The wind howls low, threading through the treetops in strange patterns, carving a labyrinth of movement between the leaves. The warehouse is tucked away, almost invisible, but each gust reveals a sliver of it—just enough to make my breath hitch a little more every time.
“Look there,” Nala whispers. Her eye is pressed to the telescope’s lens, her voice unsteady. “There’s more.”
Her face drains of all colour, turning as pale as the clouds drifting beside us. When I follow her gaze through the telescope, my stomach drops. More people—far more than before—are moving between the trees. For a heartbeat, I think the Siphon has chosen peace, that he’s finally releasing his hold on them. But the longer I look, the sharper the truth becomes.
Their eyes don’t shift. Their steps don’t waver. They move with the same stiff, eerie precision—two by two, perfectly in sync.
An army.
He’s taken our friends… and reshaped them into soldiers.
My throat tightens as new faces appear in the crowd, faces I’ve never seen before.
It’s most of Palidonia.
Each breath feels like swallowing shards of glass.
“How are we supposed to get through his army without hurting any of them?” I whisper into the fogged window. The question trembles out of me, barely holding itself together.
Nala doesn’t answer.
***
The valleys hold their breath as we hop off onto the steep ground, our lungs burning with the effort. The elions have torn through the roofs of the farm buildings, leaving chaos in their wake. Bones scatter the floor like broken chalk, and white feathers trail out from the barn doors, fluttering in the fog like shredded memories. The animals clearly didn’t stand a chance. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, my eyes scanning the misted valleys that stretch endlessly below.
Then—a pink flash dances across my vision. I blink hard, convinced I’m seeing things. Another follows, drifting lazily through the fog, soft and oddly alive. My stomach twists as a third settles on the ground just ahead.
I step back sharply, heart hammering. My mind screams before my mouth does.
“A bunny?” Nala whispers, her voice barely audible, fragile against the heavy silence of the valley. Her hot breath curls into the mist, merging with the damp cold.
It lifts again, wings flapping against the fog, tiny but deliberate. My eyes narrow, scanning it, trying to reconcile what I know with what I see. The pink fluff is innocent, yes—but I know better.
“I suppose these are the only things the elions didn’t dare touch,” I mutter, wary and tense. My gaze tracks it as it flutters closer, landing cautiously on Nala’s shoulder.
She freezes, torn between swatting it away and letting it rest. Her chest rises rapidly; each shaky breath mirrors my own. The bunny’s tiny nose twitches as it explores her hair, then her neck, then the folds of her pocket, sniffing, probing like a predator testing boundaries.
“What’s it doing?” she whispers, wide-eyed, muscles taut.
“I… I don’t know,” I admit, my voice tight with unease.
Its little head dips completely into her pocket, nibbling at something inside. Nala’s gasp is soft, a mix of surprise and relief.
“Ohhhh,” she laughs quietly, a sound that’s almost afraid to exist here. She fishes in her pocket and produces a half-eaten granola bar. The bunny freezes, then somersaults for it, nimble and precise. For a heartbeat, I swear I see it grin.
Gone is the memory of flames licking at our boots, the acrid smoke, the heat that had singed our hair. Now it sits in Nala’s arms, small and doe-eyed, nibbling the granola like a cherished treasure.
“You’re… not so bad after all,” Nala murmurs, fingers buried in the silky fur. Thin tendrils of black smoke drift lazily from its nose as it purrs softly. My chest tightens as I watch her eyes light up, wide with wonder, and for a moment, I feel the same cautious hope stirring in me.
“Asha… the thing doesn’t like fire,” she says softly, still stroking the creature. Her tone carries awe now, not fear, and for the first time, I allow myself to believe these bunnies might not just be threats—they might be… allies.
The bunnies flutter away in an instant, pink streaks disappearing into the fog. Nala fights the urge to snatch her new companion and hold it close, but the instinct to flee is written in their every twitch and flutter.
I follow the trail of movement, and then my gaze catches Craize’s from across the valley. One look is all it takes. In less than a minute, he’s beside me, the earth barely whispering under his massive paws. The rest of his pack sweeps in behind him like shadows pulled by an unseen tide, their forms cutting through the mist with silent purpose.
My hand sinks into Craize’s fur, warmth blooming against my cold palms. His presence steadies me. For a moment—just a sliver of stolen time—his soft trill eases the tightness coiled in my chest. Even the impending doom seems to pause, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
‘This power looks good on you, young one.’
