"Truth, Hope, Freedom.

Year 356."

— The inscription carved into the memorial cairn in the oasis of Karhen Rouz.


Reng, Karhen Rouz Oasis


Cook Lanis was known for being a hearty and very corpulent woman. To Reng, she had always seemed peculiar. On one hand, she radiated life and energy, but on the other, her presence filled him with an odd unease. Whenever he heard Lanis’s loud laughter—something that happened often, as she laughed freely and frequently—her massive form would shake in a way that both fascinated and unsettled him.


He sometimes wondered whether the buttons on her shirt could withstand the strain. And if not, who would suffer the consequences.


Everyone also knew that Lanis had eight daughters, though only four had made it to adulthood. Three had long since started families of their own, but the fourth, the youngest, was only a little younger than Reng.


Jara was quiet, slender, and easily overlooked. The complete opposite of her mother, she could probably fit three times into one of Lanis’s shirts. She helped in the kitchen daily, and whenever Reng brought in game for processing, she would shyly avert her gaze, her cheeks turning pink. She knew about the agreement her mother had made with Noel, but neither she nor Reng had found the courage to speak about it yet.



Today, when Reng stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by Lanis’s booming voice.


“Well, look who’s here! Our hunter!" her voice rang through the room.


It wasn’t meant for him alone—rather, for Jara, making sure she noticed who had arrived. Then, with surprising agility, Lanis moved between the tables and reached for the gutted kreliniaks Reng had brought. Her round face lit up with a broad smile.


"They look wonderful," she marveled.


She pointed to a table where he should put them and already had a knife in hand. Before Reng could say a word, she started carving. But after a moment, she hesitated.


"Shouldn’t there be one more?"


"There should," Reng replied. "But you can explain that to the leerd that ate it."


"You fought a leerd?" For a brief second, her expression showed open admiration, but it was soon replaced by her usual frown. "Shame you didn’t fend it off. Next time, fight better, boy. And if you lose, at least bring back a trophy. That’d get you more respect around here."


Reng sighed inwardly. It was pointless to expect anyone in the oasis to understand what real hunting in the Hills entailed. The locals found it easier to pretend the dangers outside didn’t exist, preferring instead to dish out advice on things they knew nothing about.


“I’ll try harder next time,” he replied monotonously. “Can you pay me now?

”

“How much is it?” Lanis asked.


“Twenty arens.”


“For all of them?” Her eyebrows shot up.


“No, per piece,” Reng replied, just as Noel had instructed him.


“I’ll give you fifteen.”


“Twenty.”


“Eighteen, and not a damn bit more,” she hissed, stabbing her knife into the table so close to his hand that a chill ran through him. Her initials were carved into the handle—a small but clear message about what happened to anyone who dared touch her things.


“Then I’ll take them back,” Reng said, reaching to do just that.


“You and Noel are both so damn stubborn,” Lanis growled, nodding at Jara to fetch the money. “Twenty per piece—but in five days, I want fifteen more. And no leerd’s gonna eat them, got it?!”


Reng nodded while Lanis gave him a scrutinizing look. Her eyes made it clear what she thought of him.


“Does Noel even feed you?” she scoffed. “You look like someone forgot to give you a meal.”


“He does,” Reng replied.


“You’re not sick, are you?”


“I’m not,” he sighed. This was endless.


By then, Jara had returned with the coins. As she handed them to him, her fingers brushed against his hesitantly. “Will I see you at the festival tonight?”


Reng shook his head. “Not this year.”


“Well, well, well,” Lanis’s laugh had a sharp edge this time. “You can’t be serious! Everyone will be there.”


“Not me,” he snapped, already turning to leave.


Lanis’s eyes hardened. “I’ll have to talk to Noel about you,” she announced. “This reflects badly on him and his whole family. Not to mention that soon, you’ll be part of mine, and I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior, boy. So think it over!”


“Then maybe you should reconsider whether I’m worth the trouble,” he shot back before she could reply again and quickly made his exit.


He didn’t stop until he was out on the street, only then realizing that he was gripping more coins than he should have received. Jara’s doing. He shoved the money into his pocket and sighed in resignation. He promised himself he’d at least try to be kinder to her next time.


Then he glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Ela. People were streaming through the streets, laughing and preparing for the evening celebrations, but there was no sign of the red-haired girl anywhere. He only then noticed that his feet had carried him, on their own accord, to the center of the Grand Square.


The name might have sounded grand, but the reality was far from it. The street had earned its title only by being slightly wider than the others. In the middle stood a stone cairn, a simple monument commemorating the day the first settlers arrived at the edge of the Hills.


This year marked exactly a quarter of a century. That was why the celebrations were expected to be grander than usual. Even now, just before noon, the streets were packed with people—locals, but also guests who had accepted invitations from other settlements. Colorful ribbons fluttered overhead, and in every available corner, lanterns hung, ready to bathe the oasis in magical light once night fell.


At the far end of the square stood a small stage, constructed just yesterday. Soon, a band would begin playing there. In the afternoon, the esteemed citizens of the oasis would take turns delivering speeches, and one of them was supposed to be Noel.


Reng hesitated for a moment. He knew Noel had done more for the oasis than anyone else. It was he who had discovered it twenty-five years ago—he, alongside Seren, his future wife, and Pert Burken, better known as Gramps.


Maybe that was why Gramps wanted to talk to Noel. Perhaps he was trying to mend old wounds? Or was it something else entirely? And what if it was a trap? Reng frowned. The suspicion gnawed at him, but he couldn’t find an answer.


A stir in the crowd pulled him from his thoughts. A few clusters of unfamiliar faces caught his attention. The square was full, which made sense given the significance of the occasion, but these people didn’t belong here. Strangers weren’t a common sight, and while today’s celebrations included guests from other oases, these men were different. Their rough faces, restless eyes, and the way they moved sent a ripple of unease through Reng. Something was off.


It didn’t take him long to figure out who had brought them here. Gramps’s men. How many were there? Clearly more than anyone had expected. That realization turned Reng’s plans upside down.


Until now, he had been willing to go along with Ked’s request—to find Ela and convince her to retreat with him to the hunting lodge. It was the perfect spot, surely empty today, an ideal escape from the evening’s chaos. But now, that plan was gone. Replaced by worry.


Not for himself. For Noel.


Gramps men was up to something, and judging by the number of his people in the oasis, it was something big. Involving his old friend might have been a gesture of reconciliation. Or the beginning of a treacherous game. Whatever it was, Reng knew one thing—he had to find Noel. And he had to do it before Gramps did.


***


On the other side of the quiet valley, just beyond the stone bridge, a set of stairs carved into the rock led up to the local cemetery.


Seren’s gravestone stood at its farthest edge, where small stone cairns marked the final resting places of the departed. Noel often brought a bowl filled with sweet josan fruit, which Seren had loved in life. Just like the tiny scalebacks that nested in the cracks between the cairns, feasting lavishly on the offerings left behind. Thanks to them, the cemetery was a place full of diverse life, perhaps another reason Noel liked returning here so much. He would sit, speaking quietly to himself, watching as the scalebacks nibbled away at the gifts he had brought.



From a distance, Reng spotted his silhouette, but it was immediately clear he had arrived too late. Noel was no longer alone. Gramps stood beside him. Even from afar, the old partner’s grizzled head was unmistakable. And it wasn’t hard to tell that their meeting was far from friendly.


Noel’s voice carried across the cemetery, but Gramps didn’t back down from his words. Instead, he gestured animatedly, clearly arguing with him. Among Gramps’s men, scattered around the cemetery, Reng recognized a familiar shock of red hair. Ked was there too, lurking behind the others, making sure his father wouldn’t see him.


Reng froze when their eyes met. Ked’s gaze hardened, as if trying to pierce him with a look alone. He didn’t need to say anything. Reng knew he had broken their morning agreement—and he would pay for it. Unless he did something about it.


"If I were you, I'd leave them be," a foreign voice sounded behind him. Reng flinched and turned. He wasn’t sure if he had simply overlooked the man or if he had crept up so silently that Reng hadn’t noticed him. But one thing was certain—he had never seen him before. He must have come with Gramps.


"Who says?" he snapped.


At first glance, the man didn’t look particularly threatening. He was shorter than Reng, slim, bald. But the smirk on his face made it clear he had the upper hand. Reng could tell this man wouldn’t hesitate to settle things quickly and without unnecessary words.


"None of your business. Turn around and get lost."


Reng considered obeying. He could feel he didn’t stand a chance against this man. And even if he did, there were more waiting between him and Noel. Still, he took a determined breath and tried.


The stranger caught him surprisingly easily and shoved him back a few steps. He planted himself in Reng’s path, arms hanging loosely, but clearly ready.


"Pick yourself up and leave," he hissed, this time noticeably irritated.


"I need to talk to Noel."


"Trust me, you don’t."


Reng shifted nervously, his breath quickening. He considered backing off, but something inside urged him forward. Noel likely already knew what was happening. But he was standing against overwhelming odds, and surely, having Reng by his side would mean something.


The stranger’s gaze warned him. Reng hesitated, ready to retreat, but his final glance at Seren’s gravestone wouldn’t let him. He had to try.


"Hey! Noel—!" he called out, but never finished. His hand shot up in a desperate act of defiance, but that was all. He caught a glimpse of Noel’s confused face turning toward his voice—then it happened.


The stranger moved before Reng could react. The strike was swift, precise. A fist slammed into his gut, and his entire body collapsed into a spasm of pain. He dropped to his knees, gasping for air. His muscles refused to obey.


"That really wasn’t necessary," he barely heard the stranger say before everything faded into darkness.


***


He had no idea how long he had been out. But when he finally came to, pain was the very first thing he felt. And then thirst. His throat was parched, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He reached for his chest. Nothing—no open wound, as he had feared—just the sharp aftertaste of his own suffering.


Slowly, he opened his eyes. Above him, branches swayed, their leaves whispering softly in the wind. Through the gaps, he saw a few winged hraavs squabbling among themselves. He had no idea where he was.


“Took you long enough to wake up.”


The voice startled him. He turned his head, forcing his vision to focus on a stranger sitting at the base of one of the cairns. The man was lazily cleaning the dirt from beneath his nails with a knife, looking utterly bored.


“You were out like a baby,” he smirked, his tone unsettlingly friendly. “For a moment there, I actually thought I might’ve finished you off by accident.”


The cemetery.


Reng finally realized where he was. The memories trickled back in pieces, each one bringing fresh pain with it. And right in front of him sat the man whose bare hands had dropped him so easily.



For a while, he just lay there, every breath stinging right where the stranger had struck him. He gathered what little strength he had and tried to sit up, but his body betrayed him instantly. His head spun violently, and his empty stomach clenched in a painful knot. He gave up as a few bitter hiccups escaped his throat, followed by nothing but stomach acid.


Disgusted, he wiped his mouth and managed to shuffle himself away from his own vomit. He fought down another wave of nausea, his hands trembling uncontrollably.


It wasn’t fair. He could feel it in his bones.


"Why?" he managed to push out the single word.


"Orders are orders," the stranger shrugged and slid his knife back into its sheath. Then, he offered Reng a bottle of water.


At first, Reng angrily shoved it away, but almost immediately, he realized his mistake. Begrudgingly, he took it and drank most of it in one go. The man watched him with amused interest.


"See? I don’t bite," he said dryly as Reng handed back the nearly empty bottle.


Reng didn’t respond. He focused on just one thing—getting back on his feet. The pain forced him to pause for a moment, but he pushed through. He stumbled, but this time, he stayed upright and finally took a proper look around.


The cemetery was empty. Seren’s grave stood alone, the bowl of berries gone. Everyone had left.


"Where are they?"


The stranger shrugged.


"Is Noel alright?"


"Why wouldn’t he be?" the man replied indifferently. "You would be too, if you didn’t do stupid things."


Reng had no response to that—except for the sinking feeling that he had been a complete fool.


He turned toward the distant oasis. Across the valley, lively music drifted through the air, and the streets now glowed with colorful lights. The celebration was in full swing.


The day had slipped into evening without him even realizing it.


"They started without you," the stranger remarked.


"I didn’t want to go anyway."


"But I do."


Reng fixed him with a look, raised an eyebrow, and shrugged indifferently.


"Then go. I’ll manage. I know the way."


"I’m not here to babysit you," the man shook his head. "I’m here because you’re causing trouble."


"I’m not."


The stranger let out a mocking snort.


"No? Then why were you lying in the leaves all this time? Just for fun?"


Reng had no response to that, so he fell back into silence. That, however, seemed to bore the man even more. With a long sigh, he stood up.


"Listen, kid," he said gruffly. "You know damn well that you brought all this on yourself. So enough talking. Get moving. Or I swear, if I have to listen to those hraavs any longer, my head’s going to explode."


With that, he gave Reng a firm shove forward. And he obeyed. After what had happened earlier, he didn’t dare resist.


His legs trembled, and every step made him want to collapse back onto the ground, but it was clear the man didn’t care.


So, he clenched his teeth and forced himself to walk, his unsteady steps carrying him toward the staircase, back to Karhen Rouz, where the lights and music had already claimed the evening.