The Rebirth Of The Beast Tamer

The Hollow's edge was still burning behind them. Fissures glowed faintly in the distance, while coughing out smoke and ash where the corpses of the husks had fallen. But the moans had quieted, at least for the night.

The Crest sat around a small fire, its flame flickered low against the unnatural chill. It was not enough to drive the cold from their bones, but it gave them a circle of light and out here, that was as close to safety as they could hope for.

Kelvin lowered himself onto a flat stone, his spear laid across his knees. His hands were raw, blistered from gripping it too tightly in battle. Xerion coiled just behind him with his body glowing faintly with ember like pulses.

Darius had stripped the heavier parts of his armor, leaving Rhoam pressed against his side like a wall of heat. Even so, he shivered each time the Hollow's winds blew pass him.

Lyra sat across the fire, bow at her side with her fingers still bandaged where the string had burned her. Salaris perched just behind her, its wings folded but trembled faintly with an afterglow.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of the fire. It was Kelvin who spoke first. His voice was low, heavy, as if the words had been buried deep for too long.

"I have been afraid before," he said. His gaze remained on the fire, not the others. "I was afraid when the husks first came, afraid when we lost Elara, afraid when I took this path. But that is not the fear that claws at me now."

Xerion's coils shifted behind him, but the serpent stayed silent. Kelvin's fingers were tightened around the spear's shaft. "It is not dying that I fear, at least not anymore. It is failing. Failing the Crest… the same way I failed my parents."

His voice cracked on the last word, but he forced it to be steady again. "I could not protect them. I was too weak. And every time I swing this spear, I wonder what happens if I am too weak again? If you die because I was not enough?"

The fire hissed as if it was answering him. For a long breath, nobody spoke. Then Xerion uncoiled, his massive head lowering until his eyes met Kelvin's eyes.

A guttural hiss rumbled from his chest, which was not sharp, but steady. Through their bond, Kelvin felt the weight of the words, though the serpent did not speak aloud;

"I will not leave you, not until your last breath. Not even then." Kelvin's grip trembled, but he did not look away. His shoulders eased for the first time since the battle, though the scar of his fear remained.

Lyra exhaled sharply, as if the silence pressed too hard. "Then I will speak before I choke on my own secrets." Her eyes flicked up, sharp as always, though a shadow lurked behind them.

"Elara's death… it should have broken me. And maybe it did. But instead of breaking, it twisted. That anger, it keeps me sharp. It makes every arrow I fire, every decision I take, cleaner and sharper."

Her bandaged hand twitched against her bow. "But that edge cuts both ways. If I let it, it will consume me. That anger will swallow everything until I don't know who I am without it."

Salaris shifted behind her, with its wings unfolding slightly. The beast's feathers brushed across her shoulders while wrapping her like a shroud of silver shadow. Sparks flickered where the wings touched her skin, gentle and protective.

Lyra's lips trembled, but she did not push the beast away. She let the touch anchor her, though her voice grew quieter. "So I walk this line every day. Between control and fire. Between vengeance and purpose."

Her eyes met Kelvin's, then Darius's. "If I slip, if I burn too far… you will stop me. Promise me that." Neither of them spoke immediately, but their silence was an answer that was enough.

The fire cracked as Darius leaned forward, his massive hands braced against his knees. His face was half-shadow and half-light.

"Ironholt," he said, and the word alone carried weight. "When it fell, I thought I had nothing left. The flames, the screams… I wanted it to take me with it. I prayed for it but death felt easier than carrying the weight."

His fists clenched, with its knuckles pale even under the grime of battle. "But I lived and for years I wondered why. Why me, why so many better men fell? What did survival even mean when everything worth protecting was gone?"

Rhoam pressed closer, his bulk was a steadying presence. The beast's armored head nudged against Darius's shoulder, a low rumble echoed in his chest.

Darius's voice softened. "Now I think I know. Survival was not the end. It was the forge. And this..." he gestured around the fire, to Kelvin, Lyra and their beasts...."this is the second forge. Where I am meant to be reforged. Where survival starts to mean something again."

His words settled heavy over them, not in despair but in quiet strength. The fire burned lower, with embers glowing faint against the Hollow's darkness. The weight of their words hung between them like a smoke.

Kelvin finally spoke, his voice was quiet than before. "All of us… we are carrying scars. Different shapes, same weight. But maybe they are not chains.

Maybe they are blades, tools and weapons. They only bind us if we let them." Lyra's mouth curved into the faintest, bitter-sweet smile. "Scars as weapons, that is one way to put it."

Darius grunted, but there was warmth in the sound. "Then let's wield them well." Xerion's coils curled protectively around Kelvin, with its eyes glowing steady.

Salaris's wings tightened over Lyra, a silent vow. Rhoam's rumble became deepened, which thunder in his chest as he pressed against Darius's side.

The beasts didn't need words. Their loyalty was the unbroken truth that anchored every confession and every fear.

For a while, none of them spoke. They simply sat together, fire low, beasts close, scars bared but not as chains only as marks of survival which was waiting to be wielded. And above them, the Hollow moaned faintly, as if it was listening.

The fire had sunk to glowing embers by the time the hum began. At first, it was faint, with a low vibration in the stones around them, easy to mistake for the Hollow's winds.

But then the glow started. The relic they had carried since from the shrine was tucked in the circle of their gear which pulsed with light.

Strange glyphs unfurled across its jagged surface, bleeding out like veins of green fire while the Crest turned as one.

Kelvin reached out for it first, but did not touch. The light bent around his hand, repelled as though the relic itself chose when to be handled.

The hum grew deeper, a sound that was not just heard but was felt in the chest. Glyphs shifted, while reshaping into crude letters that shimmered against the darkness.

"The Hollow's den pulses with death. Shattered its core, and all realms bleed." The words were hung in the air like smoke.

Kelvin leaned closer with his spear balanced across his knees, blade was faintly glowing from its reforged core. His voice was steady, but his eyes burned with quiet fire.

"This is it," he said. "Not just a warning, this is our task. Our purpose. Everything we have survived, every scar, every beast we have bonded, it led here. To this. If we don't shatter the core, every realm pays the price."

Xerion uncoiled behind him, with it's scales glowing with ember-void light. The serpent's head lowered until its eyes gleamed at Kelvin's side. Through their bond, Kelvin felt a rumble like thunder rolling beneath the earth:

"Yes. The Hollow must be ended and the core must be broken, that truth is older than words." Kelvin straightened himself with the jaw set. "Then it falls to us. No one else will walk this far and no one else can."

Lyra had not moved when the words appeared. She sat with her bow resting across her lap, fingers were tight against the string, knuckles were pale even through the fresh bandages. Her gaze stayed locked on the glyphs.

Her voice cut sharp into the firelit silence. "Or maybe that is exactly what they want us to believe." Kelvin looked at her, startled and asked. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head, with her eyes narrowed. "A relic was carried by the cult hands. A storm that breaks us with illusions.

And now a message, that was right on the edge of the Hollow, telling us to step in? Too neat and too convenient. It could be bait. A trap set for tamers that are desperate enough to chase it."

Salaris shifted behind her with its feathers bristling as faint sparks of shadow-light rippled through its wings. Lyra didn't flinch at the touch, but her voice grew cold.