Lyra Farrow sat broken among the roots and mist of the Bewildering Wood.
The pain in her shattered leg came in savage waves. Every attempt to rise sent fresh agony spearing up from the twisted limb. She managed half a movement before the pain crushed her strength and threw her back onto the damp earth.
A shadow stretched across the ground before her.
She already knew who it belonged to.
Primus Valder stood a short distance away, hands folded behind his back.
Two attendants waited behind him. One was lean and sharp-faced. The other broad-shouldered and solemn. Neither dared speak.
The forest itself seemed afraid.
Valder remained motionless.
He said nothing.
He merely looked at her.
The longer he looked, the colder his expression became.
Lyra lowered her head.
For perhaps the first time in many years, genuine fear gripped her heart.
"Your Soul Core is gone?"
The question fell softly.
Lyra trembled.
Valder's eyes narrowed.
"The Shadow Fox bloodline?"
She remained silent.
His voice became quieter still.
"So he truly is hiding somewhere in this forest."
"Master..."
The word escaped her lips.
Suddenly she bent forward and pressed her forehead to the ground.
"Please spare him!"
Valder inhaled slowly.
For a moment he closed his eyes.
"Master, he is weak now. So weak he means nothing to anyone. Please... just this once. Let him go."
Silence.
Then his eyes opened.
"Enough."
The single word cracked like thunder.
Lyra flinched.
For the first time since arriving, fury showed itself.
"I had no intention of harming him."
Valder's gaze sharpened into something terrible.
"Perhaps I might even have protected him."
Lyra froze.
"But you."
His voice deepened.
"You are the one who ruined everything."
"Master—"
"You are the reason I finally understand the corruption buried within the Shadow Fox line!"
"Master!"
Tears spilled freely down Lyra's face.
"Do not call me Master."
Valder's expression barely changed, yet his anger became increasingly obvious.
"I have no disciple by that name."
His words struck harder than any blade.
"You possessed gifts beyond measure. I spent centuries gathering treasures for you. Your attainment was nearing perfection."
The old patriarch stared down at her.
"You were standing at the threshold."
His voice shook with restrained rage.
"A few more steps and you would have crossed into heights most adepts never even glimpse."
Lyra bit her lip until blood appeared.
"You threw it away."
Valder raised his voice.
"Again and again you surrendered to weakness."
The forest trembled beneath the pressure leaking from him.
"Once before, that fox destroyed your foundation."
"And now..."
His eyes turned colder than winter.
"You have sacrificed everything."
The words seemed to tear themselves from his throat.
"My treasures. My years of preparation. My hopes."
His gaze lowered to her broken body.
"And your future."
Lyra's shoulders shook.
"You will pay for this."
His tone became merciless.
"You have cast yourself back among mortals."
"You have condemned yourself to the wheel of death and rebirth."
"Master..." she sobbed. "I can begin again. I can cultivate from the beginning. I swear I won't disappoint you again. Just spare him."
Valder stared at her as though looking at a stranger.
"Begin again?"
His anger finally erupted.
"With what?"
"You no longer possess a Soul Core."
The words struck like hammers.
"What exactly do you intend to cultivate?"
Lyra forced herself to look up.
"I'll start over."
Her voice trembled.
"I'll never leave the mountain again until I succeed."
Valder laughed.
It was not a pleasant sound.
It carried neither amusement nor warmth.
Only disappointment.
"Start over?"
His eyes burned.
"Tell me how long that would take."
Lyra could not answer.
"You will never leave the mountain again."
The old patriarch took a step forward.
The pressure around him deepened.
"You will never leave it."
His voice became frighteningly calm.
"No."
"Even death may no longer be yours to choose."
A chill swept through Lyra's entire body.
Pure terror appeared in her eyes.
Valder turned slightly.
"Seize her."
The order was directed at his attendants.
The broader of the two immediately opened a storage pouch.
A bronze-green vessel emerged.
Ancient symbols covered its surface.
Stars.
Moons.
Endless celestial patterns.
Lyra recognized it instantly.
Her body trembled.
She closed her eyes.
Resistance was impossible.
Without her Soul Core, without her Vitae, without her Aether, she was little more than an ordinary woman with a broken leg.
Then a voice drifted through the forest.
A beautiful voice.
Soft.
Effortless.
The kind of voice that made listeners forget their troubles.
"Oh, what a pitiful child."
Lyra's eyes flew open.
A woman stood beside her.
White robes.
Snow-pale skin.
Beauty beyond reason.
Even in her current state, Lyra could only stare.
"You..."
The woman sighed gently.
A trace of pity lingered in her gaze.
"Little Lyra."
Her voice carried a strange tenderness.
"Why put yourself through this?"
For a heartbeat Lyra forgot everything.
Then joy exploded through her.
"Sovereign!"
She grabbed the woman's sleeve.
Her desperation was almost frantic.
"You have to save him!"
"He's here!"
"He's somewhere in this forest!"
The woman smiled faintly.
Then she turned toward Primus Valder.
Sovereign Vaela.
Queen of the Fell Realm.
The ruler feared by countless kings and demons alike.
Even Valder's expression grew solemn.
Then, after a moment, he smiled.
"So."
"Her Majesty honors us with her presence."
Vaela's eyes remained cool.
"Valder."
"You truly are cruel."
She glanced toward Lyra.
"Treating your own disciple this way."
"Aren't you worried about what others might think?"
Valder answered calmly.
"A private matter."
"I would not trouble Your Majesty with it."
Vaela laughed softly.
"A private matter?"
Her smile vanished.
"You speak of principles and righteousness."
"But all of this serves only your own desires."
Valder frowned.
Only slightly.
"Different paths lead to different views."
His voice remained measured.
"What happens within my Order is not the concern of the Fell Realm."
Vaela shrugged.
"I have no interest in your household disputes."
Then her eyes sharpened.
"But this forest belongs to my people."
The temperature seemed to drop.
"So tell me."
"What are you doing here?"
Valder answered without hesitation.
"I heard one of my disciples was trapped here."
"I came to retrieve her."
Vaela laughed.
"A disciple?"
The word dripped with mockery.
"How interesting."
"I heard she was cast out long ago."
Her gaze locked onto his.
"So how is she still your disciple?"
For the first time, Valder paused.
Only briefly.
Then he inclined his head.
"In that case."
"I shall take my leave."
His smile returned.
"Perhaps one day I shall visit Gladhaven Isle and pay my respects."
"Wait."
Vaela's voice halted him instantly.
Valder's eyes narrowed.
"What now?"
Vaela folded her arms.
"Do you think the Fell Realm is a roadside inn?"
Her smile was beautiful.
And dangerous.
"You come when you wish."
"You leave when you wish."
"Is that how you see my territory?"
Valder's face darkened.
"What does Your Majesty intend?"
Vaela answered without hesitation.
"I feel like beating you."
Both attendants stared.
For a moment they wondered if they had misheard.
The words sounded less like a declaration of war and more like a spoiled young woman demanding satisfaction.
Yet somehow that made them even more terrifying.
The two attendants found themselves staring stupidly at her beauty.
Their hearts raced.
Their minds wandered.
Valder's voice cut through their daze.
"Your Majesty may rule a realm."
His smile carried steel.
"But I am the Ancestor of Wayfarers."
"Do not push too far."
Vaela's expression turned icy.
"Let's find out whether I can."
Valder stood tall.
Arrogance returned to his face.
"You once fought my senior brother and failed to defeat him."
"What makes you believe today will end differently?"
At the mention of old grievances, something dangerous flickered behind Vaela's eyes.
"When the Wandering Fox fell."
Her voice became cold.
"You played your part."
The air tightened.
"I wanted to come to Phoenixspur long ago."
Her fingers curled.
"But I lacked certainty."
A dark-purple staff appeared in her hand.
It seemed to materialize from nowhere.
"I recently forged something new."
She smiled.
"It is called the Undoing Staff."
The weapon looked simple.
Yet the moment Valder saw it, his face changed.
The color drained from it.
His pupils contracted.
"You..."
For the first time, uncertainty entered his voice.
"How do you possess..."
Vaela's smile vanished.
"Miserable old bastard."
Her eyes blazed.
"Die."
She swung the staff.
Something impossible happened.
No explosion.
No flash of light.
No roaring storm.
Yet reality itself seemed disturbed.
The wind slowed.
Sound slowed.
Even sight slowed.
The entire Bewildering Wood shuddered.
Darkness rolled across heaven and earth.
It felt as though the end of the world had arrived.
---
Kael Ashvane woke with a start.
For several seconds he had no idea where he was.
An unpleasant smell filled his nose.
His skin tingled.
Everything felt strange.
He blinked.
Then looked down.
He was sitting naked inside an enormous bronze vessel filled with murky medicinal liquid.
"What in the hell..."
Kael rubbed his eyes.
"Am I dreaming?"
The vessel stretched nearly ten feet long.
Dragon carvings covered every surface.
Countless Deepwater Dragons coiled through intricate patterns along the inner walls.
Four larger dragons formed handles around the rim.
At either end stood enormous thunder-drakes with snarling faces and jaws clamped around massive bronze rings.
The craftsmanship was breathtaking.
For a moment Kael simply stared.
Then he pinched his thigh.
Pain shot through him.
Definitely not a dream.
Suddenly he remembered.
"Lyra!"
He shot upright.
"Lyra!"
"Where are you?"
"She left."
The answer came from nearby.
Kael turned.
Elder Greymantle stood before a towering medicine cabinet, calmly sorting herbs.
Kael immediately climbed halfway out of the liquid.
Then he realized he was completely naked.
With a curse he dropped back into the bath.
"She left?"
His voice rose.
"When?"
"Don't tell me you chased her away again!"
Greymantle did not even look at him.
"I tried to keep her here."
"I failed."
Kael stared.
The words took time to register.
"Where did she go?"
"I don't know."
Greymantle shrugged.
"She didn't tell me."
A hollow feeling opened inside Kael.
He lowered his head.
"Why..."
His voice grew quiet.
"Why leave so fast?"
"Why not wait until I woke up?"
Greymantle continued arranging herbs.
"If she intended to leave anyway, what difference would a few hours make?"
Kael felt anger rise immediately.
His eyes dropped toward the floating medicinal ingredients surrounding him.
"What is all this stuff?"
"And why am I sitting in a giant pot?"
Greymantle snorted.
"That giant pot is the Dragon-Gathering Crucible."
"It purifies corruption and refines medicine."
He pointed toward the liquid.
"Every ingredient floating around you is rare."
"Very rare."
Kael blinked.
"You were struck by the Sevenfold Thunder."
The old hermit finally looked at him.
"I've been treating you."
Kael glanced around.
"Where are my clothes?"
Greymantle jerked his chin sideways.
Kael followed the gesture.
A long wooden bench stood nearby.
His clothes rested upon it.
Beside them lay the Eight-Claw Flamescourge.
The Sevenfold Shroud.
The Wardian Satchel.
Everything appeared intact.
Kael immediately splashed out of the Crucible.
Medicinal liquid poured from his body.
"Sit back down!"
Greymantle barked.
"Do you know how much those ingredients cost?"
"I need to find Lyra."
Kael ignored him completely.
He grabbed a towel.
A few frantic wipes later he was pulling on his clothes.
Greymantle glared.
"And where exactly do you intend to look?"
"Everywhere."
Kael finished dressing.
The Flamescourge disappeared into storage.
The Sevenfold Shroud followed.
He fastened the Wardian Satchel around his waist and scanned the chamber.
They appeared to be inside another cavern.
A half-open wooden door stood nearby.
Without hesitation he ran toward it.
"Stop!"
Greymantle shouted.
Kael slowed only slightly.
Then kept going.
A blur flashed before him.
Suddenly the old hermit stood directly in his path.
"Move."
Kael's brows rose.
Greymantle did not budge.
"You idiot."
His voice thundered.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"
"None of your business."
Kael tried to push past him.
The old hermit's eyes flared.
"Throwing your life away like this."
His voice shook with anger.
"Do you think that's what she sacrificed herself for?"
Kael stopped.
"What?"
Greymantle pointed directly at him.
"Do you understand what she did?"
The old man's voice became harsh.
"To save your life, she willingly crippled herself."
Kael's heart skipped.
"She poured her own power into you."
"Her Vitae."
"Her Aether."
Greymantle's gaze hardened.
"And her Soul Core."
Kael froze.
For several seconds he could not speak.
"What?"
His mouth hung open.
"She..."
His mind immediately flashed back to the lotus-shaped stone at the Hidden Spring.
To Lyra's body.
To the impossible intimacy they had shared.
To the overwhelming flood of power that had entered him.
The memory struck like lightning.
"She gave me..."
Kael's voice failed.
"A Soul Core?"
Kael stood frozen beside the Dragon-Gathering Crucible.
The words hammered through his skull.
A Soul Core.
Lyra had given him her Soul Core.
Elder Greymantle's face was dark with anger.
"She went through all that for you, and the first thing you do is try to run off and get yourself killed." The old hermit jabbed a finger toward him. "Your wounds aren't even healed. You're trampling all over her sacrifice."
Kael could not answer.
His mind kept returning to the Hidden Spring.
To Lyra's pale body.
To the impossible flood of power that had poured into him.
To the warmth of her trembling lips.
To the exhausted look hidden behind her smile.
"Go back." Elder Greymantle barked the order like a thunderclap. "Get back in the bath."
Kael stared blankly.
"Listen carefully." The old man pointed toward the steaming crucible. "For nineteen days. Every day. Three times. Dawn, midday, and night. You soak in the medicinal broth I prepare."
His voice turned severe.
"If you miss even one session, the corruption left behind by the Sevenfold Shroud will root itself into your flesh and bones. Then you'll spend the rest of your life fighting it."
Kael turned around mechanically.
Like a man walking through a dream.
He returned to the huge bronze vessel, stripped off his clothes, and climbed back into the steaming liquid.
The medicinal broth lapped against his chest.
Elder Greymantle snorted.
Then he returned to the towering herb cabinet and resumed mixing medicines.
For a while only the sounds of bubbling liquid and rustling herbs filled the cave.
Then Kael suddenly spoke.
"She really gave me her Soul Core?"
The old hermit did not even look back.
"You think I'm lying?"
Kael swallowed.
"Check for yourself."
He closed his eyes.
Vitae began flowing through his Channels.
The result shocked him.
Everything felt different.
Before, circulating power had always required effort. There had always been resistance somewhere inside him.
Now it flowed like a mighty river.
Smooth.
Vast.
Boundless.
His Vitae obeyed every thought almost instantly.
His breathing quickened.
He shifted to Aether.
The sensation was even more startling.
The energy circulating through him was richer and fuller than anything he had ever experienced.
Compared to the boy who had left Vane's Summit months ago, he was practically another person.
Kael slowly opened his eyes.
"What happens to her?"
Elder Greymantle remained silent.
The old man carried over a tray of strange herbs and dumped them into the crucible.
The broth hissed violently.
Kael reached out and grabbed his sleeve.
"Tell me."
His voice shook.
"What happens after losing a Soul Core?"
The old hermit sighed.
"It depends on the individual."
Kael tightened his grip.
"But?"
"At minimum?" Elder Greymantle said quietly. "She lost seventy or eighty percent of her Vitae and Aether."
Kael's face turned white.
"And a replacement Soul Core can never match the first one."
The old man's expression softened.
"No matter how talented she is, rebuilding will be harder."
"Future Ordeals will become far more dangerous."
Kael released him.
His hand slowly dropped back into the broth.
Seventy percent.
Eighty percent.
Lyra Farrow.
The feared Shreve who terrified countless enemies.
The woman who stood above entire armies.
The woman who never seemed capable of losing.
All of that...
Given away.
For him.
His chest felt as if someone had buried a knife inside it.
"You only have one thing you should be doing right now," Elder Greymantle said.
Kael stared silently into the steaming broth.
"Heal."
The old hermit's voice was calm.
"Live."
"Grow stronger."
"Only then will her sacrifice mean something."
Kael lowered his head.
"Lyra..."
The name escaped his lips like a wounded whisper.
Tears finally spilled down his face.
---
The following days passed in a blur.
Three times each day Kael soaked in Elder Greymantle's medicinal baths.
The treatment was agonizing.
Every session drew more corruption from his body.
Black residue surfaced repeatedly from his pores before dissolving into the broth.
Between treatments, Kael wandered through the Bewildering Wood.
He searched constantly for a path out.
Every trail seemed promising.
Every trail eventually failed.
The forest twisted around itself like a living maze.
Hours became circles.
Days became dead ends.
No matter what he tried, escape remained impossible.
Meanwhile Elder Greymantle rebuilt several wooden cabins near the Hidden Spring and the Lostford.
The old hermit worked with astonishing speed.
Within days a small settlement stood among the trees.
Living together day and night gradually brought the two closer.
The old man often called him "Little Fox."
Kael answered by calling him "Old Furball" or "Old Mangy Rat."
Neither seemed offended.
If anything, the insults made them laugh harder.
Several groups of intruders entered the forest during that period.
Treasure hunters.
Cultivators.
Unknown pursuers.
Every time Elder Greymantle handled the problem alone.
He would leave.
Hours later he would return without a scratch.
Whatever happened outside, he never bothered explaining.
Compared to the enemies from the Sevenfold Dominion, these newcomers clearly posed little threat.
The more time Kael spent with him, the more impressed he became.
The old hermit was a master healer.
A master brewer.
A master cook.
His meals were absurdly good.
His wine was even better.
And his knowledge seemed endless.
Stories from the Mortal Realm.
Stories from the Fell Realm.
Stories from places Kael had never even heard of.
Gradually Kael found himself respecting the strange old rat more and more.
---
One evening they sat outside a cabin drinking wine.
The sky above the forest glowed red.
Kael swirled his cup.
Then he suddenly asked,
"Old Furball."
"Mm?"
"You've done an awful lot for me."
The old man sipped wine.
"So?"
"We aren't family."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"We barely knew each other."
Greymantle chuckled.
"So?"
Kael leaned forward.
"What do you want?"
The old hermit laughed.
"Nothing complicated."
"I'll keep helping you."
"Then someday you'll owe me a mountain of favors."
Kael snorted.
"Not buying it."
The old man grinned.
"Then don't."
Kael studied him.
Then another thought surfaced.
"You're called a Shadow Rat."
Greymantle's eyes flickered.
Kael continued.
"My father was the Wandering Fox."
The old man remained silent.
"Did you know him?"
Greymantle glanced sideways.
"What exactly do you want to know, Little Fox?"
Kael stared into his wine.
After a long moment he asked,
"Was he a good man?"
The question lingered in the air.
The old hermit slowly drank.
Then he said,
"What is good?"
Kael frowned.
"What kind of answer is that?"
"The honest kind."
Greymantle gazed toward the darkening trees.
"One person calls something righteous."
"Another calls the same thing evil."
"The world is rarely simple."
Kael shook his head.
"Maybe."
"But there has to be some common sense."
"If most people think something is good, it's probably good."
"And if most people think something is evil, it's probably evil."
"Bullshit."
The curse exploded from the old man's mouth.
Kael nearly dropped his cup.
Greymantle's eyes suddenly burned.
"Since when does truth depend on numbers?"
He jabbed toward the sky.
"Even the so-called laws of heaven can become excuses."
"Convenient excuses."
Kael blinked.
For several moments he simply stared.
Eventually he managed,
"So you don't know whether he was good or bad?"
The old man fell quiet.
Then he answered softly.
"I don't know whether the Wandering Fox was a good man."
He paused.
"But I know this."
The old hermit's gaze became distant.
"He was a man who kept his word."
"A man who stood tall."
"A man who never bent."
Kael froze.
Something loosened inside his chest.
A strange relief.
A warmth he had not expected.
"A man like that can't be completely terrible," he muttered.
Then another question emerged.
"If that's true, why did he have so many enemies?"
"Why does the Empyrean Throne still hunt him?"
Greymantle laughed coldly.
"Having enemies proves nothing."
His expression darkened.
"And don't assume the Empyrean Throne are the good guys."
Kael became even more confused.
He opened his mouth.
The old man cut him off.
"Enough."
His voice softened.
"Some answers aren't meant for today."
"When the time comes, you'll understand."
Kael drank in silence.
Lost in thought.
A long while passed.
Then Greymantle suddenly smiled.
"Besides."
"What?"
"The Wandering Fox had plenty of friends too."
The old hermit's eyes drifted toward the forest beyond the window.
Warmth filled his expression.
"Probably more than his enemies."
---
Another day found Kael soaking alone in the Dragon-Gathering Crucible.
Steam drifted through the cave.
His thoughts inevitably returned to Lyra.
The longing had become unbearable.
Then he suddenly remembered something.
The Cloud-Shadow Fan.
Immediately he opened the Wardian Satchel and began searching through its contents.
His hand brushed against a flash of violet.
He paused.
Then slowly pulled the object free.
A narrow violet chest wrap.
For a moment everything else vanished.
A cool night breeze.
A pavilion hidden among broad-leafed trees.
Moonlight.
A beautiful woman.
The memory struck with painful clarity.
Kael stared at the cloth.
His fingers tightened.
"Where are you now?"
The question slipped from his lips.
Had she returned to Mirekeep?
Had she reunited with Isara?
Or was she still traveling?
Alone.
Weakened.
Without her Soul Core.
If she continued toward Aureheim in that condition...
The dangers would be endless.
Kael lifted the violet cloth.
He kissed it.
Then held it against his face.
The faint lingering scent nearly shattered his composure.
For a while he sat there lost between yearning and worry.
His thoughts drifted briefly toward Selene.
Toward Eya.
Toward the others.
But there was nothing he could do.
Nothing.
Eventually he exhaled heavily and returned the cloth to the satchel.
Then he resumed searching.
Finally he found the Cloud-Shadow Fan.
Kael opened it carefully.
He recited the activation words Lyra had taught him.
Mist flowed across the ivory surface.
The fan suddenly glowed.
Words appeared.
Diagrams unfolded.
Countless hidden records revealed themselves.
Kael settled back against the rim of the crucible.
At first he browsed casually.
Within minutes he became completely absorbed.
One design after another appeared before him.
Thunder drakes.
Dream dragons.
Fox-shades.
Flame centipedes.
Mechanical war engines.
Runic soldiers.
Siege weapons.
Strange constructs beyond imagination.
Some were legendary.
Most he had never heard of before.
The records did not merely list names.
Every entry contained illustrations.
Materials.
Construction methods.
Detailed notes.
Personal observations from Lyra herself.
The amount of knowledge was staggering.
Kael's heart pounded.
"So this is what real Artificer's Art looks like..."
The realization hit hard.
Compared to these designs, his previous creations seemed laughable.
His so-called masterpieces from Vane's Summit suddenly looked like toys assembled by a child.
He groaned.
"Now I understand why she looked so unimpressed."
His ears burned.
He had once been proud of creations that now appeared embarrassingly crude.
Yet the feeling only deepened his admiration.
And his longing.
Hours vanished.
By the time darkness filled the cave, Kael finally realized how much time had passed.
He hurried back to the cabins.
Ate quickly.
Then disappeared again to continue studying the fan.
---
The obsession only grew.
Every spare moment belonged to the Cloud-Shadow Fan.
Meals were forgotten.
Sleep was neglected.
The records consumed him completely.
Days later, while soaking in medicinal broth yet again, a new idea appeared.
Every design included instructions.
Materials.
Methods.
So why not build one?
He had time.
Plenty of time.
The thought instantly reignited an old addiction.
Excitement surged through him.
Kael started reviewing the records from the beginning.
Carefully.
Methodically.
Choosing proved harder than expected.
Everything looked interesting.
Everything looked tempting.
Many designs required materials he simply did not possess.
Those had to be abandoned.
Hours passed.
Then a particular illustration captured his attention.
A humanoid figure.
Brilliantly colored.
Beautiful and eerie at the same time.
Kael leaned closer.
The name beneath it read:
The Wraith.
His eyes widened.
He continued reading.
A construct originating from Crucible Isle.
Created using the builder's own blood.
Linked directly to the creator's mind.
Capable of hiding within the creator's shadow.
Fast.
Silent.
Deadly.
Specialized in assassination.
Kael nearly laughed aloud.
"Hiding inside my shadow?"
"That is incredible."
His excitement exploded.
Immediately he checked the required materials.
To his surprise, he already possessed several of them.
Then he saw the most important component.
Spirit essence from an earth-burrowing creature.
Kael's eyes lit up.
The stone monster from the Bone Warren.
The strange core he had collected after destroying it.
Could that be the required material?
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became.
His pulse quickened.
Without hesitation he jumped out of the crucible.
Water splashed everywhere.
He hastily wrapped a robe around his waist.
Then he dumped the contents of the Wardian Satchel onto the ground.
Materials scattered across the cave floor.
Kael held the fan in one hand while sorting through supplies with the other.
Then his fingers touched something smooth.
He froze.
A heartbeat later his eyes widened.
"Damn it!"
Guilt crashed into him.
"How could I forget?"
He hurriedly pulled the item free.
A green porcelain vase.
Inside rested a peach branch bearing a single bud.
Kael slapped his forehead.
"Peria!"
For days he had been fleeing, healing, worrying, surviving.
In the chaos he had forgotten completely.
"I'm sorry."
His voice was filled with genuine shame.
"Peria, I'm sorry."
"I really am."
He quickly recited the release curse.
A faint ripple spread through the air above the vase.
Then a slender figure slowly emerged.
At first she appeared translucent.
Like mist.
Then her form sharpened.
Became solid.
Beautiful.
Fragile.
"Peria!"
Kael spread his arms wide.
"Come here!"
The peach spirit let out a small cry.
Then she threw herself into his embrace.
Her delicate body trembled violently.
Kael wrapped his arms around her.
Holding her tightly.
Relief flooded him.
"Peria."
He lowered his head and kissed her hair.
The spirit girl clung to him desperately.
For a long time neither spoke.
Finally she lifted her tear-streaked face.
Her eyes were already red.
"I missed you..."
Her voice broke.
"I missed you so much."
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
"So much that I didn't even know what to do anymore..."