Whispering “Sgot”, the ward activates, keeping intruders out. I leap and change mid-air. The world tilts, bones break andreform, skin gives way to fur, muscle pulls tight, expanding, shifting. The pain is sharp, clean, familiar. My senses flare to life; smell, sound, the wind itself feels electric against me.
I land on four legs. A growl rumbles in my throat. Then I run. The night swallows me as I tear through the trees. Dirt flies under my paws, leaves whip past my face. The cool earth is a blur beneath me, the forest closing in around my path, guiding me. The rhythm of the run steadies me. Stride, breath, pulse, I need this. So I go faster, pushing harder, each bound erasing the heat of her touch, the weight of what I almost let happen. My mind is in chaos.
Eventually, the forest parts. There, hidden beneath a curtain of trees and rocks, the spring steams quietly. My safe haven, my secret.
The place Sammy and I used to run to, to hide when it was too much at home. A place mom brought us the first time dad lifted a hand at her, before she realized it would become her storyline. The warm water shimmers, untouched and waiting. A place where no one expects anything from me.
No eyes.
No voices.
Just silence and peace. I regain my human form and step in slowly, the warmth climbing up my legs, easing into my muscles. My breath slows. I let myself float, eyes lost in the blue sky, letting everything hit pause.
Finally, I let go.
Here, I’m not running—not hiding, just… being me, Kai.
Once my skin has taken on the texture of a rotten fruit, soft and wrinkled from the heat, I pull myself out of the pool. Steam clings to me as I walk toward the far corner where I know a small cave entrance waits, hidden in the shadow. Inside, I find what I always leave behind: an old pair of pants and my art supplies. The cave smells of damp earth and drying paint; it’s familiar.
Safe.
There’s still time before patrol.
Even after all the years I've spent trying to kill this part of me, trying to bury it deep beneath duty and instinct. I can never fully let it go. I dip the brush in the pigment. My hand moving without thought, guided by something older. Muscle memory takes over, and I strike the canvas again and again.
Until the weight inside me spills out in colour and form.
Until my demons are laid bare.
Until my soul sings its song.
We reachedthe first village about fifteen minutes after leaving the manor. The only sound is the steady click-clack of horses’ hooves on cobblestone.
We don’t take the bikes out for patrols. Unless we glamor them, they’re loud as hell and kill any shot at sneaking up on something. Also, it’s forbidden, and these old streets weren’t exactly built with mundane tech in mind.
It’s dinner time, with the scent of roasted lamb, melted butter, and honey lingering in the air. The only warmth the autumn night receives. Quiet, still, as if the whole village is holding its breath over overcooked vegetables. Kallahanians love their family dinners, call it tradition. And that’s just one more reason why I can’t stand traditions. The only family dinners I ever knew were the royal ones. Big table, stiff conversation, too many forks. And my dad?
Always too busy saving the world or swinging a sword to sit down with his wife and two sons. Those dinners... Theymattered, but not because of him, because of mom. Her laugh was… Hell, it was home.
So Sammy and I pulled every dumb stunt we could think of just to hear it. Just to make her forget for a minute that the man she married was a cold, violent bastard. Even before the war, I could tell something was off. Something was hiding in the quiet stare, the pursed of his lips, waiting.
I saw the red marks on her arms. The bruises on her wrists. Sometimes her lip was split, and she couldn’t go to court because she wasn’tpresentable. And for that, shealso got punished, because apparently, it made him look bad.
Yeah, real honourable.
I take a slow pull from my flask to quell the shadows crawling out of the corners of my mind. That's the last thing I need tonight. I’m not in the mood to fight ghosts I already know too damn well. Wyll passes around a joint, trying to lighten the mood as we sit and watch, keeping the village safe from the things that creep in the night.
Perks of being in the Legion, we get free stuff now and then. Sometimes it’s food, sometimes knick-knacks. Hell, once we got a real-life goat from an old lady with no teeth, preaching about the milk benefits. Wyll got attached to the animal really fast, but unfortunately, given the amount of free time we had, he realized it wasn’t worth the latrine duties it came with. So, we’re not surprised when this young girl walks up with a basket in her arms, eyes wide as if we’re heroes from some bedtime story.
“Thank you for your service,” she says, handing it off to Caleb. He pulls his black mask down just enough to flash her a smile. That’s all it takes for her to turn three shades red and scurries back to her family.
Wyll smirks, clapping him on the back. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”
“Get off me and stop stealing my snacks! It’smybasket!”
I swear, those two act like they’re still fourteen. I sigh, exhaling deeply as I grab Wyll by the collar and pull him back before it turns into a full-on food fight.
“What? I’m patrolling too. I deserve some muffins.”
