Grand House Hall
BANG!
Explosions erupted outside the thick wall of thorned roots, sending tremors through the grand ballroom. The once opulent space, now cleared of nobles and commoners alike, stood eerily silent—save for the nervous shuffling of knights preparing for battle. Their hands gripped their glaives, the long, deadly blades gleaming under the dim light—weapons designed for fighting large foes.
Their breaths came steady yet uneasy, expecting the thorned root wall to be breached at any moment.
Standing before the barrier, a mage greenly attire ran his hands along the twisted vines, chanting an incantation. His voice wove through the air like a whisper to the earth, strengthening the roots, urging them to grow faster.
He was Lord Lammert Eigner, the kingdom so-called Archmage, stood at the centre of it all, his fingers grazing the enchanted roots of the barrier he had conjured. His expression remained unreadable, his blue eyes flickering with something between calculation and indifference.
Outside, something—or someone—was keeping the beast at bay—or at least distracting it long enough for him to prepare a defensive position in case it attempted to breach the ballroom. He could feel it through the roots—the monstrous weight of the colossal Cootic, its raw, untamed power clashing against the swift, precise movements of another presence.
"A trained knight? A master, perhaps?" He muttered.
The knights stationed in the ballroom were not the best selection of warriors—mere castle guards with training in advanced swordsmanship at their disposal, knights in title only, equivalent to squires. A proper knight should be able to wield aura.
Against a Wyrm-class beast, even a knight was nothing more than an ember before a blazing flame. Only those who had mastered their aura could truly wound such creatures. Neither weapons forged from the rarest and strongest metals nor magic alone would be enough to bring the beast down.
BOOM!
Another blast struck the root-wall, searing a small hole through the thick vines, sending a rush of cold air and splintered bark into the room. The knights flinched, some raising their weapons.
Lammert, however, merely sighed, raising a single hand. The roots twisted, regenerating instantly, sealing the breach as though it had never been there.
One of the knights swallowed hard before speaking. "Are we going to attack, Lord Eigner?"
"I fear not," Lammert replied coolly, barely sparing him a glance. "Not when the odds are against us."
The knight stiffened. "But sir… there is still a knight fighting outside. Shouldn't we at least try to assist?"
Lemmert turned to him, his gaze sharp and unimpressed. "You're a fool if you think we can help." His tone was flat, devoid of emotion. "The beast was already wounded before it fell, and yet even then, you—" he cast a glance at the group of knights before continuing, "...failed to strike it down. Now, a second Cootic looms above the castle—fresh, uninjured. If you truly believe we can fight them both without a proper strategy, then I've overestimated your brilliantness."
Lemmert could sense movement through the magic in the air—another Cootic looming above the castle, perhaps waiting for the right moment to strike. Though its presence was unclear, it was reason enough for him to delay the attack.
The knight lowered his gaze, clenching his jaw.
Lemmert let out a quiet chuckle, though it held no warmth. "I know you all feel uneasy. That this seems like cowardice. We are not fighting armies. We are facing a creature bred and bless by nature greatness and cruelty—a beast of beauty and death... and the sky is its playground. You should pray that we remain overlooked."
The ballroom fell silent. The knights, despite their pride, could not refute him.
He turned back to the roots, placing his hand upon them once more. A pulse of magic rippled through the tangled vines, strengthening the barrier. Outside, another beam of magic shot forth, piercing into the wall of roots—only for him to repair it within seconds, as if swatting away an inconvenience.
A true Archmage could reduce entire cities to rubble, bending the very laws of reality to their will. But Lemmert was no such force. His title was merely ceremonial—a court magician in name, but in truth, little more than an advisor draped in borrowed grandeur.
Though still a capable mage, he had believed he could defeat the beast with the help of the knights and had considered ensnaring it with his roots. However, he abandoned the idea upon realizing that no knight with him right now was strong enough to deliver a killing blow.
Lemmert was a man who knew when to strike and, more importantly, when to wait.
So he waited.
Further away from the Grand House Hall, high above the ground and within the carved mountain walls, a group of robed figures moved swiftly through the winding hallways. Their steps were silent, their purpose unwavering.
As they passed, the lights overhead flickered, growing dimmer with every step, as if their very presence warped the light itself. Shadows stretched around them like grasping fingers, swallowing their movements in eerie silence.
The corridor ahead was long and vast, its smooth white and gold textures gleaming faintly under the weakening light. Ornate patterns curled along the walls and pillars, their intricate beauty now muted by shadow.
Once brightly illuminated, the passage now held an unsettling stillness.
Their black robes flowed like a wave of midnight water, shifting seamlessly with each step. They pressed forward without hesitation, passing through corridor after corridor until they arrived before a grand door—tall, foreboding, its gilded frame reflecting the faintest traces of light.
Without pause, one of them pushed it open.
Beyond the threshold lay a vast, circular chamber—the royal library.
Towering bookshelves lined the walls, their height stretching toward the first floor, filled with centuries of knowledge and history. Slender, arched windows pierced the upper walls, reaching toward the ceiling, allowing only slivers of night light to spill in, casting an ethereal glow across the polished tile floor.
At the heart of the library stood a colossal statue—a silent statue carved in the likeness of the Moon Goddess. Suspended above her hands, a crystal orb hovered, casting a bright, radiant light that bathed the library in an otherworldly luminescence.
The library spanned three levels, each connected by an opulent grand staircase. The first floor housed five doors, each leading to private study chambers. The second floor encircled the chamber with a wooden balcony, offering a clear view of the grand hall below.
The air was thick with serenity. A place of peace, of quiet contemplation—though, in this moment, an unsettling presence now lurked within its sacred walls.
One of the hooded figures stepped forward from its crown, his voice low and commanding. "Secure the area." With a swift motion of his hand, he issued the order.
At once, the group splintered into six, each member securing part of the section of the library. They swept through every corner, ensuring no unwanted presence lurked in the shadows. Left behind were only three figures, standing in the dim glow of the towering bookshelves.
Then, with a sharp tug, one of them pulled back his hood, revealing a striking face—regal, proud, and simmering with barely contained fury.
"Tell me," He demanded, his golden eyes blazing, "why must I hide within my own home? My own castle?" His voice echoed through the grand chamber, filled with indignation. "I am Lux Julia Sheen, the Brilliant Lux! The Light! Lord and King of Limelight City! And yet, I am reduced to cowering like a common fugitive?"
The remaining hooded figure lowered his head in deference. "Forgive me, Your Majesty… but with most of the house knights deployed to the main wall, only a handful of elite knights remain stationed within the castle. At this moment, it is unsafe for you to linger elsewhere."
CAAAW! CAAW! CAW!
A distant screech echoed from beyond the library windows, its sharp cry swallowed almost instantly by the enchanted silence that cloaked the chamber.
Lux exhaled slowly, unfazed by the disturbance. The royal library was protected by intricate magical wards woven into its very walls, designed to muffle external noise and maintain an atmosphere of undisturbed serenity. No matter the chaos that raged outside, within these walls, only hushed whispers and the rustle of turning pages could be heard.
The library was carved deep into the heart of the mountain, nestled high within the castle fortified walls. Its foundations seamlessly merged with the ancient granite, forming a natural stronghold—unyielding and impervious to time.
Lux turned his attention back to his aide, his expression darkening. "And whose blunder is this?" His voice, smooth yet razor-sharp, cut through the silence. "Who gave the order to deploy my House Knights?!"
A pause. Then, the hooded figure hesitated before answering. "I believed Lord Russel gave the order, Your Majesty."
Lux scoffed, his fingers curling into tight fists. "Russel? That battle-obsessed brute? No, he is a man of plan, not folly. I highly doubt he would issue such a foolish command." He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "I could understand if he went there himself… but I refuse to believe he would deploy the House Knights." His fury simmered beneath the surface, barely restrained.
He knew little of the attack on Limelight Cities main wall, only what his retinue had reported—that the city was under siege by flying beasts known as Cootics.
The Cootic was a creature of breathtaking beauty, its iridescent feathers shifting through vibrant hues as they caught the light. Yet, its most alluring trait was its song—a haunting melody that echoed through the mountains, luring beasts and men alike into a trance. And then, there was its scream—a piercing screech that could doom upon any unfortunate enough to hear it.
The beast rarely attacked unless provoked or in danger, yet its intelligence and territorial nature made it a force to be reckoned with. High above the cursed lands, these creatures lived in tightly bonded communities, defending their domain with fierce unity.
When threatened, they struck as one, unleashing devastation befitting their Wyrm-class classification. Their sheer strength was terrifying, but what truly set them apart was their intelligence—some claimed it rivalled that of a grown human. Underestimating them was a fatal mistake.
And now, one of these beasts had reached the castle, spreading chaos in its wake. Lux had no choice but to retreat—not out of fear for the creature, but to secure himself from those who might have orchestrated this attack.
He suspected an enemy lurking in the shadows, one who had ensured the castle was left defenceless. If the House Knights had been stationed within the castle, the Cootic could have been swiftly dealt with—if not repelled entirely.
Cootics were known to retreat when outnumbered or weakened. Their attacks, though devastating, were never without reason.
Lux stood motionless, his mind churning through the implications.
This was no accident, no mere twist of fate. Someone had orchestrated this attack, manipulating the higher officials into making the reckless decision that left the castle vulnerable.
His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "Unless..." A name lingered at the edge of his thoughts—someone he knew, someone easily swayed into impulsive action.
Before he could finish, the creak of a door interrupted the tense silence. One of the private study rooms swung open—not by any of the knights.
Three figures emerged from within, stepping into the library.
At the forefront stood a woman, her posture unwavering, clad in battle-ready attire that seamlessly blended grace with authority. Beside her, two figures draped in flowing white-silver robes remained eerily still, their faces unreadable—enigmatic figures cloaked in secrecy.
The knights moved at once.
In mere seconds, the two robed figures were seized, their arms locked behind them by the swift efficiency of Lux Retinue Knight.
Meanwhile, the remaining intruder—the woman—found herself surrounded. The knights encircled her in a deliberate formation, blades drawn, poised to strike at the slightest misstep.
With deliberate calm, the woman raised a hand—not in surrender, but in silent defiance. Then, in one fluid motion, she pulled back her hood, revealing her face.
A hush fell over the chamber.
Recognition flickered in the eyes of one of the knights. His grip on his sword faltered as he breathed her name in disbelief.
"Lady Lucia…"
"Stand down."
Lux command cut through the tension like a blade. The knights hesitated for a brief moment before obeying, lowering their weapons with measured caution. Yet, their vigilance did not waver—their hands remained firm on their captives, their eyes sharp with unspoken suspicion.
Lux exhaled sharply, his golden gaze settling on the woman before him.
"Sister," he said at last, his voice edged with restrained fury. "How fitting. I was just thinking about you."
The woman met his gaze without hesitation, her expression unreadable.
"Tell me, dear sister, was it you who commanded the House Knights to abandon their posts and march to the main wall?" His words, though measured, carried the weight of accusation.
She did not so much as blink. "Yes, brother."
Lux exhaled sharply, tilting his head. "And Russel? Surely, he wasn't fool enough to condone this madness?"
"He had already departed before I issued the command."
Silence settled between them, heavy with tension.
"For someone heralded as the 'Idol of Victory' in our war against the Thalric Kingdom, I must admit…" He exhaled a bitter chuckle. "I never imagined you to be fool enough to send our finest knights to battle against such… Uncertainty."
Lowering his hand, he met her gaze once more, his patience thinning. "Tell me, then." He took a deliberate step forward. "Give me a reason—a very good reason—why you have done this."
The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words pressing against the walls of the grand library.
"The main wall is under siege by multiple Wyrm-class creatures," Lucia declared, her voice unwavering, though the weight of her words pressed heavy upon the room.
Lux exhaled sharply through his nose, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. "Oh, how utterly dreadful," he drawled, a note of mockery lacing his tone. "I suppose this, at the very least, is a more tangible threat than your usual cryptic omens of catastrophe. And this time, dear sister, it was entirely of your own doing."
His amusement faded as he took a measured step forward, golden eyes narrowing. "But tell me, was this truly the grandest strategy your mind could conceive? To divert such an overwhelming force to a single location, leaving the rest of the castle vulnerable?"
His hand flicked toward the two robed figures standing behind her. "And these men—these veiled preachers of doom—did they whisper folly into your ears? Did they convince you that you, of all people, had the authority to issue commands in my stead?"
His sister stood her ground, her expression unwavering as she met his piercing gaze. "They are clerics of Lioris, the Moon Goddess," she stated, her voice steady. "They came with guidance, not deceit." She took a step forward. "And more will die at the wall if we do nothing. You speak of strategy, yet you would rather let our defences crumble than act?"
Lux let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Ah, there it is—that noble, bleeding heart of yours. Tell me, sister, when did you decide sentiment outweighed duty?" His voice dropped, cold as steel. "They are soldiers. They took their oaths knowing full well that their lives would be forfeit so that our people may endure."
Lucia hands curled into fists. "They swore an oath to protect—"
"Exactly, THE PEOPLE!" he cut her off.
A tense silence stretched between them, the candlelight casting long shadows across the grand chamber.
"Your folly has left the castle exposed… and do you know what is worse?" He tilted his head slightly, watching her. "Today is Sorei for the Fallen. The castle will be flooded with commoners and noble alike. Hundreds of men, women, and children—unarmed, unsuspecting—left utterly defenceless because of your actions."
Lucia opened her mouth to argue but found nothing wrong with his brother words.
Her folly tore the castle bare, while helpless crowds grew aware.
Brilliant Feather
Grand House Hall Courtyard, twenty minutes had passed.
The courtyard was smothered in a thick veil of dust and sand, swirling in the air like a cloud of dense dust trapped between stone walls. From above, nothing could be seen—only a shifting, suffocating haze that blanketed the ruins courtyard below.
Then, the surface of the dust rippled.
A massive head tore through the dust, piercing the suffocating veil. A colossal, bird-like creature emerged, its crimson feathers stained darker by the blood from it wounds.
The beast was a Cootic.
It raised itself high, its powerful body rising above the cloud of dust as it gasped for cleaner air. Half the courtyard was already lost to the thick haze of dust, choking beast with every breath. The dust clinging to its feathers, further irritating the creature.
With a powerful beat of its wings, the beast sent a gust strong enough to scatter the dust around it. But no sooner had it cleared a space than the choking dust crept back, as if the very air conspired against it.
The beast instincts flared—it understood. This was no natural dust of sand.
The dust was conjured by magic, and only magic could dispel it completely.
Narrowing its eyes, the beast beat its wings once more, this time with purpose. A vortex formed, pulling the dust into a single swirling mass before hurling it skyward. In mere seconds, the central courtyard was cleared, revealing the wreckage beneath.
But as soon as the air stilled, the dust at the edges of the courtyard crept forward once more, trying to reclaim the centre as if it were alive.
The beast tensed, its slitted eyes scanning the murky corners of the courtyard. A trick. Its prey was near.
Elsewhere, hidden within the dust.
Kimmi had already made her move. The moment she shrouded the courtyard in dust, she darted forward, in silent—racing toward the ruined pergola.
She had torn her kirtle to knee-length and tied her chemise tightly, allowing for unhindered movement. Her legs were wrapped in whatever cloth she had scavenged, and she had discarded her wooden shoes entirely, favouring silence over protection.
She knew it was a risk, but the courtyard was well-maintained—no rough stones to hinder her steps. Though broken glass might still be scattered across the floor, she had to tread carefully, mindful of every step.
What mattered most was moving swiftly and silently. Comfort was a luxury she could not afford.
As soon as the beast turned, she dropped low, pressing herself to the ground, using the swirling dust as cover. Before it could fully register her presence, she extended her hand—magic thrummed at her fingertips. The dust cloud return back to life, swallowing the courtyard once more in a suffocating shroud.
Before the courtyard had been consumed by dust, the beast Cootic had been firing its energy beams wildly into the haze, as if the dust itself were the threat. Each beam exploded on impact, tearing through anything in its path. Most struck the walls and ground, turning the once-flat courtyard into a jagged battlefield of uneven pavement and ruin grasses.
The creature attacked relentlessly, driven by instinct, yet it remained cautious, its sharp eyes scanning for any sudden movement.
At first, Kimmi thought allowing the beast to attack at random might work in her favour. But the longer it continued, the more she realized how reckless it was—especially if any survivors were still trapped nearby.
She began studying the beast attack pattern.
Leaving patches of dust lingering in certain areas provoked the Cootic into blasting them from a distance, but it never fully lowered its guard. Once, she had tried sneaking around the courtyard edge, only to be spotted within moments. She barely managed to summon another wave of dust in time to obscure herself again.
But keeping the beast confined in dust only made it more aggressive. At this rate, she might as well drown it completely. She had considered this from the start when she planned to hide any survivors in the thick cloud of dust, but suffocating the beast in sand and dust could just as easily harm those she was trying to protect.
If she was going to do this, she needs to act fast.
"I'm nearing the glyph…" Kimmi muttered as she drew closer to the pergola. But it was near the centre of the courtyard, where the areas were no longer shrouded in dust.
She took a steadying breath, calming herself for a moment before clapping her hands together and whispering softly,
"Art of Trickery—Sand Dust!"
In an instant, the once-cleared space at the courtyard centre was engulfed in a thick, yellowish cloud of sand and dust.
As Kimmi approached the ruins of the pergola, she heard it—ragged, gasping breaths.
The half-collapsed frame barely stood, and just below it—a glyph hovered and faintly glowing. Beneath the broken structure, three children huddled together, their small figure barely visible through the dust and debris.
Their lips were dry and cracked, their bodies weak from breathing in too much of the tainted air.
Kimmi swiftly sprang into action.
She reached for the first child, pulling him out, but as soon as she did, his body tensed, and a terrified scream tore from his throat.
Quick as a flash, she clamped a damp cloth over his face and mouth, muffling the cry before it could alert the beast. He thrashed, tiny fists pummelling her arms, but his strength was feeble.
"Shhhhhh," she whispered, her voice barely audibles over the shifting winds. "Breathe through this. Stay quiet."
She moved swiftly, retrieving the next two children and pressing damp cloths to their faces to filter the dust-choked air.
Their terrified eyes locked onto their rescuer, wide with fear and wary with doubt, yet filled with a flicker of hope.
What they saw was a stranger—an odd figure draped in mismatched fabrics, his face hidden beneath layers of cloth. Through the swirling dust, a faint golden glow shone from his eyes, the only visible feature beneath his makeshift wrappings. And then it hit them—
Their saviour was, unmistakably a midget.
Not exactly heroic-looking, not particularly refined in any way and yet in that moment, none of it mattered.
'Salvation comes in all forms...' the children thought.
"Mister… are you a knight?" one of the children asked hesitantly.
"No…" Kimmi replied, blinking in confusion.
The children exchanged uncertain glances, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. Their wide, expectant eyes made something click in Kimmi mind.
'If I said I was a knight… would they listen to me?' she wondered.
She studied them more closely. They were well-dressed, their posture rigid despite their exhaustion. Noble children, most likely—raised to obey authority without question. And who better to command them than a knight?
Kimmi sighed, rubbing the back of her head. 'Well… it's not like they need to know the truth…' she thought.
"Listen, children…" Kimmi began, her voice suddenly taking on an air of authority, despite her dishevelled appearance. "I am not a knight of this country—no! I'm a knight that serves no one but myself—A Rogue Knight!" She gave them a stern look posture, seeing the hesitation in their eyes. "But right now, I am your only chance of survival."
The children stared at her, still unsure, but her tone brooked no argument.
"Now," she continued, "remove your shoes. Yes, I know it's uncomfortable, but this isn't a stroll through the gardens anymore! You want to survive, you listen, and you follow. Closely. The moment you hesitate, you'll be left behind, and that will be the end of it. Understand?"
The smallest child tried to raise for another question, but one glance from Kimmi silenced him. She moved swiftly to the side, gesturing for them to follow.
"You have no time to waste," she added. "And if you make a sound, we'll all be in trouble. So, follow my lead, or regret it when we're dead."
The children trailed closely behind Kimmi as she guided them toward the corner of the courtyard. She held their hands tightly, urging them to move as quickly as possible.
Upon reaching the makeshift shelter—formed from broken furniture and a fallen pillar—the children hurried inside, keeping their distance from the unstable barricade.
This area, at least, was untouched by the swirling dust and sand that she had created.
Kimmi exhaled in relief. She would not dare to cast her magic here or it would suffocate the shelter. This would be their safe zone.
Looking at the group, her gaze swept over the unconscious survivor. She did a quick count.
"Seven people… two more to go," she muttered.
Among the unconscious lay one knight and two children. One of the adults, a maid, had already regained consciousness—the first-person Kimmi had managed to save. The woman had difficulty hearing, unable to catch spoken words, but she had understood Kimmi gestures well enough.
Earlier, Kimmi had entrusted her with watching over the unconscious survivors. Now, with three more frightened children added to the group, she needed her help once again.
"Hey…" Kimmi waved a hand to get the maid attention, then pointed at the children.
The maid gave a firm nod. Without hesitation, she opened her arms wide, silently beckoning the children toward her. Hesitant at first, they soon stepped forward, drawn to the warmth of her embrace. She held them close, whispering reassurances to them.
Just as Kimmi turned to leave, ready to search for the last two remaining survivors, she felt a sudden grip on her shoulder. The maid grip was firm, her expression filled with concern.
Kimmi blinked, confused, until the woman pointed behind her.
Frowning, Kimmi reached back—only to feel something sharp lodged in her skin. Her fingers curled around the foreign object, and with a sharp tug, she pulled it free.
Bleeding
Pain erupted across her back like fire. The force of it drove her to her knees, her vision momentarily swimming. A deep, burning throb followed—a sensation she had somehow failed to notice until now.
Kimmi stared at the jagged wooden fragment in her hand, realization dawning. It must have pierced her back when the beast powerful gust had sent her crashing into the ruined fountain.
The injury looked gruesome, blood soaking through the fabric of her tattered clothes, but strangely the pain was already fading. It was unsettling—this eerie numbness that crept in place of agony and then nothing.
The maid eyes glistened with sorrow as she gazed at Kimmi injury, as if witnessing something far more terrible than just a wound.
Kimmi offered a small, reassuring wave. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she murmured, though she was not sure the woman could hear.
There was no time to dwell on it. She had a mission.
Steeling herself, she rose to her feet and sprinted back into the dust cloud, determined to find the last two survivors before the beast found them.
As Kimmi stepped out of the shelter, she raised her hands, summoning another veil of dust to shroud her movements.
"Art of Trickery—Sand Dust!"
A thick cloud of swirling sand erupted around her, masking her presence. She moved swiftly through the obscured air—until, without warning, a powerful gust of wind struck her, forcing her to stagger.
The dust dispersed instantly.
Standing before her, waiting in eerie silence, was the Cootic. Its crimson-streaked feathers bristled, its piercing eyes locked onto her.
It had been expecting this.
Kimmi mind raced. The beast had learned her strategy. But that was not what unsettled her the most.
'Why is it so fixated on me?' She wondered.
The courtyard was littered with bodies, yet the Cootic showed no interest in easy prey. It was not hunting for a meal—it was hunting for her.
Realization struck.
'It must think I'm one of the knights who injured it.' She thought.
The giant bird scraped its talons against the dirt, wings spreading slightly, preparing to charge.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! I mean you no harm!" Kimmi called out, raising her hands in surrender.
The Cootic ignored Kimmi plea and lunged at her, not with its beak, but with the full force of its massive body, as if trying to flatten her beneath its weight.
BOOM!
The sheer force of its weight sent a tremor through the ground, staggering Kimmi for a brief moment. Before she could fully regain her footing, the giant bird tumbled back onto its two feet, its chest heaving.
Then, without warning, a burst of energy flared from its beak—small but fast.
Kimmi instincts took over. She twisted sharply, narrowly dodging the blast as it sizzled past her, scorching the ground where she had just stood.
"You know, Mr. Bird, you could just leave this place!" Kimmi shouted as she darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a blast of energy that scorched the ground where she would stood moments before. She barely had time to regain her footing before another shot came, forcing her into a frantic sprint.
She gestured toward the edge of the courtyard. "See that ledge? You could jump down from there… it's not that high for someone your size." She continued, "And further… beyond the ledge... freedom!"
It was a lie.
Even if the beast ran, even if it somehow managed to slip past the ledge and the castle walls, it would find no refuge. The noble district was enclosed, and beyond it lay the fortified main wall, guarded by an army. There was nowhere for it to hide.
The beast lunged at her, utterly indifferent to her words.
"Art of Trickery—Sand Dust!" Kimmi cast another of her magic to hinder the beast movement.
The shrouded dust blocked the beast sight of Kimmi. It peered deeply into the swirling haze, then—
CAAAAAW!
A deafening screech tore through the courtyard. The sheer force of the sound rippled outward, crushing the wind into stillness. It was so powerful, so bone-shakingly loud, that Kimmi vision blurred, her ears rang with unbearable agony—then came the blood.
Hot and slick, it trickled from her ears, from her eyes, staining her skin as her head pulsed with unbearable pressure. It felt as if her skull were about to crack open, as if her very existence was being torn apart by sound itself.
Then—blackness.
She hit the ground hard, her limbs convulsing, body wracked with tremors. The pain was absolute, drowning her senses until she could feel nothing at all.
And then, just as suddenly as it had come—it was gone.
But looming above Kimmi was the beast, ready to strike her while she was laying down.
Before the creature could make another move, a piercing screech tore through the night. Disturbing the beast momentum.
Another Cootic had appeared at the courtyard.
Kimmi breath caught as she looked skyward. A second bird soared above the courtyard, its vast wings blotting out the night light. It circled once before descending, perching atop a castle rooftop overlooking the courtyard.
She swallowed hard.
"A new threat… this is bad" Kimmi muttered.
The wounded Cootic in front of her let out a series of deep, throaty coos—softer than its previous cries of rage. There was something mournful in the sound.
The new arrival Cootic, its feathers gleaming in brilliant hues of gold and violet. Its studied them both. Its sharp gaze flickered between Kimmi and the injured Cootic, assessing the situation.
Then, something unexpected happened.
The wounded Cootic braced itself, flapping its mangled wings in a desperate attempt to take flight. It barely lifted off the ground before faltering, its ruined feathers dragging it back down.
A low, rumbling sound came from the perched Cootic. A response.
Then, with a sharp cry, it spread its wings and descended into the courtyard.
The sheer force of its landing sent a powerful gust of wind rolling outward, scattering the last remnants of dust like leaves in a storm.
Everything was exposed.
Kimmi heart sank.
The hiding place—the survivors—nothing was concealed anymore.
But before she could react, something else unfolded before her.
The new Cootic stepped forward and nuzzled against the injured one, rubbing its head along its kin's neck. It wasn't just acknowledging it—it was comforting it.
Kimmi watched in stunned silence.
Then, among the bloodied, ruffled feathers of the wounded Cootic, one plume stood out. A single brilliant feather, shimmering with an iridescent rainbow hue, lifted slightly from the rest.
The new Cootic lowered its beak—and plucked it free.
A solemn cry echoed through the courtyard.
With one last glance at its wounded kin, the golden-feathered Cootic spread its wings and took flight.
Kimmi watched as it disappeared beyond the castle walls, vanishing into the night with its feather.
Its did not look back.
The injured Cootic, still grounded, watched its kin leave. Its gaze lingered on the sky, on the empty space where the other had been—before slowly turning its sharp eyes to her.
Something inside Kimmi twisted. It had been abandoned. Left behind.
Just like her.
The difference was that she did not feel wronged for being left behind—only disappointed.
A single feather, a final plea, to carry its kin where it longs to be.