Greyhawk did not sleep that night.
Lanterns burned until dawn, lining the streets with trembling light. Broken stone was dragged aside, splintered wood piled near the gates, and the wounded were carried into every building that could spare space. The smell of blood clung to the air, sharp and metallic, refusing to fade no matter how many buckets of water were thrown across the square.
Elias watched it all from the shadowed corner of the Hunter's Hall.
His ribs still ached with every breath. Not sharply, not dangerously—but enough to remind him that he had been close to his limit. Too close.
Across the hall, healers moved from body to body, murmuring incantations, binding wounds, forcing mana into exhausted flesh. Some people cried softly. Others stared blankly at the ceiling, too numb to react.
Arin sat on a bench near the far wall, his injured shoulder wrapped tightly in cloth. He laughed at something a healer said, even though his face was pale and his jaw clenched in pain.
Elias looked away.
Seeing Arin hurt bothered him more than his own injuries.
That realization unsettled him.
The Guild Master stood near the center of the hall, barking orders with clipped efficiency. Despite the chaos, his voice carried authority. Runners came and went, delivering reports. Scouts were dispatched. Guards rotated shifts around the damaged gate.
The town was wounded—but not broken.
Not yet.
Elias leaned his back against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes briefly. His shadow pooled at his feet, thinner than usual, its movements sluggish, almost… withdrawn.
"You overdid it," Elias murmured under his breath.
The shadow did not respond.
That, more than anything else, concerned him.
He replayed the fight in his mind again and again. The moment the bear had locked onto him. The way the fog had reacted. The runic patterns flickering just beyond his understanding.
And the moment the shadow had moved without his command.
Power, when uncontrolled, was not strength.
It was liability.
A hand clapped down hard on his shoulder.
Elias's eyes snapped open, body tensing instantly—then relaxed when he recognized the presence.
Arin.
"Relax," Arin said with a crooked grin. "If I wanted to stab you, you'd have heard me coming."
"That's debatable," Elias replied.
Arin snorted and sat beside him, careful with his injured shoulder. "So. That was fun."
"No, it wasn't."
"Agree to disagree."
They sat in silence for a few moments, watching as a group of guards dragged the elk's corrupted remains out of the hall. The body had already begun dissolving, turning into foul-smelling residue that hissed faintly against the floor.
Arin grimaced. "You ever notice how the big fights never feel real until after they're done?"
"Yes."
"That wasn't rhetorical."
Elias glanced at him. "You cope with humor."
"I cope with not dying," Arin replied. "Humor just makes it easier."
Another pause.
Arin's gaze drifted toward Elias's chest, lingering for a second longer than necessary. "You were different back there."
Elias didn't answer.
"I mean it," Arin continued quietly. "I've fought with a lot of people. Some strong. Some desperate. But when that thing charged you… it was like the world narrowed around you."
"That's your imagination."
"Is it?" Arin's voice held no accusation, only curiosity. "Because the bear didn't care about anyone else. It went straight for you."
Elias's jaw tightened.
Arin noticed. "You don't have to explain. I'm not asking for secrets."
He paused, then added, softer, "Just… if something like that happens again, I don't want to be the last one to know."
Elias considered the words carefully.
Trust was not a switch you flipped. It was a slow erosion of defenses, a series of small allowances that weakened your position.
And yet…
"I don't know what it is," Elias said at last. "Only that something in the eastern woods reacted to me. The corruption followed that reaction."
Arin frowned. "That's… not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Arin sighed. "Figures."
Footsteps approached. Heavy. Purposeful.
The Guild Master stopped in front of them, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"You two are still awake," he said. "Good."
Arin straightened slightly. "We were just about to get some rest."
"No, you weren't," the man replied flatly. He looked at Elias. "Walk with me."
Elias rose without hesitation.
They moved through the hall and into a quieter side corridor, away from prying ears. The walls here were old stone, etched with faded marks from a time before Greyhawk had been anything more than a frontier outpost.
The Guild Master stopped.
"I'll be blunt," he said. "Tonight should not have happened."
Elias remained silent.
"The corruption shouldn't be coordinated," the man continued. "It shouldn't be able to bypass patrols and strike a town directly. And it definitely shouldn't be singling out one individual."
Elias met his gaze. "Yet it did."
"Yes." The Guild Master studied him carefully. "And you knew it would."
Elias didn't deny it.
The man exhaled slowly. "That makes you either incredibly valuable… or incredibly dangerous."
"Both can be true."
The Guild Master's mouth twitched slightly. "You're not wrong."
He turned and began pacing. "I've already sent urgent word to Stellaris Academy. After tonight, they'll respond. They have to."
"How long?"
"Days. Maybe weeks."
Elias's eyes narrowed. "That's too long."
"I know." The Guild Master stopped pacing and faced him again. "Until then, Greyhawk is exposed. If whatever is out there decides to strike again, we won't hold."
Elias felt a familiar calculation begin forming in his mind. Risk. Probability. Consequence.
"I can draw it away," he said.
The Guild Master stiffened. "No."
"It targeted me," Elias pressed. "If I leave—"
"You're not bait," the man snapped. "And you're not expendable, no matter how much you think you are."
Elias said nothing.
The Guild Master softened his tone slightly. "Listen to me. Whatever you are—whatever that power is—it's not something you can handle alone. Not yet."
"Yet," Elias repeated.
"Yes. Yet." The man's eyes hardened again. "Until I hear back from the Academy, you will stay within town limits. You will rest. You will recover."
"And if it attacks again?"
"Then we respond together."
Elias inclined his head a fraction. Not agreement. Acknowledgment.
They returned to the main hall.
Arin looked up as Elias approached. "Well? Grounded?"
"Yes."
Arin grinned. "Lucky you. I'm grounded too."
The healer glared at him. "You're injured. Sit still."
Arin saluted lazily. "Yes, ma'am."
The night dragged on.
Eventually, the wounded were stabilized. Fires were extinguished. The worst of the chaos settled into a low, constant tension that buzzed beneath the surface of the town.
Elias left the hall near dawn.
He walked the streets alone, watching shopkeepers clean debris from their doorways, guards change shifts with red-rimmed eyes, and citizens whisper as he passed.
Some looked at him with fear.
Others with gratitude.
Both made his skin crawl.
He stopped near the broken gate.
The fog was gone now, but the stone was still cracked, the earth scarred by massive footprints. Dried corruption stained the ground like old oil.
Elias crouched and pressed his fingers lightly against one of the marks.
A faint pulse answered him.
Not mana.
Not exactly.
A resonance.
He pulled his hand back immediately.
His shadow stirred weakly, recoiling.
"You felt it too," Elias whispered.
The shadow barely moved.
That confirmed it.
Whatever had happened during the fight had affected it deeply. It had acted beyond its current stability. Beyond what his fractured core could safely support.
Power gained too quickly always demanded payment.
Elias straightened and turned away.
He returned to the inn as the first light of morning crept over Greyhawk's rooftops.
Inside his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and finally allowed himself to rest.
Not sleep.
Just… stillness.
His body trembled faintly as the adrenaline drained away, leaving behind exhaustion and a hollow ache in his chest.
He thought of the bear's eyes.
Of the way it had recognized him.
Of the way Arin had stepped in front of him without hesitation.
Unnecessary.
Illogical.
Dangerous.
And yet… effective.
Elias exhaled slowly.
Attachment created variables you couldn't control.
But it also created shields the enemy didn't expect.
He lay back and stared at the ceiling.
"I won't lose control again," he murmured.
His shadow did not answer.
But it shifted closer to the bed than it usually did.
Outside, Greyhawk began another day—changed, wary, but alive.
And far beyond the town, deep within the eastern woods, the fragment of a broken Law continued to stir.
Patient.
Calculating.
Learning.
:)