The trees parted as if fearful of splinters. Aerin moved with purpose, her cargo slung across both shoulders like sacks of particularly useless flour. Branches snapped underfoot. Shadows watched and wisely said nothing.
By the time they reached the edge of the village, the light had shifted. Lanterns flickered against the mist—cool blues and ember reds casting dancing patterns over worn wooden paths, angular rooftops, and stone totems. The village seemed ancient, alive in its silence. Watchful.
Demi-humans stirred from their posts at the gates—wolf ears twitching, feline tails flicking, scaled forearms tightening around spears. Eyes widened.
"Is that… two humans?" one guard muttered, voice deep and gravelly.
"Correction," said the other, eyes narrowing as Aerin passed. "Two unconscious humans."
Aerin didn't stop walking. "Bring the Seer. And a cold bucket."
The guards obeyed. No one questioned her.
[Village Longhall – Moments Later]
Aerin dropped the boys onto a low stone platform in the center of the longhall. The impact stirred Riley first.
He groaned, eyes fluttering open. "Ugh… who threw the moon at my face…"
Then his vision cleared.
Torches lined the walls. Curious demi-human faces peered in from high balconies—fox-folk with intricate tattoos, towering bearkin, and even a horned woman whose glare could shatter pottery.
Aerin stood nearby, arms folded. Watching.
And Riley… smiled.
"Oh… hello again," he said, voice still groggy. "You've got really impressive shoulders. And… wait, is that incense? You smell like war crimes and cinnamon."
Aerin didn't react. A nearby wolf-eared scout snorted.
Alex stirred with a pained grunt. "Did I get elbowed into a new time zone or—?"
"Silence," came a voice from behind them. Ancient. Dry. Almost polite.
The Seer emerged from the shadows, wrapped in thick robes that shimmered like scales. One eye was glazed white, the other glowing faintly gold.
"These creatures," she said slowly, "are outsiders. Not of Gaia. Not marked by our threads."
A murmur swept the crowd.
The Seer's presence silenced even the torches, their flames dimming slightly, as if reverence extended to fire itself.
She moved closer, the hem of her robe whispering across the stone like a snake dragging history behind it. Her glowing eye studied Riley and Alex with unsettling calm, like someone reading an ancient book written in blood and mistakes.
"They do not carry the breath of this world," she murmured. "No tether to Gaia's flow. They are… invasive frequencies."
Riley blinked up at her. "Okay, wow, rude. I've been called a parasite before, but never a whole frequency."
Alex, still recovering, mumbled, "You flirt with death and she elbows me too? This world is unjust."
The Seer ignored them both. She reached into her sleeve and withdrew a curved shard of obsidian, glinting with ethereal veins of light. With a gesture, she traced a symbol in the air—an eye within a circle, ringed with spines.
The symbol burned for a moment… then shattered like glass, sending motes of light scattering.
The Seer frowned.
"They resist scrying," she said. "Even the threads reject them. They walk between folds—unwritten. Unanchored."
Aerin narrowed her gaze. "So what does that mean?"
The Seer looked up, expression unreadable.
"They are either anomalies... or weapons."
A heavy pause followed. The demi-humans around the longhall straightened, hands subtly drifting toward blades and staves.
Alex sat up, raising both hands. "Whoa, whoa, let's cool it with the 'weapon' talk. We're just idiots with questionable luck and worse dialogue choices. Not a threat. Mostly."
"Yeah," Riley added, groaning as he sat upright. "Unless you count excessive charm and frequent head trauma as dangerous traits."
Aerin's voice cut in, steady. " Your stench is mysterious You watched me butcher raiders. You flirted while bleeding."
She stepped closer.
"And now you stand inside our sanctuary like you were invited."
Riley looked around at the many warriors now sizing them up.
"Okay, look," he said, raising his voice slightly. "In our defense, it wasn't so much standing as being carried like limp burritos by a gorgeous war goddess. Which, by the way, ten out of ten. Strong arms. Great form."
Alex hissed, "Stop flirting with the woman who KO'd us!"
"She could do it again," Riley whispered. "That's part of the appeal."
The Seer exhaled. "They are unbound. But not hostile. Not yet."
Aerin finally turned away, her eyes cold but unreadable. "They're your problem now, Seer. I have no time for anomalies."
The Seer inclined her head. "Very well. They will stay in the outer quarters under observation. If they act against the village…"
She let the sentence die, but the meaning hung in the air like a blade suspended by a whisper.
Riley smiled weakly. "Noted. Observation quarters. Totally chill. Got it."
[Outer Quarters – Hours Later]
The "quarters" turned out to be a circular hut at the village's edge—quaint if you ignored the fact that it was clearly a containment zone. No locks, true, but the pair of demi-human warriors stationed just outside made the point clear: this was not freedom. It was parole with a thatched roof.
Inside, the walls were decorated with strange glyphs that pulsed faintly, like the hut itself was breathing. Two beds, uneven and moss-lined, sat beneath narrow windows. A single table bore a chipped bowl of fruit and a clay jug of water that looked like it hadn't been disturbed in a week.
Riley lay sprawled across his bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the straw ceiling like it held answers. His expression was unusually still.
"Do you think she works out?" he asked after a long silence.
Alex blinked. "What?"
"Aerin. I mean, you don't accidentally get arms like that. That's like… dedication. Battle yoga. Axe-pilates."
Alex let out a groan and flopped onto his own bed. "You got punched into a rock and came out more into her?"
"She has the terrifying presence of a thunder goddess and the deltoids of a minor deity. Of course I'm more into her."
Alex threw a pillow at him. "You've got a type, and it's 'will absolutely kill me in my sleep.'"
Riley caught the pillow and grinned. "Admit it, you're impressed I'm consistent."
"I'm impressed you're still alive," Alex muttered, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, his expression darkened. "Did you see how the Seer looked at us?"
"I was kinda distracted by the whole 'demonic tarot download' vibe."
"She called us invasive frequencies. Like we weren't even people. Just… noise. Static on her godly radar."
Riley turned his head, regarding his friend more seriously now. "It's probably nothing."
"She couldn't read us. The scrying spell shattered like a cheap mirror," Alex continued. "What if she did see something? What if she saw everything? Like… my search history."
Riley snorted. "If she saw yours, I think she'd have had us executed already. 'Unholy curiosity in forbidden chicken recipes' is probably punishable by incineration here."
Alex sighed, rubbing his face. "I just wanted to know if you could sous-vide a dragon egg."
"You can, but the yolk fights back."
They both fell silent for a while.
Outside, the muffled sound of a night drum thudded rhythmically. The wind whispered through bone-chimes hanging from the eaves, carrying with it the scent of ash, fur oils, and distant incense.
Then—
A knock.
Except no one used the door.
Instead, a piece of the wall shimmered, and through it stepped the Seer.
Alex scrambled upright so fast he nearly fell off the bed. Riley just blinked.
"Ever heard of knocking?" he asked. "Or doors? Doors are great."
The Seer ignored the comment. Her gaze swept the room, assessing its occupants with surgical calm. "You are permitted one question tonight," she said. "Speak it wisely."
Alex blinked. "Wait, just like that? We get one question?"
Riley sat up, raising a finger. "Are we talking genie rules? No wishing for more questions, no asking about death, love, or how to cheese the final boss?"
The Seer turned to him. "You are not bound to this world, but this world now reacts to you. That is dangerous. You will not waste my time."
Riley exhaled and gave a small nod. "Fair."
Alex hesitated. Then, slowly, he spoke.
"Are we… meant to be here? Or did we break something just by existing?"
The Seer's expression didn't change. But something in the air shifted, like the stillness before lightning splits the sky.
"The Loom of Gaia weaves all that lives," she said. "But some threads do not come from the spindle. They fall from elsewhere. Uninvited. Unwritten. And they… alter the tapestry."
Alex blinked at the Seer's ominous answer, then shrugged. "Well, maybe that's not such a bad thing. Tapestries get boring when they're perfect. Sometimes you need a weird thread. You know—one that glows in the dark, smells like regret, and occasionally screams at pigeons."
The Seer arched a brow, but Alex pressed on, voice steadying with rare conviction. "Maybe we weren't meant to be here. Maybe we did break something. But if that's the case… then maybe it needed breaking. Maybe the weave needs a few anomalies. Something to shake it up. A little chaos, a little stupidity—sometimes that's how things change."
He looked over at Riley, who was now propped up on one elbow, squinting like he was trying to find the perfect place to interrupt with nonsense.
Sure enough.
"Right, and my purpose," Riley declared, pointing at the ceiling like a man delivering prophecy, "is clearly to marry Aerin and have a cute, adorable daughter with silver hair, wolf ears, and my sense of comedic timing."
Alex closed his eyes. "We were doing so well."
"No, no, hear me out," Riley said, sitting upright with the wide-eyed seriousness of someone about to derail logic with sheer willpower. "She'll be this tiny powerhouse. Half warrior princess, half disaster gremlin. She'll dual-wield spears and aggressively correct grammar. Her name will be—"
"Please say it's not 'Rileerin.'"
"…Okay, new name," Riley said, already rethinking. "But she's gonna be great. And you know what? Maybe that's destiny too."
The Seer stared at him. Not angry. Not amused. Just… contemplative.
"Your presence here is a fracture," she said softly. "But whether it is a wound or a window remains to be seen."
Then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, the shimmer engulfed her again—and she was gone.
Silence reclaimed the room.
Outside, the drumbeats shifted into something slower. A lullaby? A warning?
Alex finally flopped back down onto his bed. "I'm scared to sleep. What if she just shows up again and starts asking us riddles at 3 a.m.?"
Riley grinned, arms behind his head. "Then I'll ask her what flavor of pie best represents metaphysical disruption."
"…Blueberry," Alex mumbled.
"See? You get it."
The wind rustled through the bone chimes again, like the world was laughing with them—or at them. Neither really cared.
In a village that didn't trust them, in a world that didn't make sense, surrounded by strangers and magic and shadowed threats…
They laughed.
Because tomorrow would be chaos. But tonight?
Tonight was still theirs.