Giotto stumbles through the thick brush, his breath coming in ragged, painful gulps.

"Why... why am I here again?" he wheezes, wiping sweat from his forehead.

The Undead Knight doesn't turn around, but his silent posture radiates a deep, rattling disdain.

"I can help!" Giotto insists, his voice cracking. "I hunted beasts at the Academy! I won't be a drag!"

"This isn't the Academy," Menningen clicks, his jawbone emitting a dry, hollow sound. He hacks through a thick vine with his silver lance. "Past the Twin Rivers... across the Gryphon Plains... something is buried here you shouldn't forget."

Menningen stops dead, staring at a jagged castle perched on the cliffside. A thick, purple mist begins to bleed from the stones, coiling through the air like a living thing.

"The seal is failing," the knight rasps, his grip tightening on his lance. "He's out. Caerus's old enemy... the Vampire Progenitor."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Just like that! Add the foam on top!"

Yulia hands out five jars of cheese foam tea, her sapphire eyes bright with a rare, satisfied spark.

The boy, Bacon, drains his jar in one long gulp, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "Is this... milk? Tea? Magic medicine?"

"Just tea, kid," Yulia grins, her fingers idly smoothing her borrowed skirts.

She turns her gaze to Caerus. He takes a slow sip through a straw, his expression a wall of cold, unbothered stone.

"It's... decent," he mutters, though he drains the rest of the cup without looking away.

Yulia leans in, her voice dropping to a low, silk thread in the dragon's ear. "A just god rewards his helpers, Lord Caerus. I couldn't have made that without Alik's wife... maybe a little bonus is in order?"

Caerus lets out a short, bored sigh. He opens his palm, and a stack of gold coins materializes in the afternoon light. "Take it."

Bacon stares at the gold, his small hands shaking as he leans against the table. "For... us?"

"Is this magic tea only worth a few coins?" Yulia asks, blocking the boy's reach. "Give the kid a wish. A real one."

Caerus tilts his head, his golden slit eyes locking onto the boy. "One wish. Don't waste my time."

Bacon swallows hard, his gaze darting to Yulia before settling on the Dragon. "I want... I want no one here to starve. I want our work to actually matter."

Caerus pauses, a flicker of something like respect crossing his cold features. "That sounds more like a mage than a peasant."

He leaves the gold on the table and walks out of the forge without another word.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yulia hitches up her skirts, chasing him into the dusty street. "Did you agree or not?! You can't just lie to a kid!"

Caerus stops dead in the center of the road. Yulia slams into his back, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp woof.

He turns, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallows her whole. He leans down, his face inches from her sapphire eyes.

"You think I don't see it?" he whispers, his voice vibrating through her bones.

"You've been baiting the hook since we left the Inquisition," Caerus growls, his gaze intense.

"You want to save them... and you're using me to do it."

Yulia lowers her head, her sapphire eyes darting as she hides a small, defiant smirk. "Is that... not allowed?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"People back home are big on praying," she says, her gaze shifting to the jagged horizon. "But a god that just sits there? We'd tear the temple down and use the wood for a bonfire."

Caerus stares at her, his golden slit eyes unblinking. "Your Farislan... is different from the one I remember."

Yulia scoffs, smoothing her borrowed linen skirts. "Stay out of it."

His hand drops onto her head. It is heavy, the palm broad and warm. Most people would call this a gesture of affection; with him, it feels like a silent threat to snap her skull like a dry twig.

"Stop the games," Caerus rumbles, his voice vibrating through her bones. "Since you're so eager to meddle, the boy's wish is yours to fulfill."

Yulia blinks, her mouth falling open. "Mine?"

"Yours. The vault is open. My servants are at your command".

He leans in, his cold face inches from hers. "Try to bring some life to this stagnant world with that slow brain of yours."

Yulia stares at him, her momentary warmth toward the dragon vanishing in a flash of annoyance.

"Now," Caerus says, his grip on her head tightening just enough to be felt. "Take back what you said."

"What?"

"Gods don't lie to children." His grey-blue eyes are intense and absolute. "Especially not to stupid little girls."

Yulia's jaw tightens. Arrogant... condescending... lizard.

Yulia marches toward the market, her boots thudding against the dusty road. She doesn't know how to run an empire, but she traces the Light Magic circuits in her mind—the 'Life' affinity Caerus rewired.

She can force growth. She can filter seeds and cross-breed a super-crop that would make a modern ag-scientist weep. She needs better seeds from the Black Crow market.

"Go on then," Caerus says, stopping at a crossroads where the gray slums meet the stone walls of the southern district. "I have... business."

"Where are you going?"

"To kill a chicken," Caerus says, his lip curling in a thin, lethal line.

Yulia flushes crimson. He is talking about the hen from the forge—the one she had been too terrified to slaughter earlier, nearly crying as she begged the Undead Knight for help.

"Go! Do it yourself!" she snaps, turning her back on him.

"Remember the combat magic I taught you?" Caerus asks, his voice flat.

"Yes."

"Know the way back to the temple?"

"I know," Yulia groans, rolling her eyes toward the sky. "You know what you sound like, Lord Caerus?"

"What?"

"A nagging old father."

Caerus stands in the road, his expression a wall of frozen stone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The mansion of Lord Felix stands silent at the edge of the district. Felix stumbles through the front doors, his breath hitching as the scent of copper and wet iron hits him.

The house is a tomb. No servants. No guards. No breath.

"Quiet," a voice rumbles from the high-backed chair in the center of the hall. Caerus sits in the shadows, his slim frame draped in black silk, coiling darkness swirling around his boots.

"A mage? Who sent you?" Felix's knees hit the marble floor. "Money? I have gold!"

"Did you see the Pope?" Caerus asks, his voice a low, rhythmic drone.

"The Pope signed my transfer! I'm a Lord of the Black Crow district!" Felix gasps, scrambling backward. "Knight Norman will—"

A blur of motion. A pale hand clamps over Felix's head, the sound of bone crushing in a single, wet snap echoing off the high ceiling.

"Filthy," Caerus mutters. He flicks warm blood and brain matter from his fingers, his eyes remaining as cold as the Abyss.

A flash of crimson feathers bursts through the window. Ollie lands on Caerus's finger, his wings beating so hard he shakes.

"Lord Caerus! Disaster! Absolute disaster!"

"Stop," Caerus growls, his golden eyes narrowing. "One more word of nonsense and I'll pluck you bare."

Ollie's neck shrinks into his feathers.

"Menningen is back. The seal in the Wind-Kissed Forest is gone. The one you locked away... he's out."