One month later.
Time passed peacefully for the group.
The forest recovered from the assault of Isgram, the air grew warmer, which signaled the end of winter, and the trio buried themselves in meditation.
Fang's magic powers swelled to new depths.
His new meditation routine was the harshest among the trio, with at least 8 hours of meditation each day.
His mana capacity had reached incredible heights which surprised Gaia and Isgram:
2500/2500.
Such mana capacity was starting to catch up to Isgram himself, who practiced for years.
Even Gaia who was at around 4200 was surprised by Fang's rise in power.
he death mana inside him no longer pulsed with raw chaos but hummed beneath the surface like a tamed storm, ready to strike.
The garden had evolved from a patchy experiment into a true asset. Four full rows of potatoes, each methodically spaced. Isgram had calculated it aloud one evening: "If the yield holds, we're looking at a hundred and fifty potatoes, maybe more."
Carrots stretched in a long, green, leafy row, dense and promising.
By his sharp eye, he estimated more than 40 of them.
And last, a circular bed, gated off with stone and set in a warmer patch of soil, held their radishes and beets. That one was Gaia's doing. She said the ground there "felt right."
They were preparing.
Fang has healed completely and began to hunt again with his bunny squad, and returned with several new mana stones lately.
He was keen on continuing experiments after learning they could save his life in a pinch.
Fang now wore a blade worthy of a predator. Forged by Isgram himself, the sword was serrated, curved slightly forward like a fang. Not just a weapon, but a statement. His robes hung looser now, altered to allow freer movement, stitched at the edges with thread Gaia had reinforced using a touch of copper wires made by her.
Gaia stood taller than she had a month before. Not physically—spiritually. She now wore a deep forest-green dress gifted by Alona, a soft but durable piece that moved like water around her steps.
It was a beautiful dress with a long hood, and golden rings were woven into the fabric.
Gaia customized it by making two small holes for her little horns.
She took her appearance seriously, and she was not ashamed of her race.
The two girls had talked often about the presence of her horns near elves and other races, and Gaia decided that it should not be a mark of shame but of power.
All in all, Gaia and Alona conversed more and more often as they visited Davra once a week to report on the growth of the garden and they grew into friends very easily.
And finally, the third member of the trio, the elder of the chosen ones:
Isgram now carried a round, blackened-steel shield strapped to his back, and a wide axe rested at his belt. Neither shone. He had polished the edge, not the metal. Quiet and efficient, like the man himself.
They didn't just look sharper. They were sharper.
--------------------
A soft caw broke the morning silence.
Fang, crouched in the garden inspecting the potato sprouts, looked up as a shadow passed overhead. The crow landed cleanly on a wooden post that was part of the garden fence.
Its feathers were glossy black, and its eyes were fixed on Fang.
A thin scroll was tied to its leg with a ribbon of green and gold—Davra's colors.
Fang took the scroll and read it out loud.
"You are invited to attend a peace council in Davra.Signed: Chief Fujin.Attendees: Nakamura of Whitemoor, Fujin of Davra, Fang of the chosen ones."
Isgram stopped chopping wood. "That was fast."
Fang nodded. "Tomorrow we go there with a head held high."
Gaia rinsed her hands in the garden basin. "I guess Fujin wants to take the credit for taking Whitemoor off our backs using these talks."
Fang tied the scroll to his belt. "Good. I want to see who was behind the orders to kill me."
Isgram threw the last log on the pile. "Weapons?"
"All of them."
-------------------
They left at first light the day after.
Fang led the way, quiet, sword at his hip. Isgram walked beside him, shield strapped, axe swinging with his steps. Gaia followed, unarmed as she didn't see any reason for something other than magic. She tied her dress at the knees to keep from snagging, appreciating the gift from Alona.
The forest was wet from the night rain. Branches were dripping droplets on their heads rhythmically while crows watched from above.
Smoke moved ahead, ears sharp and eyes brighter than ever. The two younger rabbits flanked him—one lean, one bulky. They worked as a unit now. Spread wide, they secured the perimeter around the group to alert Fang in case of danger.
Gaia whistled once. The big rabbit stopped and returned to her side. She tossed it a beet scrap. It chewed, feeding on the traces of mana left in it.
It disintegrated the moment it touched its lips, and the only thing remaining from it was rotten powder.
They crossed the river before noon. Fang took point through the shallows, the others close behind. The rabbits leapt from stone to stone in bizarre precision.
Gaia paused once to press her hand to the riverbank. A trickle of warmth ran through the earth, and the stones rose a bit above the water.
"Trying to keep the boots intact."
"Fair."
They didn't talk much after that.
After two hours, they reached the old clearing where the trees thinned out. Fang raised a hand, and all three rabbits froze. Something had passed through recently.
Isgram crouched and touched the soil. Cold. Pressed.
"Wagon," he said.
"Ambush?" Fang asked.
"I doubt it." Gaia answered plainly.
Fang stretched. "We keep moving."
Gaia gave a short nod, adjusting the belt at her waist.
The rabbits scouted ahead again, more cautious this time. The trio walked silent, each step deliberate.
They didn't stop to rest.
---------------
By midday, the treetops thinned and the first stones of Davra's outer wall came into view.
Fang didn't slow. The rabbits had already returned, moving in a loose triangle around them. Smoke walked at his side, calm but alert.
They passed through the outer checkpoint without words. A single guard raised a hand and nodded once, then blew a small whistle. Within minutes, Alona appeared at the main gate.
She wore the same white cloak as before, now dirtied at the hem with garden soil. Her expression brightened when she saw them.
She went ahead with a bright smile to hug Gaia, surprising Fang and Isgram at how close they are.
Isgram let out a chuckle as he eyed the increased amount of guards patrolling.
"You came fast." Said Alona with a light-hearted smile.
Fang shrugged. "We walk light."
Alona gestured them forward, eyes flicking briefly toward the shadow bunnies. "They'll open the gates now. Stick close to me."
They followed her through the heavy wooden doors. Inside, Davra looked busier than usual. Market stalls were half-packed away, and a large clearing was empty in the center of the village.
Then the noise hit. Metal on metal. Dozens of armored men were lined in formation near the council hall, spears upright and shields gleaming. Chainmail rippled across their frames like water over stone. Eight rows deep. Shields the size of doors.
"Subtle," Isgram muttered. "Any more and they'll run out of room to stand."
Fang cracked a smile. "Maybe they heard I was coming."
Gaia didn't break stride. "We've fought fewer than that and nearly died. Do not become cocky just because they're scared, cause they are much more prepared for war than us."
That quieted them both.
Alona looked back, tone light but clear. "They're ceremonial. Supposedly."
Fang stopped just short of the council steps, looking them over. "Are they breathing?"
"Unfortunately," Isgram said.
Gaia stepped between them and climbed the stone stairs first.
"They're not here to impress us," she said. "They're here to remind the others we're not the only ones with teeth."
Fang followed her up, eyes still locked on the formation. Smoke trailed behind, watching the soldiers with his glowing eyes.
The mood shifted.
The soldiers didn't flinch at the rabbits, but none of them looked relaxed anymore.
Fang whispered, just loud enough for the trio to hear.
"Let's see if any of them brought guts with their armor."
The doors to the council hall stood open, but no one stepped forward to greet them.
Two younger guards, maybe barely past twenty, stood to either side. One tried to meet Fang's eyes and failed. The other glanced at Gaia's horns, then looked away fast, pretending to scratch his nose.
Inside, the air was cooler. The thick stone walls muted the sound of the village behind them. It smelled faintly of incense and oil.
The hall wasn't grand, but it had weight. Stone tiles, dark wood beams, banners of green and gold hanging on the walls.
At the far end of the hall, Chief Fujin stood with his back to them.
He wasn't alone.
A man in fine robes stood beside him, gesturing with sharp, practiced movements.
Fang's eyes narrowed.
"That the mayor?"
"Looks like it," Isgram muttered. "Never seen a noble breathe so close to a peasant chief. Wonder what that costs."
Gaia didn't answer. Her eyes stayed locked on the mayor.
"That the mayor?"
"Looks like it," Isgram muttered. "Never seen a noble breathe so close to a peasant chief. Wonder what that costs."
Gaia didn't answer. Her eyes stayed locked on the mayor.
He was shorter than she expected. Heavy rings on every finger, pale skin, trimmed stubble on his face.
He glanced once toward them as they entered, and for a moment his face froze but he soon regained his composure.
Alona stepped forward and cleared her throat.
"Chief Fujin. They're here."
Fujin turned slowly. His face was calm, but not welcoming.
"Fang," he said. "Isgram. Gaia." He paused, then gave a single nod. "You came."
Fang walked forward until he stood at the base of the council platform. The rabbits remained at the door, their ears twitching. Smoke sat down in the hallway's center, facing the mayor.
"You called for us," Fang said. "We're here."
The mayor stepped down one stair, not enough to make him shorter than Fujin—but just enough to feign humility.
"Nakamura," he said smoothly. "Mayor of Whitemoor."
Fang didn't blink. "I know who you are."
A flicker again, that same brief pause. Then a tight smile.
"Well then," Nakamura said. "Let's talk."