‘Too weak…’ was Marcus's thought as the st of the raiders were mowed down by his summons. The blue glow in his eyes dimmed slightly, a faint flicker of disappoi shadowing their depths. He pulled his gaze away, taking in the se around him—bodies sprawled in the blood-soaked snow, some raiders still writhing, groaning in pain at the sight of missing limbs.
His talons moved with cold efficy, each swing precise and merciless. Leather armor and flesh offered ance, parting ly beh the razor-sharp edges. He didn’t linger, nor did he hesitate, each strike measured aionless. Well, no surprise there—his talons could slice through solid rock without so much as a scratch, even without mana’s aid. Flesh and bone were hardly a challenge.
The raiders, for all their numbers, had been nothing more than a nuisahey could barely put up a fight, most too slow or too clumsy to even graze him. His speed had ehat each attack was cut short before it could even begin. Their bdes had sung through empty air, never finding their mark, before they themselves were reduced to bloodied heaps on the ground.
A sigh, low and nearly imperceptible, slipped past his lips as he finally came to a stop amidst the age. The fire crackled softly in the background, its light painting flickering shadows over the se. His wings shifted, feathers rustling with the motion, but his eyes were already fixed on the new problem before him—the survivors.
It had been an impulse, if he was being ho. A whim that had led him to swoop down ahrough the raiders without a sed thought. Perhaps it was the thrill of battle or the o stretch his wings after too many days of dull solitude. But now that the blood rush had ebbed, leaving only the cold crity of reason, he found himself questioning that decision.
Because now he had a dilemma on his hands.
The vilge—if it could even still be called that—was in ruins. Houses y crumbled and burning, the bitter stenoke and charred flesh thi the air. Bodies littered the ground, some raiders, others settlers, their lifeless eyes staring bnkly into the starless sky. The few who remained breathing were huddled together, eyes wide with terror as they looked at him. Mostly women, children, and the elderly—those too weak or thteo even think of running.
And then there were the injured. Blood staihe snow in wide, dark patches, and pained whimpers rose soft and broken from the shadows. The sight alone was enough to make it clear—there was no way these humans could survive out here on their own, not without shelter, food, or prote. The forests were too wild, the nights too cold, and the beasts too many. Not even sidering the ore raiders cirg nearby, drawn by the smoke and the promise of easy prey.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed slightly, the blue glow flickering with irritation. What a mess.
He shifted his weight, wings flexing absently as his mind raced. He hadn’t pnned for this. He hadn’t pnned for anything beyond cutting down the raiders and moving on. Staying longer wasn’t supposed to be part of the pn. Helping these humans…wasn’t supposed to be part of the pn. But leaving them here would mean their deaths, slow or otherwise, and that idea left a bitter taste on his tongue for reasons he couldn’t quite pin down.
His gaze slid to the woman, the one clutg a child in her arms. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, the color drained from her face. Her shoulders trembled visibly, but even then, she forced herself to hold her ground, to shield the boy from him despite the fear stark in her gaze. The sight was almost amusing if not for the circumstances.
Marcus clicked his tongue softly, annoyance creeping into the edges of his thoughts. Wonderful. Now what?
He could, teically, just leave. His wings would carry him far and fast enough that whatever happened afterward wouldn’t be his . It would be simple, logical even. He owed these humans nothing. They weren’t his people. This wasn’t his problem.
But as the wind shifted, carrying with it the faint, broken sobs of children and the bitter tang of smoke, Marcus found himself lingering still. Talons flexed absently, gouging shallow furrows into the frozeh.
‘Damn it all.’
A decision had to be made.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, eyes narrowed and wings half-folded. Then, with a low sigh that was almost a growl, he turned his gaze back to the survivors. The blue glow in his eyes sharpened, id unfeeling.
“You,” his voice cut through the silence, deep and anding, snapping Rah’s gaze to him with a flinch. “Are there more of you?”
The woman flinched, her eyes wide and unblinking, but there was something else there—fusion, like she hadn’t truly uood a word he said.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed slightly, irritation sparking at the edges of his thoughts. ‘They ’t… uand me, they?’
Then it dawned on him. Different cultures meant different ways of unication. His words, no matter how clear to himself, must have sounded like guttural growls and indecipherable snarls to these humans. Sure, he could unicate with the trolls, but that was only because he’d boosted them with his essence, creating a bond that bridged the gap betweeongues. For others, however, his voice robably no different from the growls of a beast.
A low growl of annoyance rumbled in his chest. ‘Just great.’
His gaze slid away from the terrified womaling instead on one of the raiders—the one who was still alive, barely, and attempting to crawl away despite the maumps where his legs had been. Blood streaked across the snow, dark and glistening in the firelight.
‘Let’s see…’ Marcus’s wings flexed subtly as he moved, talons slig effortlessly through the snow without a sound. He reached the raider in a heartbeat, one hand shooting out to grab a fistful of the man’s hair. The raider let out a choked cry, fingers g uselessly at the ground as Marcus hauled him upright, wings spreading wide to shield the gruesome sight from the survivors' eyes.
The man’s pleas came in a rush, words broken and desperate, but they were in a fn tongue—harsh and unfamiliar, useless o Marcus’s ears. He didn’t care.
‘I do it to the retly dead,’ he mused, the blue glow in his eyes brightening as mana gathered in his palm, swirling and pulsing with a faint, ominous hum. ‘But I wonder… does my power work on the living?’
Mana seeped from his fiips, dark and viscous, sinking into the raider’s flesh like poison. The man’s pleas twisted into screams, raw and agonized, his body vulsing violently. Marcus watched impassively as his essence spread like a pgue, tendrils of darkhreading through veins and bone, ing everything in their path.
The transformation was rapid, ruthless. Flesh withered and cracked, skin pulling tight over bone as color bled from the raider’s eyes. Muscles shriveled, blood turned bd sluggish, essence draining out in waves as Marcus pulled it in, siphoning every st drop of vitality. The screams dwindled intles, then silence.
Within seds, all that remained was a desiccated husk, bones cracked and dry, flesh shriveled to dust. Marcus released his grip, and the corpse crumbled soundlessly into the snow, the remains seeping into his shadow without a trace.
A faint shimmer flickered at the edge of his vision, and then—
Fshes. Disjointed and chaotic. Memories, ed and hazy, flooded his mind in a rapid torrent. Images of vilges burning, faces twisted in fear, orders barked in that same fn tohe raider’s voice, his he nguage of his people—it was all there, scattered and fragmented but enough to piece together.
Marcus blinked, eyes narrowing as the torrent of memories ebbed, leaving behind a new uanding—a new nguage etched into his mind. The process left a faint ache behind his eyes, but he ig, already turning back to the survivors.
The woman was still there, clutg the child to her chest with white-knuckled fingers. Her eyes were wide, horror-stri, fixed unblinking on the spot where the raider had been moments ago. The others were much the same—faces pale, eyes wide and glistening with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Marcus sighed, talons flexing absently. ‘That worked, at least.’
He took a step forward, wings folding slightly, the glow in his eyes dimming to a cold, steady light. His voice, when it came, was smooth and unhurried—this time in a tohey could uand.
“ you uand me now?”
The woman flinched again, breath catg audibly, but her eyes flicked to him in shock. Her lips parted soundlessly, disbelief stark in her gaze. For a heartbeat, she only stared—then, slowly, she gave a small, jerky nod, arms instinctively tightening around the child.
Whispers spread through the survivors, hushed and fearful. Some shrank back further, others clutched each htly, eyes dartiween Marcus and the corpse that had vanished into his shadow.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, merely watg as the woman struggled to find her voice. When she spoke, it was faint and tremulous, barely more than a whisper.
“Y-Yes… I… I …”
Good. That made things simpler.
But as his gaze swept over the terrified eyes, the trembling hands, and the age that surrouhem, Marcus couldn't help the flicker of irritation that curled at the edge of his mind. This was going to be more of a hassle than he’d anticipated.
With a low breath, he folded his wings more securely behind him, shadows poolih his feet. If he was going to deal with this mess, then he’d o make a decision—quickly.
‘Better get started, then.’
“Are there more of you?”
The question was calm, devoid of menace or warmth—just a simple inquiry.
The woman’s mouth parted, but no sound escaped at first. For a heartbeat, all she could do was stare—eyes wide and rimmed with red, her breath ing in shallow, uneven gasps. The child in her arms whimpered softly, clutg at her cloak with tiny, blood-smeared fingers.
She swallowed, the motioant, throat bobbing as if the very act of speaking might break what little resolve she had left. When she finally mao force the words out, they were small and broken, barely more than a whisper.
“N-no… not that I know of…”
The words trembled, fractured by fear and exhaustion, but the truth was clear in her voice.
Marcus’s eyes glowed faintly beh the shadow of his wings, surveying the huddled survivors. Most were women, elders, and children—too weak to have fought back, too frail to flee far. The bodies of the raiders y strewn across the ground, some still sm with blue fmes.
‘This is all that’s left,’ he noted silently, not with pity or disdain—just an aowledgment of the situation.
His gaze shifted to the ruins of the vilge, smoke curling into the sky, ashes settling on the blood-soaked ground. The decision before him was straightforward: leave them to fend for themselves in the wild or intervene and deal with the sequences.
He let out a slow breath, eyes narrowing slightly. There was no particur attat to these people, nor any disdain—just a lingering sense of practicality. Leaving them would almost certainly mean their deaths, and while that didn’t weigh heavily on his sce, it seemed wasteful to let the raiders' as go unchecked.
His gaze returo the woman, voice steady and even. “Is there a settlement nearby? Somewhere you go?”
The woman flinched again, but there ark of something in her eyes—hope, maybe, or desperation wearing its skin. Her hands trembled where they clutched the child, knuckles bone-white beh the grime.
“A—A vilge… n-north, by the river…” she stammered, voice wavering. “A day’s walk… if the roads are clear…”
Her words faltered, eyes flig uneasily to the corpses littering the ground, the blood staining the snow dark and glistening. The implication hung unsaid—nothing was clear, not anymore. The raiders had seen to that.
Marcus's expression remained unreadable, but his wings shifted slightly, shadows curling at the edges. He go the north, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. A day’s walk for humans—slow and stumbling as they were—would be less than an hour’s flight for him.
‘It’s manageable,’ he decided, more out of practicality than . The bodies would draw sgers before long, and the survivors wouldn’t st through the night if they stayed.
With that thought, he drew back a step, wings unfurling slightly. The woman’s eyes followed the motion, wide and wary, lips parting with a question that died before it could form.
“Gather everyone who walk, and a over belonging you have,” Marcus said, to but not unkind. “We move north. I’ll clear the way.”
The woman blinked, fusion flickering behind the fear. “W-What…?”
“It’s up to you,” he replied evenly. “Stay here and wait for whatever es —or follow me.”
The womaated, her eyes dartiween the fallen and the dark figure standing before her. Her hands still trembled as they held the child close, but she swallowed hard, f the words out despite the fear tightenihroat.
“ we at least care for the dead…?” she pleaded, voice small and wavering. “We ’t leave them here to the wild beasts…”
Marcus paused, wings folding in with a soft rustle. His gaze shifted to the scattered bodies—men, women, and even a few younger ones, faces pale and eyes gssy beh the settling ash. The raiders' corpses y intermiwisted and scorched by blue fire, but the vilgers’ bodies remained untouched, lifeless but at peace.
He sidered it for a moment, not out of empathy but practicality. The dead were beyond help, yet leaving them to rot would sour the survivors' resolve—and that, in turn, could plicate things.
“Do what you need,” he replied finally, his tone even and without iion. “We leave at dawn.”
The woman’s breath escaped in a shaky exhale, a mix of relief and grief flickering across her face. She managed a small, wavering nod, eyes glistening as she mouthed a soft, breathless “thank you” that never reached full volume.
Marcus didn’t wait for a reply. He turned away, talons clig softly against the blood-soaked earth as he moved toward the vilge entrahe fires that still smoldered along the path cast flickering shadows across the ground, embers swirling in the cold wind.
He extended a hand, mana gathering with a faint chill, and with a thought, the ice power borrowed from the lizard essence pulsed outward. Thin yers of frost crawled over burning thatd beams, snuffing out lingering fmes with sharp hisses of steam. The smoke thinned, repced by the crisp bite of winter air.
Behind him, the survivors began to stir, moviantly at first—soft murmurs of the living rising amidst the silence left by the dead. They veoward the ruins of their homes, some gathering what little remained, others kneeling beside the bodies with eyes ched shut and prayers whispered beh trembling breaths.
The dead were id out with care—eyes closed, hands folded, faces ed of blood and ash where possible. Those who could walk moved with slow, urpose, while the elders and children huddled close, eyes darting fearfully to Marcus’s silhouette at the edge of the vilge.
Marcus said nothing, his gaze fixed outward to the darkened woods. His wings shifted faintly, shadows curling at the edges, but he made no move to hurry them.
Marcus’s thoughts drifted elsewhere as the vilgers moved among the dead, their whispers and muffled sobs a distant hum beh the dark sky. He extended a faint pulse of mana, a silent and that rippled through the ground. In response, his bone summons stirred, emerging from shadows with the soft ctter of bone agaih.
The beasts moved effitly, gathering the raiders’ corpses and their mounts without pause. Talons and skeletal limbs dragged the bodies away, one by oo where Marcus waited. His wings shifted slightly as he reached out, mana coiling and twisting in cold arcs.
With each touch, essence flowed—dark tendrils of energy seeping from the corpses, flesh withering to bone and then to dust. Marcus absorbed them without hesitation, shadows rippling at his feet as he stored the remains for ter use. The raiders' souls, fragmented and weak, barely registered as they were ed, leaving only a hollow silen their wake.
Some of the vilgers caught sight of the bos dragging away the raiders’ bodies—eyes widening with a mix of fear and grim satisfa. Yet none spoke a word. Their rese for the raiders ran deep, and if these monsters served to erase the traces of those who had takehing from them, they had no protests to offer.
The night stretched on, cold and silent save for the crackle of dying embers. Time passed in hushed whispers and weary movements, survivors huddling close as the fires dimmed to soft glows amidst the ash.
A few hours ter, the same woman from before approached cautiously, the others trailing behind her. Her eyes were swollen with grief but held a flicker of resolve. The injured were id on simple sleds and carts—some hastily repaired, others barely holding together but serviceable enough to move.
Marcus turalons scraping faintly against the frost-bitten ground as he regarded them. His expression remained unreadable, but he stepped aside, allowing them to pass. His summons stirred at his silent and, skeletal beasts striding forward with eerie precision.
The vilgers flinched bastinctively, eyes wide as the bone structs approached. One man dropped the sled handles in terror, stumbling back with a strangled gasp. But the bos did not attack. Instead, they moved past the vilgers, cws curling carefully around the sleds and carts. Without a sound, they began to pull, movements steady and smooth, taking over the burden without pause.
The woman blinked, stunned, mouth parting as if to speak, but the words died unspoken. For a heartbeat, only sileretched between them, save for the faint ch of snow beh bone and cw.
“Lead the way,” Marcus said, his tone even and without iion. His gaze remained fixed ahead, wings half-folded and shadows curling faintly at the edges.
The womaated, then dipped her head in a shaky nod. “R-right…” Her voice was small, but steadied as she turaking the first steps forward with the others following close behind.
The procession moved slowly at first—wary eyes flickering baarcus’s dark form and the bos that pulled the sleds. But as the minutes passed without i, they eased, footsteps being less hesitant.
Marcus followed silently, his presening but distant, eyes sing the darkereeline for threats. The bos moved without pint, skeletal limbs dragging sleds through snow and ash with grim efficy.
-^-^-^-^-^-
The march was slow and cumbersome, a procession of weary figures shuffling through the snow-covered path. Most of the survivors were the elderly, women, and children, their steps faltering uhe weight of even the minimal belongings they had salvaged. Sleds creaked and strained, pulled by Marcus's bone summons, but despite the aid, progress ainfully slow. At this rate, it seemed it would take more than a day to reach their destination.
A few hours in, the woman—whom Marcus had e to know as Rah—approached him cautiously. Her voice was soft but resolute as she requested a short rest for the group. Marcus sidered for a moment befiving a curt nod. He was in no particur hurry.
They halted by the side of the path, and the survivors settled gratefully onto makeshift seats of stone and fallen logs. The injured were teo, baightened and wounds ed as best as they could mah limited supplies. Simple rations were shared—hard bread, dried meat, and what little water they had ma. The air was quiet save for the hushed murmurs and the crackle of a small fire.
Meanwhile, Marcus extended his senses, a faint pulse of mana slipping into the ground. His bone summons moved without a sound, slipping into the shadows to scout ahead and to the sides. He wasn’t about to risk an ambush. On occasion, one of the bos would return, dragging a predator’s corpse in its maw—a wolf, a bear, or some lesser creature drawn by the st of blood. Without pause, Marcus absorbed each carcass, essence flowing into him in dark, rippling waves.
The sight was enough to send shivers through the survivors. Even the bravest flinched, eyes wide and breaths held as the bos emerged from the darkness only to vanish once more. But no one spoke against it. The memory of raiders still lingered, raw and ag. As uling as Marcus's powers were, they were directed at enemies as, not at them. For now, that was enough.
By the time daylight began to fade, the group was exhausted and stumbling, feet dragging through snow and mud. Rah approached again, her hands twisting nervously at her sleeves as she asked if they could make camp at a small clearing nearby. Marcus paused, eyes narrowing briefly as he sent out a pulse of mana to s the area. Finding no immediate threats, he nodded once.
They settled into the clearing, firelight flickering to life amidst the cold. The survivors huddled close to the warmth, rationing out the st of their food with quiet resignation. Marcus observed from a distance, wings half-folded and eyes faintly aglow in the darkness.
‘Eating just rations isn’t going to help them move any faster,’ he thought, gaze drifting over the thin, grim faces illuminated by the fire. The portions they shared were pitiful—barely enough to fill a child, much less sustain a day’s march.
With a quiet breath, Marcus turned away, shadows curling briefly at his feet before he vanished in a swirl of dark mist.
Rah startled, eyes going wide. “W-wait—!” she stammered, rising half to her feet, heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, dread coiled cold and sharp in her gut at the thought of being abandoned. But before the panic could take hold, Marcus reappeared—silent and sudden at the edge of the treeline.
This time, however, he wasn’t alone. In his grasp was a deer, still warm, blood trig in dark rivulets from a fresh wound. Its eyes were gssy and unseeing, head lolling with each step Marcus took bato the firelight.
He moved forward without a word, ying the deer down before Rah. Its body thumped softly against the frozen ground, steam rising faintly from the fresh kill.
“Eat this. Fill yourselves, the,” Marcus said, his tone even aral. No irritation, no warmth—simply a statement of fact.
Rah blinked, mouth parting in shock. Her hands trembled faintly, eyes flickering from the deer to Marcus’s expressionless gaze. For a moment, words failed her. Then, she dipped her head quickly, a stuttered breath esg her lips. “T-thank you…” she murmured, voice small and awed.
Gratitude, raw and unfiltered, swept through the survivors as they realized what had been offered. The tension eased, if only a fra, as the women moved forward to help. Knives fshed in the firelight, skinning and ing the deer with practiced efficy. Meat was skewered and roasted, the rich st of cooking flesh wafting through the air to repce the bitter tang of smoke and blood.
Marcus stepped back, folding his wings aling a short distance away—far enough to give them space, but close enough to remain in sight. The message was clear. He wasn’t leaving.
As the meat cooked, spirits lifted, if only slightly. Children clutched wooden bowls with wide eyes and trembling hands, giggling softly when the first taste of warm, savory venison touched their tongues. Adults murmured quiet words of relief, shoulders sagging as the warmth seeped into weary limbs.
For the first time sihe massacre, there were faint smiles amidst the gloom.
As the night wore on, the survivors slowly drifted into uneasy sleep, exhaustion pulling them under despite the chill. One of them remained on watch duty, but even he succumbed eventually, head nodding forward as fatigue cimed him. The fire crackled softly, its light flickering over snow and shadows.
Marcus stood watch over them, unmoving, eyes softly aglow with blue light. His bone summons were scattered around the perimeter, hiddeh snowdrifts and in the darkness beyond the firelight, vigint and silent. The cold bit at the air, but Marcus was unbothered, his gaze fixed on the horizon, ever watchful.
After a moment, his attention shifted. Reag into a pouch at his side, Marcus pulled forth a set of human bones, remnants of the raiders who had fallen earlier. Holding a femur in his taloned hand, he began to weave his mana, threads of dark energy flowing smoothly into the bohe glow in his eyes pulsed softly as he focused, i and curious.
Slowly, the bones responded, dark mana seeping through the marrow. Marcus observed with i as the separate pieces started to fuse, drawn together as if they were molten, merging seamlessly uhe guiding threads of his power. Perhaps it was due to them being of the same species, or maybe the residual mana lingering in them made it easier, but the bones fused swiftly, almost eagerly.
The result was stronger—far strohan he had anticipated. Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly, studying the dense, reinforced structure. The fused bone was several times strohan a normal human’s, its density and durability enhanced by the dark mana. The experiment was a success.
Satisfied, Marcus tinued, weaving and shaping the reinforced bones with precise movements. Piece by piece, he assembled a new summer and more imposing than the ohat prowled the perimeter. By the time he was done, a t figure stood before him—nearly two meters tall, broad-shouldered, and far bulkier than a normal human.
Its bones were thicker, at least three times that of a human's, with a yer resembling bone armor interlog smoothly across its body. Jagged spikes jutted from its shoulders and forearms, giving it a menag silhouette. Empty eye sockets glowed faintly with the same soft blue light as Marcus's eyes, casting eerie refles against the snow.
In its right hand, the bone knight gripped a on that was a twisted bination of a nd a whip—long and segmented, capable of snapping forward with lethal precision or extending to sh out at distant foes. The sharp, reinforced tips gleamed dully, desigo pierd rend with equal efficy.
Its left hand bore a shield, structed from yered bones woven tightly together. The overpping ptes formed a pattern remi of lyte, intricate and almost artistic despite the macabre material. The shield’s surface was smooth but sturdy, capable of abs and defleg powerful blows with ease.
The bone knight stood in silence, a grim guardian awaiting orders, the faint blue glow in its eyes pulsing softly. Marcus observed his creation for a long moment, eyes thoughtful, pale blue light flickering faintly. The experiment had not only succeeded but had exceeded his expectations. If human bones could be fused so easily, theential for other species, perhaps even stronger ically ined ones, was siderable.
"Hm... a knight 't be a knight without a mount, isn't it?"
Marcus mumbled to himself, a faint hint of amusement in his tone as he examihe t bone knight before him. Without wasting time, he turned his attention to the raiders' horse carcasses he had gathered. With a smooth gesture, he eled mana through his hands, weaving it into the remains. Bones shifted and fused seamlessly, yers of additional pting f with an almost anic ease.
Before long, a skeletal warhorse stood beside the knight—a massive struearly as imposing as its rider. It was bulkier than a normal horse, its limbs reinforced with thick, segmented bones. Jagged spikes jutted from its armored pting at intervals, and its skull bore two forointing horns, sharp and menag. The warhorse's empty eye sockets glowed with the same soft blue light as the knight, casting faint glimmers across the snow.
Marcus didn't hesitate. With a simple and, the bone knight moved, mounting the warhorse with a smooth, almost fluid motioe its bulky form. Now seated astride its steed, the bined height of knight and mount reached nearly four meters, an ominous silhouette against the night sky.
"Hm, heavy mouroops," Marcus mused, a glint of satisfa in his eyes. "A few more would be nice."
His gaze lingered on his creation for a moment longer, pale blue eyes glowing softly in the dark. Theurned back toward the survivors, intending to check if they were still safe.
That was wheiced the boy.
The same child from earlier, standing a short distance away, eyes wide and glimmering with awe. Marcus blinked, a touch of surprise breaking through his focus. He hadn't even sehe boy's approach—perhaps too absorbed in his work, or perhaps the boy was simply that quiet.
Yet, what struck Marcus was the boy’s expression. There was no fear, not even a hint of it. Uhe adults who still watched Marcus with wary eyes, the boy’s gaze held only pure admiration and wonder, like a child watg a hero out of a fairy tale.
"'t sleep, you now?" Marcus asked, voice soft and almost gentle.
The boy flinched, startled for a moment, but then slowly stepped closer, small hands clutg the edges of his oversized coat. His eyes remained fixed on the bone knight, glimmering with open fasation.
Marcus tilted his head, l himself into a croueet the boy's gaze more evenly. His wings folded ly behind him, talons curling lightly into the snow. Despite the intimidating appearance, his movements were slow and deliberate, careful not to startle the child.
"What’s your name?" Marcus asked, the glow in his eyes dimming slightly to a softer hue.
The boy hesitated, small fingers fidgeting with the hem of his coat. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he answered, "Duran..."
"Well, hello, Duran." Marcus's tone was warm, almost fond. "Why aren’t you sleeping with the others?"
Duran's eyes lowered, a shadow passing over his face. He bit his lip, small shoulders hung slightly.
"'t... Scared..." he mumbled, voice trembling faintly.
Ah, Marcus thought, uanding dawning. Of course. After everything—the attack, the blood, the loss—it was no wohe boy couldn’t find pea sleep. The grief was still fresh, wounds raw and unhealed. Even if the fear wasn’t directed at Marcus, the nightmares must have beeless.
Slowly, with a careful motion, Marcus extended one wing slightly, just enough to shield the boy from the cold wind. The membraretched wide, casting a shadow over the snow, but the gesture was unmistakably protective.
"You're safe now," Marcus said quietly, voice steady aain. "No one will harm you while I'm here."
Duran looked up, eyes wide and bright, glimmering with something close to hope. The bone knight stood silently behind them, its eyes glowing faintly, a silent guardian in the dark.
For a moment, just a brief moment, the tension in the air eased.
Marcus watched the boy for a moment, the faint glow in his eyes softening. After a pause, he reached up with a taloned hand, fingers curling delicately as he plucked one of the feathers from his wings. It came away smoothly, glimmering faintly in the dark.
Duran’s eyes widened, curiosity flickering across his face as he watched, head tilting slightly in fusion.
Marcus held the feather in his palm, mana weaving through his fingers with a subtle hum. Soft blue light seeped into the feather’s core, and under Duran’s amazed gaze, it began to ge. The edges sharpehe shaft lengthened, and the eructure seemed to harden and refine. In a matter of moments, the feather resembled a short sword more than anything else—sleek and banced, yet somehow retaining an almost ethereal beauty.
When the glow faded, Marcus extehe transformed feather to the boy.
Duran blinked, hesitating for a heartbeat before reag out with small, trembling hands. As his fingers curled around the feather’s hilt, he was surprised to find it warm to the touf, even. It was light to hold yet firm, the edges carrying a faint but unmistakable sharpness.
"Take this," Marcus said, his tone soft but steady. "Use it to protect yourself and the ones you hold dear."
Duran stared at the feather-sword in his hands, eyes wide and glistening. For a moment, he eechless, lips parting as if to say something but no words ing out. Then, without warning, he pulled the feather close, hugging it to his chest. The warmth spread gently, seeping into his small frame, ae the faint sharpness, it didn’t cut him—only enveloped him in a soft glow that seemed to chase away the lingering chill of fear.
"Yes... thank you..." Duran whispered, voice quiet but ear, eyes shimmering with something close to awe. His small hands tightened slightly around the feather, as if afraid it might vanish if he let go.
Marcus merely watched, a faint smile tugging at the er of his lips—barely there, but present.
With a small nod, Duran turned, clutg the feather-sword tightly as he padded back to where the survivors y. His steps were quicker, lighter, and when he reached Rah, he hesitated for only a moment before slipping down beside her. Curling into the woman’s side, Durahe feather close, eyes fluttering shut with a soft sigh.
This time, sleep cimed him quickly, his small form rexing against the warm glow that lingered around the feather.
Marcus exhaled slowly, eyes lingering on the boy's sleeping form for a moment longer. His gaze softened, a out a quiet chuckle—barely more than a breath.
It was just an impulse, he thought. Maybe it wouldn't matter mu the future anyway, would it?
His eyes drifted to the bone knight, standing silently with its warhorse at the edge of the clearing, and he shook his head slightly, wings shifting with a faint rustle. Impulsive or not, it had felt... right. If nothing else, it might give the boy a sliver of peace, however temporary.
With a soft sigh, Marcus straightened, his gaze turning to the dark expanse of the forest. The soft blue glow of his eyes brightened slightly, pierg the night.
-^-^-^-^-
M came, the first rays of sunlight pierg through the thinning opy. The survivors stirred from their slumber, the cold grip of fear loosened by the soft warmth of dawn. With quiet determination, they began their marce more, weary feet trudging forward. And behind them, their guardian moved like a shadow, silent and watchful, bone knights as pag alongside him.
Rah walked beside Duran, her eyes lingering on the boy as he clutched a bundle close to his chest. Something about him had ged—an intangible shift that she couldn't quite pce. His steps were lighter, his expression more at ease, as if the weight of his nightmares had been lifted.
When she'd first seen him that m, curled up around the object he now held so dearly, she'd asked him about it. He had only replied, "It's a gift." No matter how male questions she asked, his answer remaihe same, leavio her own suspis. It wasn't hard to guess where the gift had e from.
By midday, the high walls of their settlement loomed in the distance, a fortress of safety that shone like a bea of hope. The weary survivors brighte the sight, voices lifting as they spoke of warm meals, safe beds, and the fort of their kin.
But Rah and Duran remained quiet, the joy of others uo chase away the shadow of an impending farewell. They khe truth—khat their time with the enigmatic figure that had saved them was ing to an end.
As they drew closer to the settlement, the survivors took over the sleds and carts, releasing the bos from their duty. The skeletal creatures responded without hesitation, ambling back to their master before fading into the dark shadows at his feet.
With a soft exhale, Rah took Duran’s hand, leading him to Marcus. The tall figure k down, folding himself to meet them at eye level. His feathered wings shifted slightly, casting a soft shadow over them.
“Thank you,” Rah began, her voice trembling with the weight of her gratitude. Her arms tightened around Duran as if to anchor herself. “If not for you, we might not have survived...”
Marcus merely nodded, his glowing blue eyes gentle. “It was something I wao do. You don’t o trouble yourself over it.”
“But still, gratitude must be paid.” Rah hesitated, her gaze darting to the ground before meeting his once more. “What... what we call you? The others will want to set up an to thank you properly.”
There ause, a thoughtful silence as Marcus sidered her request. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a calm certainty.
“You call me Khonsu.”
Duran’s eyes widened slightly, aook a small step forward. “Will we meet again?” he asked, his voice small but hopeful.
“If fate allows it,” Marow Khonsu—replied. He reached out, his taloned hand moving with delicate precision as he pced a single cwed finger against the boy’s forehead. A soft blue light bloomed, gentle and warm.
“A final gift from me,” Khonsu said, his voice a soft rumble. “Use it wisely, boy. Freat power es with great responsibility.” His lips curled into a slight, almost mischievous smile at the borrowed phrase, a hint of amusement only he uood.
Duran closed his eyes, the glow seeping into his skin, a gentle warmth spreading through him. When he opehem again, the light had faded, and Khonsu’s form was shifting—his body unraveling into mist. His wings unfurled, feathers rippling with a soft luminesce as he rose into the air.
The mist coiled around him, swallowing his form as he asded. His silhouette was a dark blur against the sky, a shadow with glowing eyes, until even that faded into the expanse of clouds.
Rah watched until he was nothing but a memainst the horizon. She held Duran tightly, feeling the boy’s heartbeat steady against her own. His fingers still clutched the feather-sword, its soft glow a reminder of the guardian who had walked with them through the night.
With a deep breath, Rah straightened. She took Duran’s hand in her own, and together they turoward the settlement. The path ahead was still long, but her steps were lighter, and the weight of the past seemed a little less heavy.
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