"Theron's too loud," Ael commented quietly, gaze flicking to the other side of the clearing where the man in question was still animatedly arguing with Elira. "Makes it hard to think."
Osiris didn't reply. He was still watching Ael—not just looking, watching. Noticing the way he shifted his weight, the subtle tension in his shoulders, the stillness of his hands. He was the kind of calm that wasn't born but built—painfully, carefully.
Ael sat down beside him uninvited, crossing his legs like they were old friends.
"You don't talk much, huh?" he asked, leaning back on his hands.
Still no response.
"That's fine," he said after a beat, his voice dipped in casual ease. "I prefer silence anyway. People talk too much and say nothing."
Osiris turned his head slightly. Just slightly. "You always this friendly with strangers?"
Ael smiled again, that same warm expression that felt more like a mask the longer it stayed on. "Only the dangerous ones."
Osiris didn't flinch. "You think I'm dangerous?"
"I don't think," Ael replied smoothly, eyes now fixed on the treetops. "I know."
There it was again. That shift. That quiet, unsettling knowing.
"I saw what you did to the frogs," he added, voice soft. "Efficient. Precise. Like you'd done it a hundred times before."
Osiris tilted his head, a touch of dark humor curling in his tone. "You spying on me?"
Ael chuckled. "Maybe. Maybe I just have good instincts."
They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling in the distance, wind rustling the leaves above.
Then Ael broke the silence again, more serious this time. "You don't like me."
It wasn't a question.
Osiris finally responded. "You're hiding something."
Ael didn't deny it. "So are you."
Their eyes met.
Osiris leaned in a little. "If you become a problem—"
"You'll kill me," Ael finished for him, still smiling, though now it was laced with steel. "I figured."
He stood up slowly, brushing grass from his pants.
"Let's not be enemies, Osiris," he said calmly. "It's a waste of good potential."
He turned and walked back toward the others, hands in his pockets.
Osiris watched him go, fingers tapping lightly against his arm.
Potential.
What a loaded word.
---
Up above, Delythera's eyes opened again—fully this time. She didn't even try to hide it now. She floated lower, just enough to hover above Osiris's head, her tone breezy but sharp.
"I don't like him."
Osiris leaned his head back, looking up at her upside-down face. "Why not?"
"He smiles too much," she said, twisting in the air. "People who smile like that either want to kill you… or they already have."
"Could be both," Osiris murmured.
Delythera hummed thoughtfully, then tilted her head. "You planning to keep him close?"
Osiris didn't answer at first.
Then: "Better to see which way the knife turns."
She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips sharp. "I taught you that."
"No," he said, standing up slowly. "You just made it sound good."
And with that, he walked toward the fire. Toward Kaelyn. Toward the plan.
Toward the first move on a board no one realized they were already playing on.
____
The group had finally settled down.
Crackling fire. The scent of roasted meat in the air. Bones snapping between teeth. For once, silence felt earned.
Osiris sat slightly apart, chewing slowly, eyes half-lidded. He wasn't eating so much as calculating. Every bite was an excuse to think. Across from him, Kaelyn was already halfway through her portion. Elira sat cross-legged near the fire, arms around her knees, her expression softening. Even Theron was quiet, lips stained with grease, no sarcasm for once.
And then it hit.
A sharp gust. Wrong. Heavy.
The flames flickered sideways.
A low rumble echoed through the ground—followed by a shriek that scraped through bone.
From the trees, it came.
A hulking, misshapen beast—mutated like the others but meaner, faster. Muscle packed over muscle, eyes like shattered glass, and a jaw too wide for its skull.
The group scattered instantly.
Elira fell backward. Kaelyn swore, reaching for her blade. Theron nearly tripped over his own foot. Osiris stood, fast but still.
Only Ael moved forward.
No words. No show.
Just a flick of his wrists—two obsidian daggers drawn from his sleeves, one in each hand. He walked toward the beast like it was an inconvenience.
The creature roared.
Ael didn't flinch.
He stepped to the side, fast but graceful—like water weaving through stone.
The beast lunged.
Ael ducked under its swipe, spun, and carved clean through its Achilles. The monster dropped to one knee with a howl.
The group watched, stunned. The fire cast sharp shadows across Ael's face—soft, almost peaceful, like he was dancing.
The daggers flashed again.
One embedded into the beast's eye.
The other slashed its throat clean.
And just like that, it collapsed. A steaming heap of blood and muscle and silence.
Ael turned, walking back to the fire like he'd just gone to piss behind a tree.
Not a scratch on him. Not even out of breath.
Delythera tilted her head, lips curling.
"Well," she said, voice light and amused, "that was impressive."
Ael said nothing, just sat down and resumed eating like nothing had happened.
Delythera chuckled softly. "Such precise technique. Graceful, even. Efficient." She looked at him a little longer, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "You're full of surprises."
Osiris, still standing, watched Ael carefully now—really watched him.
He'd expected the boy to be soft, maybe useful, maybe even clever.
But this?
This was something else.
There was something unsettling about how calm Ael was. How little effort it took. No flair. No power signature. Just steel and silence.
Osiris sat down again, slower this time.
He didn't smile. But he understood something now.
Ael wasn't just a friend.
He was a threat.
___
Okay, real talk—this chapter? Kinda garbage. I know. I felt it too. The pacing's weird, the tone's a mess, and something about it just feels off. Truth is, I'm running on fumes right now and probably shouldn't have tried to write while half-asleep and mildly hallucinating from exhaustion. But hey—we're crawling forward, and that counts for something, right?
Thanks for sticking with me through the rough patches. Next chapter, I promise to hit harder, cleaner, and with both brain cells activated.
—Sleepy Trash Goblin (a.k.a. the author)
Maybe I'll redo this chapter tomorrow