"You're sitting this one out," Cane said, tossing Pudding a strip of dried meat and stroking the falcon-owl hybrid's puffed head. "Close the window if it starts to rain."
HOOOOACH.
With a single hop and flutter, Pudding vanished through the open window, leaving Cane to dress in peace.
He slipped on the new raid gear—black, close-fitted, weightless but strong—and stepped into the hall. A sharp knock on Fergis's door brought a bleary-eyed fire mage peeking out a moment later.
Cane handed over a folded bundle. "Don't forget to wear the heartguard."
Back in his room, Cane touched the psi-rune behind his ear.
Cane:I have your raid gear if you want it now.
Dhalia:On my way.
Clara: Me too.
Clara and Dhalia arrived shortly afterward. Cane passed them their gear and offered his room so they could change.
"Brother…" Fergis kicked open his door, arms contorted and gear half-on. His face was flushed red.
"What the hell?" Cane laughed.
"I was trying to fasten the heartguard," Fergis grumbled. "I did the front first, then spun it around. Thought if I shoved my arms through the loops, I could just pull it over my head…"
Cane pressed the release tab. The gear fell to the floor with a solid thud.
"Connect the fasteners first," Cane said, shaking his head. "Then pull it over. We'll tighten it before we head out."
Fergis nodded sheepishly. "Yeah… that makes more sense."
At dawn, the group rift-traveled from the Administration Building to the Ironheart estate. When they stepped into the courtyard, a single figure was waiting.
"Welcome back, young Master," Relen said with a polite bow. He handed Cane a sealed letter. "Your horses are ready in the stables. Also—Lorna and Dagan Sweetwater arrived safely last night."
Cane smiled, the news warming something quiet inside him.
A heavy clop of hooves turned every head as another figure stepped through the rift.
Elohan.
He was leading Prince—Regor's former warhorse, now tacked and ready.
"Why do you have Prince?" Cane asked.
Elohan smirked. "I'm riding him today. My price for bringing him through. Don't worry, I'll treat him like royalty."
Cane shrugged. "Just leave him in the stable when you're done."
He tapped his psi-rune and turned to the group.
Cane:Mount up. We're leaving.
The stablemaster led out their mounts—a decent-looking lot. Cane picked one at random and swung into the saddle.
Cane:Follow me through the north gate. We'll be riding hard.
Fergis:You got it, boss.
The city was quiet. Most of its citizens still slept.
Hooves splashed through a shallow puddle, and Cane pulled his mount to the side just in time. He looked up—and caught the eye of an old woman on a second-story balcony.
Dhalia:Did she just dump a chamber pot into the street?
Fergis: Yep. Slums—no plumbing, not even outhouses. It's technically banned, but hard to enforce at dawn.
Cane:Good thing we weren't a few seconds earlier.
Clara wrinkled her nose, revolted.
Dhalia:Not sure I could've continued.
Fergis:I could… after I burned that building to the ground.
Cane chuckled and nudged his horse into a canter. The group passed through the north gate and began their journey toward the abandoned iron mine.
They exited the main road after a few minutes, turning onto a narrow trail that wound like a snake through the foothills. Rain from the night before had left the path slick. The air was sharp with the scent of wet stone and something faintly sweet.
Clara:You smell that? These alder bushes bloom late in the season—always fragrant after rain.
Fergis:Why would you even know that?
Clara:My Da used to rub them on himself before hunting. Said it masked his scent.
Cane pulled up. "Everyone grab a handful. Good catch—we overlooked the manticore's sense of smell."
They paused briefly, each collecting buds and leaves, crushing them between their fingers and rubbing the oil into their gear.
Cane:Good job, Clara.
The trail narrowed as they turned into a pass, the group dropping to single file.
Cane:Group comm only. There's a valley ahead. We should be able to spot the cave from there.
As the trail opened into a wide, sloping basin, Cane brought his horse to a halt. He pulled a small brass spyglass from his satchel.
Fergis:Oi… where'd that come from?
Clara:Is that pirate gear?
Dhalia:Bet you got it off the Defiant…
Cane:You're right. And now that we've got our own ship, it's not even weird anymore.
Fergis:I'm getting one!
Cane smirked and raised the spyglass, slowly scanning the northwest ridge. His gaze froze for a moment—then he lowered it and handed it to Fergis.
Cane:The cave's about eight hundred meters straight ahead. We tie the horses here and go in on foot.
He dismounted, tied off his reins, and crushed another bundle of alder buds in his hands. The scent clung to his skin—earthy, a little sweet. He smiled faintly.
Sophie would probably love this.
Red dirt clung to their boots as they climbed the winding path. Twice they had to rope up, scaling slick rock faces left treacherous by the rain.
Cane hauled himself over a five-meter wall, pausing at the midway handholds before reaching the top.
Fergis:How'd you make that jump? You stronger after the second star or something?
Cane:Dunno…
He lowered a rope and anchored it, helping the others up. Each clambered easily—proof their training was paying off.
They stopped near the entrance: a wide, gaping maw carved into the rock. The scent hit them immediately—musky, thick, and animal.
Dhalia:Think that smell's the manticore?
Clara:Doesn't matter. I'm eating whatever it is.
Cane:Hold here a sec. Gonna try something.
He knelt and pressed his palms to the ground. Crushed ore had turned the earth a deep red—iron-rich tailings from the abandoned mine.
The twin stars flared above his head as he sank into the metal world.
Red. Chaotic. Swirling. The entire mountain was saturated with iron ore tailings—metal fragments too fine to process, but still present. He traced the flow of residual iron, noting the places it did not go. The absence felt like silence inside the storm.
Cane emerged, spitting out dust and grit.
Dhalia:What was that?
Cane:We're in luck. The place is coated in iron ore tailings…
Clara:Meaning what?
Cane:Meaning I found two spots where it isn't.
Dhalia: The alternate exits?
Fergis:We splitting up or staying together?
Cane:Was planning to split… but if we know where the exits are, we stick together.
Clara:And if you're wrong?
Cane:Then we split. Stow your gear—no rattles or drops. Buddy up and tighten your heartguards.
Fergis turned so Cane could adjust the straps across his shoulders, then returned the favor.
Dhalia:We're ready.
Cane:Quiet from here on. Single file. Keep your head on a swivel.
He unwrapped a ball of string—ten meters, no more—and looped one end around his wrist.
Cane:Stealth up. I'm taking point. Everyone keep your hand on the string.
Dhalia:Got it.
Clara:This is so great. I can't see anyone. Just a floating string.
Fergis:Too bad there isn't a muting option.
Cane led them carefully down the center of the tunnel, sidestepping loose rocks and scattered bones, half-gnawed and old.
The musky stench deepened. So did the sense of danger.
Then—he stopped.
A shadow loomed just ahead. A breath. A shift of muscle.
Cane:Shit… we'll have to walk right past him.
Clara:At least we found it!
The manticore lay sleeping, its massive chest rising and falling with a slow, careless rhythm.
Its body was leonine, but scaled from the knees down, ending in razor talons. A scorpion tail curled high, nearly two meters long, the stinger like a blackened dagger. Leathery bat-like wings lay folded across its back, each joint lined with jagged spikes. Its head—a lion's—looked almost regal in sleep.
They crept past. No one breathed until they were dozens of meters beyond it.
Cane dropped to a crouch, touching a red smear on the stone.
Cane:Blood. Only a few hours old.
Fergis:So it's fed recently.
Dhalia: Nap time, then?
Clara: I always nap after eating.
Fergis:You're always eating.
Dhalia:And always sleeping.
They reached the tunnel's end—abruptly broken. The ceiling had collapsed or been smashed through, revealing blue sky overhead.
Cane:One of the alternate exits.
Fergis: I'll place a frost rune for slowing and an ice spike trap.
Cane studied the crumbled ceiling and began climbing up through the opening.
Dhalia:What are you doing?
Cane:Draw the runes, Fergis. We'll search for the second exit from up top—less risk than walking past him again.
He tied off a rope to a large boulder outside, lowering the end back through the hole. A short while later, Dhalia climbed up behind him.
Cane:Climb up when you're done. Don't forget the rope.