Flint's home was still dim with early night. The rain had lightened to a mist that clung to the leaves like breath.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the bluebird mask resting beside him, his fingers curled around a frayed thread of its old festival cloth. His gaze was distant, somewhere deep within the memory he couldn't shake.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
"So," came Ivy's voice, light and teasing. "Did you finally stop listening to your other head long enough to let your heart feel something?"
With her arms folded and one eyebrow raised in laughter, she leaned against the doorframe. Her cloak hung loosely around her, opening slightly to show off her fox-like legs' soft amber fur.
Despite her easy stance, her tall ears tipped forward, alert, and a russet tail flicked lazily behind her. However, the playful light in her eyes faded as she entered the room, and her eyes fell on the mask next to Flint.
Silently, she walked across the room and sat next to him. Flint didn't raise his head.
Finally, he said in a raw, low voice, "I screwed it up." "Now she won't even look at me."
Ivy extended her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. Her gentle, measured touch calmed the nerves, like a mother comforting a restless child. Without needing words, the motion conveyed warmth and care.
"You always did run faster than your thoughts," she said softly
He let out a trembling breath. "Why am I like this? Everyone who matters is pushed away by this idiot who destroys everything good."
Her fingers froze as she hesitated. Her face flickered, revealing a memory she kept to herself.
"Oh, darling... maybe I had a part in that."
Flint's eyebrows knitted as he turned to face her. "What are you saying? You were always there for me. Or at least... it always felt like you were."
Ivy gave a wistful smile that didn't reach her eyes. "And maybe that's exactly the problem."
Like dust, silence fell between them. She moved a little closer, drawing him to her until his head rested in her lap. She put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hair.
Flint didn't resist.
"When I was young," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you were the only warmth I had in this cold, empty place. I didn't even know what I was feeling half the time. But it was you. Always you."
Ivy's eyes grew misty. She pressed her lips together, swallowing her words. Her touch didn't falter.
"Flint… go after her," she finally said. "Be honest. Show her, for once, the real you. The one that's been hiding under feathers and jokes."
"What if she hates what she sees?" he asked.
Ivy whispered, "Then at least you stopped hiding." After a moment of hesitation, she added, "And Flint... maybe try leading with your heart this time," with a slight smirk.
He gave a soft, half-laugh while she ruffled his hair again, this time gentler.
Then Flint stood slowly, unsure. "What if she doesn't want to see me? What if I chase her off for good?"
Ivy gave him a long look, then smirked gently. "Oh darling... women like to be chased. Just don't give up so easily."
Flint gave a short, helpless laugh. She reached up and ruffled his hair, her touch lingering just a little longer than before.
After just one more moment of hesitation, he turned and moved toward the entrance.
She softly added, "Stop being a goof," while concealing a tight tone in her voice.
As Flint stepped through the door, vanishing into the mist, she watched him in silence.
Then, with the slight smell of damp earth clinging to the walls, she stood by herself in the silent room.
Slowly, Ivy walked to the bed and sat where Flint had been just moments before. Her gaze fell on the bluebird mask still resting on the blanket. She picked it up gently, cradling it in her lap.
For a long time, she sat there, unmoving, her fingers lightly brushing the worn edges.
Her eyes stayed on the mask, but her thoughts drifted to a distant past that she had not permitted herself to revisit for years.
-break-
The glade was quiet as Flint moved through the winding wooden bridges of Elarion, lit only by pale blue lanterns swaying in the mist.
Even though he hadn't run, his steps had a tense rhythm that begged for hope. With his heart thumping behind his ribs, he arrived at her door beneath the carved arch of woven roots. He paused, straightened his hair, and knocked twice.
"Myri?" He called softly, not wanting to come across as desperate, "It's Flint. I just want to talk. I know I've been difficult, No, no…an Idiot. But you were right. About all of it. I—"
Behind the paper-covered window, a glimmer appeared. A small, fawn-like frame shifted in silhouette.
"I'm not good with words," he muttered. "But I can't just let this hang. Not again. Please."
The door opened with a creak. His face softened until he realized… it wasn't Myri.
Standing there with teary eyes and a folded blanket in her arms was a young Fawn Nyx girl. Her pale face was drawn with worry, with red-rimmed eyes from crying.
Flint's breath caught in his chest as he blinked. "Where's Myri?"
The girl sniffled. "She's gone. Left hours ago."
Flint's breath caught. "Gone where?"
"She didn't want to talk about it," With a trembling voice, the girl stated
"But did you at least see which way she was headed?"
The Nyx girl hesitated, pointing with her finger. "South, beyond the glades. That's all I know."
Flint's eyes dropped to the floor. His mind flashed with Myri's last words to him, how she spoke of finding someone who understood, how the corruption was spreading. Then a chill ran down his spine.
"I tried to stop her," the girl said, her eyes welling up with tears. "I did. But she wouldn't listen. What if those monsters find her? What if—"
Flint stumbled back from the door, his heart thumping as he kept hearing the girl's words in his mind. Then, without another word, he turned and ran, launching himself from branch to branch, his talons scraping across mossy limbs and rope bridges.
Every leap he took was fueled by the storm building inside of him, and his breath came quickly and raggedly with panic.
He was overcome by thoughts of Myri surrounded by Wraiths, her body lying pale and rigid on a mossy floor, her screams resonating through the trees. With every imagined flash, the fear tightened and knotted in his chest. With that fear gnawing at his ribs, he couldn't slow down.
-break-
Flint rushed through the door, his feathers wet with sweat and mist, his chest heaving from the run. Ivy was still sitting on his bed before he left, her tail curled around her legs.
She raised a sharp, startled ear in surprise. "Back already? That was fast. She dumped you at the door, darling?"
At first, he didn't respond. With haste, he swung open the tall cabinet near the corner, its doors carved with curling vine patterns. His movements were deliberate rather than hurried; every item he collected made a statement.
He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over his father's green coat. Tonight, the fur-trimmed hem and sleeves appeared heavier, as if the weight of the man who wore them was still there.
With a silent exhale, he reached for it nonetheless, removing it from its hook and putting it on. Then he picked up golden bracers that had once graced his mother's forearms, now buckled over his own with purpose.
After that, he went to the little table by the mirror; his necklace was there, exactly where he had left it, its silver chain slightly tangled, the sharp fragments of Myr glinting in the dim lantern light.
With greater care than usual, he picked it up and ran his fingers over its glinting edges. He had always worn it. But tonight, it felt heavier. Silently, he tied it around his neck.
Ivy stood now, quietly observing his transformation. Her tail curled slightly behind her as her ears twitched.
"What happened? Is everything alright?"
He raised his head and looked her in the eye. "She's gone. Left hours ago. To the South, beyond the glades."
Her ears lowered. "You're going after her."
"I have to," he said, securing his daggers in place and tightening the belt strap.
Without teasing or smirks, she stepped forward and suddenly drew him into a tight embrace. Only shaky arms that held on to him as if letting go would mean losing more than a goodbye.
"Please, darling… be safe," she whispered.
Holding her for a moment, Flint closed his eyes.
She reached up to gently smooth his ruffled feathers before he moved away, her hand lingering with the quiet care of someone who had once soothed him to sleep. Her little smile was tinged with sorrow.
"Go get her, golden boy."
Flint nodded silently, moved into the doorway, and disappeared into the night.
As if to retain the warmth of the embrace, Ivy stood there for a long time with her arms still folded across her chest. Even though she had a single tear running down her cheek, she managed to smile a little while keeping her gaze on the empty doorframe where he had stood.
-break-
Flint's talons thudded against bark and rope as he darted across the canopy bridges, the first rays of dawn spilling through the Blue Forest. Like breath held in suspense, the mist hung low, curling around mossy limbs and trunks.
The branches became too thin to support his weight as he turned a corner and fell onto a sloping path. A figure emerged from the fog as he touched down, too quickly, too near.
Startled, Flint lost his footing. One talon slipped on the damp moss, and he hit the ground with a grunt.
Blinking up, he saw a silhouette standing above him, the haze gently parting, a hand extended, steady and calm.
She looked like a myth made flesh. Her skin was as pale as snow, and her silver hair fell over her shoulders like mid-fall moonlight. Then his gaze dropped lower
Elegant blue robes swaying gently with her breath, and a shabby, crooked, worn staff clutched in her hands, its head glowing dimly with a gentle Ether-blue pulse. For a second, Flint blinked, caught by the glint of her lavender eyes and the quiet strength in her gaze. A soft blush warmed her cheeks and lips, like sunlight brushing porcelain. She looked as though she'd stepped out of a painting the forest itself had dreamed.
Then he noticed the ears.
Long, gentle, and pointed out.
He sat up straight, his feathers standing on end, and spat, "An Eldian?!"
She gasped. "I… I'm sorry! I didn't see you there. Are you hurt?"
Flint's tone dripped with mockery. "Oh no, don't apologize. I'm sure your greatness must never be at fault. Clearly, I was the problem."
Confusion softened her voice as her brows furrowed and her head tipped slightly.
"What? No, really! I'm sorry. You were rushing, and I got in the way." Her eyes dropped to his legs. "Wait! Are you… a Nyx? Wow, I've never met a Nyx before!" Her eyes lit with sudden excitement.
"Not surprising," he whispered. "Most Eldians don't mingle with anyone outside their dome."
She tilted her head. "Excuse me?"
"Never mind," he said, folding his arms. "Just didn't expect to bump into a bubble princess on my way through the woods."
"Hey! That's rude," she snapped. "I thought Nyxes were kind to everyone!"
"Not when we're tired," he said flatly, walking past her. "Or annoyed."
She followed behind, protesting softly, "You really think that attitude's going to make people like you?"
"Shh, Quiet," Flint said, pausing. He extended a hand.
She rolled her eyes. "Again? Seriously, you should learn some manners—"
"No. Seriously." His voice dropped. "Be quiet. We're not alone."
Somewhere in the fog, a branch snapped. Then, like a warning from the earth itself, a growl rolled through the air, low and guttural.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she froze in mid-step, her eyes wide. Flint even tensed up, his stance abruptly changing from irritated to vigilant.
Between the trees, shapes slithered. Five wolves appeared, their backs spiking strangely, their fur blackened and matted. Their hides were sliced with thick scars, and they drooled a weird black mist that curled like smoke from their jaws. Their red eyes stared at them with strange hunger.
Flint slid into a ready stance, squinting his eyes and reaching for his dagger.
"Eek! What are those?!" she exclaimed.
"You don't know? Of course not." He shook his head. "Try not to get in my way, bubble princess."
One of the wolves lunged in the middle of the sentence, but Flint stopped it in its tracks, catching its jaws with a metallic clank as it struck his bracers.
"Ugniball!" the girl shouted, thrusting her palms forward. From her hands, a ball of fire erupted, blazing brightly, but it lost its path and struck a tree.
Flint screamed, his face shifting between disbelief and irritation. "Seriously?! It is right in front of you?"
Another wolf lunged at the girl, but Flint shoved his own attacker back and darted forward, slamming a kick into the second beast and knocking it aside. Then, He glared at her. "I thought Eldians were supposed to be masters of Ether-bending."
She shrieked, hands trembling. "I've only learned about sigils! I've never trained for combat!"
"What?!" Flint snapped, parrying another snarl from the side. "Then why did you even learn them for?!"
The wolves surrounded them in a circle, their red eyes full of hunger and black mist dripping from their jaws as they grew louder.
Flustered, the girl gasped and closed her eyes, and started chanting again and again. "Frostlance! Frostlance! Frostlance! AH!"
Sharp, chaotic bursts of ice shot from her staff, shooting in all directions and angles. Frost crawled up trunks and roots and covered the ground in ragged patches. With a startled yelp, one wolf skidded after slipping on a frozen patch. Another wolf paced just outside the circle of frost, snarling and exposing its fangs.
Flint ducked just in time as a shard of ice flew past him, nearly catching his shoulder.
"Watch where you're pointing that thing!" Flint snapped.
She cried out, "I'm trying!" as she continued to hurl ice wildly in all directions, her arms trembling in fear as more shards flew from her staff like misfired arrows.
While avoiding another blow, Flint muttered to himself. "Why do I have to deal with this...?"
"RAIKO-TAHL!" He lunged, slicing through two wolves in a flash of lightning as sparks erupted all around him.
The remaining beasts growled, then scattered into the trees.
She looked at him, panting. "Thank you."
"Great," Flint muttered. "A bubble princess and a rookie caster. Just my luck."
"You didn't have to be such a jerk. I did help," she said, folding her arms, not quite sure if she believed it herself.
"To whom, exactly? Look at this mess..." Flint shook his head as he showed around, surveying the scene.
The clearing was in ruins, with mist curling off the charred wood and blackened tree roots where her fireball had struck the bark. Not a single wolf was frozen, despite the ice spreading wildly in jagged veins across the ground, freezing patches of tree trunks and moss. One tree even leaned, its trunk clipped, scorched, and creaking until it fell down next to Flint.
One of the fallen wolves, its body twitching with Ether rot, caught her attention. "What… is this? Are they Shadows?"
Flint crouched beside it. "Not quite. Corrupted, yes. But this one... it turned into an Allure."
"An Allure?"
"Early stage of corruption. Still vaguely stable. It can sometimes be healed, if caught in time. But usually... not."
She hesitated. "And... can it happen to us? To Quendikin?"
Flint didn't answer right away. He kept his eyes on the corpse. "If the corruption gets you and no one treats it in time..."
He finally looked up. "You die."
She flinched.
Flint stood. "Anyway. I've got places to be. Enjoy your walk through the blue forests, Gracelet." He turned without waiting for a reply and walked off into the trees.
"Gracelet?!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with annoyance and her brow furrowed. "That's not even a real word! And stop calling me names!" Her voice cracked slightly as she stomped after him.
She stayed still for a moment, then a snap in the brush made her jump. She ran after him, keeping a distance.
"Why are you following me?!" Flint asked impatiently.
"Because I don't know where I am," she replied softly, glancing nervously at the surrounding foliage. "And… there might be more of those things."
Flint groaned. "Not my problem," he muttered, continuing forward.
But she followed. "I'll stay behind, I promise. Just… don't leave me alone."
"Tch." He folded his arms behind his head as he walked. "You won't last ten minutes out here."
Another branch cracked nearby. She squeaked.
"See?" he muttered. "Told you."
He glanced her way without slowing, his look sharp, guarded, almost resentful.
Keeping her distance, she continued following him anyway.
"Can you at least stop glaring at me like I'm going to bite you?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
He let out a breath through his nose, feathers still bristling.
"With how loud you are? I'm not taking any chances, Rookie. Just don't slow me down."
She huffed, arms crossed. "Hey! Stop! I have a name."
Flint tossed a smirk over his shoulder. "Oh yeah? What is it?"
She straightened up. "I'm Ello—"
"Don't care," he muttered, flicking his hand as if swatting her words away.
She blinked, then scoffed. "Well then... two can play that game, Bird Boy."
Flint paused, squinting back at her with a smirk. "Bird Boy? Seriously? That's what you're going with?"
She smirked. "Oh, I'm just getting started."
Despite barely tolerating each other, they walked deeper into the Blue Forest, one step at a time. Their paths now tangled by chance... or perhaps by something more. Whatever the reason, the forest closed behind them.
And in the stillness they left behind, something watched.
From the canopy's shadow, eyes followed their every step, silent, careful, and far too patient.