A crackle of energy surged through the air. Blackthorn's ears twitched. His sharp eyes flicked upward just in time to catch a streak of white-red light flashing through the canopy, faster than any bird or beast. The light zipped past, leaving a sparkling trail behind it like a comet dragging stars in its wake. The distant trees trembled at its passing, their leaves shuddering as though caught in a sudden gust.
He stiffened. Lightning? No storm today… His paw-like hand gripped his spear a little tighter. The glow of the hovering moonstones above the capital gates intensified.
"Anomaly detected... high magical energy source... scanning," came faint, from tiny moonstones scattered around. No one else heard it — only him. Atheria's eyes see everything, he thought. His gaze tracked the light as it vanished beyond the treetops.
"Trouble," Blackthorn muttered, low and quiet.
The grand gates of the Atherian capital loomed ahead. They were not made of metal or stone but of two enormous trees twisted together, their roots intertwining to form a natural archway. Gems the size of fists shimmered along the bark, each one nestled snugly into the living wood. Above, several moonstones hovered. These stones served as the capital's sentinels — ever aware, ever scanning.
Blackthorn stood in front of the gates, tall and still as stone. His armor of black and blue metal plates fit snugly over his broad panther-like frame. The glow of the nearby moonstones reflected off his polished shield, casting faint glints of light along its surface. He adjusted the grip on his spear and glanced to his right.
Kaelen, the elf, was already scowling. Her silver eyes narrowed at the old elf sitting atop a small rock-drawn carriage. The elf's clothes hung loose on her thin frame, her face weathered like cracked bark. The rock-beast pulling the carriage snorted, its glowing eyes watching Kaelen as if it knew something she didn't.
"Papers," Kaelen said, her hand raised in a sharp, commanding gesture. Her voice was sharp as a snap twig. "Now."
The old elf sighed deeply, bowing his head. His gaze fell on his knotted fingers as he spoke. "Bandits took them," he muttered, lifting his hands in a small, hopeless shrug. "All I have left is this carriage and my companion."
Blackthorn's sharp eyes shifted to the rock-golem, its stocky frame made of layered stone plates, as it stood on all fours like a horse. Each step it took caused a soft, crunching thud against the dirt. The creature wasn't large, but it had the weight of something that could knock a wall down if it charged. His eyes narrowed.
"Without papers, you'll be held in the refugee room until we can verify your identity," Blackthorn said, his deep voice like distant thunder. He stepped forward, resting a paw on the hilt of his sword, his gaze locked on the beast. "The rock creature will also be confiscated. It stays in the holding pens."
"What?! No!" The old elf's voice cracked like brittle bark. He stumbled off the carriage, hands outstretched like he could shield the creature with his body. "Please, she's all I have left!"
The rock golem's eyes flashed a bright, dangerous yellow. It reared back on its hind legs with a rumbling roar, rough stone digging into the ground. Dirt flew in all directions as it thrashed, sending tremors into the air.
"Control it, now," Kaelen barked, her spear raised. She approached with quick, steady steps, her eyes fixed on the beast's legs. Her heart beat faster, every muscle in her body ready to dodge. She knew better than to strike first — unless she wanted that thing to see her as prey.
"Hold still, old man!" Blackthorn shouted, raising his shield. Blue runes etched into the shield's surface flickered to life, each symbol glowing like fresh embers. He dug his paws into the ground, locking himself in place. The weight of it pressed into him, but he was used to that. His shield was the only thing stronger than his patience.
The ground trembled again. Not from the beast.
Blackthorn's ears twitched. A second vibration. Lighter. Faster.
"Wait!" Blackthorn barked, turning his head to the east. His eyes widened. "Something's coming!"
The bolt of light from before was back. This time, it wasn't just fast — it was blinding. It hurtled through the trees like an arrow fired by a god, leaves and branches tearing free in its wake. Birds shot from the treetops, wings flapping in wild, panicked rhythms.
"Shields up!" Blackthorn roared, slamming his shield into the ground.
The light above him pulsed. The moonstones hanging above the gates brightened like stars burning too close. Beams of light shot down into his shield, runes spiraling outward along its surface. The smooth metal groaned as it shifted, reshaping itself, piece by piece, into a massive wall of stone and runes. The sheer weight of it pressed into the ground with a loud thoom.
"Atheria, bless this shield to hold strong," Blackthorn whispered under his breath.
Kaelen took a step back, her spear lowered in awe. "What in the—"
CRACK.
The bolt of light didn't collide. It stopped. Just before impact.
The blinding glow faded, leaving behind swirling motes of blue energy.
And in the center of it all, standing with one hand on her hip and the other raised like she'd just tapped on a door... was her.
Her grin was sharp as a dagger's edge. Her horns curved back from her head like a ram's, her thick, wool-like hair pushed back from her sharp eyes. She stepped forward, scanning the scene with a tilted head and a curious gaze. Her leather coat swirled behind her like a cape, catching the last sparks of fading energy.
"Boo," she said, her voice light as air but carrying weight like a falling boulder.
Blackthorn froze. His eyes went wide, his heart skipping a beat. He stumbled back, landing hard on his rear.
"C-Captain Freya?!" His voice cracked like a cub's. He scrambled to his feet, tail flicking in panic. "It's you?!"
Freya's grin widened, her golden eyes narrowing with amusement.
Blackthorn's hands snapped into a salute, his back ramrod straight. "Captain Freya of the 3rd Division, Top Mage of the Elite Legion!" he barked. "An honor, Captain. I heard you were supposed to be training that fox kid with two others." His eyes darted to Kaelen, silently pleading for her to say nothing stupid.
Unfortunately, Kaelen had already stepped forward, her eyes locked on Freya.
"What do you think you're doing?" Kaelen growled, pointing an accusing finger. "This big-horned sheep nearly killed us!"
The grin dropped from Freya's face.
Her eyes lowered. Her posture shifted, one shoulder tilting slightly forward. The playful glow faded from her eyes, and in its place, something darker flickered to life. The space around her felt heavier, thicker, like a storm rolling in. Even Kaelen, sharp as she was, took a small step back.
"Excuse you?" Freya's voice came out like venom.
Blackthorn shoved himself between them, bowing low. "Apologies, Captain! Kaelen is new — transferred from Nytherion! They'll be disciplined!"
Kaelen's eyes darted to him, disbelief written all over her face.
"Yes," Blackthorn said firmly, still bowing. "Disciplined."
The tension around the capital gates clung to the air. Blackthorn's heart still thudded in his chest, the aftershocks of Freya's sudden arrival echoing in his bones.
Freya was smiling. Not her playful, mischievous grin from earlier. This was something quieter. Softer. Dangerous in its subtlety.
Her gaze shifted past Blackthorn and Kaelen, locking onto the old elf sitting on the edge of his rock-drawn carriage. The wrinkles on the old man's face pulled tight with disbelief, his eyes wide with recognition.
"Swiftfoot?" Freya's voice was light but carried an undertone of something warmer, more human. She took a step forward, her sharp eyes softening like clouds parting after a storm. "Mentor? Is that really you?"
The old elf blinked, his weathered face stretching into a slow smile. He chuckled, his gaze shifting to the rock beast beside him. His companion let out a rumbling snort as if it recognized her too.
"Ah, Freya," he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "It's been years since anyone called me that. These days, they should call me Slowfoot." He tapped his knees with both hands, his smile touched with something bittersweet.
Freya shook her head, stepping closer. "Slowfoot? Never. You're still faster than most of these guards put together."
Her words earned a snort from Kaelen, but the elf's gaze stayed sharp. She wasn't ready to drop her guard just yet.
Freya's smile vanished. She turned to face Blackthorn and Kaelen, eyes narrow and sharp as broken glass. Her horns gleamed faintly in the glow of the moonstones.
Her voice was cold now. "You were giving him trouble?"
Kaelen's mouth opened, but Blackthorn didn't give her the chance to speak. He moved quickly, dropping into a low bow, ears flat against his head.
"No trouble, Captain," Blackthorn said, his voice steady but firm. "We'll see him through immediately." He glanced up briefly, eyes darting to her face before lowering them again. "What brings you here, Captain?"
Freya's eyes lingered on him for a moment Then her gaze flicked to the floating moonstones and the glowing runes etched into the trees.
"The runes," she muttered, tilting her head toward them. "They've been whispering again. Something's off." Her eyes darted to the old elf, then the city walls. "And when runes call, I listen."
Blackthorn's ears twitched at that. Runes whispering? This was something he didn't get paid enough to question. He glanced at Kaelen, whose lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes were locked on Freya, gaze sharp with quiet skepticism.
Blackthorn didn't say a word. He just bowed again, deeper this time.
"Understood, Captain."
The air shifted. The distant hum of the capital's bustle grew louder as footsteps echoed from beyond the city wall.
Out from the shadowed corner of the wall, a figure stepped into the open. His wool-like coat was jet-black, his horns longer and thicker than Freya's. His broad shoulders carried the quiet weight of someone who had seen too much, done too much, and lived to tell about it. The faint glow of his eyes flickered like twin embers in the dark.
"Heard it from the runes?" he said, his deep voice smooth but edged with doubt. "Sure, Freya. We got a birdy with a note instead." He tilted his head, arms folded across his chest. "Long time no see, sis."
Freya's smile returned, a sharp grin that curled at the edges of her lips. She strode forward, her steps slow but full of purpose.
"Ah, Jorma," she said, shaking her head like she couldn't believe it. "Too long indeed. What's it been — twenty years since those nasty Gracken?" Her eyes flicked to him, playful but wary. "But you know I'm right, brother. The runes have been talking." She glanced over her shoulder toward the floating moonstones. Now whispering, "And when they call, it's never for something good."
Jorma's eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "What kind of contracts have you been making, Freya?"
His eyes flickered down to her arms, his gaze growing sharp as he caught sight of her exposed forearms. Runes. Dozens of them. Inked into her skin in intricate, curling designs. Some glowed faintly. Others were still.
Her eyes slid to him. Her grin didn't fade, but something shifted in her expression. "We can't talk here," she muttered, her voice barely above a breath. She tilted her head toward the sky, eyes flicking to the floating moonstones. "The moons are watching."
She clapped Jorma on the back, harder than necessary. "Come on," she said, nodding toward the gates. "Swiftfoot, you too. We're heading to Atheria's tree."
Jorma sighed, rubbing the back of his head. His gaze lingered on her arms, his frown deepening.
The capital gates swung open with a low, rumbling groan. Beyond the threshold, the vibrant world of Atheria's heart came to life.
The walkway ahead was smooth gray stone, but on either side, the market thrived in brilliant, chaotic color. Wooden stalls grown straight from the ground displayed enchanted garments, charms made from crystal insects, and fruits too large to be natural. Beasts with fur like silver and scales like rainbows watched from beside their elven owners. Antlered figures with luminous fur wandered past cat-like humanoids with tails as bushy as clouds.
Children darted through the crowd, laughing as they chased each other, weaving between the adults with ease. A cat-eared child tripped, only to be scooped up by an elk-horned woman, her smile full of patience.
Freya stepped forward, her eyes darting to the people around them. She shifted her weight slightly, as if uncomfortable. Too many eyes. Her hand brushed over the runes on her arm, fingers tracing them without thinking.
A small elf boy darted out from the crowd, stopping directly in front of her. His eyes, wide with awe, locked on her face. Before she could say a word, he shoved a small flower into her hands, grinning up at her.
"Thank you," he said quickly before dashing off into the crowd.
Freya stared down at the flower. "What was that about?" she asked, twirling the flower between her fingers.
"Ah," Jorma snickered, hands in his coat pockets. "You really haven't been back here for a while, huh? You're a legend to some of these elves, sis." He waved a hand toward the crowd. "Ever since you stopped that Gracken invasion, they've been telling stories about you."
"...Great," Freya muttered, stuffing the flower into her pocket.
Swiftfoot glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes. "How'd you get so fast, Freya?" he asked, his tone light but curious. "Even in my prime, I don't think I could keep up with you."
Freya pulled back her coat, revealing her arms and neck. The rune contracts gleamed in the light. "I've been making deals," she said, voice low but firm. "Contracts with aspects and magical creatures."
Jorma's eyes widened, his mouth opening, but she didn't stop.
"Tracked down the aspect of lightning. It took months, but I found him. Huge yellow tiger, ten times the size of any elf here." Her grin returned, sharp and dangerous. "He didn't kill me. That was enough."
"You're insane," Jorma hissed, eyes narrowing. "Atheria won't like this, Freya."
Freya leaned forward, grinning in that slow, dangerous way she always did.
"Let her find out," she said, eyes flicking to the great tree in the distance. "Until then, we keep it quiet."
Jorma sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"You're gonna learn the hard way, sis," he muttered.
Freya only grinned wider. "Maybe. But not today."