Fireside companions

The crackling fire was the first thing he noticed as he rose from his stupor. His limbs felt stiff. He tried moving his fingers. They responded, the numbness slowly creeping back.

"You're finally awake." The female voice had to it a pleasant timbre, but the experience was wholly ruined by the ape-men language. "Good, I wasn't sure how my elixirs will work on you. I've watered them down a bit, but they weren't quite designed for your biology."

"What have you done to me, dh'oine?" Irfan's voice came out raspy. His throat burned. Even the innate beauty of the elder speech was not enough to make up for it.

"I saved your sorry ass, en'ca minne." He scowled, not sure if it was due to hearing her accent stain his mother tongue or that a human dared use a pet name for him. Likely both. "You should be thanking me."

"Why would you help me?"

"Call it a professional courtesy. I don't know what school accepted an elf in their midst, but it'd be a shame if they lost one of their own to now-dead-Kayran's poison."

His brows furrowed as the brain tried to recall what had happened.


The lustre of Tir Gynvael's palace used to extend to all its chambers, but since Daerwyn took the throne, some of them lost their shine, decorations replaced with utility. This was one of such rooms, with walls covered by maps, structural blueprints and anatomical diagrams, and piles of books covering the desk in the middle, it was the king's personal study. Not many had access to it, but Irfan was one of them. 

"You'll go ahead of them. They'll do the lion shore of scouting, it's their job, but I want you to clear the monsters in their way. Torga's upper course is supposedly crawling with the beasts coming down from the Dragon Mountains, but that means that if we can establish a route through there and into the Velhad, the dh'oine won't know what hit them."

"As you command, my liege."


Tentacles the size of tree trunks swung widely, only to harmlessly pass through the ghostly figure in front of them. The mighty blows of the elven sabre rain like thunder in response.

No single cut could have posed a threat to the gargantuan figure, but over the hours the battle took place, thousands of wounds drained its ichor into the swamp. The massive monstrosity was visibly slowing down, and it was the time finish it.

"Aen'drean va, Woedsaov! Ni'l ceim siaar!"

The words filled with Power shook the air and the muddy ground. The crows cawed loudly above. The wind stopped, but the leaves continued to rustle. The woodland spirits responded to the call.

The roots shot upward, intertwining with the Kayran's tentacles, holding them in place. The trees loomed over the beast and then toppled down, with crushing impact smashing into the bulbous flesh, causing it to burst and spray the surroundings with a mix of blood and mucus, leaving behind torn scraps of muscle and skin. The crushed Kayran struggled to move, unable to lift the weight off itself.

Irfan ran up the bark covered path and stared down the monster's twitching reddish eyes. His sabre materialized once again, and slashed through them a couple of times in a quick succession, revealing the nerves and the pathways through which they connected to the brain. A series of gestures directed a telekinesis force from his hands, through the optic canal, and down into the beast's innards.

The pressure continued to build. The beast flailed around as much as its woodland prison allowed it to. But it still refused to die. Irfan focused everything he had into the devastating force onslaught. His form flickered and rematerialized wholly.

"Die, you dumb beast!" he shouted, feeling his legs starting to give out underneath him.

And obediently, the Kayran obliged.

A mist of gore and liquified brain matter exploded upwards, right onto Irfan.

As he walked off the monstrous remains, he spat multiple times, leaving behind red marks of whatever landed in his mouth. With a simple spell, he cleaned the rest of his figure.

And then he coughed up more blood, but this time it was black.

And as if to match it, the word turned dark too.


"Have they not taught you how to deal with poisons at your school? Which one is it? I haven't found your medallion." Her voice brought him back once again.

"I'm not one of you, vatt'ghern," he barked in response.

She stared him down for a moment, analysing the situation. When she finally answered, her tone was more serious.

"I see. Still, we might have more in common than you are willing to accept yet, but professionalism is not part of it then. But in this case, I won't tell you to go to the Kovirian camp to get the bounty for the beast in my stead."

She stood up and dusted herself off. His thoughts ran through his head mind in a chaotic flurry. So the dh'oine army is here already? How much do they know?

"I'll assume you'll be fine on your own now." She started to walk away, but stopped for one more moment and added over her shoulder, "In case we do meet again, the name's Syr. And a piece of advice from a pro to an amateur, 'silver for monsters,'" she said while pointing to sabre lying next to Irfan.

The elven blade bore a visible crack along its edge.

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Pub: 19 Nov 2025 22:01 UTC

Edit: 19 Nov 2025 22:01 UTC

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