In and out of consciousness, Dane's eyes peeled back and looked down; he was purple from the neck down. Since becoming a Chronite, he always had a slight purple tint to his skin, but it was barely noticeable. He wondered why he still had normal-looking bruises now that his blood was black.

  Zeph's feathers cushioned him, and while his entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck, the Eagle's steady wingbeats actually alleviated the pain. The same could not be said for his breathing; each breath reminded him why he needed a healer in the group.

  With little else to do, he opened up his soul space. He wanted to avoid it, but he knew there had to be some damage to his mana channels. He was not expecting the mess that he walked into. It was like his entire body was a mana channel. It seemed useful. That would make it easier to cycle, right?

  He tried to cycle a little mana and found that, without the currents in his soul to direct the energy, it just went in whatever direction was easiest. Not to mention the pain he felt when he tried. The shards lay in the pit where he fought the monster. The jagged fragments pooled into a pile far away from where they were supposed to be purifying.

  A whisper of panic threaded through him. Is it gonna come back? The thought sent chills up his spine.

  Dane was a quick study and overall smart when certain situations called for it. But his brain tended to shut off when someone else was doing the work. So even though there was much he needed to do with forming his mana channels back into something usable. He marked this down as a future Dane problem.

  Dane went one layer back into his mind's eye, where the waves gently washed over the sand. So much had changed. His mind circled back to Amelia. Severing that bond had been his choice, but had it really? Or had the Snake cornered him and offered the quickest door out? He could still recall her voice, the meals they cooked together, and the plans they made for the future when no one was around. It was cloudy now, as if the memory had been washed in cold water. If she stood before him now, would he even reach for her?

  His eyes snapped open.

  The DE bar made a chimming noise, letting him know it was off cooldown. Dane opened his character sheet to look at the resource pool. One point of Dragon Essence. That was it. The regeneration rate on the bar took him an entire day. Dane made a mental note that DE was only for boss encounters.

  Zeph tilted his head back, one golden eye checking on him.

  "You're finally up I thought you were a goner for sure."

  "I feel like it," Dane said as he closed his eyes, welcoming sleep again.

  The forest swallowed them by evening in the glow of the magic hour. The trees were twisted and looked less like natural formations and more like monsters waiting to emerge in the dark. I really need some healing. I'm starting to imagine things out of fear. The vulnerability was getting to him. Usually, he would be able to fight anything that came his way. It was the fear of not even trying to fight that clawed at him.

  Dane was still basically useless, but he gathered some dry kindling off the forest floor to pull his weight.

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  "I'll be right back. Don't start shoving dirt in your mouth again. I'll catch something we can cook over the fire." The bird had a way to make everything come out of his mouth condescendingly. Dane wondered if it was intentional or just the way his parents taught him how to talk.

  After gathering some rocks that could pass for flint, Dane gathered some of the kindling and started making the fire. Flames always calmed him. It reminded him of the one summer that his Dad let him be a scout. The cool air was setting in, and the chill reminded Dane that he probably should have skinned the Gnoll that he had fought.

  Just as his tense body relaxed for sleep, he felt something hurdling towards him. It wasn't enough to set off Danger Sense, but it was hard not to notice a change in the wind due to his increased perception.

  Zeph landed hard, talons gouging the earth, wings folding soundlessly. Before Dane could speak, Beastmen emerged from the shadows.

  Fox-snouted, wolf-eared, their eyes gleamed amber in the firelight. They smiled, which, if you have ever seen a dog snarl, that's what it looked like. Zeph noticed Dane's less-than-eager welcome.

  "I have found you a healer," Zeph said, expecting a pat on the back.

  "Who are they?" Dane asked, never taking his eyes off the creepy smiles that the Beastmen were giving him.

  "I am Thyrn of the Verdant Claw. This is my traveling troop." Thyrn said his eyes were glowing brighter than the rest.

  "Are you from the Beast tide?" Dane asked.

  "No, to take the Druid class, you need to renounce all family and worldly possessions. We may have once been Beast tide, but we serve a greater calling now. I see that you require aid. Come with us and allow me to share nature's bounty with you."

  Dane looked at Zeph uneasily but relenting. He was trusting the Eagles ' instincts. He came to be a guide. Dane figured he'd let him.

  The campsite that the Druids led them to was far from what Dane had expected; instead of a magic circle that grass-wearing mages chanted at. The camp was more like a traveling band. A bard was strumming a loot, people were singing, and many were drinking. If the Beast Tide were a traditional nomadic tribe, they acted more like traveling minstrels. Zeph brought back a bowl of soup.

  It was actual meat, and Dane was savoring every bite.

  "Their leader said that before you go to bed, visit them."

  "I'll go look for Thyrn now."

  "Not Thyrn, he is just the scout captain you need to look for Faenor."

  His body craved warmth. So, he sat next to the fire and listened to the music. Moments like this were few and far between, and his thoughts went back to his people. He should be drinking with them. When he wrapped up this quest, he would make sure to set aside some time to catch up with old friends.

  A slender fox beastgirl sat next to him and offered him a drink. It was warm and smelled heavenly. He drank deeply, and the beverage reminded him of hot chocolate. It relaxed him, and a pleasant sensation washed over him.

  Then his vision swam. His limbs grew heavy, and the single point of Dragon Essence inside him flared like a whip of fire.

  They had poisoned him.

  He staggered to his feet, blinking sweat from his eyes. Across the fire, Zeph gave a shuddering cry and collapsed, wings splaying limp on the ground.

  The drums stopped. The smiles widened.

  "You've served your purpose," the fox-snouted beastman said. Her voice dripped satisfaction. "I hope you like collars."

  The tribe closed in, circling. Torches rose, shadows stretched. Dane's pulse thundered in his ears.

  He drew his dagger—one blade, one point of DE, and a body already half-dead.

  The first beastman lunged. Dane slashed clumsily, catching fur and flesh. Claws raked his side in return. Another struck from behind, teeth grazing his neck. He stumbled, breath burning, poison rotting him from the inside.

  I can't give up.

  He repeated it like a prayer, staggering, bleeding, each strike weaker than the last. The beastmen pressed him back toward the fire, their eyes gleaming, their chants rising again into a hungry song.

  The leader stepped forward, a blade of bone glinting, a grin as sharp as any fang. Dane felt the poison constrict his chest. His vision narrowed to a tunnel, and he collapsed.