Chapter 27: Midday Respite
The sun rose in slow splendor over the Redwood domain, illuminating a landscape of towering giants that swayed with a gentle hum. Elaine was both relieved and uneasy: relieved that the 12-hour night of terror had ended, and uneasy because the day was still so vast—24 hours of sunlight in total. Already, they were well into its eighth hour, a far cry from the fleeting mornings she knew on Earth. The light filtering through the colossal redwoods was bright enough to reveal dust motes dancing in the air, and patches of vibrant flora on the forest floor awakened under the long-lost sun.
Exhaustion weighed on Elaine, Xin-ta, Joseph, and Seraphion. Half a day of traveling, fighting, fleeing, and mourning the likely fate of Outpost Wyvern had drained them, physically and emotionally. They had made steady progress through the Redwood domain, guided by Xin-ta—her beastlike senses more attuned to the land than any map could ever be—but each step felt heavier. The adrenaline that had kept them upright after their last battle had long since worn off.
“It’s up ahead,” Xin-ta muttered, nodding toward a sunlit clearing. “We can rest there. No sense pushing on half-dead, or we’ll do nothing but leave our bones on the trail.”
Elaine sighed in relief, clinging tighter to the makeshift spear that had become a staff for her weary frame. The group had trudged for hours through ragged, dense patches of forest, crossing streams that snaked around gnarled roots. More than once, her nearly-blind stumbling had almost toppled her into thick brambles or the smooth fungus-covered logs bridging shallow ravines.
Seraphion, wings drooping in the noon brilliance, looked equally exhausted. The archangel had not needed to unleash another catastrophic flame since the dreadful confrontation with the Vanguard Casters in the night, but her supernatural presence felt frayed, lacking the regal sharpness that Elaine recalled from earlier. Her eyes still darted at every distant rustle, as though dreading a fresh wave of horrors. She had insisted on forging ahead, though she, too, yearned for a respite to conserve her dwindling strength.
Joseph, battered rifle discarded miles behind, settled for a sidearm strapped to his side. He kept glancing over his shoulder as they moved, scanning for potential pursuit. He recognized the massive Redwood trunks—some soared well over four hundred feet—and found them both awe-inspiring and stifling. The canopy, thick and interwoven, allowed only patchy sunlight to filter down, creating stark, shifting beams of light that gave the forest a cathedral-like ambience. They might have called it beautiful if not for the haunting memory of slaughter at Outpost Wyvern.
At last, they entered a small clearing that curved along a hillside. A toppled redwood trunk, half-rotted, provided potential seating and shelter. Mosses and ferns lined the edges, glimmering under the filtered sun. The ground was relatively level, with a carpet of soft needles. It appeared perfect for a brief camp—a natural sanctuary in the midst of an unforgiving world.
Xin-ta checked the perimeter, nose twitching, and exhaled in relief. “No fresh demon scents here,” she said. “I sense animals, but nothing bigger than a small cat-lizard. We can take our rest.”
Seraphion’s body sagged in gratitude, wings folding. “Thank the heavens.”
“Finally,” Elaine murmured. Each step had been an agony on battered limbs. She nearly collapsed onto the old trunk, leaning her spear against a chunk of exposed root. Joseph joined her, letting out a weary breath. Xin-ta prowled the edges of the clearing, ensuring they were alone. The harsh midday sun—eight hours into the 24-hour cycle—cut through the Redwood canopy in thick columns, casting dramatic shadows.
Seraphion hovered near Elaine, scanning her friend’s injuries: the half-healed lacerations, the exhausted stoop in her posture, the dark circles under her eyes. With careful hands, the archangel checked the bandages. “Let me see your side,” she said softly.
Elaine nodded, wincing as she lifted her shirt enough to expose the bandaged slash from the prior fights. Each bruise throbbed with an insistent ache. Yet something else glowed beneath her skin, a faint shimmer where she had forcibly altered her own body to produce chitinous plating. The shimmer came and went, as if her body hovered between natural states.
Seraphion sighed, pressing a gentle palm to the battered flesh. “Your forced evolutions are… incomplete. Overextending them could tear you apart. We must let your body truly rest. If we’re attacked again, avoid more transformations—Zeraphine and I fear the cost is too high.”
Elaine closed her eyes. “I wish I could promise that. But if it’s a matter of life and death…” She left the words hanging. They both knew how dire circumstances could get. Still, she nodded in acquiescence. “I’ll try to be more careful.”
The archangel’s eyes reflected a mixture of tenderness and concern. She gave a small nod and settled down beside Elaine. For a moment, the clearing seemed tranquil, as if the Redwood domain was granting them a short reprieve.
Joseph cleared his throat. “So, we have time. Maybe we can talk… about each other.” Despite the ache in his limbs, curiosity glimmered in his gaze. They had fought side by side, but what did they truly know about one another?
Xin-ta’s ears twitched. She stowed her spear tip-first in the soft ground. “I suppose. We have at least an hour, maybe two, before we should move again. The clan city is still many hours away—eight hours or more, if we keep this pace.”
Elaine forced a tired smile, eyes flicking to Joseph. “Right. We… we never even got to talk about what Earth was like, or how I ended up here. Or about you,” she said, turning her gaze to Joseph. She realized she still didn’t fully grasp his ties to the Kul or how he had come to wander so far from their territory.
Joseph shrugged, leaning back against the trunk, eyes drifting to the canopy overhead. “You start. I might ask questions. I’ve gleaned bits from you, Elaine, but not the whole story.”
Seraphion laid a wing around Elaine for comfort, adding quietly, “A recollection of your past might be a balm for you.” She gave Elaine a soft, encouraging nod. “Remember who you are.”
Thus invited, Elaine found her gaze drifting to the swirl of tree limbs overhead. A pang of nostalgia stabbed her chest. She remembered normal days on Earth, the sound of alarms buzzing in a dorm room, the comfort of bustling hallways. “Sure,” she said shakily. “Well… I was a student at Michigan State University, studying to be a zoologist. We had a planet that’s half the size of this, with 24-hour day-night cycles… not 48,” she said, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “I loved animals—studied them, wanted to protect them. Even wrote a few research proposals about preserving endangered species. And then…” Her voice faltered.
Joseph quietly asked, “And then your planet… was destroyed?”
Elaine’s eyes grew moist with tears. She nodded. “A godlike wave. Our entire galaxy… gone.” A silent sob threatened to choke her. “The last moment I recall was sitting in my classroom when the intercom came a calling, the sky fracturing with swirling colors. Then… God—my world’s God—appeared to me, said I was chosen. Next thing I knew, I woke up in these forests, faced with horrifying predators.” Her voice cracked. “I was so excited to explore new species. But… not like this.”
Seraphion’s hand slipped into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She wore a sorrowful expression, acknowledging that Elaine had borne this nightmare alone. “It wasn’t fair to you, or to any human,” she murmured.
Joseph was quiet for a long moment. He had known sorrow, but such cataclysmic extinction was beyond his comprehension. “I… see,” he finally said, voice subdued. “I was raised by the Kul from childhood, taught to fight rebels or monstrous threats. I rarely paused to question if my side was right or if we forced horrors on innocents. But your story, Elaine, it… puts things in a different perspective.”
Elaine sighed, wiping away a tear. “Thank you for listening. I guess… the short version is: I was once a college student, living a normal life, preparing for research in the Congo or Amazon… instead, I’m stranded here, forced to kill unimaginable demons.” Her forced smile flickered. “Michigan State… zoology… those words probably mean nothing in this place, but they were everything to me.”
Xin-ta cocked her head. “What is… zoo-lo-gee?”
A faint warmth crept into Elaine’s voice. She tried to muster enthusiasm. “Zoology is the study of animals—their behaviors, anatomy, interactions with the ecosystem. I wanted to protect them from extinction, ensure no species was lost.” She gazed at her black, clawed nails, self-modified to survive. The irony burned her. “Now I might be wiping entire species out if it means defending ourselves.”
An awkward silence followed. They all recognized the tragic collision of ideals with harsh reality. The Redwood was no normal forest. The beasts that roamed it—some were savage abominations that defied moral compromise.
Sensing the tension, Joseph cleared his throat again. “Well, my story’s less… dramatic,” he began. “I was an orphan in a Kul-occupied territory. The Kul taught me their ways, how to fight, gave me a gem interface in my wrist, which connects me to their system. I rose to become a soldier, though not high in rank. Spent my life deploying to quell threats, monstrous or rebellious. I never questioned it, not until I ended up here somehow, separated from my unit. Possibly, I was meant to die in a fight with your Guardian. When I killed it—” He paused, swallowing. “I thought it was just a savage beast. Then I realized it was a protective entity for these forests.”
Xin-ta had grown still. She bristled at the mention of the Guardian’s death. But she nodded tersely, acknowledging Joseph’s shame. “All is done. The clan can’t bring it back. Let’s just ensure you use your skills for good now.”
Joseph rubbed the back of his neck, hearing the bitterness in her tone. “I will.”
With the conversation turning heavy, Elaine forced herself to shift the focus. She glanced around, eyes scanning the undergrowth. Several curious creatures scuttled near rotting logs, perhaps drawn by the faint smell of blood or the group’s presence. One looked like a rodent with elongated limbs, nibbling on neon-blue mushrooms. Another perched on a root, an avian-lizard hybrid that let out a soft hiss. Elaine’s lips parted in wonder. “If… if I had come here under normal circumstances, I’d be thrilled to study them. The biodiversity is incredible.”
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Xin-ta snorted softly. “You might find some docile things, but be warned: many are lethal. We have no shortage of venomous crawlers, or creatures that can warp mana to their advantage. Our clan, too, had to adapt.”
Elaine gave a shaky smile. “Still, in another life, I’d love to classify them, learn about their habitats.” Her eyes took on a momentary gleam of the old academic spark. “But the dwellers overshadow everything. They disrupt any chance of stable ecosystems.”
“That’s how it is,” Xin-ta conceded. “We of the Redwood survive because we do not rely on easy farmland. We glean from the forest, or fish in streams. We keep watchers along our borders… watchers that evidently weren’t enough.” Her voice quivered at the memory of Outpost Wyvern’s downfall.
Joseph gently asked, “Would your clan accept her? Or me? Or… a literal archangel?”
Xin-ta hesitated. “My clan is wary of outsiders, especially ones who reek of Kul magic,” she said, glancing pointedly at Joseph. “But if I vouch for you, if Elaine and Seraphion remain respectful… possibly. We have bigger problems now. They might see the practicality of alliances.”
A hush settled. Seraphion, who had been quietly listening, offered a final reflection. “In my short existence, I’ve known that forging alliances in times of war can save entire worlds. Let us hope your elders see reason.”
They ate meager rations: lumps of dried fruit or tough jerky from Xin-ta’s dwindling supply. Elaine, chewing absentmindedly, felt a knot in her chest. She recalled her father—how he had always cooked hearty meals after returning from fieldwork. He was a zoologist and had been enthralled by nature. He introduced her to the wonders of the animal kingdom, read to her from thick books on evolutionary biology, took her to nature preserves for bonding trips. She remembered his laugh… the warmth of it. She missed him fiercely.
As the Redwood clearing teemed with alien life, so reminiscent of the once-endless wonder she had cherished on Earth, a tear slid down her cheek. She found herself speaking softly, words tumbling out like a confession. “My dad always believed in protecting the weak. He was a wildlife consultant—always traveling, always championing conservation. He used to say, ‘We share the planet with them, we hold it in trust for the next generation.’ It kills me that I’m… forced to kill some creatures, even if they’re monstrous. Dad would have tried to find another solution.”
Xin-ta gazed at her, empathy flickering in her beastlike eyes. She offered a small tilt of her head. “Your father sounds honorable,” she said quietly. “But I fear these dwellers see no reason, no mercy. If your father were here, perhaps he, too, would fight.”
Elaine’s tears glinted in the midday sun. “I know,” she whispered. “Still, I can’t help but wish… the world was different.” She clenched her bandaged fists. “I never wanted to become a butcher.”
Seraphion draped a comforting wing over Elaine. “You remain your father’s daughter, even if forced to extremes.”
Their talk offered momentary ease, but it took no more than the subtle snap of a twig behind the rotted trunk to set them on edge again. Immediately, everyone seized their weapons: Joseph, with his sidearm, Elaine, with her spear, Xin-ta with her own spear, and Seraphion, braced for a destructive spell.
A small, furry shape darted into the clearing. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a cat-lizard about the size of a raccoon. Its elongated muzzle twitched, eyes fixed on the group’s rations. Elaine’s heart lifted for a moment at the sight of an innocuous forest denizen. Perhaps not all was death and ruin.
Xin-ta tensed but then relaxed. “Just a scavenger,” she said with a snort, flicking a pebble near the creature to shoo it away. The cat-lizard hissed and scampered off, leaving behind the faint mewling growl that melted into the forest’s hush.
A fleeting moment of normalcy. Elaine let out a shaky laugh, relief dancing across her face. “It’s almost… cute,” she said, blinking away tears. “If it’s not savage or demonic… maybe some beauty remains in this world.”
No one contradicted her. Sometimes, even a small reminder of normal wildlife was enough to rekindle hope in a world beset by nightmares.
With hunger sated and bodies tended, the conversation turned practical once more. Joseph studied the angle of the sunlight, streaming diagonally across the clearing. “We’re about eight hours into the day,” he said. “We probably have another sixteen hours of sunlight. Enough time to reach your clan city by nightfall, if we push?”
Xin-ta frowned. “That’s the plan. But it’s a long road, especially with these wounds. And if we encounter trouble, we might not arrive until after dusk. That’s a risk.”
Elaine squared her shoulders. The respite had steadied her somewhat. “Better to try than to fall behind again. By the next night… who knows what new horrors might roam.”
Seraphion, though weary, nodded in solidarity. “We press on. We’ve lingered enough.”
As they gathered their belongings, Elaine found herself answering a series of small questions from Xin-ta and Joseph about Earth and her zoology focus. She explained how humans discovered new species even in advanced times, how certain ecosystems thrived under strict protections, how she had dreamed of traveling to the Congo for fieldwork on gorillas. The beast-woman’s ears perked at the mention of Earth’s primates, intrigued by creatures that, ironically, were somewhat reminiscent of her own people’s brawny frames, minus the tails or beastlike features.
Joseph listened quietly, feeling a pang of regret. The Kul was known to quash many species considered “threats” or “inferior.” He realized with a deepening sense of shame that, in a different circumstance, Elaine might have found the Kul’s efficiency in controlling worlds monstrous.
Despite the grimness, Elaine’s face glowed with rare passion. “I wanted to study and protect them. I never imagined a world with 48-hour cycles, or monstrous dwellers emerging at night. We had our own horrors—poaching, deforestation—yet it felt like we still had a chance, if we just tried hard enough to save our planet’s biodiversity. But…” She trailed off, tears threatening.
A hush followed, broken only by the chirping of insectlike creatures that soared around the clearing. Seraphion softly placed a reassuring hand on Elaine’s back. “Your knowledge remains valuable,” she whispered. “Your father’s ideals shaped you, and your world taught you the importance of harmony. Don’t let the nightmares take that from you.”
Elaine nodded weakly, swallowing the lump in her throat. She peered skyward, determined that at least some spark of her father’s dreams would live on.
Their short respite drew to an end. The Redwood domain beckoned, a labyrinth of gargantuan trunks and hidden streams. They rose, each stifling groans and wincing at throbbing wounds. Elaine, spear in hand, found her legs steadier than before. Joseph gripped the sidearm with quiet vigilance, while Xin-ta resumed the lead, tail flicking. Seraphion remained at Elaine’s flank, cloaklike wings partly furled.
“Follow me,” Xin-ta said. “We stick to the footpaths along the Redwood’s roots. The ground is more stable, and we can keep sight of vantage points. If the dwellers appear in daylight—rare, but possible—at least we’ll have some warning.”
Joseph nodded. “I’ll watch our six.”
Seraphion’s gaze lingered on Elaine. “Are you sure you can walk?”
Elaine mustered a faint grin. “I’ve marched eight hours already. Another sixteen until nightfall, right? Might as well try.” She paused, taking a deep, calming breath. “I want to get there. If we can help your clan, Xin-ta… count me in.”
The beast-woman let out a quiet huff. “Let’s do it, then.”
They left the clearing, pressing between trunks that loomed like silent sentinels, the forest floor blanketed in fallen needles and creeping vines. Now and then, birds with glittering plumage flitted among the canopy, uttering shrill calls. Elaine felt her chest tighten at the sight, so reminiscent of a new form of biodiversity waiting to be studied. If only she had time—time to unravel this world’s secrets, to be the explorer she once longed to be.
Hours stretched on as they navigated over winding roots, crossing shallow streams. The Redwood domain was majestic under the bright midday sun, which soared steadily toward the apex of its 24-hour arc. Heat and humidity lingered, making them sweat, but no sign of the dwellers emerged. Possibly, the savage throng had receded to some underground lair. If so, it allowed them a measure of safety in the gloom of day.
They paused intermittently to sip water or scrounge for edible plants that Xin-ta recognized. Elaine recognized a faint, nostalgic thrill whenever she found a new type of leaf or fungus, but the overshadowing dread remained, remembering that each step took them closer to what might be an even greater conflict. Outpost Wyvern burned behind them, but the clan city might yet be saved—if they arrived in time.
Joseph advanced a question. “Xin-ta, how large is your clan city? Are we speaking about hundreds of people or thousands?”
The beast-woman flicked her ears. “Thousands, but scattered in clusters around the Great Redwood. The elders and the main city cluster is built around the Redwood’s trunk, where the best hunting grounds converge. Enough warriors to hold off a typical raid from the dwellers, but if an entire host emerges… plus those monstrous new Casters…?” She let the question hang.
Elaine’s mind conjured an image: a vast Redwood with suspended walkways, houses perched amid branches, beastlike people forging daily life. The notion held a strange allure, a testament to adaptation in a world shaped by 48-hour cycles and unrelenting perils. She prayed silently that these defenders had the resources to muster a fortress stronger than Outpost Wyvern.
As the hours marched on, the overhead sunlight began to shift color from pure white to a pale golden. They must have been halfway through the daylight—12 hours in, with another 12 to go. The group’s pace slowed as exhaustion piled on top of injury and hunger. Their water supply thinned. Joseph, being the least wounded, sometimes scouted ahead or helped Elaine over large roots. Xin-ta’s steady leadership guided them through tangles with minimal wasted effort. Seraphion quietly conserved her energy, each footfall a reminder that her angelic might was not infinite.
It was near the end of the 8th hour, creeping into the 9th, that the group found themselves at the base of a massive Redwood with an exposed root system so large it formed a natural alcove. Here, the ground was drier, sloping gently up. The four collapsed against the roots, panting in the heavy midday heat. The towering canopy above offered partial shade.
“Just a short break,” Xin-ta insisted. “No more than a quarter hour, or we risk losing too much daylight.” She glanced at Elaine, who was on the verge of nodding off, sweat glistening at her temples. Seraphion offered the human a small swig from her own canteen, the last bit of water she could spare.
“Elaine,” Joseph ventured, after regaining some breath, “I recall you said you were in your junior year at Michigan State University? Or was it senior?”
She blinked drowsily. “Junior. I had about another year to finish my bachelor’s in zoology… then grad school.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Sometimes, I wonder if my credit hours carried over to the Redwood domain,” she joked in a bleak tone.
A momentary chuckle rippled through them. Even Seraphion cracked a small smile. The absurd notion helped ease the gloom.
“Bachelor’s, master’s, these are your people’s ranking titles for knowledge?” Xin-ta asked. She seemed genuinely curious about human education systems.
“Yes, basically,” Elaine explained, eyes fluttering from fatigue. “We systematically study various fields. Zoology, for me, required biology, chemistry, ecology… a stack of courses. My dad thought I’d go further, maybe do a Ph.D. I used to fantasize about discovering new species in the Amazon or forging solutions for threatened species.”
Xin-ta nodded slowly, though some references soared over her. She gleaned enough: humans valued structured learning, devoting many years to mastering a discipline.
Seraphion quietly added, “And ironically, you discovered new species here.” She nodded at the Redwood domain. “Though, I wish it were under kinder circumstances.”
Elaine’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Me too.”
The hush that settled felt restful, almost peaceful. Xin-ta’s tail swished as she stood, scanning the horizon. “Time’s up,” she said at last, prompting them to gather the last scraps of energy. “We press on. At this pace, if we keep going, we might reach the clan city by late afternoon, maybe the 20th hour of daylight. That still gives us four hours before night returns.”
Joseph agreed with a grunt, though concern laced his expression. “That might have to suffice. If the city can brace itself during those four hours, maybe they can hold out once darkness falls.”
Elaine forced a wry smile, hauling herself upright. “Let’s see if we can remain conscious that long.” She tried to lighten the mood. Anxiety gnawed at her, but she refused to let it paralyze her.
As they resumed the march, Seraphion laid a gentle hand on Elaine’s arm. “You will see your father’s vision honored,” she whispered, voice quavering with sincerity. “No matter what fate we face, I will stand by you to safeguard your ideals.”
Elaine’s eyes glistened. She gave a shaky nod, voice failing her. In her heart, a fragile flame of hope endured—hope that somewhere in this deadly Redwood domain, her father’s lessons about compassion for living creatures would not be entirely lost, even if they had to destroy the savage dwellers.