Harua’s eyes shone with a strange amusement and maybe even pride, her beak twitching with what must’ve been a smile. I wanted to ask more, to demand how she knew so much—what she meant by it all—but the air shifted beside my ear before I could speak.
Faint ripples cut through space, thin as the fracture of a teacup. The dust around it froze mid-fall, then drew inward toward the faint thread of light that hung trembling in the air.
A voice muffled spilled through, strained, but thankfully familiar.
“Peter? Can you hear me?”
My breath hitched in my throat, nearly choking on a bit of saliva. “Serith?!”
Relief hit hard. She’d found me.
“There’s not much time,” she said, her voice flickering like static over a poor connection. “It’s taking everything I have just to anchor your trace.”
I let her continue, heart pounding like a drum.
“Stepping right now is impossible. Even if we hadn’t traveled so far already, you’re too distant. I need time… power. Two days, maybe more. Can you—long?” Her voice cut near the end, then returned in a faint flicker of light.
“I’m safe for now,” I reassured her, trying to calm my own nerves. “Don’t rush. Make sure we don’t need more than one rescue attempt.”
“Lay low,” she pressed, the sound warping as the rift sputtered like dying embers. “I’ll come for you as soon as I can. What’s around you?”
The concern in her voice was palpable, even through the distortion. And though Serith wasn’t exactly cold toward me, I couldn’t help wondering if something had happened on her end—maybe with the Stewards—after my disappearance. Still, I pushed the thought aside and answered.
I glanced toward the flap of the hut where heat still shimmered through the seams. “A city conquered by undead wielding something called the Domain of Death. That’s their bloodline. Bird-people in chains too.”
I paused, then added, “And a group called the Giants. They think I’m one of them, for now.”
All the while, I stretched my senses outward, confirming that no one was approaching. It was fine, but I felt the one who had guided me here slowly coming back toward the hut.
“Peter… whatever you do, don’t offend the Giants. They—”
The rest was lost in a sharp crack. The woven light vanished, and the air fell still.
For a heartbeat, I just sat there, staring at the empty space where my one tether to familiarity had just been. The silence that followed felt thick, my mind echoing with her final words.
“Don’t offend the Giants…” I murmured under my breath.
Luna curled around me. Hopefully pretending to be one of them isn’t something they take personally.
I nodded in agreement.
A soft chirp broke the quiet. Harua spread her wings, eyes wide with excitement. “See?” she said, thrilled, the tips of her feathers quivering. “I told you help would come!”
I blinked at her. “That’s obviously not what you meant.”
She shook her head. “No, but I was right,” she retorted, puffing out her crest. “I win again.”
“Sure,” I muttered, eyes flicking to anything in the tent I could use for my next goal. But there was nothing. It was barren in here. No where for her to hide.
And now, I could hear the footsteps. My guide was getting closer.
“You should go,” I suggested quickly. “You weren’t actually told to come here, right?” I said hurriedly, not wanting to cause more problems.
She only cocked her head slightly, deeply confused.
“Harua—” I tried pleading.
The flap lifted before I could finish.
The undead stepped in, skull bowed. His dry voice rasped through what remained of his throat. “Half a cycle has passed, Giant. I’m here to—”
He stopped mid-sentence, blue fire locking on Harua, his posture stiffening.
Before he could comment, I cut in with a stiff tone. “Problem?” My voice casual, but laced with warning.
“For—forgive me. I was not aware you needed so much energy to recover. Had you said something…” he trailed off, the creaking of his jaw accompanying the words. “Anyway, I must say, there are far more… substantial meals I could fetch for you.”
His offer sent a chill up my spine, my blood turning cold. Meals?
Could the Giants really—Stop showing so much emotion! Wyrem ordered through me. This much between different creatures is only natural. Focus.
I took a breath, wiping away whatever expression I’d worn a moment ago. Consuming energy from others wasn’t a foreign concept. Even Wyrem’s own methods seemed to align disturbingly close to this.
My palm raised. “She’s of use to me. But only if developed to my taste. Matured power misaligns too easily, but I’ll keep your offer in mind,” I said evenly.
The undead seemed satisfied or at least indifferent. He stepped back, holding the hut entrance open. “If you have regained your strength, I have been instructed by the lord to escort you through the city. It would please my superior to have a Giant grace our work.”
I glanced at Harua, who seemed oddly pleased with the situation, then nodded. “Lead the way.”
As I stood, following him out, Bristle padded behind, followed by Harua—the heat striking us all hard. But now, after rest, it felt far more manageable.
“The tower is empty,” my guide explained. “The Nikmes used it and the hovels above, but we prefer the underground.”
As we moved, I saw more of the bird-folk—the Nikmes—walking with packs, shuffling in chains, carrying stone. Each one would glance strangely through exhaustion at Harua, but look away quickly after a barked order or a glance from me.
“I’m impressed by your bravery,” the guide flattered, though bravery came out in a tone that could easily have been mocking. “To allow these creatures to train… well, once you leave, I advise caution.”
I turned toward Harua, silently wondering why such a comment would even be necessary.
We began to approach the tower, the sound of chains entering my ears again. The tower had no staircase, no way up—just a standing monument of balance and nature.
My guide pointed toward a path leading down beneath the tower, his tone filled with pride. “The slaves had their own way up, but we have started quarrying downward already..”
We moved deeper, descending the carved steps. More and more of the undead appeared, and with every level the pressure increased—the Domain of Death activating with greater power.
Then the first gust hit.
It wasn’t an ordinary wind. It came from deeper below, screaming upward in a current that tore through the shaft, escaping into the desert above. The blast was so intense I staggered, clutching my chest.
Peter, Luna murmured in awe. The Air Force… that was blinding. Whoever did that is dangerous.
But she didn’t need to actually explain; I could see it too. Not through her.
This wasn’t Animora or Precursor Energy or any other form of enhancement. It was mastery. Condensation, control so refined that the air itself buzzed. There weren’t just particles of visible Force, but a river, a thickened stream like liquid wind that shimmered and evaporated in waves.
“Sir Giant?” the undead guide noticed my widened eyes. Something seemed to click within him, and he hurriedly bowed. “My apologies,” he rasped, the glow in his sockets hardly dimming. “Were we to relax our Domains even slightly, the Nikmes might rebel.”
He turned slightly. “If the Domain were to disappear entirely… well, perhaps even with the might of your people, even your resource could overpower you. Unthinkable of course, but one must consider every possibility.”
His words barely reached me as my feet carried themselves onward.
Three ideas plagued my mind.
First: the Giants were highly respected in this world. Feared even. Every undead we passed inclined their heads or stepped aside, bowing in deference to my presence. Perhaps word of my arrival had already spread.
Second: the Domain of Death could be controlled. The oppression wasn’t wild. It could probably be balanced, shut off, or increased at will.
Finally: the Nikmes. Some of them, at least, were strong. Serith had warned me about the Giants, but maybe she didn’t know about these people. Because if not for the strange welcome Harua had given me, I would have feared them most of all.
Masters of Air Force to a degree I hadn’t thought possible.
I looked to Harua, to the hunched figures around us, to Bristle struggling to keep pace. Chains clinked like wind chimes beneath the bark of orders and the thudding of flesh. Not one of the slaves spoke or cried out.
Something inside me twisted. This wasn’t the burning, reckless anger I usually felt. The kind that pushed me to foolish action. It was a problem I still struggled with. But no, this fury felt… peaceful. Deliberate.
I smiled at my guide. “I’m impressed by your people’s abilities.”
The undead straightened, pride flickering through him. “All our clans are the same, of course! They have already begun to scatter across this world. Together—with the aid of the Giants—it will be under our collective command.”
He spoke with certainty. Calling it ambition wouldn’t be right. He knew it would happen. And I understood. Their bloodline was too powerful for doubt.
I nodded as though pleased, a bead of sweat trickling down my neck. “Of course. I would like to respectfully confirm your power firsthand.” I paused. “You mentioned a lord. Though I’m not the peak of my own clan, I should be enough to spar against your strongest.”
A shift to reverence came over him. “Like your kind, we value power, but our lord’s strength lies not in the flesh. It lies in mastery over our blood.” He trailed off, almost trembling.
I shook my head lightly, pretending to ease him. “A true battle is unnecessary. There will be no danger to him. Only a test, an inflection of this curse upon me. That should be enough.”
He hesitated, uncertain, until I added with firmer weight, “Take me to him. Immediately.”
The undead bowed. “At once.”