The sun was hot today–but no different from other days in this small village I live in…the sweat from my forehead stung my weathered hands from hours of tilling the fields.

I thought about calling it a day and heading back to the house–but I only have a couple more rows before I'll be finished. That being said, these fields are going to need to be plowed sooner than later–the season for planting thornberries is coming up, and my last harvest was potatoes–which are now out of season…

Taking a big chug out of my leather waterskin, it feels refreshing–even though this water is lukewarm from being in the sun all day…refreshing. I can hear the rustling of the branches from the trees, the giant-sized birds flying high in the sky almost reaching the top of the whirltree located near my village. They say its impossible to reach the top of it just by flying alone–and the only way to get to the top is by clearing all 100 floors of the labyrinth inside.

But…my adventuring days are over with―since now I have a pregnant wife and that means an expected baby!

Speaking of which…I look at home not too far away from my field, trying to find my wife to sneak a glance at her.

Our home was wood, made of thick logs with gouges cut by the claws of demons to create dips into which the next log would be nestled into.They were then stacked back and forth and the gaps sealed from razor shape accuracy. The roof was made of cut-up branches overlaid with a carpet of thick red moss which would glow at night and soak up any rain that didn't just drip away from the sloped design. The door was a simple animal hide hung from the top for privacy.

Lucky for me—my wife's clawed delicate hand came into view, followed by the rest of her when she swept aside the dark bearskin and emerged into the light of day, her hair flowing in the strong breeze we had today,

She carried a small bowl from which steam was rising, and a thick dark load of black bread. I smiled gently, my fangs showing proudly which she returned to me in kind, while waddling towards the field.

'I could just go back to the house…' I thought for the thousandth time and walked toward her at a swift speed, my large physique tearing the ground up.

"I would have come to you, y'know…"

I dropped my hoe, and leaned down to lock horns to where our foreheads touched—

"And that's why you're worth coming to myself, darling…"

She smiled at me, her slightly pregnant belly pressed against my body.

"It's just a short walk from the house…it keeps me active and healthly for the baby!"

She tittered a little, we both laughed light-heartedly–unlocking horns and standing straight up, I accepted the bowl of stew and loaf of bread―The thick steam filled my nostrils with the scent of seasoned meat, broth made bone marrow, and the potatoes from last season.

I inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma before taking a hearty bite of the bread. It was dense and flavorful, with a hint of sweetness from the thornberries she must have kneaded into the dough. As I chewed, I gazed at my wife, marveling at how her glass skin shimmered in the sunlight.

"How are you feeling today, my love?"

I asked, between mouthfuls of the savory stew.

She rubbed her swollen belly, her claws gently caressing the stretched skin.

"The little one's been quite active. I think they might have your restless spirit."

I chuckled, remembering my days of traversing the whirltree's labyrinth.

"Let's hope they don't inherit my recklessness along with it."

As we stood there, enjoying each other's company and the meal she'd prepared, a loud screech pierced the air. We both looked up to see one of the giant birds circling overhead, its wingspan easily the length of our house.

"Do you ever miss it?"

My wife asked softly, her eyes still fixed on the majestic creature above.

I knew what she meant without her having to elaborate. The thrill of adventure, the rush of conquering another floor of the labyrinth, the camaraderie of fellow explorers. For a moment, I felt a pang of longing in my chest.

But then I looked at her, at the life growing inside her, at the home we'd built together, and I shook my head.

"Not for a second," I replied, meaning every word.

She smiled, her fangs glinting in the sunlight, and leaned against me. We stood there in comfortable silence, watching the bird soar away towards the whirltree in the distance. Its imposing height still called to the adventurer in me, but I had found a different kind of adventure now—one that promised to be just as thrilling and far more rewarding.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, painting the fields in a warm, golden light, I reluctantly pulled away from my wife.

"I should finish those last two rows before nightfall,"

I said, picking up my hoe once more.

She nodded, understanding as always.

"Don't be too long. I've got a surprise for dinner."

With a final touch of our horns, she turned and waddled back to our home, her tail swishing gently behind her. I watched her go, feeling a swell of love and contentment, before turning back to my work. The fields wouldn't till themselves, after all, we need more thornberries…that bread was seriously good…

As I resumed my work, the rhythmic sound of the hoe striking the earth filled the air. The sun's rays grew longer, casting elongated shadows across the field. I found myself lost in thought, reminiscing about the journey that had led me here.

I remembered the first time I'd entered the whirltree's labyrinth, barely more than a hatchling myself. The thrill of discovery, the heart-pounding battles against otherworldly creatures, the camaraderie forged in the face of danger. Each floor conquered had been a victory, each new level a fresh challenge.

But it was on the 57th floor that everything changed. That's where I met her—my wife. She was part of another adventuring party, her glass skin gleaming in the eerie light of the labyrinth's bioluminescent flora. We'd fought side by side against a horde of shadow beasts, our movements in perfect sync as if we'd known each other for years.

After that, we'd decided to team up. Floor after floor, we grew closer, our bond deepening with each shared triumph and narrow escape. By the time we reached the 73rd floor, we knew we wanted to spend our lives together.

I chuckled to myself, remembering how we'd announced our decision to leave the labyrinth. Our fellow adventurers had been shocked—we were so close to the top, why give up now? But we'd seen enough danger, enough death. We wanted to build something together, something lasting.

The sound of my hoe hitting a rock jolted me from my reverie. I looked up, realizing I'd finished the last two rows without even noticing. The sky had turned a deep orange, the giant birds now mere silhouettes against the setting sun.

As I gathered my tools, I heard a familiar rustling behind me. Turning, I saw my wife approaching once more, this time carrying a lantern that cast a warm, flickering light.

"I thought you might need this to find your way home,"

I grinned, taking the lantern from her.

"What would I do without you?"

"Probably still be stuck on the 57th floor,"

We laughed together, the sound echoing across the now-quiet fields. As we walked hand in hand back to our home, I felt a deep sense of peace. The labyrinth might hold untold treasures at its peak, but I knew I'd found something far more valuable right here.

The scent of roasted meat and herbs wafted from our house, reminding me of her promised dinner surprise. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I quickened my pace slightly, eager to see what she'd prepared.

As we approached our home, the aroma of a veritable feast wafted through the air, growing stronger with each step. My mouth watered in anticipation, and I could feel my wife's excitement radiating off her in waves. We reached the bearskin door, and I held it aside for her to enter first, following close behind.

The sight that greeted us was breathtaking. Our humble wooden table, usually adorned with simple fare, now groaned under the weight of a spectacular array of dishes. Golden-brown roasted apples glistened in the lantern light, their skins cracked and oozing sweet juices. Next to them sat a platter of baked potatoes, their crispy skins dusted with herbs and sea salt. The centerpiece was a massive roasted boar, its skin crackling and aromatic, surrounded by a moat of rich gravy.

"Lamash,"

I breathed, using her name in awe,

"you've outdone yourself."

She beamed at me, her glass skin reflecting the warm light of the room. "There's more," she said, gesturing to a bubbling pot of stewed beef, the meat so tender it was falling apart. And there, at the far end of the table, was a thornberry pie, its crust a perfect golden brown, with deep purple juice just barely contained within.

"How did you manage all this?"

I asked, still in disbelief.

Lamash chuckled, her fangs glinting.

"I had some help from the village. Everyone was excited to contribute to celebrate our little one."

She patted her swollen belly affectionately.

We settled in to eat, savoring each incredible dish. The boar was succulent, its flesh infused with herbs and spices. The apples burst with flavor in my mouth, a perfect balance of sweet and tart. The stewed beef melted on my tongue, rich with the flavor of bone marrow and root vegetables. And the thornberry pie – oh, the pie! Its tangy sweetness was the perfect end to our meal.

As we ate, we talked and laughed, sharing stories and dreams for our future. The room was filled with warmth and love, and I couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

Just as we were finishing the last bites of pie, a strange noise caught my attention. It was faint at first, almost imperceptible over the sound of our conversation. But then it came again – a rustling, scraping sound from outside.

I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. Lamash noticed my sudden tension.

"Sadrahan? What's wrong?"

I held up a hand, listening intently. There it was again – definitely not the wind or a normal forest creature.

"I heard something outside,"

I said quietly, rising from my chair.

"Stay here, I'm going to check it out."

I crept towards the door, my muscles tensed and ready for action. As I neared the bearskin flap, the sounds grew louder – a ragged breathing, punctuated by soft whimpers of pain. With a swift motion, I pulled back the hide and peered into the darkness.

There, illuminated by the soft red glow of our moss roof, lay a crumpled figure. It was Karzoth, one of our village's most skilled scouts. His usually sleek black fur was matted with blood, and one of his wings was bent at an unnatural angle.

"Lamash!"

I called, rushing to Karzoth's side.

"Bring water and bandages!"

I gently lifted the scout, marveling at how light he felt in my arms. As I carried him inside, I could feel the tremors wracking his body. Lamash gasped when she saw him, but quickly sprang into action, clearing the table of our feast and laying out clean cloths.

We worked together, cleaning Karzoth's wounds and binding his broken wing. The scout drifted in and out of consciousness, muttering incoherently. It wasn't until Lamash pressed a cool cloth to his forehead that his eyes finally focused.

"S-Sadrahan,"

he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"They're…coming."

"Who's coming, Karzoth?"

"Humans. A new kingdom. Beyond the whirltree."

Lamash and I exchanged shocked glances. No one had ever ventured beyond the whirltree – at least, no one who had returned to tell about it.

Karzoth continued, his words coming in rushed, pained gasps.

"They appeared out of nowhere. Built a massive city in days. Now they're marching on our villages,"

I felt a chill run down my spine.

"How? We've always been able to defend ourselves against human incursions."

"Not like this. They have... magic. Strange magic. It subdues us, makes us docile. I saw entire villages fall without a fight."

Lamash's hand found mine, squeezing tightly. I could feel her trembling.

"How did you escape?"

He managed a weak smile.

"I was high above when they attacked my village. Their magic... it has limits. I flew as far as I could before the pain became too much."

As if on cue, Karzoth's body spasmed, and he cried out in agony. Lamash quickly mixed a poultice of herbs, applying it gently to his wounds. The scout's breathing eased slightly, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

I stood there, my mind reeling from the information.

A human kingdom beyond the whirltree. It seemed impossible, yet Karzoth had never been one for tall tales. If what he said was true, our entire way of life was under threat.

I paced the room, my claws clicking against the wooden floor. Lamash watched me, her glass skin reflecting my agitated movements.

"What are we going to do?"

She asked softly, one hand resting protectively on her swollen belly.

I paused, looking at her, then at Karzoth's unconscious form. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders. I was no longer just a farmer, no longer just a husband. I was perhaps the only one who could warn our people in time.

"We need to alert the village elders,"

"And then... then we need to prepare for war."

Lamash nodded, her eyes shining with a mixture of fear and determination.

"I'll stay with Karzoth. He needs care, and I can start preparing healing supplies."

I touched my forehead to hers, our horns gently clicking together.

"Be safe, my love. I'll return as quickly as I can."

With a final glance at my wife and our unexpected guest, I ducked out of our home and into the night. The red moss on our roof glowed softly, casting an eerie light over the village. In the distance, the whirltree loomed, its impossibly tall form a dark silhouette against the star-filled sky.

As I loped towards the village center, my mind raced. How could humans have built a city beyond the whirltree without anyone noticing? And what was this strange magic Karzoth spoke of?

The sound of my approach alerted the night guards, and I saw their forms tense as I neared.

"It's Sadrahan,"

"I need to speak with the elders immediately. It's an emergency."

The guards exchanged glances, then one nodded and disappeared into the large central hut. Moments later, he reappeared with Elder Mornath, her ancient face creased with concern.

"Sadrahan? What's happened?"

I took a deep breath, then relayed Karzoth's warning as concisely as I could. As I spoke, I saw the elder's expression change from concern to shock, then to grim determination.

"This is grave news indeed,"

"We must act quickly. Gather the war council. Send runners to the neighboring villages. And Sadrahan..."

I met her eyes, seeing the weight of centuries in their depths.

"We may need you to enter the whirltree once more. Your experience could be the key to our survival."

I nodded, a mix of excitement and dread coursing through me. As I turned to carry out her orders, I couldn't help but think of Lamash and our unborn child. The life I had built, the peace I had found – it all hung in the balance now.

As I raced through the village, rousing warriors and sending messengers to nearby settlements, I couldn't shake the image of Karzoth's broken body. What kind of magic could subdue entire villages? And how could we hope to stand against it?

The war council assembled quickly, grim faces illuminated by torchlight as I recounted Karzoth's warning once more. Strategies were debated, scouts dispatched to gather more information. But as the night wore on, one thing became clear: we needed to know more about this new human kingdom and their strange magic.

"Sadrahan,"

Elder Mornath's voice cut through the clamor of debate.

"You've ventured further into the whirltree than almost anyone else. Do you think you could reach the top?"

I hesitated, memories of my past adventures flooding back. The dangers, the close calls, the friends lost along the way. But then I thought of Lamash, of our child, of our entire way of life threatened by this unknown force.

"I... I can try,"

I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"But I'll need a team. The upper floors are too dangerous to tackle alone."

Nods of agreement rippled through the council. Volunteers were quickly selected – Goran, a burly warrior with a talent for breaking through magical barriers; Zira, a lithe scout with exceptional climbing skills; and Thorne, a seasoned mage whose knowledge of arcane lore might prove invaluable.

As dawn broke, casting long shadows across the village, I made my way back home. Lamash was waiting, her glass skin reflecting the first rays of sunlight. One look at my face told her everything she needed to know.

"You're going back in, aren't you?"

She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, pulling her close.

"It may be our only chance. If we can reach the top of the whirltree, maybe we can find a way to counter their magic."

She buried her face in my chest, her claws digging slightly into my back.

"Promise me you'll come back," she murmured. "Promise me our child will know their father."

I swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in my throat.

"I promise,"

I said, hoping with all my heart that it was a promise I could keep.

As we stood there, locked in an embrace, I felt a sudden movement against my stomach. Lamash gasped, then laughed softly.

"The baby,"

She said, guiding my hand to her swollen belly.

"I think they're wishing you luck."

I felt another kick, strong and determined. In that moment, I knew I would do whatever it took to protect my family, my village, my entire world.

With a final, lingering kiss, I turned and walked towards the village center, where my team was assembling. Goran nodded gruffly as I approached, his massive battle axe strapped to his back. Zira was checking her climbing gear, her tail twitching with nervous energy. Thorne stood apart, his eyes closed in meditation, arcane symbols glowing faintly on his scaled skin.

"Are we ready?"

They all turned to me, their expressions a mix of determination and apprehension. We all knew the risks of what we were about to attempt. The upper floors of the whirltree were the stuff of legend, filled with dangers that had claimed the lives of countless adventurers.

"As ready as we'll ever be,"

Goran rumbled, hefting his axe.

With a final glance back at my home, where Lamash stood watching, I led our small team towards the base of the whirltree. Its massive trunk loomed before us, the bark twisted into strange, alien patterns. The entrance to the labyrinth within was a dark maw, seeming to swallow the early morning light.