The wind stirred, carrying with it the scent of iron, dust, and the endless struggle of Vjosgard. The sun, a burning titan hanging high in the sky, cast its golden gaze across the land, stretching Kaelis’ shadow long against the earth. Hael’s massive wings unfurled, feathers glinting under the harsh light, ready to lift them into the sky.


    Then—a single note cut through the air.


    Not loud. Not overbearing. But it commanded silence.


    Kaelis felt his stomach twist.


    He recognized that sound.


    It hummed through the trees, warping the very air, turning the wind unnaturally still. It was like the moment before a predator strikes—that frozen second where prey realizes it’s already too late.


    And then—she was there.


    Nyxa.


    She floated before them, playing her harp, golden eyes locked onto Kaelis. There was no warning, no explanation—just the slow, eerie melody curling around them.


    Kaelis froze.


    Ness and Hael reacted immediately. Instinct. Survival. Their bodies coiled like springs, sharp gazes locking onto the mysterious figure in front of them.


    “Who the hell is she?” Ness and Hael demanded at the same time, ears and wings twitching in alarm.


    Ness narrowed his golden eyes. “Big ass harp.”


    Hael cocked her head. “She a bard or something? Move, lady.”


    Nyxa didn’t move.


    Kaelis couldn’t breathe. His skin felt cold, crawling with the sensation of being watched too closely. His instincts screamed danger.


    ‘That demon god or whatever told me she can’t be trusted…could he actually be right…? Is she planning on fighting? Why? For what?! If the fight does start, I have to drag her away from the others. She’s not an enemy so far. But she wasn’t a friend either. She’s unpredictable…’


    The air grew heavier, the tension thick enough to choke on.


    Then, finally—Nyxa smiled.


    “I want to go with you.”


    Immediate rejection.


    “No.” Ness and Hael said in unison.


    Nyxa tilted her head.


    “Nope.” Ness crossed his arms. “Not happening.”


    “Absolutely not.” Hael flapped her wings once, sharply. “Turn around, bard.”


    Nyxa’s fingers brushed the harpstrings, the sound eerily delicate. “Bard?”


    Ness nodded. “Big-ass harp. Plays music. Bard.”


    Nyxa chuckled, amused.


    Hael exhaled sharply. “We got enough mouths to feed, lady.”


    Ness pointed at Kaelis. “Yeah, this one eats like a goddamn beast. We’re already struggling.”


    Kaelis scowled. “I never even ate in front of—ohhh.”


    ‘They’re making up lies so she won’t have to go with us. Clever.‘


    Nyxa’s gaze flicked back to him. “I’m coming.”


    The tension snapped.


    A second later—Nyxa was sitting comfortably on Hael’s back.


    Hael collapsed instantly.


    “OH, HELL NO—” The crow squawked loudly, her talons flailing as she thrashed against the ground. “Get this heavy bitch off of me!”


    Ness immediately backed her up. “Yeah! Yeah! You weigh like a goddamn horse!”


    Nyxa grinned, resting her chin on her hand. “What a rude pair of creatures. And here I thought you were supposed to be elegant.”


    “ELEGANT MY CROW ASS, GET OFF—”


    Kaelis watched the absolute chaos unfolding, arms crossed, as Hael and Ness dramatically writhed in the dirt, trying to shake Nyxa loose while yelling increasingly exaggerated insults about her weight, even though Nyxa wasn’t heavy, they were just trying their hardest to get rid of her.”


    Kaelis rolled his eyes. “You literally float everywhere. What the hell do you need a ride for?”


    Nyxa shrugged lazily. “I’m feeling lazy. And I wanna enjoy my goat legs in peace.”


    Kaelis groaned.


    A few minutes later, Hael gave up, lying flat against the ground in defeat. “I hate everything.”


    Nyxa patted her head. “You’ll get over it.”


    Hael twitched.


    As they soared over Vjosgard, the land stretched below them, alive and restless.


    The kingdom thrived in endless movement. Farmers tilled the fields, their muscles straining under the weight of their tools. Blacksmiths hammered away at molten steel, sparks raining down like golden stars. Warriors trained in open-air arenas, brutal and relentless, sharpening their blades and their bodies alike.


    Vjosgard was a kingdom that never rested.


    Yet Kaelis’ mind was elsewhere.


    Espen.


    ‘Where could she have fun off to?’


    His fingers clenched.


    “You don’t have to worry.”


    Kaelis snapped his head toward Ness.


    The cat wasn’t looking at him, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “She’s still alive. That’s what gives me a sense of hope. I’m not gonna let panic and fear override me right now. It doesn’t help in this case.”


    Kaelis’ chest tightened. “I’m living proof of her well being…”


    Ness’ eyes flicked to him. “Because you are alive. she dies, you die.”


    Kaelis froze.


    “The Mark of Bondage,” Ness explained, tail flicking behind him. “If she died, you’d know.”


    Kaelis exhaled. He didn’t like thinking about that. He didn’t like remembering that he was bound to her like this.


    Ness smirked. “Look at it this way—if Espen were dead, you would’ve blown up brutally by now. Brains and heart and flesh matter would shoot out insanely—.”


    Kaelis scoffed. “OKAY I GET IT. Real comforting, cat.”


    “That’s my job, human brat.”


    The conversation shifted.


    Ness’ ears twitched. “…I feel like this is my fault.”


    Kaelis frowned. “How?”


    ‘He’s not kidding around..’


    Ness sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his paw. “Espen… she trained hard. Really hard, right before you left. Pushed herself like hell with me and Hael. She wanted more battle experience. More control. More power. And you know why?”


    Kaelis didn’t answer.


    “She hates being saved.”


    Kaelis’ chest tightened.


    Ness’ voice was quieter now, more serious. “She doesn’t want to be weak. Doesn’t want to be that kid again. The one who had to run, who had no control over her power. She doesn’t want to be a damsel.”


    Kaelis looked down.


    “She didn’t push herself this hard before you showed up,” Ness admitted. “Me and Hael think… you’re changing her.”


    Kaelis didn’t know how to reply.


    He let out a slow breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive. Mostly because I don’t want to die, but also…”


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He hesitated.


    “She pushes me away, but… I enjoy her.” He exhaled sharply. “Maybe I’m getting attached too fast. Maybe I’m just afraid of being alone again. But I’m… cherishing what I have.”


    Ness was quiet.


    For a brief moment, his mind flickered to the past.


    To the snow.


    To his kittens, playfully chasing each other, pouncing on him, learning how to hunt small bugs under the frost.


    Then, just as quickly—he shoved the memory away.


    “I was powered up in a cool way by Maela to protect Espen,” Ness muttered. “And I don’t want to fail her. That’s why I came to you. Though I know you’re on a mission, you’re strong.” His voice lingered in the wind, fading into silence.


    “But you know my berserk state..I can’t control it fully..you still took the risk on me? To save her from danger?”


    “Yes. I know you’re not going to hurt her, even within that state.”


    “You can’t be too sure. You just…can’t.”


    “We can’t. But with the continent against us, you’re our only hope of power.”


    “…Yeah.” Kaelis tapped his leg.


    ‘He has a point. I’m the only one they can trust, alongside Ripp, a little. And Nyxa, she knows Maela, so she doesn’t seem to have any reason to hunt Espen anyway based on what she’s told me.’


    The sky stretched ahead, vast and endless.


    Espen was out there.


    And they were coming for her.


    Hael then asked Nyxa, “Sooo, weird bard. Why EXACTLY did you want to come?”


    Nyxa smiled, “Because I can’t let Kaelis die. He’s my..partner. To kill the False Angels, those wretched Apostles. And who knows? Maybe Espen is involved with a remnant of a god, or a demon. There’s a reason why the Apostles haven’t gone ahead and tried to get rid of each remnant and lingering power of gods. The Apostles will allow the surviving gods and demons to cause havoc, or the remnants of them, or lingering power of them, to go wild, so they can come in at the last minute and save people. They may even sacrifice people in the process, but as long as they’re collecting new Apostles and those who believe in them and admit to it…they don’t care. People can’t receive the soul rune without really believing in the Apostles.”.


    Kaelis looked at Ness and Hael, and then Kaelis looked out in the distance.


    ‘They’ll let things get out of control just to save people at the last minute so they can believe in them truly? Bastards…no wonder Maela wants their heads too.’


    …..


    Meanwhile, Espen and the SSUG (Cairn, Vaelith, and Iridia) were climbing the beanstalk.


    Espen, still pretending to be drunk, let herself sway slightly, voice slurring as she hummed to herself.


    Cairn grumbled. “This climb is hell.”


    Vaelith sighed. “It builds character.”


    Iridia stretched her shoulders. “It builds pain.”


    They found a clearing in the beanstalk where they could rest, and Cairn suggested they take a break.


    Water and a unique drink were passed around—one that had healing properties mixed with mild intoxication, used by warriors in Vjosgard to push through exhaustion.


    Iridia took a long sip. “Ah. The taste of suffering.”


    They relaxed for a moment, taking a breather before continuing their climb.


    As they settled onto the wide, flat surface of the beanstalk, Cairn tossed his heavy pack onto the ground with a grunt, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension from the climb. Vaelith adjusted his grimoire strap, while Iridia stretched her arms overhead, letting out an exaggerated groan.


    “This climb is hell,” Cairn muttered, pulling out his waterskin and taking a deep swig. “I said that already, didn’t I? Yeah, probably did.”


    Vaelith smirked, his golden sigils shifting lazily in the air beside him. “It builds character.”


    Iridia flopped onto the ground, arms stretched out beside her. “It builds pain.”


    Espen, still keeping up her drunken act, swayed slightly as she plopped down onto a thick vine, her masked face tilted up toward the sky. She hummed softly, letting the others think she wasn’t paying attention.


    ‘A break?’


    Cairn dug into his pack, pulling out a deep bronze flask engraved with ancient Vjosgardian runes. He popped the cork and poured a dark, amber-hued liquid into a small tin cup, the strong scent of spiced smoke and fermented fruit filling the air.


    Iridia perked up immediately. “Oho? We breaking out the good stuff?”


    Vaelith raised an eyebrow. “You sure? We still have a lot of climbing ahead.”


    Cairn smirked. “A little Silentbrew never hurt anyone.”


    Espen tilted her head, playing into her role. “Wha’ that?”


    Iridia grabbed the cup from Cairn before he could even answer, downing it in one go. She hissed, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ah. The taste of suffering.”


    Espen gave a dramatic drunken gasp. “Gimme.”


    Cairn chuckled, pouring another small cup and handing it to her. “Careful, masked drunk lady. This isn’t normal liquor.”


    Espen pretended to fumble with it before taking a careful sip. The moment it hit her tongue, a warmth spread through her body—spiced, smoky, with an undertone of honeyed citrus and a sharp, burning aftertaste that lingered on her lips.


    Iridia, now fully invested, leaned back against a vine. “Silentbrew. Vjosgard’s warrior’s drink. Strong enough to wake the dead and put fire in your gut. It’s a mix of fermented pyre-fruit, aged in barrels carved from emberwood, and blended with ground scorchroot. Helps with pain, exhaustion, and apparently, bad decisions.”


    Vaelith chuckled. “Mostly the last one.”


    Cairn stretched out his legs, taking a slow sip from the flask. “In battle, it keeps you on your feet when you should’ve already dropped. But drink too much, and you’ll wake up either in someone’s bed or in a ditch. Sometimes both.”


    Iridia grinned. “So, it’s perfect.”


    Espen let the liquid burn down her throat, rolling it over in her mind. She’d tasted stronger alcohol before, but Silentbrew had something else—a pulse, an energy, a feeling that seeped into the muscles and bones. It wasn’t just a drink. It was history.


    ‘It’s disgusting.’


    For warriors of Vjosgard, it was a tradition. A ritual. A silent oath to endure.


    She let out a fake, exaggerated sigh. “Mmm. I feel like I could fight a hundred knights.”


    Cairn chuckled. “Good. Maybe you’ll be useful on the way up.”


    Espen made a show of slumping back against the vine, ‘drunkenly’ waving him off. “Shhh. Lemme enjoy this.”


    Vaelith smirked, flipping open his grimoire as golden runes flickered through the pages. “We’ll rest for a bit longer. Then we climb.”


    The air settled into a brief peace. The distant whistle of wind through the beanstalk’s massive leaves, the creaking groan of the living plant shifting under them, and the lingering warmth of Emberbrew in their veins.


    Espen closed her eyes for a moment.


    She wasn’t drunk.


    But the fire in her gut?


    That was real.


    And she’d need it for what came next.


    Iridia laughed victoriously, clutching the bronze flask of Silentbrew like a trophy, her fingers curled tightly around its worn surface. “You should’ve brought more,” she teased, taking another long swig.


    Cairn groaned, running a hand through his white hair. “You’re gonna drink all of it before we even reach the top, aren’t you?”


    Vaelith smirked, lounging lazily against a thick vine. “Of course she is. She’s like a damn leech when it comes to alcohol.”


    Iridia grinned over the rim of the flask. “Leeches don’t enjoy the taste. This?” She took a slow, exaggerated sip, sighing with satisfaction. “This is divine.”


    Cairn lunged.


    In an instant, Iridia twisted away, cackling as she ducked under his grasp. She vaulted over a thick root, her armor clanking as she landed nimbly on the other side.


    “Thief!” Cairn barked, his golden eyes gleaming.


    “I earned this,” Iridia countered, taking another swig, narrowly dodging as Cairn reached for her again.


    Vaelith sighed dramatically. “Children. All of you.”


    That was before Cairn tackled Iridia.


    They hit the ground hard, rolling across the thick beanstalk, grappling like wild animals. The flask went flying—and Vaelith, with a simple flick of his wrist, used a golden sigil to catch it mid-air.


    He took a casual sip.


    “Delightful,” he mused.


    Iridia, pinned beneath Cairn, reached for her axe. “I will end you.”


    Vaelith smirked, holding the flask just out of reach. “Such violent tendencies. Perhaps you should reflect on why you feel the need to solve all your problems with brute force.”


    Iridia gritted her teeth. “Give it back before I reflect your skull into the ground.”


    Cairn, still pinning her, let out a sigh. “Vaelith, I swear to the gods, just give it to her. If she doesn’t get her alcohol, she’ll start throwing us instead.”


    Vaelith twirled the flask in his fingers, then tossed it lightly. Iridia snatched it mid-air and rolled to her feet, dusting herself off.


    Espen watched all of this silently.


    Inwardly, she was already done.


    ‘We don’t need to waste any more time. I didn’t come here to laugh. I came here to finish a contract, get stronger, and move on.’


    She exhaled sharply and grabbed the vine, starting to climb again.


    Immediately, a hand gripped her wrist.


    Cairn.


    “Patience, masked lady,” he said easily. “Rushing into a fight is the fastest way to die.”


    Espen, still acting drunk, swayed slightly. “Wanna get this over with so I can drown in liquor,” she muttered.


    Vaelith snorted. “And that’s how you definitely get yourself killed.”


    Cairn nodded, releasing her wrist. “We rest. Then we move.”


    As the laughter settled and the heat of the Silentbrew dulled to a warm hum in their veins, the conversation turned.


    Cairn leaned back, watching Espen carefully. “You’re an odd one,” he mused. “Since we’re climbing to what might be our deaths, why don’t we share a bit about ourselves? Might make it less awkward when we have to carry your corpse back down.”


    Espen fake-giggled, swaying slightly. “Haha..don’t care..”


    Cairn smirked, resting an arm on his knee. “Fine.”


    He didn’t say it like a confession. He said it like he was playing a game.


    “I’ve led other guilds before,” Cairn began, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “And each one ended the same way. Betrayal. Death. You’d think people who fight together would actually stay together.”


    Espen tilted her head. “And why didn’t they?”


    Cairn’s smirk didn’t falter. “Because gold always speaks louder. And people will always choose it over loyalty.”


    Espen narrowed her eyes beneath her mask. He said it so casually. So expected.


    “So,” Cairn continued, rolling his shoulders, “I learned. I don’t believe in permanence anymore. You fight, you survive, you move on.” His golden gaze flickered toward her. “It’s easier that way.”


    Espen didn’t respond.


    Cairn grinned. “But I’ll tell you this—I plan on making my name so damn big, so damn untouchable, that no one will ever dare to stab me in the back again. That’s why I’m headed to the Ursel Continent. A little notoriety makes life a hell of a lot safer.”


    Espen nodded, keeping her expression neutral.


    Then, Vaelith spoke.


    “Me?” he mused. “I used to be part of a very prestigious sect of scholars. Smart people. Too smart, really.”


    Espen raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. You pissed them off.”


    Vaelith smirked. “Pissed them off is an understatement. I uncovered something. Something about Kenda. Something… wrong.”


    Espen leaned forward slightly. “Wrong how?”


    Vaelith’s smirk faltered just a fraction. “The kind of wrong that makes people hunt you down and erase your name from history.”


    A pause.


    Then, just as quickly, he grinned. “But hey, that’s a problem for another day.” He flicked his wrist, a golden glyph spinning lazily in the air. “I’m going to the Ursel Continent because that’s where the rich bastards hoard all their ancient tomes. And somewhere in there is the answer I need.”


    Espen eyed him carefully.


    Finally, Iridia spoke. “I’m from the Ironbane Clans. You know them?”


    Espen nodded. Everyone knew the Ironbane Clans. Warriors forged in endless battle. Bloodline meant everything to them.


    Iridia exhaled. “I was supposed to be another warlord. Another cog in the machine. Another Ironbane name written in blood. But I walked away.”


    Espen raised an eyebrow. “Why?”


    Iridia’s fingers drummed against her halberd. “Because I don’t give a shit about my bloodline. I care about my own name, not my ancestors’. I want to forge a legend that’s mine and mine alone.”


    Espen studied her.


    Ironbane never walked away. That was interesting.


    Cairn stretched. “And you? What’s your story, masked lady?”


    Espen paused.


    ‘Come on Espen..think of something a drunk woman would say!’


    Then she leaned forward and, with a completely straight face, said, “I was raised by sentient raccoons.”


    The guild stared.


    Iridia leaned in. “Go on.”


    Espen, voice serious, continued. “I was abandoned as a child. Found by a raccoon elder. He took me in. Trained me in the ways of the night. I learned how to sneak, how to fight, how to crack open a locked chest with nothing but a well-placed kick.” She sighed wistfully. “It was a simple life, but a good one.”


    Vaelith was entranced. “And the raccoons? Where are they now?”


    Espen placed a hand over her chest. “Gone. Taken by the owls.”


    Cairn narrowed his eyes. “The owls. Natural enemies of raccoons, of course.”


    Espen nodded solemnly.


    The SSUG took a long moment to process this information.


    Then—


    “I believe her,” Iridia said.


    Cairn sighed. “Gods help me, I do too. Alright, it’s been long enough. Ready to climb up more?”


    Espen got up fast, “Yes!”


    The Land of the Giants


    They reached the top.


    The Titan’s Spine stretched before them, an expanse of blackened peaks and shifting earth, where molten rivers pulsed beneath jagged cliffs. The sky was veiled in thick haze, the golden sun barely piercing through. The air was hot, carrying the distant rumble of something ancient beneath their feet.


    Cairn’s voice was low. “No giants in sight. Stay sharp.”


    Espen took a step forward—


    Her foot sank into something wet.


    Her heart stopped.


    Everyone froze.


    Then—


    A massive eye slowly opened beneath them.


    And they were standing on it.