A trembling breath escaped Peirce's lips as he sank to his knees, the weight of the fight pressing hard on his shoulders. His eyes flicked across the torn-up ground, still smoldering with dying embers, before settling on Node. "How…?" His voice cracked, raw with disbelief.
Node staggered backward and fell onto his backside, one hand gripping the bloodied blade tight enough for his knuckles to whiten, the other pressed firmly to the torn, bloodstained fabric over his chest. Though the bleeding had stopped, the wound gaped—a raw, ugly reminder of the fight. He winced, but a crooked, defiant smile tugged at his lips.
"Come on," he panted, shifting painfully as he balanced the bloodied blade across his lap.
Fresh red droplets fell onto the churned earth below. He winced, pressing his free hand hard to the sticky fabric over his chest. "A guy like me, fighting alongside the two of you? I needed something to even the field." His voice cracked, but a flicker of pride lit his eyes. "That's the elixir of our kind. It was worth it. Without it, I'd have been dead on my feet before I could even help."
The wind rustled the surrounding trees, sending moonlight glinting over blackened roots and torn grass where the battle had raged. A few embers still smoked from scorched patches of earth, their glow reflecting in Peirce's wide, stunned eyes.
Sniffia let out a broken sob as her silver-maned wolf form receded, fur rippling back into smooth skin with faint wisps of steam curling off her. She ran to Node and collapsed onto her knees, throwing her arms around him with desperate strength. He stiffened in surprise at first, the bloodied blade nearly slipping from his grasp, then slowly exhaled. For the first time in ages, he shut his mouth and let himself hold her, pressing his cheek into her tangled, slightly bloodied blond hair. She shuddered with relief, clinging to the other side of his chest as if she'd never let go.
The others fell quiet. Even the night insects seemed to hush.
Off to the side, Sniffia's mother let out a pained groan, sagging for a moment before forcing herself upright. Steam coiled from her skin in thin wisps as patches of coarse fur receded, muscles shifting with a sickening ripple beneath her flesh. Clawed hands softened back to her former fingers, leaving faint, dark scars along her arms. She pressed a trembling hand to the seeping wound in her side, teeth gritted against the pain, but managed to stand tall. Her eyes, hard and bright, locked onto Luna—who held Dryad cradled in her arms.
The pale-haired boy quivered like a leaf, wide green eyes shining with confusion and unshed tears.
"Now that all is well," Sniffia's mother rasped, voice low but biting. "Who sent you?"
Dryad's eyes widened. He tried to speak but the words came out garbled, fragmented, dissolving into frightened sobs.
Dante approached slowly, dwarfed by Luna's towering bulk. He reached up to gently smooth Dryad's tangled hair in Luna's protective hold.
"I know you're scared," Dante said softly, his voice a balm against the ragged tension. "You don't remember everything that happened. That's all right. I'll go with you back to the Forest Nymph's kingdom to help you find your memories. To bring back their lost prince." He glanced up at the group. "But first, we need to inform our own king."
As he spoke, a great shadow passed overhead. The Kirin Pamela rode swooped down, landing behind them with a ground-shaking thud. Its gleaming antler glowed in the moonlight, and misty breath coiled from its nostrils. Dryad let out a strangled cry of fear as the Kirin gave a guttural, bassy groan that echoed in the clearing.
Dante turned back to him with a gentle smile. "This will be our ride back to His Majesty," he said as he picked up Dryad's large metallic shield.
He rose and turned to Sniffia's mother, who watched with cold, assessing eyes.
"Since we've reached…let's say, some understanding," Dante said carefully, "I believe the children of the Aurora clan will kindly be given to us. Also…thank you. For taking such good care of them all this while."
Sniffia's mother's lip curled, but she didn't speak. Her gaze was as sharp as a blade.
Lazarus stood watching, saying nothing, resolute as ever.
Dante turned to him. "It was an honor to fight alongside you, Shadow Inhumane."
He carefully lifted Dryad from Luna's armoured arms with a nod of thanks to her and her elder sisters. Then he helped Dryad onto the Kirin, climbing up behind him while Pamela held the reins, her heterochromic gaze steady and ready.
Before the Kirin leapt away, Dante twisted in the saddle to call out to Peirce.
"Sorry we couldn't talk more about the drawings in your book," he said, voice carrying over the breeze. "We will when we meet again. And please—don't destroy the world before then. There's so much beauty left in the eyes of the beyonder."
Peirce blinked, shaking his head with a strained laugh.
Sniffia's mother snarled. "Just go, already. Your words are testing my patience."
Dante laughed, bright and genuine. The Kirin surged up with a final, ground-quaking groan. Sparks flared beneath its hooves as it launched into the air, disappearing into the moonlit sky with Pamela guiding it away.
Silence fell in the clearing, interrupted only by the faint groan of the wind through twisted branches and the crackle of dying embers.
Lazarus stepped forward, boots crunching in the debris. He stopped in front of Node, who was still half-seated with Sniffia clinging to him.
Node blinked up, startled to find Lazarus looming. Sniffia turned quickly, her arms still tight around Node's waist, her eyes wary.
Lazarus smiled slowly, warm and oddly gentle for such a grim-faced man. He extended a hand.
Node hesitated, then grinned back and clasped it. Lazarus hauled him to his feet with ease.
"Since you're so determined to keep up with your friends," Lazarus said, voice low and steady, "how would you like to learn the Way of the Glow? You're more than qualified, Node."
Node froze. Peirce's eyes went wide. Even Sniffia drew in a breath.
Lazarus' smile widened, the scar on his cheek deepening. "I will gladly teach you."
Node swallowed and nodded, his long hair spilling over his shoulders as a fierce smile spread across his face. "I'd like that."
Sniffia wiped her eyes and gave a small laugh of relief. She turned and walked to her mother, who watched her come with something complicated—pride, grief, fatigue—settling in her eyes.
Sniffia's voice wavered. "I—I thought…"
Her mother interrupted, voice cracking. "You did well, my daughter."
Sniffia's mother turned then, slowly, to Luna and the eldest sisters. Her face hardened.
"Come," she said, voice low but commanding. "I'll show you where the children are."
They followed her through the ragged clearing, lit by pale starlight and the embers of old fire. Overhead, the canopy arched like black lace, the air fragrant with crushed herbs and scorched leaves.
They approached a towering, ancient tree—its bark dark as ironwood, its roots gnarled like old fingers.
A large carved metallic door, nearly invisible in the bark, blocked the way. Sniffia's mother now in changed clothings raised her hand and knocked a complex pattern. She turned briefly, explaining to Luna:
"Only they know this signal. They'll open it from within."
After a breathless pause, the door swung inward with a deep creak.
Warm, dappled golden light spilled out. The inside of the tree was no crude shelter but a hidden paradise: vines cradled baskets of fruit, flowers glowed with gentle bioluminescence, and laughter rang out as small, red-haired boys raced ahead to greet them, accompanied by lost and homeless children of the Inhumane, the beast beings and other races.
"Mummy!" they cried, crowding Sniffia's mother. Their voices trembled with joy.
She knelt and embraced them fiercely, closing her eyes as tears leaked from the corners.
Luna and her elder sisters watched in silence, their expressions unreadable in the shifting glow.
Luna swallowed hard. "You've…taken such good care of them. Thank you. Truly." Her voice was rough with sincerity.
The eldest sister stepped forward, her posture rigid despite the dents and scorched edges marring her once-pristine armor. Taller than the others, with sharply carved cheekbones and eyes that never strayed from duty, she carried herself like a blade—worn but unbroken. Her voice was calm, formal, but edged with finality. "It's time. They were promised back. Our clan needs them. They're Aurorae by birth."
One of the four bulkier boys among them peered up at them, confusion on his freckled face. "Who are they?"
Sniffia's mother brushed his hair back gently. "Your kin. From the Humane kingdom. They came to…take you back to your people."
The room seemed to chill a little. The children glanced at one another, fidgeting, their laughter dying.
"No," said a small, defiant voice from the four bulkier boys.
The second boy pressed in close to Sniffia's mother's side. "We want to stay here."
Luna winced. She stepped forward, palms open. "Please. Listen. You were taken from your homeland during the conflict. You have family waiting for you. You have a right to know them. To choose. But you can't choose if you don't even know them."
The eldest sister added, "We don't want to steal them from love. But they belong to our clan. Our oaths demand we bring them home."
Sniffia's mother's face hardened.
"Home? You think they don't have one here? I taught them to read your language. To fight and to heal. I sang them to sleep when they cried for mothers they didn't remember. I buried the one who didn't survive. Don't you dare call this anything less than home."
Behind them, Sniffia stood with her arms wrapped protectively around herself, eyes narrowed with worry as she watched the tense exchange. Flanking her on either side were the two beast-being girls, their clawed hands flexing unconsciously, slit eyes gleaming with unease. All three held their ground in wary silence, tense as coiled springs, witnessing every word of the argument without daring to interrupt.
Silence fell like a hammer. One boy began crying softly.
Luna bit her lip, fighting tears herself.
"We know. That's why…we need your help. They'll be lost and terrified if we just drag them away. Will you—" she choked, voice cracking. "Will you help us convince them? To come willingly?"
Sniffia's mother's eyes shone, fury battling grief. Then she looked down at the boys clutching her skirts, trembling.
"They don't even remember that kingdom," she whispered. "They only know this."
The second eldest Aurorae sister softened—just a fraction. "Then come too. At least for a while. Help them adjust. Teach them the truth about where they're from and let them choose in time. We won't deny your claim on them. We'll share it."
Sniffia's mother shook her head. "The Humane kingdom is no home for those too soft for war."
Luna whispered, "We're changing that. That's why we need them back. Their hearts…are the future. Please."
The boys were listening now, eyes wet, confused. One asked in a small voice:
"Will you come with us, Mummy?"
Sniffia's mother's breath caught. She fell to her knees, drawing them close.
"I don't know," she said honestly, tears falling. "I want you safe. That's all I ever wanted."
Silence. Then she wiped her face roughly and stood, turning to Luna and her sister.
"Don't lie to them," she said in a deadly quiet voice. "If they go with you, you'll tell them the wars are over. Or that they must fight?"
Luna met her gaze, voice trembling but sure. "We'll tell them the truth. That they can help stop the next war without fighting at all. That they can be healers and teachers if they choose. We need them to be hope, not weapons."
Sniffia's mother stared. Finally she nodded, once. Slow and heavy.
"Then ask them," she rasped. "Don't order them."
Luna turned to the boys, her dented armored knees creaking as she dropped down onto one with a muted thud. Dirt and ash smeared the metal where the fight had battered it. Her eyes glistened with tears as she held out a hand toward them. "Will you come with us? To see your old homeland? You can come back here if you want. But let us show you who you are."
The second eldest sister repeated the words in softer tones.
The boys exchanged glances. Some still clung to Sniffia's mother, sniffling. But the tallest took Luna's hand. Another moved hesitantly to the sisters. Some stayed back, eyes wide.
Sniffia's mother let out a shuddering breath and gathered the ones who remained in her arms.
"It will be their choice," she said. "And I'll be watching."
All the while, Lazarus, Peirce, and Node watched from a short distance away.
The fading light caught on their torn clothing and dirt-smeared faces, expressions tense and unreadable. Peirce's arms hung limp at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching. Node shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the pain in his chest. Beside them, Lazarus stood utterly still, eyes narrowed, studying every word and movement like a silent sentinel.
Backed by her towering sisters, Luna moved forward like a shadow from legend. She raised her hands toward the little Aurora males—lost sons of a broken lineage—and spoke with the voice of someone who had already seen the end of the world.
"Let's go home."