The celebration had already begun by the time Zoltan raised his voice.
Kharatans filled the open ground near the lake, some shouting, others laughing with raw, disbelieving joy. A few of the younger ones lifted each other off the ground. The thick fog that had sealed their world for generations was gone. In its place stretched dark hills and distant mountains beneath a clear red sky.
Zoltan stood among them, taller than most, his expression caught between relief and something heavier.
"Listen," he said. His voice cut through the noise, not with force, but with the weight of someone who had carried the same burden for too long. The crowd slowly quieted.
"We have been here longer than some of you have been alive. Longer than many of your parents. Many were born under that fog. We raised children under it. We buried our dead under it." He paused, looking across their faces. "Now it is gone. We can leave."
A few cheers rose again, but he lifted a hand.
"Do not mistake this for safety. We do not know what the world has become. The Dragon King is still out there. The lands beyond these hills may not welcome us. We will not scatter. Not yet. Too many of the new ones were born here. This place… for better or worse, it is still ours."
The joy dimmed into something more measured. Zoltan exhaled and glanced around.
"And our savior will not leave without a proper celebration."
He scanned the crowd. Then again, slower.
"Where is the human?"
Murmurs spread. Heads turned. No one answered.
The settlement was quiet.
Most of the Kharatans had gone toward the lake. The paths between the huts stood empty under the red night sky. Jin passed through it. He ran without slowing, breath steady, long black hair shifting against his back with every step. He had not noticed the length of it yet.
He reached the hut, planted his foot against the door, and kicked it open.
The wooden frame slammed against the inner wall. Hanz jolted upright on the mat, eyes wide, hand already reaching for his axe.
"Get up," Jin said. "We have to move. Now."
Hanz squinted at him, still half-caught in sleep. Then his gaze drifted upward, to the hair falling past Jin's shoulders and down his back.
"…How did your hair get long?"
Jin frowned. "What?"
He turned his head. The motion made the black strands slide across his shoulder. He stared at them for a brief second, as if seeing them for the first time. Surprise flickered across his face, then vanished.
"Get up," he repeated.
Hanz pushed himself to his feet, still staring. "Fine, fine. I'm moving."
Outside, a few Kharatans still lingered near the paths, some of them looking toward the lake. Jin and Hanz slipped between the huts, keeping low, steps careful against the packed earth. Neither spoke. When the last of the buildings fell behind them, they broke into a run, heading straight for the treeline.
They entered the forest without slowing.
Dark trunks closed in around them. The red sky filtered through the canopy in broken shafts of light. Roots clawed across the path. The air smelled of damp earth and old leaves.
Hanz drew up beside him, breath steady despite the pace.
"Why are we running?"
Jin kept his eyes forward.
"The fog is gone. I don't know how long that will last. It could return."
Hanz's mouth curled into a grin. Then he laughed, short and sharp.
"I knew it. I knew I could count on you to get us out."
"Just run faster."
Hanz clicked his tongue but obeyed. He skipped over a thick root, pushed off the side of a tree with one foot, and landed in a low skid that carried him forward without breaking stride. He matched Jin's pace again.
"How did you do it?" he asked. "How did you undo… whatever that fog was?"
Jin said nothing. Only the sound of their footsteps filled the space between them.
Hanz's expression tightened.
"Not cool, keeping something like that to yourself."
"I'll tell you everything once we're clear of this place."
Hanz gave him a long look — the kind that said he didn't fully believe it, but would let it pass for now. Then his gaze dropped to Jin's hands. Empty.
"Where's your staff?"
Jin glanced at him, then ahead. The realization landed a second later. He skidded to a hard stop, boots digging into the soft earth. Hanz halted beside him a moment later.
"We've already covered ground," Hanz said. "If you go back, they'll see you."
Jin looked over his shoulder, toward the direction of the settlement. The staff was not just a weapon. It was the one object that still carried pieces of his past — the materials, the craft, the time it had taken to make it answer to him. Leaving it behind was not an option he could accept.
"I'm going back for it," he said. "Go ahead. Wait for me by the river."
Hanz's jaw tightened.
"Hurry, then. If you plan on leaving here alive. Zoltan could come from anywhere."
"Go."
Hanz held his gaze a moment longer, then turned and moved deeper into the trees.
Jin remained still.
A spark flashed in the distance — brief, sharp, gone as quickly as it appeared. His silver eyes narrowed. Then they widened. A high, thin whistle cut through the air.
Something struck the trunk beside him with brutal force.
The impact shook the tree. Leaves rained down. He had already leapt clear by the time the sound fully registered. Jin's gaze locked onto the object embedded deep in the wood.
His staff.
A voice followed from the direction it had come.
"Don't you think it is rude to leave without saying anything?"
Zoltan stepped out from between the trees. His face was darkened, the usual control stripped away. Red eyes glowed faintly in the shade of the canopy as he looked straight at Jin.
Jin tensed.
His throat moved as he swallowed. His fingers curled into a fist at his side. For a long moment neither of them spoke. The forest held its silence around them, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves overhead. Zoltan's red eyes remained fixed on him, studying every detail with quiet intensity.
Then the hardness in the Kharatan's expression eased.
A small smile touched his mouth.
"I was just about to prepare a celebration for you," Zoltan said. His voice was calmer now, almost mild. "I am a little saddened by your sudden rush."
Jin's shoulders loosened slightly. The worst of the tension drained from his frame, though caution still lingered in his eyes.
Zoltan continued, gaze steady.
"Because of you, my people are free of the fog. I do not know how you did it… but."
He lowered his head.
The gesture was deliberate and deep. Genuine. The sight of the towering leader bowing to him struck Jin harder than any threat could have. For a moment he could only stare.
"Thank you," Zoltan said.
Jin swallowed again. Then he straightened, meeting the older man's eyes without flinching.
"I hope your people survive what comes next," he said quietly. "And that you remain together. The same way you have all these years."
Zoltan looked at him for a long second. Then a low chuckle escaped him.
"I did not know a young one like you could sound so mature."
Jin let out a quiet breath that almost became a laugh.
"Well..."
Zoltan nodded once, the amusement fading into something more solemn.
"I will lead them. That much has not changed. We will move carefully. And we will not forget the debt."
His ears twitched faintly. He tilted his head, listening to something beyond the trees.
"It seems the feast is already being set. But you will not be present for it."
Jin only smiled.
Zoltan's gaze drifted to the staff still embedded in the trunk. "Do not forget that."
Jin turned toward it. "Thank you… for returning it."
When he looked back, Zoltan was gone.
No sound marked his departure. No shift in the air. It was as if he had never stood there at all.
Jin remained still for a moment longer, eyes turned toward the distant settlement. The weight of what lay ahead settled quietly across his shoulders.
"I hope you all remain here for a while," he murmured.
He walked to the tree, wrapped his hand around the staff, and pulled it free. The wood came loose with a soft crack of bark. He spun it once, testing the balance, then let it rest against his shoulder.
"…Because the war will begin soon."
Beyond the forest, the land opened into wide grasslands.
Hanz stood in the middle of the open stretch, a worn bag strapped across his back, axe hanging loosely from his right hand. He had been waiting long enough for the wind to tug at his clothes. When the sound of footsteps finally reached him, he turned.
Jin approached through the grass, staff in hand.
Hanz's eyes dropped to the weapon. A short chuckle escaped him.
"That was quick."
Jin only glanced at him, then started walking toward the river that cut across the plain ahead. Hanz fell into step beside him.
"I still can't forget the day we crashed here," Hanz said after a while. "Crazy how we even survived whatever was chasing us beyond."
He looked past the river, expecting the familiar shape of the canyon they had been in before. Instead, another stretch of forest rose on the far side, followed by low, rolling hills in the distance. His eyes narrowed.
"Where's the canyon? I swear it should've been close."
"We crash-landed in a different spot," Jin replied. "This path leads west."
Hanz nodded slowly. He studied the river, then the land beyond it.
"Wish we could catch another winged beast. The one we came with is probably bones by now."
The water moved steadily before them, clear and cold under the red sky. Neither of them spoke for a time as they continued toward it.
Hanz lifted his head, eyes narrowing as he searched the open sky.
"Can you hear that?"
Jin glanced at him, then turned his attention outward. For a moment there was only the soft rush of the river and the wind moving through the grass. Then he caught it — a distant, rhythmic sound, low and heavy, cutting through the air.
Hanz's voice tightened.
"It sounds like a… bird. A big one."
"Big bird?"
Jin's eyes sharpened. He turned fully.
There, against the night sky, a dark shape cut through the air toward them. Wide wings. Familiar outline. The same winged beast they had ridden when they first crashed into this land.
Hanz spun around. When he saw it, a wide grin split his face.
"I thought that thing was dead."
Jin's gaze remained fixed on the approaching form.
"It's coming for us."
The beast folded its wings and dove. At the last moment it snapped them open again, killing its speed in a violent rush of air before slamming into the ground hard enough to send a tremor through the grass. It let out a piercing screech. The force of the sound rolled across the plain, tugging at their clothes and hair.
Hanz immediately shifted into a defensive stance, axe raised.
Jin did not move.
His silver eyes locked with the beast's deep brown ones. For several long seconds neither side yielded. Then the creature lowered its body, wings half-folded, and released a low, resonant growl directed at Jin.
Both of them felt the shift. This was not a challenge. It was recognition.
Hanz's grip on his axe loosened slightly.
"What do we do?"
Before Jin could answer, a voice slipped into his mind — quiet, distant, and unmistakably familiar.
Go. Take it and leave this place.
His eyes widened.
Vishah.
The voice continued, cooler now.
Leave quickly… before I change my mind.
Jin drew a slow breath. Then he moved.
He crossed the short distance and vaulted onto the beast's back in one clean motion. The creature shifted under his weight but did not rise against him.
"Get on," he called.
Hanz stared at him. "What?"
"Now. We don't have time."
Hanz licked his lips, blinked once, then muttered, "Uhh… s-sure. Let's go."
He approached carefully and climbed up behind Jin, settling into place with a tight grip on the beast's rough hide.
The moment they were steady, the winged creature threw its head back and screeched again. It pushed up onto its hind legs, wings spreading wide. Both of them held on as the powerful body tensed beneath them.
"Is this a good idea?" Hanz shouted over the rising wind.
"Trust me," Jin replied. "It's for the best."
The beast launched.
Powerful wings slammed downward. The ground dropped away in a rush of air and grass. Within seconds they were climbing hard, the river shrinking below them, the forest and grasslands spreading out in every direction. The wind tore at their clothes and hair as the creature leveled out and surged forward, cutting across the open sky at speed.
Behind them, the land that had held them for so long began to fall away.
The winged beast climbed higher, its form shrinking against the red sky until it became little more than a dark shape. Then, even that was gone, swallowed by distance and the fading light.
On a low hill overlooking the grasslands, a small figure stood watching.
The boy was still. A worn scarf wrapped around his head and neck, leaving only his eyes exposed. Short black hair stirred faintly in the wind where the cloth did not cover it. His red eyes reflected the night sky as he tracked the empty air where the beast had disappeared.
He had been close.
For a long moment he said nothing. Then he exhaled through his nose and clicked his tongue softly.
"I finally caught up… and I still lost them."
The words were quiet, almost swallowed by the wind.
He turned his head and looked back toward the dark line of forest behind him — the place where the Kharatans still lived. The fog that had sealed those lands for so long was gone. He had not expected that.
"It's been years," he murmured. "Ever since Grandma and I crossed through here… it never cleared."
His gaze lifted to the sky again. The red expanse stretched endlessly and empty above him. He stood there a little longer, small against the wide hill, the scarf shifting slightly with each breath of wind.
Another quiet sigh left him.
"I really need to catch up to those guys."
Then the boy turned, adjusted the scarf around his face, and began walking down the far side of the hill — away from the forest, toward the direction the winged beast had taken.
The night closed in behind him.