Taming Beasts in a Ruined World

The morning air hung cold and thin above the winding road that led toward the farmland. Dew clung to the grass, glimmering faintly beneath a pale sun that had only just risen beyond the hills.

Alina pressed a hand to her chest, her breath uneven. A faint tremor rippled through her fingers. "Huh… huh…" She frowned, trying to steady herself, but the throbbing behind her ribs only grew sharper.

Elara, walking beside her, slowed. "What is it?" Her voice was soft but edged with concern.

"I don't know." Alina's brows drew together. "It feels like… something's wrong. My heart—" She stopped, searching for the words. "I feel uneasy. Like I'm losing something important."

Elara's steps faltered. Her silver eyes dimmed. "I feel it too," she whispered, a pallor creeping into her cheeks. "This isn't just nerves… could it be—Yanlu?"

The name alone seemed to chill the wind.

Alina shook her head quickly, almost desperately. "No. She's strong. Yanlu wouldn't—she can't—"

But before she could finish, hurried footsteps echoed from the path behind them.

Ta-ta-ta—

A figure burst into view, half her golden hair hidden beneath a strip of cloth that fluttered as she ran. Ariel's expression was frantic. "Elara,Alina!" she called, using the old nicknames that belonged to safer times. "Something's happened to Yanlu!"

Elara and Alina turned toward her in unison. "You feel it too?"

Ariel blinked, panting. "Feel what?"

"Your heart," Elara said sharply. "Pain? Tightness?"

"Yes—yes!" Ariel pressed a hand against her chest. "When I was in the workshop, it hit me out of nowhere. My heart hurt, just for a second. It has to be Xiao Bingbing—she's in danger."

The three women stood in silence for a moment, the realization sinking deep.

Elara's voice dropped to a whisper. "If all three of us felt it… then Yanlu must truly be in trouble."

The dread that tightened around them was more than simple fear. It was the pulse of an unseen thread—a bond woven by magic, one that tied them to their leader's fate. Yanlu's rare gift was known among them as the Dangerous Spy's Sense, an enchantment that bound comrades together through shared perception.

Whenever Yanlu faced danger, those marked by her spell would feel echoes of her peril: a tremor, a chill, or—when things turned dire—a pain in the heart.

But such signals only traveled so far. The distance between them now should have dulled any trace of it. For them to feel it so clearly meant only one thing.

The danger was mortal.

"I'm going after her," Alina said suddenly. She spun on her heel, already half-running back toward the high ground where their supplies were kept. "I'll get my gear and head for Amestris City."

"I'm coming too!" Ariel cried, chasing after her.

Elara caught their arms, her grip strong enough to halt them both. "Wait." Her silver eyes hardened. "The three of us alone can't fight whatever took Yanlu. You'll only throw your lives away."

"I can't just stand here!" Alina shouted, tears flashing in her eyes. "If Yanlu dies while I do nothing—" Her voice broke, raw and trembling.

Elara took a steadying breath. "Then we go to Luciel. If we're to stand a chance, we'll need the ghost armor he keeps."

Alina hesitated, then nodded fiercely. "Right. The armor!"

Without another word, the three of them sprinted down the dirt road, the hem of their cloaks whipping through the morning mist.

---

They reached the farmland soon after—a broad courtyard surrounded by low walls of clay and stone. The gate was shut, and the scent of soil and crushed herbs lingered on the air.

Elara rapped her knuckles against the wood. "Luciel!"

The door creaked open, revealing Sophia, the caretaker. The woman's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the three girls, disheveled and breathless.

"It's you," she said, stepping aside. "Come in, quickly."

Elara nodded and strode through the gate. Inside, the farmland spread out like a sea of green. Rows of vegetables gleamed beneath the dew—cabbage, beans, and sweet roots—and between them knelt a figure in dark robes, hands buried in the soil.

Luciel looked up even before they spoke. "You've been holding your breath for half a mile," he said quietly. "Tell me what's happened."

Elara opened her mouth, but no words came. Her throat tightened.

"I'll say it," Alina blurted, taking a step forward. "Master Luciel, Yanlu—our captain—she's in danger."

Luciel rose slowly, brushing the dirt from his gloves. "Go on."

Alina explained everything—the shared pain, the connection through Yanlu's enchantment, the certainty that something terrible had befallen her. She spoke of the Dangerous Spy's Sense, of how it bound their fates together, and of their need for Luciel's help.

When she finished, her voice trembled. "So please, lend us your ghost armor. We'll bring her back, I swear it."

Luciel regarded them in silence for a long moment. The breeze rustled the leaves between them. Then he nodded once. "Of course. Saving a companion is reason enough."

Alina's face lit with relief. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" She turned to run back toward the storehouse, but Luciel's voice stopped her.

"Wait," he said. "You mean to leave now?"

"Yes," Elara answered. "The feedback from Yanlu's magic—she's in grave danger. Every moment we waste—"

Luciel's gaze deepened. "If you travel on foot, you'll never reach Amestris before the city itself swallows her. Even on horseback, you'll be too late."

Elara frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said calmly, "that we're already heading there."

Alina, halfway through turning away, froze mid-step. "What?"

Luciel lifted his eyes toward the horizon. "The Black Tortoise moves faster now. I urged the creature onward three days ago. If nothing impedes us, we'll reach Amestris within two days' time."

"The Black Tortoise…" Alina whispered, her heart twisting with both hope and dread.

He nodded. "The reforms in the city are stable enough for me to leave them in others' hands. The rest must be shaped by time. For now, our road lies east."

Alina's shoulders sagged. "Two days… it might be too late."

"I've already bid the Tortoise to hasten its pace," Luciel replied. "Its magic will carry us as swiftly as the wind over stone. You'll not arrive sooner by any other means."

The pink-haired girl swallowed hard, torn between gratitude and despair. "Then we can only wait."

Elara touched her arm gently. "Yanlu is strong. She'll endure until we reach her."

Luciel studied them both, his expression unreadable. "If she were gravely wounded—if she were dying—what would you feel through this bond of yours?"

Elara hesitated. "It would be hard to breathe," she said at last. "My chest would tighten. I'd want to vomit, maybe even faint."

Luciel's stern features softened. "And you don't feel that now, do you?"

Elara blinked. "No."

"Then she lives," he said simply. "So long as your bodies do not echo her death, there is still hope. As long as she draws breath, we can save her." He paused, his tone turning quieter, almost kind. "And do not forget—we still have the Angel's Tears."

At the mention of the relic, Alina's eyes brightened. The Tears were a sacred elixir, their healing beyond mortal craft. If Yanlu yet breathed, that divine liquid could draw her back from the brink.

"Then we can save her," Elara murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Ariel clenched her small fists, determination burning through her fear. "Yanlu will be fine! I swear it!"

Luciel nodded once more and turned his gaze toward the distant horizon where the faint outline of the moving fortress—the Black Tortoise—was already beginning to stir. "Prepare yourselves," he said. "We leave before the sun reaches its height."

The three women exchanged glances. None spoke, but the silent vow passed between them as surely as Yanlu's magic had.

Whatever waited for them in Amestris—whatever had ensnared their captain—they would face it together.

The hours that followed passed in uneasy quiet. The farmland bustled with life—workers tending to crops, children chasing chickens through the dirt—but to the three companions, every sound felt distant, muffled beneath the weight of dread.

Elara stood at the fence line, watching the slow rise of the sun through the mist. The ache in her chest had dulled, but not disappeared. It lingered like a whisper, faint yet persistent.

"Still there?" Luciel's voice came from behind her.

She nodded. "A little. It hasn't faded completely."

"Good," he said. "If it fades suddenly, it may mean her strength is failing. Tell me the moment it does."

Elara glanced at him. "You seem… strangely calm about all this."

Luciel's gaze drifted toward the sky. "Panic clouds judgment. And judgment, in times like these, is the only blade sharper than fear."

His words carried a quiet certainty that steadied her more than she expected.

Behind them, Alina and Ariel finished tightening the leather straps of their armor—no longer shimmering steel, but enchanted battle gear imbued with the essence of the ghostly realm. Its pale glow pulsed faintly, like heartbeats in the dark.

They would need it soon.

Luciel turned back toward them, his cloak stirring in the morning wind. "Ready yourselves. When the Tortoise moves, the ground itself will tremble. From that moment on, we ride toward danger."

The three women nodded, their fear forged into resolve.

For Yanlu.

For the bond that still pulsed faintly in their hearts.

And for the promise that none of them would ever face the dark alone.