They moved through the forest in silence.
Gaia led the way, boots slapping against wet stone as the rain thinned to a steady drizzle. Alona followed close behind, hood down now, soaked but steady. She carried her satchel tight to her side, steps sure even as the path twisted between roots and rock. Isgram walked beside her, arms crossed, eyes constantly scanning. Fujin trailed at the rear, cloak dragging behind him like a second shadow.
No one spoke. The storm had passed, but its weight lingered.
The mouth of the cave came into view like a scar in the hillside, waiting for its visitors.
Gaia was the first to duck inside. She didn't hesitate. Her pace quickened as she passed the numerous nets that were fixed to the wall and the large amount of root vegetables that hung there. She moved straight to the back, where Fang lay beneath a fur-lined blanket, unmoving.
Alona knelt the moment she reached him. Her bag hit the ground with a dull thud.
Isgram stood nearby, jaw tight. "He's been like that since the mana stone activated. Breathing. Barely."
Fujin remained by the entrance, watching. Silent.
Alona said nothing. She opened her bag, pulled free a strip of cloth, a flask, and a dull metal charm shaped like a sun.
Her hands didn't shake. She examined the wound first, peeled back the cloth Gaia had packed over the scar.
What she saw made her pause—but only for a moment. The scar was sealed but alive, pulsing with faint purple light. Not infected. Not natural. She reached out, placed a hand firmly on Fang's chest, and the glow beneath her palm began to shift.
A golden light flickered between her fingers, and the dark magic was dissipating slowly.
She pressed down with purpose, channeling mana into the scar, forcing it to stabilize. The magic inside Fang fought back. Death mana is stubborn and relentless. Her healing magic wrapped around it like a sheath around a blade. All it did was brush the dark magic in waves till it liquified and spilled down Fang's shoulder.
Gaia and Isgram said nothing. They just watched.
Time crawled. Alona's shoulders tensed.
Her magic moved slow and heavy, carving paths through the dense energy buried in Fang's chest.
Finally, Fang stirred. Just a twitch of the fingers. Then his eyes fluttered open, unfocused, glassy.
He blinked once. "...Water."
Alona didn't hesitate. She grabbed a tin cup from the nearby crate, filled it from her flask, and raised his head gently. Fang sipped weakly.
She lowered him back onto the furs, adjusted the blanket, then stood. Her hands were pale. Her knees nearly gave way as she took a breath.
"He's alive," she said flatly. "He won't be walking yet, but he'll recover. The stone's magic is gone and the only lingering effect is that scar."
Isgram stepped forward. "You sure?"
Alona met his eyes tiredly. "I know my work."
Gaia moved to Fang's side, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. She didn't speak, but her touch lingered.
Fujin finally stepped inside, eyes scanning the group. "Then it begins."
Alona looked down at Fang one last time. His breathing was steady now. Jaw relaxed. The worst had passed.
She exhaled and turned away, heading for the fire to dry her soaked sleeves, saying nothing else.
---------------------------
Fang slept through the night.
He didn't stir again until morning light crept through the cave's mouth and the fire had died down to embers. When he finally blinked awake, his body ached like he'd been crushed under stone. But he was breathing. He was here.
Gaia was sitting beside him, half-dozing against the wall with her arms around her knees. Isgram sat near the fire, eyes fixed on the flame, unmoving. Alona had stretched out in the corner, too drained to move any farther after the healing.
Fang's voice was hoarse. "...What happened?"
Gaia's head snapped up. Her eyes locked onto his. Then, without a word, she moved to him, knelt beside the furs, and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her grip was careful, but full of something primal.
"You idiot," she muttered, voice thick.
Fang blinked. He could feel her breath on his shoulder. His arms, slow and shaky, moved to return the hug.
Isgram stood then, stepping closer, expression unreadable. "Arrow hit you clean through. We lost you for a minute."
"And then?" Fang asked, voice still thin.
Isgram nodded toward his pouch. "The mana stone. From the elf. It lit up on its own. Burned that hole in your chest shut. We didn't know if you'd make it."
Fang frowned faintly, remembering flashes of pain and darkness. "I felt something. Like drowning, but in silence."
Isgram looked at him for a long moment, then knelt beside him. "We carried you, and you're one heavy asshole. Gaia wouldn't leave your side. And I…" he hesitated, then forced it out. "I burned the bastards that did it. Every last one."
Gaia didn't move, but her arms around Fang tightened.
Alona stirred in the background, watching quietly, but saying nothing.
Fang let his head rest back. "Thank you," he whispered. "All of you."
Isgram exhaled hard, then gave him a nod that carried more weight than words. He glanced at Gaia, then stood again, his back straight.
"You owe your life to them," she said softly, turning her head.
Fang followed her gaze.
Fujin had stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes heavy with thought. Alona remained seated near the wall, still drying her sleeves, looking more worn out than anyone else in the cave.
"This is Fujin," Gaia said. "He's the chief of Davra. And that's his daughter, Alona."
Fujin gave Fang a small nod, but didn't speak.
Gaia continued, "She's the reason you're awake. Your mana stone stopped the bleeding, but it wasn't healing you. The death magic in your wound was still working to keep you alive, and it could have depleted at any moment."
Alona looked up and met Fang's eyes for the first time. "It was killing you slower than the arrow did."
Fang tried to sit up, winced, then gave up. "You stabilized it."
"I carved it out, piece by piece," Alona said. No pride, no drama. Just the truth. "That magic didn't want to let go."
Gaia nodded. "She did it with only healing magic."
Fang looked at Alona again. This time, longer.
"Thank you," he said, voice rough.
Alona didn't respond at first. Then: "Don't waste it."
Fujin finally spoke. "She left her home, her people, and risked herself to come here. So did I. Because Gaia insisted you were worth saving."
Fang glanced back to Gaia. Her gaze was steady.
"You are," she said. "But now things are moving faster than we planned."
Fujin stepped forward. "I came to deliver her, and to speak with you once you woke. There are terms to discuss."
Fang narrowed his eyes slightly, but Gaia raised a hand. "Not yet. Rest. We'll talk when you're stronger. Just know this—Davra didn't help us out of charity. But they didn't have to help at all."
Fang let his head fall back onto the furs, breathing deep.
"I'm listening," he said.
Gaia almost smiled.
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Fang's body slowly mended over the next few days, the last of the dark mana fading from his wound. The cave was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft rustling of the rain outside. His mind swirled in quiet frustration.
He'd been stuck—stuck in this cave, stuck in this state of weakness. His body was healing, but it felt like his plans, his vision, were stagnating.
Alona, though, remained an unexpected guest. Every time he stirred, she was there, adjusting his blankets, making sure he drank enough.
She claimed that treating a patient is from start to end, no shortcuts.
He'd asked her a few questions about Davra, about the world beyond this forest, and she had answered with a careful smile. She wasn't giving much away, not yet. He didn't push. He was patient for now.
It wasn't until his fifth day of recovery that he finally pushed himself upright and felt the return of his energy. It wasn't enough to carry him far, but it was enough to get him moving again. Alona's hand had been gentle but firm when she'd tried to stop him.
"You should rest more," she said softly, watching him pull himself to his feet.
Fang didn't meet her gaze. "The longer I stay here, the further behind we get. We need to move. If we wait too long, the others will move against us."
Alona didn't protest. She knew what a leader looked like, and this one reminded her of her father.
By the time Isgram and Gaia returned from their latest rounds of gathering wood for the forge, Fang was already pacing near the cave's entrance, his cloak draped loosely around his shoulders.
Gaia raised an eyebrow. "The sleeping beauty finally woke up."
Alona was confused and tilted her head, "Sleeping beauty? I won't deny he is good-looking looking but calling a man a beauty?"
Gaia smirked at her response, but quickened to explain. "Sleeping beauty is a story from our previous lives. Something only chosen ones will know."
Fang gave her a smirk, "I'm not dead yet. I want to head to Davra, we got work to do."
Isgram immediately stepped forward, arms crossed. "I don't think you're ready."
"Ready or not, I'm going," Fang shot back, his voice hardening. "If Davra's our next step, then it's time I get my answers. We'll find out what's really going on."
Isgram gave him a skeptical look but didn't argue. Gaia nodded. "Alright. But we move quickly. Don't expect it to be a simple journey."
And so, they left, the four of them: Isgram, Gaia, Alona, and Fang.
They were walking through the dense forest once more, though Fang was already beginning to feel the fatigue creep in. He kept pace, though. No matter what happened, no matter how weak he still felt, the journey had to continue.