Warmth. That was the first thing Kai noticed.


    Not the searing heat of a summer afternoon, but the kind that settled deep into his bones—comfortable, steady. The kind that made getting up feel like the hardest thing in the world.


    He groaned, slowly blinking awake. Sunlight poured through the small wooden window, casting golden beams across the sturdy walls and rough stone floor. The sun was already at its highest.


    “Damn… I overslept.”


    He tried to move, but a dull ache pulsed from his right leg. It wasn’t sharp anymore—just a lingering soreness. The last thing he remembered was running from the Iron Claw, the sharp sting of pain as he tripped, and then…


    He glanced down. His leg was wrapped in fresh bandages. The scent of crushed herbs lingered in the air, faint but sharp.


    Someone had taken care of him.


    His eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the Ironhart family home. The room was small but solidly built, the wooden beams thick enough to withstand an avalanche. A few hunting tools hung on the walls, along with shelves stacked with books and strange metallic parts—probably Bram’s work.


    Then, movement.


    Across the room, Thara sat quietly on a low stool, her hands carefully grinding something in a small wooden bowl. She was focused, her dark silver hair tucked behind her ear, her expression calm and unreadable.


    For a moment, Kai just watched her. She hadn’t noticed he was awake—or if she had, she wasn’t acknowledging it.


    Then, as if sensing his stare, she finally spoke.


    “…You should eat.”


    Her voice was soft but firm, carrying the same quiet confidence as before. She didn’t look up from her work.


    Kai sighed. “Morning to you too.”


    “It’s noon.”


    “Right. Afternoon to you too.”


    A tiny smirk tugged at her lips before she quickly hid it.


    Kai carefully sat up, testing his leg. It still ached, but it felt better than yesterday. Maybe it was the bandages. Maybe it was the weird paste she had used. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.


    ---


    A small wooden plate was placed beside him, holding a chunk of bread, dried meat, and some kind of fruit.


    Kai reached for it. “Did you—”


    Thara was already back to grinding herbs, completely ignoring him.


    “…Guess I’ll take that as a yes.”


    He took a bite of the fruit—Ironpod, if he remembered correctly. The first time he ate one, he almost spat it out. It tasted like licking a battery, but now, he was getting used to it.


    Silence settled between them. Not awkward, but… expectant.


    Kai glanced at Thara again. She was still working, but there was a certain gentleness in her actions. A quiet patience.


    “…Thanks.”


    She finally looked up, tilting her head slightly. “For what?”


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    “For taking care of me.”


    Thara blinked. For a moment, she didn’t answer. Then—


    “You would’ve done the same.”


    It wasn’t a dismissal, nor was it modesty. It was just a fact.


    Kai smiled. “Yeah. I would’ve.”


    A small, almost imperceptible nod. That was enough.


    ---


    The silence didn’t last long.


    A familiar chirping noise came from above, followed by a blur of pale blue and glowing gills.


    Stardust twirled in the air, circling Kai’s head like an excited child. His tiny body wobbled as he floated, his tail flicking left and right as if trying to get Kai’s attention.


    Kai chuckled. “Alright, alright, I see you.”


    But before he could say anything else—


    A black shadow swooped down.


    Kai barely had time to react before something landed on his shoulder, a sudden weight throwing him off balance. He flinched, expecting sharp talons to dig into his skin, but they never came. Instead, there was only a single, steady pressure.


    Turning his head, he found himself face-to-face with a crow—no, Thara’s crow.


    Up close, Kro was unlike any bird Kai had ever seen. His glossy black feathers were ruffled in some places, dull in others, as if time itself had weathered him down. A long scar ran across his left eye, a faded line of silver against the dark. But what caught Kai’s attention most was his leg—or rather, the lack of one.


    Kro balanced on a single clawed foot, gripping Kai’s shoulder with surprising ease, his missing limb a quiet testament to a past Kai could only guess at.


    The crow cocked his head, intelligent eyes gleaming, before flapping his wings once—just enough to make Stardust squeak and loop around Kai’s head in a frantic circle.


    That was all it took for Thara to start laughing. A quiet, breathy sound at first, but then it grew—light, unrestrained, real.


    Before Kai could react—peck!


    “OW—what the hell, a crow?!”


    Across the room, Thara suddenly burst into laughter.


    Kai blinked. That was the first time he had ever heard her laugh.


    It wasn’t just a small chuckle—it was real, bright and unrestrained. She covered her mouth, trying to hold it in, but her shoulders shook.


    Kai narrowed his eyes at the smug crow now flapping circles around him. “Oh, you think this is funny?”


    Thara finally managed to speak between giggles. “It’s… just… Kro never does that.”


    Kai glanced at the crow, who was now perfectly mimicking Stardust’s movements. The two creatures twirled together in the air—one glowing, one dark, a strange little aerial dance.


    Kai groaned. “Great. First, I get a floating lizard. Now I have a bullying bird.”


    Thara grinned, a small but genuine smile. “I think he likes you.”


    Kai muttered, “Or he enjoys tormenting me.”


    “…Both, probably.”


    And just like that, something shifted.


    The air felt lighter, the tension gone. For the first time, Thara wasn’t just the quiet girl who treated his wounds—she was laughing, teasing, letting her guard down.


    ---


    They sat together, watching Kro and Stardust loop through the air. The light-hearted moment slowly faded into something softer.


    Kai stole a glance at Thara. She was still smiling slightly, but her fingers had drifted to the worn string wrapped around her wrist. She ran her thumb over it absently.


    “…I’ve had Kro since I was little,” she murmured.


    Kai didn’t say anything. He just listened.


    “He never leaves my side. He was there when my mother…”


    Her voice hitched—just slightly.


    She didn’t need to finish.


    Kai saw the way her fingers tightened around the string.


    The silence stretched.


    Then, finally—


    “She was strong,” Thara whispered. “I wanted to be just like her.”


    Kai leaned back against the wooden wall. “I think you already are.”


    Thara blinked, caught off guard.


    “You’re strong,” Kai said, “but not just because of her. You’re strong because you care. Even if you don’t always say it.”


    She looked down. “Bram says I don’t talk much.”


    Kai smirked. “Yeah, I noticed.”


    She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… most people don’t understand me. Not the way she did.”


    Kai nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”


    She turned to him, eyes searching. “You do?”


    “Of course,” he said simply. “Sometimes, words aren’t enough. Sometimes, people listen, but they don’t really hear you.”


    Her fingers curled slightly around the string on her wrist.


    Then, a quiet breath.


    “…Thank you.”


    Kai didn’t say anything—he just gave her a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder.


    Kai exhaled, rubbing his face. “What am I even talking about? I’m not some wise old man or a philosopher… I’m just a guy who got lost, fell on his face, and now gives life advice like I know things.”


    Thara giggled.


    Kai frowned. “Hey, what’s so funny?”


    Thara shook her head, her shoulders still trembling with suppressed laughter. “Nothing… just, you sound like Bram when he tries to explain his ‘genius’ inventions.”


    Kai groaned. “Great. Now I feel even less qualified.”


    He leaned back, his eyes wandering over the room—until they landed on something that looked very out of place. A half-assembled contraption sat on the shelves, wires hanging loosely, gears exposed, and a tiny glowing crystal wedged into the middle like an afterthought. It looked like a crossbow had tried to fuse with a junkyard and lost.


    “…Uh, what is that?” Kai pointed, suddenly more concerned for his safety.


    Thara followed his gaze, then let out a long-suffering sigh. “That… is one of Bram’s ‘masterpieces.’” She made air quotes.


    Kai raised an eyebrow. “It looks like it’s going to either change the world or explode in my face.”


    “Both are equally possible,” Thara deadpanned.


    Kai took a cautious step away. “And what’s it supposed to be?”


    “A self-reloading crossbow.”


    Kai blinked. “Oh. That actually sounds useful.”


    Thara crossed her arms. “It would be. If it didn’t jam, misfire, and sometimes—oh, I don’t know—catch fire.”


    Kai gave her a slow nod. “So what I’m hearing is, it’s a portable firework that occasionally shoots bolts?”


    Thara sighed dramatically. “You should’ve seen Bram’s last attempt. He swore it was ‘almost ready,’ fired it, and instead of reloading, it just—” she waved a hand, mimicking an explosion. “Poof. Smoke everywhere.”


    Kai snorted. “So, he basically invented a disappearing act?”


    Thara tilted her head, thinking. “Actually… yeah. Maybe I should tell him to market it as a magician’s tool instead.”


    Kai chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, respect. The guy doesn’t give up, huh?”


    Thara sighed again, but this time, there was a small, fond smile tugging at her lips. “Nope. And he won’t until it works.”


    Kai smirked. “Sounds like a certain crossbow-wielding, battle-trance girl I know.”


    Thara raised an eyebrow. “Are you comparing me to Bram?”


    Kai grinned. “Hey, I meant it as a compliment.”


    She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no real irritation—just mild amusement and maybe even a little pride.


    For a while, they just sat there, the weight of their earlier conversation replaced by something lighter, something easier.


    Maybe, for now, that was enough.


    Kai sat with his back against the wooden wall, listening to the quiet sounds of the house. Thara had fallen silent again, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence as before. It w


    asn’t heavy. It wasn’t distant. It was comfortable.


    Outside, the wind whispered through the trees. The sky was beginning to darken. He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed.


    Guess I’ll be staying here a little longer.