The forest pressed around them like a living, breathing entity, every tree trunk a monolith of bark and shadow, every branch a finger stretching toward the muted sky. Leaves whispered and shivered in the pale sunlight, as if conspiring to record every movement, every breath. The trio moved through this cathedral of timber with measured steps, the earth beneath their boots a soft, uneven carpet of decomposing foliage. Reinhard's eyes swept the canopy, scanning the jagged silhouettes. "When we traveled first," he said, voice low and deliberate, "the trees appeared far larger than they do now. Somehow, they shrink in memory."
Elizabeth's gaze followed his, tracking the waning shadows and light patterns. "Completely agree with you on that one," she said, her voice a gentle wind among the rigid columns of the forest.
Then, fourteen meters ahead, a flicker of motion caught her eye. The creature was small, deceptively fragile in appearance, barely two feet in height. Its body was covered in fine white hair that seemed to glimmer faintly in the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Its eyes tilted upward, wide and unblinking, a slim chin offset by the disproportionate bulk of its torso. It emitted a peculiar aura of vulnerability, and Elizabeth's gaze softened, drawn to the small, trembling presence like a moth to a dim flame.
Her face, usually composed and precise, melted into an expression almost impossible to resist, a delicate mix of wonder and warmth. She leaned forward, tilting her head, and pressed her lips to the creature in a fleeting kiss—an act both innocent and significant, a small communion across species.
Kael's voice cut through the fragile stillness, crisp, controlled, and devoid of affect. "And what, exactly, is the difference between that creature and me?"
The creature responded immediately, violently, shaking with every tremor of discomfort. High-pitched cries pierced the quiet. Its entire form quivered as if the kiss had struck some deep, involuntary chord of its being.
Reinhard's laughter broke the tension, a sharp, incredulous sound. "A creature that cries at a kiss. Truly, what a stupid thing."
Kael turned toward him, eyes sharp as frost. "It may appear stupid to you," he said, voice even and cold, "but it is not. You lack the framework to comprehend. Every reaction, every hesitation, is the product of evolution. Survival, not conflict, guides all behavior. Traits that hinder survival are discarded; traits that assist endure. Conflict, even when destructive, can enhance a species' resilience. In our world, the dominant species' survival was forged through strife, through confrontation with both ally and adversary. You wish to unite this world—understand this: most cannot, because it is not their nature to coexist."
Reinhard's gaze sharpened. The implications tugged at the edges of his curiosity, threaded with a personal strand he could not ignore.
"Being afraid of a kiss… increases survival?" he asked, the question coming with a tone that belied his surprise.
Kael's eyes narrowed, calculating. "I am surprised to hear you question it," he said, voice deliberate. "It seems you are beginning to shed the societal constraints of our upbringing. The answer is simple: traits that do not serve survival are removed from the lineage. The creature's fear preserves it. You, in your current form, are burdened by traits that diminish your survival potential. Were you pragmatic, you would unite only those capable of unity and eliminate the rest—much like criminals in the outer world: arrested, or in extreme cases, executed."
A weight settled in Reinhard's chest, pressing him downward, forcing his gaze to the leaf-strewn earth. He walked in silence, unseeing, while Elizabeth babbled softly, trying to weave fragments of normalcy into the dense air of tension. Kael's mind worked quietly. Thank the stars he did not inquire about that being. The idiot remains an idiot; I would have had no answer otherwise.
The forest thinned at last, giving way to the clearing where the private jet waited, a cold monolith of polished metal and purpose. The pilot, a figure of impassive competence, acknowledged them with a nod, motioning them inside. Doors opened, engines hummed, and the trio ascended, leaving the forest's secrets folded beneath the horizon, swallowed by the infinite sky.
Their home, the island of Neron, welcomed them with the soft solidity of earth beneath boots and the muted cry of distant seabirds. Reinhard was first to step down, inhaling deeply the familiar scent of salt, soil, and the faint smoke of distant hearths. "Coming home feels better," he murmured. Elizabeth's voice mirrored his sentiment: "Same."
Their journey continued to their uncle's office. The Oryn lay bound within the truck, its chains heavy and unyielding. Anticipation hung thick in the air, mingling with the scent of tar, leather, and ozone. The truck doors opened.
The Oryn stirred. Its eyes flared, concentrated and filled with an elemental rage. Kael moved with precise motion, releasing the chains restraining it. Reinhard's voice cracked, half panic, half disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
Elizabeth reacted instinctively, a sharp, frightened cry. "Kael! What—"
Oryn assaulted her.
Elizabeth's body froze, her eyes widening beyond their normal luminescence, the world reduced to a singular point of violation. Reinhard felt his own body betray him, goosebumps crawling across his skin, muscles locking against movements they no longer obeyed. Fear, helplessness, disbelief, and the bitter ache of inadequacy tangled into a suffocating knot.
Time slowed, the air itself thickened around them. Reinhard's life, a tapestry woven of privilege, comfort, and relative control, unraveled in silent, precise increments. His mind remained fixed on Elizabeth, the axis of all meaning, all urgency. Everything else—the forest, the truck, the jet—receded into background irrelevance.
Two smiles emerged from the chaos: Kael, calculated, precise, and now Malric, newly arrived, his expression as cold and unreadable as chiseled stone.
Malric's voice cut through the frozen tableau, measured, and merciless. "Thank you, Reinhard, for playing the protagonist in this plan. It is time you understood the structure of this world, and your part within it."
Reinhard's thoughts recoiled and aligned simultaneously, trying to parse meaning from the steady, merciless cadence of Malric's words.
"The world," Malric said, voice a quiet echo of inevitability, "is divided into three realms, defined by aura. The first, where you now stand, is Azytes—home to the lowest-aura beings. The second, the continent you recently traversed to acquire the Oryn, is Vertibes, where medium-aura creatures hold dominion. The third, as yet undiscovered, harbors the highest-aura beings and is called Catyns. Crossing between these realms is fatal. Aura is life. The barrier between realms is absolute. No species can survive outside the bounds suited to there aura level."
Kael interjected, smooth and unflinching, "I have already explained part of this, Reinhard, but repetition bears weight. The treaty with Hawkins—the Vertibes you visited—prevents them from consuming humans, yet humans must provide an offering. That offering… is us, the beings of Neron Island."
Reinhard's mind recoiled against comprehension.
Kael continued, voice flat and unwavering, "There exist exceptions. Two families mutated centuries ago to control their aura beyond natural limitations. One is ours—four members remain: you, Elizabeth, myself, and Malric. The other is the Oryn family, capable of traversing any aura-level territory. That is why we bring it here. That is why it accompanies us."
Malric's words sharpened further, precise and unyielding. "Your sister, through her child with this Oryn, will produce a being of unmatched aura, capable of moving freely between realms. Genetically modified, programmed, and intended to execute the will of these accords. Millions will perish. None on Neron Island will oppose it. The mission you completed—your unwitting compliance—was always the first act in this design."
Reinhard's body betrayed him, shivering violently. Every fiber trembled. Heart, sinew, and thought convulsed in tandem. Tears traced hot, silent paths down his cheeks. The horror, the helplessness, the intimate knowledge of his role, layered atop the trauma of witnessing Elizabeth's attack, became a weight beyond bearing. Darkness claimed him at last.