everything. This invisibility? Child's play."
Eya stared at him.
Then, slowly, her expression shifted.
Respect.
And something warmer.
"If that's true," she said, a smile breaking through, "then this will be easy."
They surged forward.
Now the spiders had nowhere to hide.
Without their invisibility, they were nothing—just creatures with mediocre speed and strength. Kael cut through them with brutal efficiency, his confidence surging with every kill.
The pace changed.
Where before each step had been a gamble, now they advanced in a rush—Kael leading, Eya supporting, their rhythm sharp and clean.
In less than the time it took a stick of incense to burn, they reached the summit.
The ridge opened beneath them.
Kael stopped.
The world fell away.
Below stretched a vast sea of bamboo, endless and swaying, mist rolling through it like breath. Lakes and rivers cut through the green, glinting like scattered jewels under the light.
It was wild.
Beautiful.
Alive.
"Damn…" Kael breathed. "That's something."
Eya stood beside him, quiet. "One of the most beautiful places in the Vale."
Kael's gaze drifted further.
Then he saw it.
Something rose above the bamboo sea in the distance—massive, layered, unmistakable.
A fortress.
"No way…" he murmured. "What is that?"
No answer came.
He turned.
Eya was staring at it too.
But her eyes—
Red.
Trembling.
"Hey—" Kael stepped closer. "What's wrong?"
She didn't answer.
Not at first.
Then she broke.
She collapsed against him, fingers clutching his clothes as sobs tore out of her chest—raw, uncontrolled, shaking her entire body.
Kael froze.
"Hey—hey, don't—what happened?" He awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Talk to me."
"That…" she choked, her voice breaking, "that's Verdant Keep. That's… my home."
Kael blinked. "Your home?"
He looked again.
The fortress didn't look like any city he'd seen. Its structure rose in layered terraces, more like a cluster of towering halls grown from the earth than something built.
"…makes sense," he muttered.
Then he frowned. "Wait. If that's your home… why are you crying?"
"I can't go back," she whispered.
The words hit harder than the tears.
"Can't go back?" Kael's mind raced. Then—bright idea. "Oh. You pissed off your parents, didn't you? Afraid they'll beat you if you show up?"
Eya stomped her foot, furious even through tears. "No!"
"Then what—"
"Everyone's gone!" she cried. "They're all gone!"
Her voice shattered.
"My grandfather… my parents… everyone…"
Kael went still.
"…gone?"
She nodded, tears pouring down her face. "Five years ago. The Sevenfold Dominion came. In one night… they slaughtered almost everyone. Took the Vale. Took everything."
Kael's hands curled into fists.
Heat flared in his chest—pure, violent anger.
"They did what?"
"I was away," she said, her voice trembling. "Training with my Master. That's why I lived."
She buried her face against him, sobbing harder.
Kael stared at the distant fortress.
Something cold settled behind his anger.
"Figures," he muttered darkly. "Heard they were scum. Didn't know they were this bad."
He looked down at her.
"Don't worry," he said, voice firm. "I'll help you. I'll get my Master—"
"She won't come," Eya said immediately.
Kael blinked. "What?"
"To your Order," she said quietly, "my people are no different from monsters."
He hesitated.
Damn it.
She wasn't wrong.
"…then I'll help you myself," he said stubbornly. "Master or no Master."
Eya looked up at him.
For a moment, something fragile flickered in her eyes.
Kael felt it—and immediately panicked a little.
"You think I'm useless, don't you?" he added quickly, face heating. "Like I can't do anything alone."
She shook her head.
A faint smile broke through her tears. "No. I'm… happy you said that."
Kael scratched his cheek, suddenly awkward.
Then he brightened. "Wait. I've got brothers. Sisters. Real monsters—kings, the lot of them. Armies too. If I call them, they'll come."
Eya laughed softly.
"You don't need to."
"…what?"
"I've had many promises," she said. "Taking back the Vale… it will happen."
Kael's grin faltered.
"…oh."
Something inside him sank, just a little.
Of course.
Someone like her—she wouldn't lack allies.
Why would she need him?
Eya watched him for a moment.
Then she reached out, taking his hand.
"You've already helped me," she said softly. "More than you think."
Kael blinked. "I have?"
"Come."
She pulled him forward.
They crossed the summit, weaving through patches of bamboo until the ground opened into a wide clearing.
At its center stood a massive circular platform.
Stone. Ancient. Carved with intricate patterns—lines and sigils layered over one another in complex, interlocking designs.
Kael stepped onto it, eyes widening.
"A formation?" he muttered.
The air hummed faintly beneath his feet.
Something old.
Something powerful.
Waiting.
"It's a warded restriction," Eya said, her voice steady again, all that earlier softness folded away like a hidden blade. "Come. Step where I step."
She guided Kael across the circular platform, placing his feet with careful precision along faintly carved lines in the stone. The patterns beneath them pulsed with a dull, ancient hum—like something asleep, but listening.
Eya stopped at a particular mark. Her lips began to move, murmuring a low chant under her breath.
Kael glanced around, restless. The air felt wrong. Heavy.
Then—
A deep, grinding thunder rolled beneath their feet.
Stone groaned.
Several square pits along the edge of the platform dropped open at once with a brutal clatter.
Kael's head snapped toward the sound.
Something surged up from the darkness.
Long, hooked limbs—two yards in length—scraped against stone as they rose. One, then another, then more. The shapes hauled themselves out of the pits with a dry, rasping chorus, until seven… eight massive constructs stood around them in a tightening ring.
Kael's breath caught. His grip tightened instinctively, Vitae surging into his arm as he prepared to lash out.
"Ambush!" he snapped.
Eya didn't move.
"Relax," she said, almost amused. "They guard the entrance."
Kael didn't relax.
Not even a little.
The things surrounding them were monstrous—spider-shaped, but far larger than any living creature had a right to be. Their bodies were built from layered bamboo and timber, banded in dark, tiger-striped patterns. Each limb ended in a wicked, hooked point, sharp enough to pierce armor like cloth. Their bodies gleamed with lacquered hardness, joints whispering with deadly precision as they shifted.
They weren't shambling machines.
They were hunters.
"They look like they're about to tear us apart," Kael muttered, voice low. "You sure we shouldn't—"
"You?" Eya cut in, smiling faintly. "You wouldn't win."
Kael stiffened.
"They're called Dread-Feet," she went on calmly. "Eight of them. Strong enough to rip siege engines apart. Fast enough to catch anything that runs. Their shells turn blades. Most arts barely scratch them."
Kael's face went pale.
"…Then what do we do?"
"They're just doing their job," she said lightly. "Look your fill."
The Dread-Feet edged closer.
Closer.
Their hooked limbs tapped against stone with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The circle tightened.
Kael swallowed.
"…I've seen enough."
Eya chuckled.
She reached to her side and drew a short blade from a narrow bamboo sheath.
The knife was unremarkable at first glance—green as fresh-cut wood, simple in shape, no ornament save a faint, living sheen along its edge.
She raised it above her head.
Her chant shifted—sharper now, carrying weight.
The effect was immediate.
The Dread-Feet froze.
Every limb stilled.
Then, one by one, they turned.
Without a sound, without hesitation, the massive constructs crawled back into their pits, vanishing into the darkness below as if they had never been there at all.
The platform fell silent again.
Kael stared.
"…They listened to you."
Eya lowered the blade, giving it a small, absent-minded tilt.
"They listened to this."
Kael leaned in, eyes narrowing.
"That thing? What is it?"
"The Wood-Release Token," she said. "One of the Vale's three treasures. Crafted from the sacred boughs of the old groves. The same class as the steward's token."
Kael blinked.
"And those monsters just… obey it?"
"They were bound at creation," she replied. "Any construct in the Vale recognizes it. They cannot attack its bearer."
Kael let out a slow breath.
"…That's not a key," he said. "That's a command."
Eya's smile deepened, just a fraction.
"Come."
She crouched and slid the blade into a narrow crack between the stones.
Another rumble answered.
The ground beneath them shuddered—
Then dropped.
Kael's stomach lurched as the platform sank like an elevator plunging into the earth. The descent lasted only seconds, but it felt longer in the dim, grinding dark.
When it stopped, Kael exhaled sharply.
The walls around them had changed. Smooth stone now. Hollowed. Ancient.
Several passageways opened from the shaft.
Eya took his hand without hesitation and pulled him into one.
"Where are we?" Kael asked, still catching his breath.
"A place that keeps things," she said.
They wound through the corridor—turn after turn, the air growing cooler, heavier.
At last, they reached a massive stone door.
Eya stepped forward and slid the Wood-Release Token into another narrow seam.
The door groaned.
Slowly, it rose.
Kael watched, understanding dawning.
"…So it is a key."
Eya shook her head as she stepped through.
"That's just one thing it does. 'Release' is its true purpose."
"Release what?"
She glanced back at him.
"All wood beneath heaven."
Kael snorted softly.
"Sounds like a boast."
"Walk."
He did.
And then—
He stopped dead.
The space beyond the door was vast. So vast it swallowed sound.
Rows upon rows stretched into the distance—thousands of constructs standing in perfect stillness. Bamboo birds. Beasts. Soldiers. Shapes Kael couldn't even name.
All silent.
All waiting.
"…What the hell is this place?" he whispered.
Eya's voice softened.
"The Artificer's Well."
She stepped forward slowly, eyes sweeping the ranks.
"My people's work. Generations of it."
Kael walked between the rows, stunned.
He stopped before a line of bamboo soldiers—recognizing their shape.
"Spear units," he muttered. "Like the ones we fought."
"They're complete," Eya said. "Armor them. Bind them. They fight."
Kael moved on—faster now, excitement creeping in.
Then he saw them.
Massive constructs, spider-shaped—but different from the Dread-Feet. Bulkier. Built for load and impact.
His eyes lit up.
"Those… those are Tiger-Spider war chariots, aren't they?"
Eya nodded.
"Built for battlefield deployment. Each one costs a fortune in time and material."
Kael circled one, running a hand along its frame, awe plain on his face.
"Incredible…"
Then his gaze flicked further.
He froze again.
A line of tall, blade-limbed constructs stood apart from the rest—sleek, precise, almost elegant.
"Mantis Craftsmen…" he breathed.
"They are," Eya said. "Finished. Just waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For breath."
Kael turned to her sharply.
"You can wake them?"
"That's why we're here."
His grin spread fast.
"With those things—we could harvest bamboo like—"
"—like thieves?" she cut in, one brow lifting.
He didn't even deny it.
"…Efficient thieves."
Eya almost laughed.
"I came to awaken them," she said. "These were sealed when my people were attacked. There was no time to complete them."
Kael's expression shifted, sharpening.
"You're planning to use them to take back the Vale."
"Yes."
She didn't hesitate.
"Even with allies, the Dominion isn't something you face lightly. With these…" her gaze hardened, "…I stand a better chance."
Kael nodded slowly.
"…So how do you wake them?"
Eya reached into her satchel and drew out a small bamboo lantern—green, faintly glowing.
"This is the Wood-Waking Token."
Kael frowned.
"That thing?"
"It was broken," she said quietly. "When the Vale fell. Its power shattered."
Her fingers tightened slightly around it.
"My Master gathered what was left. Spent years restoring it."
She lifted her chin.
"And now it's whole again."
Kael let out a breath.
"…So you just light it, and they wake up?"
"Not that simple. It feeds Aether into them. Slowly. Carefully."
"How long?"
"If I do them all?" She met his eyes. "Ten days. Maybe more."
Kael's excitement crashed.
"…Ten days?"
His jaw tightened.
"Mirekeep doesn't have ten days."
Eya studied him for a moment.
"You're worried about the bamboo."
Kael gave a strained laugh.
"Yeah. Kind of important."
"Come."
She took his hand again and led him out through another corridor.
They entered a second hall.
Kael blinked—
Then burst out laughing.
Stacks.
Piles.
Mountains of harvested Warding-Vase Bamboo filled the chamber—cut, sorted, ready.
Thousands of lengths.
More than he could carry in ten lifetimes.
"I told you," Eya said, smiling.
Kael didn't think.
He turned, grabbed her, and kissed her hard on the forehead.
Both of them froze.
The moment snapped like a pulled wire.
Kael jerked back as if burned, face going red.
"…I—"
He swallowed.
"…Sorry. That—wasn't—"
Eya stared at him.
Her cheeks flushed, a strange mix of irritation and something softer flickering through her eyes.
"…Go take your bamboo," she said, looking away.
Kael nodded quickly, grateful for the escape.
He worked fast.
Bundle after bundle vanished into his Wardian Satchel until it held three hundred lengths. It took him half an hour, sweat running down his back by the end.
When he turned—
Eya was still there.
Watching him.
"…I'm done," he said.
"…Mm."
"Thanks. Really."
"You're welcome."
Silence settled between them.
Kael shifted awkwardly.
"I'll be in Mirekeep for a few days. If you need help—"
"I'll send for you."
"…Right."
Another pause.
"…Then I'll—go."
He turned.
Walked.
"…Wait."
He stopped instantly and turned back.
Eya stepped closer, pulling two wards from her sleeve.
"You wanted these," she said. "Void Wards. I only have a few."
Kael's eyes lit up.
"Seriously?"
He took them eagerly.
She recited the activation and release chants, slow and precise.
"Got it?" she asked.
"Got it," he said, grinning like a fool.
She hesitated.
Then spoke again.
"And this… is how you undo the Soulhook Butterfly."
Kael blinked.
"You're giving me that too?"
"I told you already," she said quietly. "What you do with it… is your choice."
He nodded.
"…I won't kill him."
She didn't reply.
Instead, she reached into her robe and drew out three more wards.
Then—
She bit her finger.
Kael flinched.
"Hey—what are you—"
Blood welled, bright against her pale skin.
She pressed it onto each ward in turn.
The symbols flared faintly, drinking it in.
Kael watched, something tight coiling in his chest.
Eya lifted her gaze and held the wards out.
"These… are for you."
He took them carefully.
"…What are they?"
"Heartseek Wards."
Her voice dropped.
"They don't need a chant. Just blood."
Kael frowned slightly.
"And then?"
Her lashes lowered.
"If you use one… no matter how far you are…"
Her voice softened, almost breaking.
"…you'll come to me."
Kael's heartbeat thudded hard in his ears.
"…What are they called?"
Eya's face burned red.
"…That's just what the old texts say."
"That's not an answer."
She shot him a look—half annoyed, half shy.
"…They're called Heartseek Wards."
Kael stared at her.
Something in his chest twisted.
Eya stepped closer.
Then, on her toes, she leaned in.
Her lips brushed his ear.
"Use one," she whispered, breath warm against his skin, "when you miss me."
Kael went still.
By the time he looked up—
She was already gone.
Only the faint echo of her presence lingered in the vast, silent hall.