The night that followed was not quiet.
Even the stars seemed restless. They trembled faintly across the black sky, reflecting in the rivers below like scattered memories. Somewhere in the distance, a freed beast howled — a cry that rolled over mountains and vanished into the trembling Wild.
Ethan couldn't sleep.
The fire had long since burned to embers, but his mind was alight. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes — the faces of beasts awakening, the Guild's banners burning, the look in Elder Vynn's cold eyes when their gazes had last met across the arena.
Freedom had never been gentle.
He stood, pulling his cloak tighter, and walked toward the cliff's edge. Below stretched the newly awakened world — a sea of wild growth where cities once stood. The land shimmered faintly in the moonlight, veins of golden energy running through the soil, pulsing like the heartbeat of something ancient returning to life.
> You do not rest, Shadowfang murmured in his mind.
Ethan glanced back at the beast, whose molten eyes glowed like twin suns in the dark. "Can't. Feels like the whole world's holding its breath."
> It is.
The fire-drake shifted, wings folding closer. You've broken a covenant that held for a thousand years. The Wild stirs, but so do those who fed upon its silence.
Ethan sighed. "The Guild."
> And more than them.
The words hung heavy in the air.
Lyra stirred beside the dying fire, half-awake, her serpent coiled loosely around her neck. "You two whisper like thunder," she muttered, voice rough with sleep. "If the Guild doesn't kill me, the insomnia will."
Ethan smirked faintly. "Morning's close."
She opened one eye. "You say that like it's a good thing."
---
By dawn, the horizon burned with pale gold. They moved eastward, through forests that hadn't existed two days ago — trees rising in spiraled formations, their leaves translucent, humming softly as though singing to something unseen.
Ethan stopped beside one such tree, pressing his hand against its bark. It thrummed under his palm — alive, aware.
"It feels like… it's watching me," Lyra murmured.
"Not watching," Ethan said softly. "Remembering."
She frowned. "Remembering what?"
"Us."
The path wound downward into a valley shrouded in mist. The air grew thicker, filled with a faint metallic scent. At its heart, they found the remnants of an old hunting outpost — collapsed walls, rusted armor, and cages broken from within.
Ethan crouched beside one of the shattered cages. The iron bars were warped outward, as if something had breathed them apart. Inside lay the skeletal remains of a creature — small, fragile, humanoid.
Not human. Not beast. Something in between.
Lyra knelt beside him, brow furrowing. "What are they?"
He brushed dust from the bones. "I think… they were what came before bonds. When humans and beasts tried to merge by force."
Her face paled. "You mean—"
He nodded. "The first experiments. The ones the Guild buried."
A whisper slid through the mist.
> Not buried. Forgotten.
They both spun.
From between the ruins, a figure stepped forward — cloaked, thin, face hidden behind a silver mask. At their feet walked a creature of living smoke, its form shifting with each step.
Ethan's hand moved to his blade. "Who are you?"
The stranger stopped a few paces away. The mask tilted slightly, catching the morning light.
> One who remembers the cost of chains.
Lyra's serpent hissed. "Another freed beast?"
The stranger laughed softly — a sound like breaking glass. "No. Something worse."
They raised their hands, and the air shimmered. The mist around them coalesced into shapes — fragments of memory. Hunters kneeling, beasts screaming, light chains descending from the sky.
Ethan's breath caught. "You were there."
"I was made there," the stranger replied. "I am what your Guild tried to erase — a fusion that survived. Neither man nor monster, but the wound between."
Lyra took a cautious step back. "You're saying the Guild succeeded?"
The figure tilted their head. "Once. Only once. The rest died screaming."
Shadowfang's voice rumbled in Ethan's mind. He reeks of old power. Be wary.
"What do you want?" Ethan asked.
The stranger's voice softened. "To know who you are, Unbound. The world trembles because of you."
Ethan hesitated. "My name's Ethan Veyra. I—"
"—broke the first chain," the stranger finished. "Yes. We felt it. Every forgotten thing did."
They stepped closer, and the creature beside them growled low — a sound that seemed to echo from another world.
"You've started a war that cannot be undone," the stranger said quietly. "But maybe, just maybe, it can be rewritten."
Ethan's hand tightened on his weapon. "Then tell me how."
The masked figure regarded him for a long moment before lowering their hood. Beneath the mask was a face of both youth and age, human and not — eyes burning with faint gold light, skin etched with patterns like sigils half-erased by time.
"Because I was once like you," they whispered. "A fool who thought freedom meant breaking what bound us. But the chains were not just in metal. They were inside us. In our blood, our will."
Lyra frowned. "So you're saying Ethan didn't free the world?"
"Oh, he freed it," the stranger said. "But freedom without understanding becomes another kind of cage."
They turned their gaze toward the rising sun. "The Guild's Elders will awaken their own bonds soon — the ones that slumber beneath the Citadel. The ancient ones. The things they swore never to use again."
Ethan felt his stomach twist. "Elder Bonds?"
The stranger nodded. "And when they rise, this fragile dawn will burn."
Silence hung between them, heavy as iron.
Then Ethan asked, "What are you offering?"
The masked being extended a hand. "An alliance. I can teach you to control what you've awakened — before it consumes you. Before it consumes everything."
Shadowfang's growl rumbled through the valley. He lies.
Ethan hesitated, staring at that outstretched hand — at the faint shimmer of gold that flickered around it, the same hue that had marked his own bond's awakening.
Lyra whispered, "Ethan, don't—"
But he didn't move.
He saw again the Guild's fires, the beasts' cries, the blood spilled for power disguised as order. If there was even a chance to understand what he'd unleashed, he couldn't walk away.
He reached out.
Their hands met.
The world shifted.
In an instant, Ethan was no longer standing on soil — he was falling through memory. He saw flashes: the creation of the first Oath, the laughter of the Guild's founders, the silent weeping of beasts in chains. He saw the stranger's life — born in agony, bound between forms, abandoned in the ruins of a failed experiment.
And beneath it all, a pulse — a rhythm that matched his own heartbeat.
When he gasped and pulled back, he was on his knees. The stranger stood over him, eyes bright with strange light.
"Now you've seen," they said quietly. "The Oath was not only a spell. It was a pattern. A song written into the soul of this world. And if you truly wish to end it…"
Their voice dropped to a whisper. "…then you must become its next verse."
Ethan met their gaze, breath ragged. "What's your name?"
The stranger smiled faintly. "You may call me Ashen. I am the First Unbound."
The words struck him like thunder.
Lyra stepped back, eyes wide. "The First— That's impossible. You were supposed to be a myth."
Ashen's smile didn't fade. "Myth is what remains when truth is too heavy to bear."
They turned, the mist curling around them. "Follow if you wish to survive what comes next."
Ethan watched them vanish into the trees, the creature of smoke trailing behind like a living shadow.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Finally, Lyra broke the silence. "You're not seriously thinking—"
He looked at her, eyes cold and clear. "We follow. If he knows how to end the Oath, we can't afford not to."
Shadowfang's flame pulsed once, uncertain but loyal. Then the true hunt begins.
Ethan glanced east, where the light of dawn was already paling into storm clouds.
"Let it," he said softly. "We started this fire. Now we finish it."
And together, they stepped into the mist.
---