The sun cast its gentle morning light over the encampment, painting the rugged surroundings in hues of gold and amber. The air carried the scent of damp earth and faint traces of smoke from last night's fire. On an old, creaking wooden bench sat a hulking figure, his massive frame dominating the space.
Milner, a giant of a man with a presence as intimidating as a tempest, methodically cleaned his broad axe. His braided blonde hair, streaked with dirt and sweat, hung like a wild mane, while his battle-scarred armor and fur-lined cloak bore silent witness to countless skirmishes. His helmet, crowned with curved horns, rested on the bench beside him, glinting faintly in the sun.
"Oi, Thanir," Milner grunted, his deep voice breaking the morning silence. "What in the Aeaons did the boss want this early? Better be worth it, or I swear…"
Thanir, striding out of the house with his usual swagger, shot Milner a sharp glare. "Quit your whining, you oversized oaf. And shut up for once." His tone, rough yet biting, had a way of silencing most people—though Milner was not one of them.
Milner groaned, leaning back and lazily resting his axe on his lap. "You're all bark, no bite, Thanir. I'm serious, though—this better not be another wild goose chase."
Before Thanir could respond, the door to the house opened again, and two figures emerged. Lirien, her slender frame wrapped in light armor, walked briskly beside Aeloria, who carried herself with an air of casual elegance.
Aeloria's long, flowing hair shimmered like polished bronze under the sunlight, and her piercing gaze carried both curiosity and sharpness.
Aeloria glanced sideways at Lirien, a teasing smile curling on her lips. "So, care to tell me why I found you standing in front of that Dra'kesh's cage? You looked like you'd seen a ghost."
Lirien stiffened for a moment, her face unreadable. "It was nothing," she said curtly, brushing past the question.
"Nothing, huh?" Aeloria pressed, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Doesn't seem like 'nothing.'"
Before the conversation could go any further, the door swung open once more, and Raiven stepped out. The leader of their band moved with the grace of a predator, his sharp eyes scanning the group with quiet authority. The rising sun silhouetted his figure, adding a commanding aura to his presence.
Raiven came to a halt before his gathered party. Milner, ever brash, immediately demanded, "So, what's the big deal? Why drag me out of bed for this?"
Thanir shook his head, muttering under his breath, "You really have no patience, do you?"
Raiven's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Relax, Milner. This is worth it. We've found it."
"Found what?" Aeloria asked, her brow furrowing.
"The Abyssal Rift," Raiven announced, his voice calm but laced with an edge of excitement. His words hung in the air, sending ripples of shock through the group.
Lirien's eyes widened. "Are you sure this time? The last lead was a complete dead end."
Thanir, clearly offended, stepped forward. "Doubt my information again, Lirien, and I'll make you eat those words. My sources are solid."
Milner let out a deep laugh, his voice booming. "Oh, sure, Thanir. Shall we bet on it? Put your words against my axe—if you're wrong, I'll carve that smirk off your face."
Thanir turned his crafty gaze toward Milner, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Fine, but if I'm right, I'll be taking thirty percent of your loot."
Milner's laughter stopped abruptly. His face twisted in anger, and his massive hands clenched the haft of his axe. "Thirty percent? Are you mad?"
The tension crackled between the two men, but before the situation could escalate, Raiven's voice cut through like a blade. "Enough. Save your strength. You'll need it soon. We move at midday—prepare yourselves."
Raiven turned and strode away without another word, Thanir following close behind. As the door to the house shut behind them, Milner groaned dramatically and flopped onto the grass, his massive frame making a soft thud. "Wake me up when it's time," he muttered to Aeloria, closing his eyes and resting his hands behind his head.
Aeloria smirked but said nothing, while Lirien lingered for a moment, her gaze distant. The memory of her encounter with Yomi weighed heavily on her mind. She couldn't shake the image of his stormy, unrelenting eyes or the strange power he had displayed.
As Aeloria began walking back toward the house, she called over her shoulder, "Coming, Lirien?"
Lirien hesitated, her hand unconsciously brushing against the hilt of her sword. "Yeah… just give me a minute."
She stood there for a while, staring at the horizon, lost in thought. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a whisper of unease grew stronger. The Dra'kesh slave was no ordinary captive—and something told her that whatever lay ahead, the rift was just the beginning.