The first sound was a dull impact against stone.
Then came the heavy dragging of something across the cave floor, followed by the sharp, metallic shriek of a blade striking a hard surface and skidding across it with a shower of sparks. For a few seconds, only uneven breathing could be heard, ragged and labored, echoing off the damp walls like the pulse of something wounded. Then came the roar.
The sound tore through the cave with such force that it seemed to shake the very air, spreading outward into the forest beyond the entrance and sending dozens of birds bursting from the nearby branches in a flurry of dark wings. Outside, the sky remained covered by thick clouds, and the gray light of day could barely make its way through the dense canopy of the treetops, leaving the forest floor in a state of perpetual twilight. Another impact echoed through the cave, followed by a moment of silence so complete that it felt almost unnatural.
Then the roar came again.
Closer.
Stronger.
Akel stepped back, gritting his teeth as the vibration tore through his skull and left a sharp, high-pitched ringing in his ears that turned every surrounding sound into a distant, muffled blur. He shook his head once, trying to clear the fog, but it did nothing. In front of him, the Bellow moved slowly on four legs, its compact, muscular body shifting with a predator's patience. The creature was approximately the size of an adult man, though its build was far more powerful, with thick, dark skin covering almost its entire body like a layer of natural armor. Its front legs, larger and more developed than the hind ones, ended in curved claws that scraped against the stone floor with every step, leaving pale scratches in their wake.
Its head was broad and heavy, with a jaw that seemed disproportionate to the rest of its body, but what drew the most attention was its chest. Whenever the creature took a deep breath, that chest expanded excessively, swelling to an unnatural size as though something inside it was gathering strength. Akel already knew what was coming. He had learned to recognize the signs—the way the creature's posture shifted, the way its muscles tensed beneath the dark skin, the way its mouth opened just slightly before the sound came.
The first attack came too quickly for something of its size. Akel barely managed to dodge, twisting his body to the side and feeling the rush of air as the claws passed inches from his face. He responded with a slash to the creature's flank, a shallow cut that drew dark blood but did little to slow it down. The Bellow turned immediately, faster than he expected, and Akel tried to take advantage of the opening that movement created, stepping in close and bringing his sword down toward one of its front legs. The blade connected, but the force of the impact made his entire arm tremble, sending a jarring shock through his shoulder and forcing him to retreat before the creature could retaliate.
The Bellow charged again.
Akel sidestepped and struck at one of its hind legs, feeling the blade bite deep this time. The creature lost its balance for an instant, stumbling sideways with a grunt of pain, and that was when it rose. Its hind legs supported the entire weight of its body while its front legs hung suspended in the air, and its chest began to inflate with that terrible, familiar motion.
Akel realized it too late.
The roar exploded through the cave.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. Pressure surged through his head, his balance disappeared, and his muscles lost their strength as though something had reached inside him and pulled the power from his limbs. Akel dropped to his knees, one hand pressed flat against the cold stone floor to keep himself from collapsing entirely, while the ringing in his ears became deafening, drowning out everything else until the world was reduced to a single, continuous tone.
For several seconds, he couldn't distinguish anything.
Then a shadow appeared before him.
Akel raised his eyes. The Bellow was coming toward him, its massive form blocking out the pale light from the cave entrance as it advanced with deliberate, predatory steps. He threw himself to the side just as its paw struck the ground where he had been kneeling, sending fragments of stone flying in every direction. Akel rolled across the floor and rose unsteadily, feeling his heart pounding hard inside his chest, each beat a sharp, insistent pressure against his ribs.
His head throbbed.
His ears were still ringing.
And, for the first time in the fight, he realized that he could actually lose.
The creature turned, its broad head lowering as it fixed him with those small, dark eyes. Akel tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the leather wrapping dig into his palm. He couldn't allow another roar. If that happened again, he wouldn't have the strength to move.
The fight dragged on for minutes that felt far longer than they actually were. His movements became more economical, more calculated, and Akel began watching the Bellow's breathing before every approach, timing his attacks to the rhythm of the creature's lungs. The Bellow was also beginning to slow down; its injured leg could no longer support its weight with the same firmness, and each step it took seemed to cost it more effort than the last. Akel felt his own body demanding the price of the effort. His shoulder burned. His legs were heavy. The ringing had not disappeared.
But he remained standing.
When the Bellow opened its mouth again, Akel realized that this would be his last opportunity. He extended his hand toward his sword, and something inside him reached out, brushing against the dormant power that slept within the blade.
The runes engraved along the steel began to glow.
First, a single line of light traveled across the symbols, faint and uncertain. Then another. Then another, until the entire blade was alive with a pattern of burning lines that pulsed like veins of fire. Flames were born directly from the runes, spreading across the blade in small streams that quickly grew, consuming the steel in a sheath of orange and red. The light illuminated Akel's face and the damp walls of the cave, casting dancing shadows that seemed to writhe against the stone, while the heat reached his hand and warmed the cold skin of his fingers.
The Bellow backed away, its claws scraping against the stone as it retreated.
Akel advanced.
The creature tried to attack him, tried to summon one last burst of strength, but its injured leg gave out at the decisive moment, and it stumbled forward instead of striking. The flaming sword met its body, cutting deep into the thick hide, and the fire spread from the point of impact like a living thing, racing across the creature's flesh. The Bellow let out one final, hoarse sound that was not quite a roar and not quite a whimper, and then it collapsed onto the stone with a weight that seemed to shake the entire cave.
Akel remained standing before it for a few seconds.
The flames slowly died down.
The runes lost their glow.
The sword became nothing more than metal once again.
Akel placed one hand against the cave wall and closed his eyes. His entire body felt heavy, as though the weight of the fight had settled into his bones and refused to leave. His ears were still ringing.
"It'll pass," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the sound of his own breathing.
He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself.
After catching his breath, he approached the Bellow's body and removed the necessary parts to prove the completion of the contract. The work was grim and methodical, and he did it without looking at the creature's face.
When he finished, he left the cave.
---
The cold forest air struck his face like a blade.
Akel stopped for a few seconds just beyond the entrance, breathing slowly, feeling the chill work its way into his lungs. The sky was completely overcast. Heavy clouds covered the horizon, and the cold light spread between the trees, leaving the forest almost colorless, as though all the warmth had been drained from the world.
He sat on a stone near the entrance.
He took a piece of cloth from his bag and cleaned the cut above his eyebrow, feeling the sting of the wound for the first time. Then he examined his shoulder, where the claws had torn through his cloak and left a painful mark on the skin beneath. Nothing serious. The wounds would heal in a few days, leaving behind nothing more than faint scars.
The bigger problem was still his ear.
Akel brought two fingers to the side of his head and pressed gently.
The ringing remained.
For a few seconds, he simply sat there, listening to the wind passing through the leaves and the distant sounds of the forest—the rustle of small animals in the undergrowth, the creak of old branches, the soft murmur of a stream somewhere far away. It wasn't the first time he'd walked away from a fight injured. It probably wouldn't be the last. Dangerous contracts paid better. Perhaps that was the simplest reason he kept accepting them.
Akel stood and grabbed the reins.
But as he mounted, another reason came to mind.
The Levis.
He hadn't thought about the group in a long time. At least, not deliberately. Even so, some memories seemed to wait for the right moments to return, slipping through the cracks of his defenses when he was too tired to keep them out.
Akel set off toward Mirior.
---
When he entered the Guild again, the afternoon was already beginning to disappear behind the clouds.
The hall was crowded. Mercenaries discussed contracts at almost every table, several people negotiated prices at the counter, and the smell of food mixed with that of wet leather and rain-soaked wool. Akel made his way through the room without stopping, ignoring the glances that followed him, and placed a small box on the counter.
The attendant opened the lid and examined its contents with the same clinical detachment she always displayed. Her fingers moved carefully among the remains, checking for the signs that confirmed the kill.
"Bellow," she said, nodding slowly.
"Yes."
She raised her eyes from the box, studying his face for a moment before glancing at the fresh cut above his eyebrow.
"Alone?"
Akel nodded, wiping a smear of dirt from the back of his hand.
The woman closed the box with a soft click and pushed it aside.
"You could start choosing less unpleasant jobs," she said, reaching for the coin box beneath the counter.
Akel watched her count the coins, the silver pieces clicking against each other as she stacked them in neat rows.
"If one comes along that pays the same, I'll consider it."
She laughed as she counted, a short, quiet sound that seemed to surprise even her. She placed the coins in a leather pouch and slid it across the counter toward him.
Akel took the pouch and secured it inside his coat.
That was when a familiar voice came from a nearby table.
"Can you still hear anything?"
Akel turned.
Bjorn was sitting with Rurik.
His blond hair was still tied behind his head, and his goatee remained as well-groomed as Akel remembered. There was something almost infuriatingly composed about him, the kind of calm that came from years of dealing with chaos and learning not to let it show. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, a half-empty mug resting on the table in front of him.
Rurik sat beside him, elbows resting on the table, his fingers idly turning a small coin over and over between his knuckles.
Akel approached, weaving between two occupied tables until he stood at the edge of theirs.
"Enough."
Bjorn slowly rotated the mug between his fingers, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"So you really were listening."
Akel pulled out a chair and sat down, wincing slightly as his shoulder protested the movement.
"Unfortunately."
Rurik let out a short laugh, slapping the table with the flat of his hand.
"I told you he'd come," he said, turning to Bjorn with a satisfied grin.
Bjorn shook his head, still smiling.
"You were waiting for me?" Akel asked, unclasping his cloak and letting it fall over the back of the chair.
"Not exactly," Rurik said. "But we knew you were in town."
Akel looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"And how did you find out?"
Rurik picked up his mug and took a long drink before answering, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Mirior isn't as big as it seems."
"That doesn't answer the question."
Rurik set the mug down with a heavy thunk.
"I didn't want to answer it."
Bjorn took a sip from his mug, hiding a smile behind the rim.
Akel shook his head, running a hand through his damp hair.
"You two haven't changed."
Bjorn tilted his head slightly, as though considering the words carefully.
"Is that good or bad?"
Akel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm still deciding."
For a few seconds, the three of them remained silent. The noise of the Guild continued around them, but somehow it felt distant, muted, as though the space around their table had been set apart from the rest of the world. A waitress passed by with a tray of empty mugs, and Rurik waved her off with a quick gesture.
Akel looked at the two of them, really looked, and for the first time he noticed the subtle changes. Bjorn's face seemed thinner than he remembered, the lines around his eyes deeper. Rurik's eyes carried a tension that hadn't been there before, a restlessness that showed in the way he kept shifting his weight in the chair.
"How are the Levis?" Akel asked, his voice lower now.
Rurik's smile disappeared.
Bjorn stopped rotating the mug. His fingers went still against the ceramic.
"Fine," Bjorn said, but the word came out too quickly.
Akel noticed the pause. The way Bjorn's eyes flicked toward Rurik before returning to him.
"But?"
Rurik leaned forward, planting both elbows on the table and lowering his voice.
"The Pardas," he said, the name coming out like a curse.
Akel slightly furrowed his brow, searching his memory.
"The Vultures?"
Rurik nodded, his jaw tightening.
"Yeah. Pardas is their name. Vultures is what we call those bastards."
Bjorn sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
"And it's not exactly an affectionate nickname."
"Never was," Rurik muttered, reaching for his mug again.
Akel rested his arm on the table, leaning in closer.
"What happened?"
Bjorn briefly glanced toward the door before answering, as though checking to make sure no one was listening. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and measured.
"Rodric was trying to open some doors with a baron in Umbria. Things were moving slowly, but they were moving."
"Until the Pardas showed up," Akel said.
"Until they showed up," Bjorn confirmed, nodding.
Rurik tapped his fingers against the wood, a nervous rhythm that seemed to come from deep within him.
"And it wasn't a coincidence," he said, his eyes narrowing.
Bjorn raised an eyebrow, turning to face him.
"We don't have proof."
Rurik snorted, slamming his palm flat on the table.
"That bastard's smile was proof enough."
"To you, even the way he breathes is proof."
Rurik pointed a finger at Bjorn's face.
"You know I'm right."
Akel almost smiled. Almost.
"What did they do?" he asked, cutting through the argument before it could escalate.
Rurik leaned forward, lowering his voice again.
"They showed up in the same place where Rodric was negotiating. Started talking about the Levis, implying that our work couldn't be trusted, that we were unreliable, that we'd already failed contracts before."
"And someone answered," Akel finished, his eyes moving to Rurik.
Rurik put on an innocent expression, spreading his hands wide.
"Maybe."
Bjorn let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
"He did," Bjorn said, pointing at Rurik with his thumb.
Rurik shot him a look.
"You didn't have to tell him."
"He would've found out anyway."
Akel looked at Rurik, who was now studying the grain of the wooden table as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.
"And the baron saw," Akel said.
"He did," Rurik admitted, his voice quieter now.
Akel understood.
"So Rodric was furious."
Rurik leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath.
"You know Rodric," he said, dragging a hand down his face.
Akel didn't answer.
He did.
He knew enough to imagine exactly what expression the leader of the Levis must have made when he found out—the way his jaw would have tightened, the way his voice would have dropped to that cold, controlled tone that was somehow worse than shouting.
Bjorn continued.
"The baron didn't cancel everything. He just decided to wait."
Rurik picked up his mug, then set it down again without drinking.
"There's still a chance," he said, though the words lacked conviction.
"There is," Bjorn agreed, but he didn't sound convinced either.
Akel stared at the table.
Four months.
For four months, the Levis had continued working, arguing, making plans, and running into problems without him. The realization settled over him like a weight he hadn't known he was carrying.
The memory of a campfire surfaced in his mind.
A fire burning low against the darkness. Selena arguing about something with Rodric while he tried to keep his composure. Rurik complaining about a decision that had already been made. Bjorn laughing in the background, that deep, easy laugh that always seemed to ease the tension. Voices blending together. Footsteps. Weapons being left beside the tents.
It wasn't an important memory.
That was precisely why it hurt.
It was an ordinary memory.
Akel looked away, blinking against the sudden tightness behind his eyes.
"Where are you now?" he asked, his voice steady.
Bjorn set down his mug and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
"Alfra."
"Still near the capital?"
"Yes. The camp is on the outskirts."
Rurik stroked his beard, nodding slowly.
"Rodric wants to settle this before looking for another contract," he said.
Akel remained silent.
Bjorn watched him carefully.
"We're leaving early tomorrow," Bjorn said, his eyes searching Akel's face.
Akel raised his eyes, meeting Bjorn's gaze.
"Maybe I'll go with you."
Rurik immediately smiled, slapping the table again.
"Knew it."
"I said maybe," Akel said, raising a hand.
"To you, that means maybe. To me, it means yes."
Bjorn laughed, leaning back in his chair.
"Don't argue. He's already decided."
Akel stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape of wood against stone.
"You two are still unbearable."
Rurik grinned, spreading his arms wide.
"And you still keep showing up."
Akel shook his head and walked away.
When he reached the door, Bjorn called out.
"Akel."
He looked back over his shoulder.
Bjorn wasn't smiling this time. His expression had shifted into something more serious, more open.
"It'd be good to have you there again," Bjorn said quietly.
Akel remained still for a few seconds, his hand resting on the door frame.
Then he nodded.
"I know."
He left the Guild.
---
Outside, the sky remained gray and heavy. The wind swept through the damp streets of Mirior, carrying the smell of rain that would probably fall during the night and the faint, distant sound of thunder somewhere beyond the hills.
Akel stood still beside the door.
The image of Rodric beside the campfire returned to his mind. The same tired face. The same expression of someone carrying too many problems to admit it.
Akel tightened his grip on the reins.
"Four months have been enough."
He mounted.
This time, when he looked toward the road leading south, he wasn't thinking about his next contract.
He was thinking about Alfra.
And the Levis.