From atop Vesta, the phoenix, Ayumu spotted the great lake—the one she suspected was the root of the flooding problem.
It stretched out beneath them like a dark mirror, its surface glinting under the moonlight. The water looked unnaturally high, swollen by weeks of relentless rain. She could see the edges where it had spilled over.
She gestured downward, and Vesta began its descent.
The phoenix's talons loosened, dropping Drobar and Levain unceremoniously onto the grassy bank before landing gracefully beside them. The two men tumbled violently—rolling, bouncing, coming to rest in a heap of limbs and scattered belongings.
Levain clutched his satchel containing the precious magic pot to his chest, his hair disheveled and filled with leaves. He spat out a blade of grass.
Drobar lay flat on his back, one leg propped awkwardly against a large rock that he had hit during his landing. He groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"She will be the death of me," Drobar muttered. "This woman really is something else…"
Vesta shrank its massive form folding inward, feathers compressing, until it was no larger than a canary. Vesta hopped onto Ayumu's right shoulder, its tiny body glowing like a candle flame, casting a soft golden light around them.
The moon was full and bright, but the warmth of Vesta's glow made it easier to see the details of their surroundings.
Ayumu, however, needed no light for her spirit.
Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, her back straight, her golden eyes scanning the area with barely contained excitement. Even amid the darkness, she was ready for an adventure. She radiated energy like a second sun.
"Sir Drobar! Sir Levain!" She looked back at them, beaming. "Come! Let us go! I saw the problem from above!"
Without waiting, she spun around and ran toward the dark treeline—disappearing into the shadows in an instant.
Levain scrambled to his feet. "Wait! Wait, Lady Ayumu! Wait for us!"
He chased after her, his satchel bouncing against his hip. Drobar groaned again, hauled himself upright, and stumbled after them with a string of muttered curses.
They ran through the forest, following Ayumu's faint glow, until they reached a ravine.
Ayumu stopped at the edge of a massive wall—tall, uneven, made entirely of wood. It stretched across the ravine like a fortress wall, its surface a patchwork of branches and mud and packed earth.
Levain, gasping for air, bent over with his hands on his knees. He looked up, his eyes widening as he took in the structure.
"This—" He straightened slowly. "This was supposed to be a river. We are standing in a riverbed. It is empty."
Ayumu gazed up at the wooden wall with wonder, her eyes sparkling. She took a step toward it, almost as if she wanted to climb it.
Then—sounds.
Squeaks. Small growls. Rustling from the shadows to her right.
Emerging from the darkness, illuminated by Vesta's soft glow, were creatures the size of bears. They were not bears, though—their bodies were stockier, their tails wide and flat, their teeth large and prominent.
Drobar's hand went to his sword. "What is that?!"
Ayumu's face lit up like a child seeing a new toy. "Beavers!"
She broke into a run, heading straight toward them.
Drobar's jaw dropped. "Wait—oh my days, this girl has no sense of danger!"
The beavers tensed. There were about ten of them—a family, by the look of it. They formed a defensive line, their large teeth bared, their flat tails slapping the ground in warning. They were ready to attack.
But Ayumu stopped at a reasonable distance. She clasped her hands together and spoke to them in a gentle, admiring tone. "Your house is amazing. It is truly an incredible fortress."
The beavers paused.
Their tails stopped slapping. Their growls faded. They stared at her, heads tilted, as if trying to understand what this strange glowing creature was saying.
Levain stared at the scene. "Is she… talking to the beavers?"
Drobar, still catching his breath, shook his head slowly. "I do not know what is happening anymore."
The beavers were less angry now, but still defensive—their tails held still, their teeth no longer bared, but their bodies remained tense, ready to flee or fight if necessary.
Ayumu bowed slightly, her hands pressed together in a gesture of respect. "Ah, I am sorry. I am Ayumu. Ayumu Velmiar. I mean no harm. I truly admire the house you have built. More like it is a castle than a house. Truly beautiful."
The beavers responded.
Squawks. Growls. A series of chattering sounds that seemed almost like words. And throughout it, Ayumu nodded, tilted her head, and replied as if she were having a perfectly normal conversation.
Drobar and Levain stood frozen, watching the scene unfold.
Levain's mouth hung slightly open. Drobar's face had gone slack with disbelief.
What are they seeing?
Is she... crazy?
Talking to animals?
Drobar shook his head slowly. "Whatever she does never make any sense. I need to sit down." He walked weakly to a nearby boulder and sat down heavily, staring at the towering wall of stacked logs and packed earth. "So what are we looking at here?"
Levain, however, was still thinking. He moved closer to the wall, running his hand along the rough surface, inspecting the way the logs were wedged together, the mud that sealed the gaps.
"It is true," he said slowly. "What Lady Ayumu said. This is the problem."
Drobar frowned. "What? The wall? What is wrong with it?"
"Do you notice that the floor is muddy?"
Drobar glanced down at his boots, which were indeed sinking slightly into wet ground. "Yeah. Well, we are near a lake, are we not? Is that not normal?"
Levain shook his head. "We are not near a lake. We are standing in an old riverbed that has been blocked." He pointed at the wall. "Water used to flow through here. This wall is stopping it."
Drobar's brow furrowed. "So you mean that is why the lake is bigger now? Because the water cannot flow out?"
"Yes." Levain nodded. "So whenever it rains, water from the lake overflows and pours down into the villages below. Because it has nowhere else to go."
Drobar stared at the wall, then back at the beavers. "And those beavers are responsible?"
"Apparently so."
Ayumu came bounding back toward them, her face bright with excitement. Trailing behind her was the largest beaver of the group—its body thick and powerful, its fur dark and glossy, its expression utterly unbothered.
She gestured to the creature with pride. "Sir Drobar, Sir Levain. This is Boto. He is the head of his pack."
Both men stared at the beaver.
The beaver stared back.
Its flat tail rested on the ground. Its small eyes blinked slowly. It looked at them with the air of a king acknowledging peasants.
Drobar and Levain exchanged a glance.
Neither knew what to say.
------------------------------------------------------
From above, the wyvern soared through the moonlit sky, its massive wings cutting through the cool night air. On its back, Kaiser sat rigid and alert, his red eyes scanning the terrain below.
Behind him, Rhea clung to him with a grip that could rival iron.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, her face pressed against his back. She was terrified of heights—every beat of Azhdar's wings sent a fresh wave of panic through her chest.
Kaiser, to his credit, remained patient. But his voice was strained.
"Rhea," he said with a serious tone, "I do not mind you holding on to me. But my ribcage is still healing. I am afraid that with your grip, I will lose another bone."
Rhea loosened her grip for half a second. "I am sorry, Kaiser. It is just—"
She glanced down. The ground was so far below. So far. The trees looked like moss. The lake looked like a puddle.
She tightened her grip again.
"Why are we still flying?!" she cried. "Can we not go down?!"
Kaiser winced in pain. "Urk."
He took a breath, steadying himself. "We lost sight of them. To search from the sky is better than from the ground. We will find them soon."
Then—a boom.
A loud sound that was echoing across the valley.
From the ground below, birds erupted into the sky, their wings beating frantically as they fled the source of the noise. Then came the sound of gushing water.
And then—
A scream. A manly scream. Loud, high-pitched, unmistakable.
Drobar.
Rhea and Kaiser both startled.
"Azhdar," Kaiser commanded, his voice sharp, "Descend to where the sound came from."
Azhdar roared—a deep, rumbling cry that shook the air—and folded his wings, plummeting toward the earth like a dark arrow.