Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Archer's Day (13)

  He was alive.

  The sword hadn’t touched him.

  Yet the poison still gnawed at him from within, burning through his veins like molten lead. The pain hadn’t vanished—but it had weakened, overshadowed by something far more unsettling.

  The soldiers stared at him, stunned.

  “How did he get there?” one demanded. “What do we do now?”

  “Should we approach?” another asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

  “No matter what happened,” the leader snapped, forcing his composure back into place, “he’s still just an unarmed boy. We don’t retreat.”

  Orin barely registered their words.

  Something inside him had changed.

  It felt as though a seal had shattered deep within his body, releasing a torrent of energy he couldn’t control. It surged wildly through him, erratic and violent, pressing in on him from every direction.

  Breathing became difficult.

  Every cell in his body felt unstable—as if he might tear himself apart again at any moment.

  As the soldiers began to regroup, Orin’s body reached its limit.

  The pressure peaked—

  And he broke apart.

  Once more, his form scattered into countless fragments, dissolving into nothing—only to reassemble elsewhere in an instant.

  “What—? He disappeared again!” one of the soldiers shouted.

  “This is impossible…” the leader muttered, disbelief cracking his voice.

  A moment later, one of them turned sharply.

  “There!” he cried. “He’s over there!”

  But there was no catching him.

  The poison still raged inside Orin, and the uncontrolled energy gave him no respite. His body continued to vanish and reappear—again and again.

  Sometimes close to the soldiers.

  Sometimes far away.

  Other times, so distant he couldn’t even see them.

  Orin tried to fight it.

  Tried to anchor himself.

  But he couldn’t.

  Each reappearance crushed him under unbearable pressure, stealing more of his strength and clarity. When he materialized near the soldiers, he could hear their voices—now stripped of confidence.

  “What the hell is this kid…?” one whispered, panic seeping in.

  “Maybe he really died when he fell,” another said shakily. “And this is his ghost…”

  “Enough!” the leader barked. “There has to be a trick. We’re not leaving empty-handed.”

  But the truth was undeniable.

  Orin never remained in one place for more than a few seconds.

  Desperation took hold.

  “Attack everywhere!” the leader roared. “Swing until we hit him!”

  Steel flashed wildly through the air as they obeyed, blades cutting at empty space.

  Useless.

  Orin appeared beyond their reach every time.

  Their movements slowed. Fear crept in. Discipline began to crack.

  Then—

  A war horn sounded in the distance.

  Twice.

  “It can’t be…” one soldier said. “That means another group is under attack.”

  “We should fall back,” another pleaded. “We can explain to Lord Morlem that the boy… that he’s not human. That he’s—”

  “A ghost?” the leader snarled. “You think he’ll accept that?!”

  “No one retreats!” he shouted. “We bring back the boy—or we don’t return at all!”

  Orin had lost count of how many times he’d vanished and reappeared.

  The energy inside him was devouring him now.

  Each transition felt heavier than the last, crushing him from within. His consciousness flickered, thoughts blurring as he wondered whether the next disappearance would be the last.

  Whether he would ever reassemble again.

  Whenever he appeared near the soldiers, he could hear distant chaos—shouts, clashes, screams echoing faintly through the forest.

  The other search parties had found something.

  Or something had found them.

  The four soldiers argued heatedly now, fear overwhelming reason.

  “This isn’t in the reports!” one yelled. “The boy wasn’t supposed to do this!”

  “He’s not controlling it,” another said grimly. “He’s breaking apart. We should consider him lost.”

  “And the others need help,” the third added. “They’re in danger!”

  But their leader wouldn’t yield.

  “And tell Lord Morlem we failed?” he spat. “Never. I’ll stay here alone if I have to. You can run.”

  When Orin materialized nearby and caught fragments of their exchange, he knew—

  He was done.

  Whatever limit his body had… he had reached it.

  Whether that meant release—or annihilation—he didn’t know.

  He vanished again.

  This time, he reappeared near Nina’s cabin.

  For a heartbeat, he wished—desperately—that it would stop there.

  But it didn’t.

  His body fractured once more, throwing him across space, over and over—until finally, he reappeared in the clearing where the soldiers had been.

  They lay scattered across the ground.

  Motionless.

  Blood seeped into the soil beneath them.

  All four were dead.

  Orin stared at the scene, barely able to process it.

  But he didn’t have time to process the corpses.

  The energy inside him surged again—violent, unrestrained—ripping through every fiber of his body.

  It was coming.

  He could feel it.

  Any second now, he would shatter again.

  And judging by what lay before him… if he could endure it one more time, perhaps disappearing would be better.

  The pressure climbed.

  Higher.

  Higher—

  Just as the energy reached its breaking point and Orin braced himself for another disintegration—

  A crushing impact struck the back of his neck.

  White exploded across his vision.

  Then—

  Darkness.

  He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious.

  When awareness returned, it came slowly—like surfacing from deep water.

  His body ached with heavy fatigue, yet there was warmth too. A gentle warmth spreading through his limbs, soothing the worst of the damage.

  He opened his eyes.

  The first thing he saw was a familiar face leaning over him.

  Felis.

  “Oh? Our sleeping prince finally awakens,” he said theatrically. “I hope the accommodations were comfortable.”

  Orin blinked, vision stabilizing.

  He was still in the forest. Beneath him was a makeshift bed of leaves and broken branches.

  To his side, Aran knelt, her complexion pale, hands raised above him—soft light fading from her palms.

  “You gave the little priestess quite the workload,” Felis continued lightly. “You were in terrible shape when we found you.”

  Orin tried to push himself up.

  His muscles trembled.

  “So… the one who knocked me out…” he began.

  “I did,” Felis answered without hesitation. “Your power was spiraling. If I hadn’t stopped you, there might not have been anything left to reassemble.”

  “My… power…” Orin repeated faintly.

  Aran exhaled and finally lowered her hands. The glow disappeared completely.

  “I’ve healed most of the physical injuries,” she said quietly. “But the internal exhaustion… that’s different. You won’t be able to use any skills for at least two days.”

  She looked at him with genuine concern.

  “I’m honestly surprised you remained conscious as long as you did.”

  Felis crossed her arms.

  “Enduring that kind of energy drain without divine assistance,” he said, studying him, “must have been unpleasant.”

  He tilted her head slightly.

  “Can you stand?”

  Orin forced himself upright.

  His left arm no longer throbbed, and the worst of his wounds were gone—but a deep, suffocating fatigue clung to him. It felt as if something essential inside him had been wrung dry.

  After a strained effort, he managed to stand.

  “How long was I out?” he asked.

  “A couple of hours,” Felis replied. He gestured ahead with her chin.

  The bodies of the four soldiers still lay in the clearing.

  “Which means we shouldn’t linger. Nightfall will draw every hungry beast in this forest.”

  Orin staggered as he took a step. Aran quickly supported him, though she herself looked barely steady.

  Standing was one thing.

  But thinking about walking out of the forest was another.

  He could already feel himself becoming a burden.

  Felis clicked her tongue softly.

  “We should call them,” he said. “Little priestess, if you would.”

  Aran sighed, clearly exhausted, but lifted her free arm anyway.

  “I might be the next one collapsing,” she muttered.

  Then, firmly:

  “PRAYER: Light of the Saint.”

  Golden radiance erupted upward.

  A luminous halo rose above the treetops, brighter than when Orin had seen her invoke it within Solaris. The light lingered for several seconds before fading into the darkening sky.

  Silence returned.

  “That should suffice,” Felis said. “Now we wait for Captain Altair.”

  “Altair?” Orin asked, confused.

  Felis smiled faintly.

  “You’ll see.”

  Aran let out another tired breath.

  “When I accepted this mission, I thought it would be simple,” she admitted. “Infiltrate the Academy. Extract Orin. Return.”

  Her gaze drifted downward.

  “I didn’t expect to fight in Solaris… or end up deep in the forest of magical beasts. Once we’re back in Dhamarr, I intend to rest for a week.”

  Felis laughed softly.

  “Rest?” he echoed. “With Dhamarr in its current state?”

  Aran frowned.

  “What do you mean?”Orin asked.“What’s happening in Dhamarr?”

  Aran’s expression darkened.

  “We priestesses of Dhamarr answer directly to the Oracle,” she said carefully. “Before we departed to search for you… the Oracle passed away.”

  Orin stiffened.

  “And by now,” Felis added calmly, “a new Oracle has surely been chosen. We didn’t anticipate being gone this long.”

  His gaze shifted to Aran.

  “The young priestess will return to far more responsibility than she expects.”

  “The Oracle of Dhamarr…” Orin murmured.

  Unbidden, Nicola Papin’s image surfaced in his mind.

  Felis looked at him steadily.

  “It was the Oracle who ordered us to find you,” he said. “Dhamarr is the only place where you can learn to control what’s inside you.”

  His eyes sharpened slightly.

  “You’ve already witnessed how unstable it is.”

  Orin swallowed.

  “My power… what exactly is it?”

  Aran answered immediately.

  “We don’t know.”

  Only a brief pause followed before she added:

  “Only the Oracle can tell you that.”

  A brief silence settled over the clearing.

  Then Felis raised his arm and pointed toward the sky.

  “I believe our transport has arrived,” he said, a faint smile curving his lips.

  Orin frowned and looked up.

  At first, he thought they were large birds—eagles flying in disciplined formation above the treetops. But as the shapes descended, the truth became unmistakable.

  Massive wings.

  Eagle heads.

  Lion bodies.

  Griffins.

  And at the forefront, commanding the formation—

  Altair.

  “Don’t tell me…” Orin muttered.

  “…that our transport is airborne?” Felis finished smoothly. “Yes. We’ll fly to Dhamarr.”

  Orin swallowed.

  He had never flown before.

  As the griffins descended in wide spirals, their wingbeats pushed the forest canopy into violent motion. Wind lashed across the clearing.

  “I didn’t know Dhamarr used griffins for transport,” Orin admitted.

  Felis glanced at him.

  “Transport is the least of it. The griffin knights are our elite division.” His eyes shifted upward. “And Altair is their captain.”

  Orin hesitated.

  “Then… wouldn’t it have been easier to escape Solaris on griffins?”

  Felis gave him a flat look.

  “Do you believe we could have flown over Solaris with Dhamarr’s insignia displayed and remained unnoticed?”

  He gestured vaguely toward the horizon.

  “Our objective was discretion. Land travel was the only viable option.” A faint smirk touched his lips. “Though admittedly, subtlety lost relevance rather quickly.”

  Within moments, Altair descended into the clearing alongside two mounted knights and three unmounted griffins.

  They landed heavily, claws digging into soil and roots. The beasts were even larger up close—muscle and feather intertwined into something both majestic and terrifying.

  Altair dismounted in one smooth motion and approached them.

  With his arrival, the tension in the air shifted.

  It finally felt… controlled.

  “I suppose this concludes our ill-fated excursion,” Felis said lightly. “Even I have my limits.”

  “We can finally return to Dhamarr…” Aran murmured, relief evident despite her exhaustion.

  Orin understood.

  After everything—Solaris, the forest, the soldiers—it felt unreal that they were only a flight away from Dhamarr.

  Though the idea of riding one of those creatures made his stomach tighten.

  Altair’s deep voice cut through the moment.

  “We depart immediately. From above, I spotted a unit of soldiers moving toward this location.”

  Felis frowned slightly.

  “Another unit? I was fairly certain I eliminated the previous ones.”

  “Reinforcements,” Altair replied calmly. “Or a detachment stationed nearby.”

  His gaze hardened.

  “There is no need for further engagement. We leave.”

  No one argued.

  They moved quickly.

  Because Orin was still weakened, Altair stepped beside him and lifted him effortlessly onto one of the griffins.

  “Hold firmly,” Altair instructed, pointing to the reinforced reins fastened near the creature’s beak. “We will prioritize stability over speed.”

  Orin nodded and gripped the reins tightly—perhaps too tightly.

  “I assumed we’d be flying at full speed,” Felis remarked as he mounted another griffin. “Are you being considerate, Captain?”

  “It is not solely for him,” Altair answered, approaching his own mount. “We will make a brief stop in Balabar.”

  Felis raised an eyebrow.

  “Balabar?”

  “There is someone I must speak with,” Altair said evenly. “A discreet meeting. On the plains. We will not enter the city.”

  He offered no further explanation.

  Felis shrugged.

  Aran, however, stiffened.

  “I hear something,” she whispered, pointing toward dense brush at the edge of the clearing.

  Altair’s expression sharpened instantly.

  “That will be the soldiers. We leave. Now.”

  He gave a sharp whistle.

  The griffins responded immediately—wings spreading wide, feathers catching the fading light. They ran several strides across the clearing—

  And then—

  Lifted.

  One by one.

  When Orin’s griffin surged upward, his stomach dropped.

  The forest shrank beneath him.

  As they rose, movement burst into the clearing below.

  Soldiers.

  They skidded to a halt, staring upward—at the griffins taking flight and at the bodies of their fallen comrades.

  Then Orin saw him.

  Among them—

  Golden hair catching the light.

  Hector.

  Their eyes met.

  Only for a heartbeat.

  But long enough.

  Hector’s expression was unmistakable.

  Anger.

  And something worse.

  Disappointment.

  The distance widened.

  The forest swallowed the clearing.

  And Solaris faded behind him.

  Altair’s voice reached him over the wind.

  “Do not dwell on what you leave behind.”

  Orin glanced toward him.

  “In Dhamarr, you will find the answers you seek. Not all of them,” Altair added evenly. “But enough to begin walking your own path.”

  Orin said nothing.

  Too much was turning inside him.

  Beside him, Felis drifted closer mid-flight.

  “What a disappointment,” he said casually. “You’re far calmer than I expected. I assumed your first flight would be… louder.”

  Orin blinked.

  He looked down.

  The forest stretched endlessly beneath him.

  They were impossibly high.

  His grip tightened instantly, fingers digging into the reins and the griffin’s coarse feathers.

  Felis laughed, satisfied.

  “There it is.”

  “Felis,” Aran warned from her mount, “that wasn’t necessary.”

  But even as fear coiled in his chest, Orin couldn’t ignore the reality unfolding around him.

  He was leaving Solaris.

  Truly leaving.

  Ahead lay Dhamarr.

  And whatever awaited him there.

  The wind roared in his ears.

  And for the first time since the Academy—

  He was no longer running.

  He was ascending.