With the danger gone, the cavern felt different. Quiet. Heavy.
Jareth was already moving.
He circled the fallen dragon, eyes sharp, pulling a leather-wrapped tool from his belt.
"Alright, let's get this over with," he muttered. "Guild'll pay a fortune for the core."
He knelt near the ribcage and worked quickly. Metal scraped against bone as he made the first incision. A faint glow leaked from within.
Ysarael folded her arms, watching with faint amusement. Around her, her beast spirits had shrunk into smaller, ghostlike forms, drifting lazily near her shoulders.
One—an ethereal fox no larger than a teacup—let out a high-pitched giggle.
Another, a translucent bear cub, rolled slowly through the air, its misty paws swiping playfully.
"You're awfully eager to get your hands dirty, Jareth." Ysarael raised a brow, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"I thought you were a refined spearman."
The fox spirit giggled again.
Jareth paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"Hey, a job's a job. And besides," he added with a grin, "refined spearmen need to eat too.
This core'll cover years' worth of meals—and a new spear. Maybe two."
With a practiced motion, he pulled a crystalline sphere free from the dragon's chest. It pulsed faintly in his gloved hands.
"Still warm," he muttered. "That's a good sign. Core's intact."
Nearby, Vanya had moved to Ronan's side.
Raijin's lightning had dimmed to a faint hum. Ronan sat on a low rock, shoulders heavy, the blade planted in the dirt beside him.
Vanya knelt, her hands glowing softly as she examined him.
"Are you alright, Ronan-sama?" she asked gently. "That final strike… you pushed yourself too far."
Ronan let out a quiet chuckle, fatigue edging his voice.
"I'm alright—thanks to you, Vanya." He smiled faintly. "Your barrier was… as always, a lifesaver."
He met her eyes, the meaning clear without needing to say more.
Color bloomed across Vanya's cheeks.
"It's… it's my duty," she murmured.
Her eyes betrayed her.
Each time she healed him, each time she watched him throw himself into danger without hesitation, something in her chest tightened. Ronan rarely said much, but the way he trusted them—trusted her—made her look away more than once.
Admiration had come easily. What followed had not.
Ysarael, finished observing Jareth's meticulous work, turned toward the pair with an almost feline amusement.
She had noticed the glances. The way Vanya lingered. The softness that crept into her voice whenever Ronan was involved.
"My, my," she purred.
"Such tender attention," Ysarael said lightly. "Are you sure you're not overdoing it, Vanya? He's tougher than he looks. He won't crumble from a bruise or two."
Vanya froze.
Color flooded her cheeks in an instant.
"I—I was just—!" she stammered, completely blindsided.
Ronan chuckled quietly. Ysarael's smile widened in satisfaction.
Nearby, Jareth—completely oblivious—examined the dragon's eyes with satisfaction.
"Alright… got the goods," he muttered.
"These beauties'll fetch a pretty price…"
He straightened, brushing dust from his knees.
"Now let's get outta this stinking cave before my boots start melting."
.
.
.
They exited the cavern under a dark sky. Stars were scattered overhead, the moon thin and pale.
They walked in silence beside a river as the land changed. Trees grew thicker. The air turned cold.
"Where are we?" Vanya asked, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves.
"The edge of the Forbidden Forest," Ysarael murmured, eyes narrowed at the creeping dark. "We shouldn't be here this late."
Then they saw it.
Across the river, deeper within the tangle of trees, stood a house—small, ancient, unassuming… and profoundly wrong.
Too quiet.
Too still.
A cold, unnatural presence clung to it like a shroud
"I don't like that place," Vanya breathed, unease curling into her voice.
Ronan's eyes stayed locked on the structure.
"Something's… off."
Ysarael's expression turned grim.
"We shouldn't linger. The Forbidden Forest at night is not something we want to deal with. This place is crawling with high-ranking monsters. If they catch our scent, we won't last long."
Vanya shivered. The forest felt too quiet—like it was listening. Without realizing it, she drifted closer to Ronan, hands tucked into her sleeves.
Jareth noticed.
"Boo!"
He clapped sharply behind her.
"Kyaaa!!!" Vanya yelped, stumbling back, hand flying to her chest. "J-Jareth!"
Jareth burst into laughter. "Gotcha! Oh come on, that was priceless."
She shot him a withering glare, cheeks flushed with fear and fury.
"That wasn't funny!"
Ysarael sighed. "You'll be the first one eaten if you keep making noise like that."
Ronan didn't laugh.
His gaze never left the distant house.
"Not the time or place, Jareth," he said quietly. Firm. "Vanya's already on edge."
He turned to the group.
"That house feels wrong. We shouldn't go near it. We'll head back and make for the capital instead. It's longer—but safer than staying here."
Uneasy glances passed between them. Then, one by one, they nodded.
Sensing the lingering tension, Ronan let his tone soften.
"Don't worry," a small smile tugging at his lips.
"We've been through worse than a spooky forest. Remember the Shadow Caves? When Jareth tried to convince us those glowing mushrooms were edible.
Jareth snorted. "They did look delicious! And they smelled like roasted garlic!"
Vanya giggled softly, tension easing from her shoulders.
"You almost ate one, didn't you?"
"Almost is the key word," Ronan replied, casting Jareth a sidelong look. "Luckily Ysarael has a sharper nose for danger—and toxic fungi—than Jareth."
Ysarael smirked. "Someone had to stop him. I wasn't about to let him poison us all."
Jareth scoffed, mock offended.
"Next time I won't share the mushroom stew I nearly died for."
Laughter rippled through the group as they continued on.
The forest remained vast and dark around them—but their shared warmth pushed the fear back, if only a little.