A knock.
Then another.
"Come in," a voice called from within.
The door creaked open. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Kalen asked, stepping inside.
"Yes… come in." Lior didn't look up immediately. "We may have an issue. A messenger—his estimated return was two days ago."
Kalen's brow tightened. "Who?"
A brief pause.
"…Faelan."
The name lingered in the air a second too long.
"He was to deliver a package to Grarg's Keep and return," Lior continued, finally lifting his gaze. "He hasn't."
Silence settled between them.
In their line of work, death wasn't unusual.
But that didn't make it lighter.
Not when it had a name.
"A search party will be assembled in the next few days," Lior said. His tone was steady, but it carried weight. "We'll try to find him… or what remains."
A brief pause.
"I want you on it."
Kalen nodded, though the unease didn't leave him.
Lior studied him for a moment, then asked, "Did he have anyone? Family, a spouse… here in Dorvel, or elsewhere?"
Kalen hesitated.
"No. Not here." His gaze drifted slightly, as if pulling something half-buried to the surface. "As for family… I think they're gone.
Whenever it came up, he'd change. Distant. Like he wasn't really there."
Silence stretched.
Then, quieter—
"I don't think he had anyone."
Lior exhaled slowly. "Alright… you're dismissed, Kalen."
The door shut behind him with a muted click.
Silence returned to the office.
Lior rose from his seat and moved to the window, hands resting lightly against the frame. Outside, the city carried on.
He drew in a slow breath—
—and let it out just as quietly.
"We've been following this stream for hours," Ria said, a sharp edge to her voice.
"What exactly are we looking for?"
"I don't know," Faelan admitted.
Ria shot him a look. "Then how would you even know it when you see it?"
"I'll know," he said, calm but firm. "It'll have directions."
She scoffed, stepping over a root. "And what if this is the wrong way?"
Faelan's patience frayed. "Then I don't care. If you want to quit, fine. I didn't invite you along."
"Which makes me a guest," Ria shot back, a mischievous glint in her eye, "so I'm pretty sure it's your job to keep me entertained."
Does she not even know what 'guest' means? Faelan thought, but he didn't bother answering.
They walked in silence for a while, until sunlight caught on something unexpected—a rock, its surface etched with intricate carvings that seemed to shimmer as if holding their own light.
Faelan crouched and picked up a fist-sized stone, turning it over in his hands. "What do you make of these patterns?" he asked.
Ria leaned in, brow furrowed, eyes scanning the stone. Then movement at the stream caught both their attention—a boy, some distance away, kneeling to draw water.
Their heads turned toward the boy, and they approached cautiously.
"Hey there," Ria said, her voice light, almost teasing.
The boy turned to face them, calm, steady. "Hello there," he replied.
Ria's smile faltered slightly. There was something in his stillness that made her pause.
Faelan stepped forward, his tone neutral. "Is there a town nearby?"
"Yes," the boy said, lifting his bucket effortlessly. "It's not far. I can take you there."
Without waiting for more, he started walking, and they fell into step behind him, the silence stretching between them.
They arrived at the settlement. Small. Dilapidated. The houses sagged under patchwork roofs, walls blackened with age, and the paths between them were little more than trampled earth, twisting like uncertain veins. A hush hung over the village, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves.
The boy led them to his home, where his mother stood outside, staring at them with a sharp, wary gaze.
"Who are these people?" she demanded, her voice brittle.
Before the boy could answer, Faelan stepped forward. "I'm a messenger." He held out the stone. "I found this. Do you know what it means?"
Her eyes flicked to the dense forest that pressed close to the edge of the settlement, shadows pooling among the trees. Slowly, she pointed.
"Whatever you're looking for…" she said, her voice dropping, "…is likely in there."
The wind shifted. Somewhere in the jungle, something stirred.
Faelan stared toward the jungle's edge for a long moment, then back at her. "Thank you," he said quietly, before turning to Ria. "Let's go."
As they left the settlement, an uneasy feeling settled over her. Every eye in the village seemed to follow them, lingering longer than it should.
The jungle made their progress slow and tense. Branches scraped at them, roots threatened a misstep with every step.
"Do people always stare at you like that?" Faelan asked.
Ria shook her head. "Yes… but not like that exactly."
"Probably because of your eyes," he said, voice low. "They're like a Soiran's."
Ria frowned. "What's that?"
"You've never heard of them?" Faelan asked, surprise flickering across his face.
"The stories were popular when I was… growing up." His expression darkened, eyes briefly distant.
Then, sharp as a blade, pain shot through his head—and vanished as quickly as it came.
"Are you okay?" Ria asked, her voice tight.
Faelan shook his head slightly. "Let's just keep moving."
They emerged into a clearing, sunlight pouring down in sharp beams. A thought struck Faelan. He angled the stone, letting the light catch its carved surface—and for a moment, it seemed to point, a silent arrow aimed into the jungle ahead.
Without hesitation, he dashed forward. The undergrowth gave way to another clearing, and the stone shifted again, guiding him, silent and insistent.
Ria followed behind, stepping carefully, her eyes darting to the strange patterns of light.
Again and again, the process repeated—clearings opening like waypoints, each one pointing to the next. It was as if the forest itself had laid out a map, and the stone was reading it for them.
But then Ria stopped.
Faelan didn't notice at first; he had been moving from clearing to clearing, chasing the stone's silent directions.
He slowed—and froze. Ahead of him, Ria stood perfectly still, arms crossed, watching him.
"We're going in circles," she said, her voice calm but edged with frustration.
Faelan's fingers tightened around the stone. "B-but… how?" He turned it over in his hands, heart pounding. "It's… blank."
The carvings that had guided him were gone.
The stone slipped from Faelan's hands. He bent to catch it, but something stopped him—an almost unnatural stillness had fallen over the jungle. The wind didn't stir. Not a bird called. Even the leaves seemed frozen in place.
Then—footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate.
Echoing through the trees.
Branches groaned and leaves rustled as the jungle reluctantly made way for whatever approached.
A figure emerged. Its crest caught the sunlight, glinting pale and cold. Its skin was a ghostly blue, stretching over a frame easily seven feet tall. Faelan's breath caught.
An Azryx.
"Longtimenoseehumanpet," the Azryx said, a shadow of a smirk twisting its angular features. Its voice rolled through the clearing, low and resonant, as if the jungle itself carried it.
"Rakreim?" Faelan whispered, awe and disbelief tangled in his voice.