Dem swam upward and returned to where Telo and Yena were working on the raft.
To their credit, they'd built something impressive given the limited materials.
Dem shifted back, pulled on his underclothes, and hauled himself onto the raft.
"How'd it go?" Telo offered him a flask.
"Nothing yet," Dem said. He kept his tone light—he'd mention the other discovery when they were alone.
He glanced down. The logs, though dry, were already dipping toward the waterline under just his weight.
"Think you can find some wooden barrels?" Dem asked. "Strap them to the bottom. Raise the raft. Then it'll handle more weight."
Telo snorted. "What are we doing, hosting a festival out here?"
"Never know," Dem said. "And we'll need an anchor. Actually, forget a weight—just find chain. There are plenty of rocks to tie off to."
Then, without another word, he dove again.
His clothes vanished into the ring, sea water curling around him, and the black rat slipped beneath the surface.
And immediately, he felt it.
The flicker.
The same faint spark from yesterday.
Alive. Moving. West.
Eltia was drifting away from it.
Dem surfaced, shifted mid-rise, and yelled, "ELTIA!"
A short distance away, a sea turtle popped up, head swiveling. Dem waved sharply, then shifted again and plunged after the flicker.
He pushed himself as fast as his form allowed, Eltia gliding easily beside him.
But the presence pulled away—faster, quicker, slipping through the currents like a ghost.
He pushed harder.
And suddenly—it stopped fleeing.
The flicker held.
Then began to grow brighter.
Eltia felt it too. She surged forward with astonishing speed.
Two sea turtles flashed past each other in the blue water—one large, one much smaller.
They turned sharply, circling, instinct recognizing instinct.
The little one darted close to Eltia—hesitant, curious.
Dem didn't risk it bolting.
He shifted instantly and dived towards her, human arms cutting through the water as he grabbed the smaller turtle firmly but gently and made his way to the surface.
"TELO!"
Up on the raft, Telo scrambled to the edge.
Dem swam hard, the turtle now flapping in fear and fighting his grip. Telo leaned down, bracing himself.
A final push, and Dem lifted the small sea turtle high enough for Telo to grab.
Telo held it up, breathless. "Is this her? Tarania?"
"Hold still, Eltia," Dem said, boosting the mother up onto the raft. He slid his underclothes on quickly and climbed up after her.
Regis clambered up from the other side, having sensed the shift in the water. He waddled forward, dark eyes filled with hope that he couldn't voice.
"Set her down," Dem said, kneeling. He extended his senses, letting his awareness wrap around the little sea turtle.
Yena guided Eltia closer until mother and child were almost nose-to-nose.
"Dem?" Yena asked softly. "Can you tell if this is Tarania?"
Dem's eyes brightened—deep crimson blooming as shadows curled around him.
He focused, carefully, delicately.
There—buried under years of instinct and survival—was a tiny thread of humanity. Fragile. Flickering.
"I think so," Dem said, reaching into his ring for blankets. He handed them to Yena, who was standing behind Eltia and the small turtle.
Regis flapped his beaver tail anxiously, edging closer.
"I've got them," Dem murmured. He touched all three beastkin threads at once—Eltia, Regis, the child—and exhaled.
A soft pulse of red light washed over them.
When the mist cleared, a young girl sat blinking on the raft.
Long brown hair hung tangled down her back.
Her skin was pale and sea-touched.
Her eyes—sea green, luminous—stared up in confusion.
"TARANIA!" Eltia cried, sweeping her into her arms.
The girl clung to her, instinct overriding shock, burying her face against her mother's neck as Yena wrapped both in blankets.
Regis dressed quickly, trembling as he knelt before them.
"Little Tara…?" he whispered, voice breaking.
The girl peeked up—wide-eyed, unsure—meeting her father's gaze.
A single sob tore out of him. He wrapped his arms around them both and wept openly, years of grief dissolving all at once on the sunlit raft.
Eltia refused to put Tarania down, clinging to her as Dem towed the raft back toward the sandbar. Even at the base of the falls she wouldn't loosen her grip—so she climbed the steep path with her daughter in her arms, Regis steadying her whenever footing wavered.
By the time they reached the crest of the hill, a crowd had formed.
The Red Fox shaman—painted light green—smiled warmly at the little family reunited after five long years.
"Let's get her to your tent," the shaman said. "We'll prepare the inking rite now that she has returned."
The trail home became a procession.
Tribals lined both sides, some smiling through tears, others reaching out to touch shoulders or ruffle hair in blessing as Eltia and Regis passed with their daughter safe in their arms.
Dem didn't follow.
He flopped onto the grass near the river, chest rising and falling. "That was a lot of swimming."
Telo sat beside him, grin stretching to his ears. "Two of the lost found again. Not bad for a couple days' work."
Dem nodded, watching Yena accompany the procession. "Found something else out there. An air pocket with…" He searched for the right word. "Something odd inside."
Telo leaned back on his hands. "Odd like fish? Or odd like… a pile of gold I should know about?"
"That would be really odd," Dem snorted. "No. It was a room. When I entered, torches lit—magefire."
Telo blinked. "A room? In the bay?"
Dem nodded. "Stone floor. Door. A dais. Torches that lit themselves."
"And?" Telo asked casually. "Maybe there's some gold behind the door?"
"No gold," Dem said. "Door wouldn't open. I think it needs… something."
Telo perked up instantly. "Another mystery? Maybe we can find a key."
Dem gave him a look. "I think maybe you're the key."
Telo froze. "Wait. What?"
"The dais had a sigil carved into it," Dem explained. "A red fox."
Telo's voice dropped to a whisper. "…My beastkin is the sigil?"
Dem nodded once, glancing around instinctively before leaning closer. "How did this place become the Red Fox wintering grounds? Has it always been like that?"
"Apparently," Telo said. "Even my grandfather did the rite off these falls. No one ever mentioned a secret door."
"Wouldn't be much of a secret if it were common knowledge," Dem answered.
"How far down is this cave?" Telo asked.
"Not too bad," Dem said. "You could swim it easily."
"Did you say marble floors?" Telo whistled softly. "That means either temple or nobility."
"First, the King's tomb in the desert, and now this place." Dem paused—feeling a familiar presence.
Suli emerged, bright-eyed and breathless.
"Commander! Chief! Thank you—thank you both!" She hugged them fiercely. "I'm supposed to tell you—there's a feast tonight for the Sentry Force."
"Because of the missing children?" Telo asked.
"No," Suli said with a grin. "They were already planning to honor you. They just moved it up."
Telo's grin widened. "I could eat."
"Same," Dem said, pushing himself up. "Tomorrow, let's strap some barrels under that raft. I feel like fishing."
Suli turned to leave, then paused.
"I'm so proud to be part of the Sentry Force. My parents didn't want me to join, but now it's all they talk about."
She hurried off.
Telo watched her go. "I wonder how Tam and Ai are doing."
Dem grinned at the mention of his dasai. "Probably busy. They decided to train Noko in tribal customs."
"DEM!"
Yena appeared at the top of the trail, sprinting straight toward them—two black warhounds bounding behind her.
Dem was already standing. "Something wrong?"
"Your Tatzelwurm egg is vibrating!"
They followed her at a brisk run back to the family tent, ducking inside to find Agani and Uhric sitting stiffly beside Dem's rolled bedroll.
On top of it, the large golden egg shivered and thrummed.
Dem scooped it up gently. "A bit more active than usual."
The egg purred louder—almost like the rumble of distant thunder.
Dem accessed his storage ring, pulling out a piece of folded silk bedding he'd taken from Prince Burak's suite in the Fourth Tower. He laid it on the fur rug, then added a thick, gold-colored bath towel.
Telo touched the silk with disbelief. "Did you rob a palace?"
"Mage's tower," Dem corrected. "But yes—occupied by a prince."
His eyes brightened, air thickening with beastkin instinct as he felt the small consciousness inside the egg.
"A female," he murmured. "Come on out then."
A sharp crack split the tent's quiet. Everyone except Dem jumped.
A jagged line had appeared down the length of the egg.
Another crack formed crosswise.
"Almost there," Dem coaxed.
Fine, spiderweb-like fractures spread, and then—
A tiny paw punched through.
Dem laughed softly and tapped it with his fingertip.
Pink pads.
Tiny claws.
Fur matted with warmth and blood.
More shell split away, and Dem gently lifted the loose pieces.
Inside was a coiled serpent body—gold scales shimmering beneath fluid—wrapped around a compact feline torso.
A second paw emerged.
Then a pink nose shoved through the break, prying it wider until a small face blinked into the world.
Reow.
The sound was unmistakably kitten-like, soft and indignant.
The newborn pushed, flexed, and wriggled free as the last of the shell fell away.
Dem cupped water in his hand and slowly cleaned her—rinsing embryo fluid from her downy gold fur and polished scales.
Her upper half looked exactly like a desert lion cub: tiny, rounded ears, closed eyes, a small pink tongue, needle-pin teeth nibbling on his finger.
Her lower half—no longer than Dem's arm—was a slender serpent body that instinctively coiled around his forearm for warmth.