The night after the battle was unusually still. The air clung heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp sting of smoke, though the fires had long since died down. The village pulsed with a fragile energy, half relief, half dread.
On the eastern palisade wall, **Mira** sat alone, legs dangling, her sword laid across her lap. She wasn't keeping watch because she had been ordered to; she was keeping watch because her instincts wouldn't allow her to sleep.
Every creak of wood, every shift in the shadows beneath the trees, pulled her senses taut. Her amber eyes scanned the forest beyond, but her thoughts were fixed behind her, in the center of the village, where the healer's hut lay.
The priestess.
**Elira.**
Mira spat the name under her breath like a curse.
Luminus might have welcomed her, but Mira's memories were carved with fire and blood. She had seen priests lead torch-bearing crusaders through forests, burning dens and culling tribes under the banners of "purification." She had seen goblin children skewered on spears while prayers for mercy fell on deaf ears.
The Church had called it justice. Mira had called it slaughter.
And now here was one of their own, nestled within their walls, treated as a guest instead of an enemy.
Her hand tightened on her blade until her knuckles went white.
---
**"She is dangerous,"** Mira muttered.
"Dangerous," came a low rumble beside her.
She turned to see **Rugo**, the wolf alpha, step silently up the wall. His massive frame loomed in the moonlight, his silver fur gleaming like tempered steel. His eyes, bright and intelligent, regarded Mira with calm.
"Yet not malicious," Rugo added. "My nose tells me that much. Her scent is not laced with hatred."
Mira narrowed her eyes. "Scent lies. Humans hide their poison behind honeyed words."
"Perhaps. But our Lord does not believe so."
The mention of **Luminus** made Mira's chest tighten. She trusted him more than anyone—more than herself, sometimes. He had pulled her from despair when she was little more than a blade without a purpose. He had looked at her and seen not a weapon, but a person. That mattered more than anything.
"No," Mira admitted, loosening her grip on the sword. "I don't doubt him. But…" She exhaled sharply. "He's too kind. He believes too much. Someone has to guard his blind spots."
Rugo regarded her silently, then dipped his head in solemn agreement. "Then it is good he has you. I will lend my fangs to that purpose as well."
---
**The Silence of the Healer's Hut**
Below, the fires of the goblin camp crackled faintly. Most of the villagers were already asleep, exhausted after the day's repairs. Only the night watch kept moving, their silhouettes shifting at the gates.
But Mira's gaze kept drifting toward the healer's hut. A faint unease prickled her skin, like the warning before a storm.
And then it came—a glow.
Golden light seeped through the cracks of the hut's wooden walls, brighter and purer than any torch flame. Mira was on her feet instantly, blade drawn in a smooth motion.
Rugo's hackles rose, lips pulling back in a low growl. "That magic…"
Together, they descended, slipping through the village like shadows.
Inside the hut, the air was thick with power. **Elira** knelt beside a wounded goblin, her hands clasped over its chest. Her lips whispered prayers in a language older than the common tongue. From her palms flowed light—warm, golden, sacred.
The goblin stirred, his shallow breaths deepening, color returning to his cheeks.
Mira's eyes widened. This wasn't ordinary healing magic. She had seen clerics heal wounds before—patching cuts, closing gashes. This was deeper. The glow had reached into the goblin's chest and steadied his very life-force.
And then Mira saw it—just for a moment. Behind Elira's closed eyes, something vast flickered. A sleeping giant. A storm caged behind fragile glass. Not wholly human. Not entirely of the Church's making.
Mira's pulse quickened. Her blade lifted unconsciously.
"What… are you?" she whispered.
The glow faltered. Elira's eyes flew open, wide with alarm. She saw the blade, saw Rugo's fangs gleaming in the light, and her face drained of color.
"I—" Her voice trembled. "I don't know."
---
**A Warrior's Judgment**
Mira's instincts screamed. Strike. End her before she becomes a threat. Protect Luminus at all costs.
Her muscles coiled, ready to unleash.
And yet—she hesitated.
She remembered the battle. She remembered how Elira had thrown herself between Brenna's blade and a goblin child, screaming for her comrades to stop. That wasn't the action of someone waiting to betray them. That was… real.
Mira grit her teeth. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered her blade.
"Then you will stay under my watch," she said coldly. "If you bring harm to Luminus, even once… you will not live to regret it."
Elira swallowed, lowering her gaze. Her hands trembled where they rested on her lap. "…Understood."
Rugo relaxed slightly, though his golden eyes never left Elira.
For a long, tense moment, the only sound was the goblin's steady breathing.
---
**Mira's Vigil**
Later, Mira returned to the wall, but the night no longer felt still. She sat, sword across her knees, staring into the forest but seeing only Elira's glowing hands in her mind.
She hated the uncertainty most of all. With enemies, it was simple—blade to throat, victory or death. With Elira, everything was gray.
Mira leaned back, letting her gaze drift to the stars. Her mind turned to the past, to her own scars.
She had once trusted a human too. A knight who had fought beside her tribe, shared meals, laughed around campfires. When the Church's banners rose, he had been the one to lead them in. He had cut down Mira's kin with the same blade that had once defended them.
Since then, Mira had trusted no one but herself—until Luminus.
Her amber eyes softened briefly at the thought of him. The strange slime who had stumbled into her world and somehow become its center. He saw value in her when no one else had. For him, she would kill. For him, she would die.
That was why Elira terrified her. Not because she was strong. But because Mira could see the same thing in Luminus's eyes when he looked at her—trust.
And trust was the most dangerous weapon of all.
---
**The Foreshadowing**
Down in the healer's hut, Elira sat alone, staring at her hands. They still tingled with the remnants of that impossible light. She had no explanation for it. The Church's teachings hadn't prepared her for this.
But in the deepest recess of her mind, she heard a whisper. A voice that wasn't her own.
*"Sleep no longer."*
She gasped, clutching her chest.
Outside, the wind shifted, carrying the long howl of wolves. The forest listened. The stars listened. And Mira, sitting silently on the palisade, swore she could feel something vast stirring in the world, like the first ripple before a tidal wave.
Whatever it was, she would be ready.
For Luminus's sake.