Chapter Eighteen: Seeds in New Soil
The Hollow was alive.
Kael stood on one of the new wooden walkways, arms folded across his chest, watching as the sun's first light spilled over the palisade and caught the smoke of fresh hearthfires. The settlement no longer looked like a makeshift camp. Houses rose in neat rows, chimneys coughing smoke, gardens tilled in fresh earth. Wolfkin patrols circled the perimeter, goblin youths hauled buckets from the well, and Baldrek's forge sent up the constant ring of steel on steel.
It was working.
And yet, Kael's eyes followed two figures moving awkwardly among the bustle.
Elira and Dain kept close together, both stiff as if bracing against blows. Goblins eyed them curiously, wolfkin gave them long stares, and even the elves passed by with narrowed gazes. They weren't hostile, but suspicion hung in the air.
Kael descended from the walkway. Umbra padded beside him, tail flicking lazily. As Kael approached, the stares softened, shoulders eased. His presence was enough to remind the Hollow where the humans stood.
"Have you eaten?" Kael asked as he stopped before them.
Elira shook her head. Dain muttered, "Not hungry." His eyes clung to the dirt.
Kael gestured toward the cooking fires. "Food first. Work second. You'll find the wolfkin hunters near the southern fence. They'll need hands repairing snares. You'll start there today."
Elira looked startled. "You… trust us with that?"
Kael's crimson gaze bored into her. "Trust? No. But trust is earned, not given. You will earn it here, as everyone else has."
For a moment she looked ready to protest, but the steel in his tone silenced her. She gave a short nod and tugged her brother toward the fires.
Umbra huffed softly. Kael's hand brushed over the beast's fur. "They'll learn," he murmured.
The day unfolded in rhythm. Wolfkin patrolled. Elves strung their bows for a hunt. Dwarves hammered plates of iron into rough armor. Goblins gathered wild herbs at the forest's edge.
Kael spent the morning walking among them, correcting, advising, encouraging. His presence wasn't just a symbol—it was command. And when he passed by Elira and Dain later, he saw them kneeling beside a wolfkin trap, listening to a scarred hunter explaining the mechanism. Dain's small hands fumbled, but the wolfkin didn't sneer. Slowly, the boy repeated the steps.
Progress.
It was near dusk when Lyria returned.
Her cloak was ragged at the edges, boots spattered with mud, bow strung across her back. She walked straight for Kael, her stride brisk but her face unreadable. Umbra growled in greeting, tail sweeping once before stilling.
Kael met her near the well. "Report."
She took a slow breath, silver eyes flicking to the villagers bustling nearby. Then, softer, she said, "Not here."
They retreated to the shadow of the half-built watchtower. There, with only Umbra listening, Lyria finally spoke.
"I've found signs of the fourth Forest Overlord. North-east, two days' march." Her voice dropped lower. "It's a wyrm. Smaller than a true dragon, but clever—and dangerous. It has carved tunnels beneath a ridge, using them to trap prey. Tracks of captives lead into its lair. Elves. Goblins. Perhaps more."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Another tyrant, then."
"Yes. But this one… it is no brute. It lays snares, watches from afar, waits for weakness. We cannot meet it as we did the ogre. Carelessness will kill us."
Kael's crimson eyes burned in the dim light. He had no illusions—the wyrm would be his hardest fight yet.
He turned slightly, glancing back toward the square where Elira and Dain now carried buckets of water alongside goblins. "And the humans?" he asked.
Lyria followed his gaze. "They stumble. They are frightened. They are children, Kael. If they are to grow, they will need a hand to guide them." Her eyes flicked back to him. "Yours holds too much fire. If I may… let me be the one."
Kael studied her in silence. Lyria, the rune-marked huntress, had never asked him for anything before. But there was no pride in her tone—only conviction.
"You would teach them?" he asked.
Her lips curved faintly. "I will not coddle them. They will learn to track, to shoot, to survive. Perhaps then they will no longer look at us as strangers."
Kael's gaze lingered on her, crimson eyes softening just enough. "Do it. But keep them close. If they fail, they will answer to me."
"Of course," Lyria said. She adjusted the strap of her bow, her silver eyes catching the last light of day. "You build a nation, Kael. That means building its people—every one of them."
For a moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy but not unwelcome.
Kael turned his eyes to the horizon, where the forest swallowed the last rays of sun. His voice was low, steady. "Then let us see if they're worth building."