Lucius rode with one hand on the reins, the other holding… a cat.
Not a pet.
Not a normal cat.
But the small, silver-furred feline curled in his lap, breathing softly and twitching her ears in her sleep — was the beastkin child.
She had transformed without a sound.
One moment, a three-year-old with crumbs on her cheeks. The next, a little cat blinking up at him like she'd never been human at all.
Lucius had almost dropped her.
But now, hours later, he was still processing it.
"You're oddly quiet," Rowan muttered from beside him.
Lucius didn't look at him. "Would you believe me if I said I'm hiding a child from a bloodline thought extinct?"
Rowan squinted. "…Yes?"
"Then I won't say it."
Rowan frowned but didn't push.
Lucius returned his gaze to the sleeping feline in his lap.
The transformation had shocked him — not because it was magical, but because it was deliberate. Controlled.
She had chosen to turn. Chosen to hide.
Even in her sleep, she curled close to him like she knew the world was watching.
"Smart little thing," he murmured.
He'd wrapped her in a spare cloth and tucked her into the inner pocket of his cloak. One of the knights had glanced his way earlier — Lucius told him it was his cat. Nothing more.
A noble's eccentricity.
He could get away with that.
For now.
As the sun dipped lower, the forest thickened.
The Wilds were aptly named — chaotic, uneven, and humming with mana. It shimmered faintly in the air, a golden thread Lucius couldn't touch. Not yet.
His mana was still dormant. He could feel the pressure of the world around him, but it slipped past him like wind over glass. Unseen. Untouched.
But not for long.
He would find the Elric Bloom.
And he'd awaken.
They made camp near a ridge as darkness set in.
Lucius chose a flat spot, sat down with the cat curled beside him, and stared at the fire. Rowan sharpened his sword in silence.
The knights ate and rotated watch.
It felt like any other camp.
But it wasn't.
Lucius gently reached down and touched the cat's ear.
"Can you understand me in this form?"
The cat opened one eye.
Then… nodded.
A small, tired nod.
Lucius smiled faintly. "That's horrifying."
She mewed softly and nuzzled into his cloak.
"You can stay hidden like this," he murmured. "At least until we're out of this forest."
She twitched her tail, as if in agreement.
Lucius's gaze hardened.
Beastkin were rare. Hunted in some kingdoms. Feared in others.
Whoever had left her alone in the Wilds… hadn't done it by accident.
He looked toward the trees.
"Who were you running from?" he whispered.
The cat didn't answer.
But the forest did.
A low growl echoed in the distance. Not close, but not far enough.
Rowan stood instantly, sword drawn.
Lucius rose as well, tucking the cat into his cloak again.
"Looks like our peaceful night just ended," Rowan muttered.
Lucius's voice was low. Cold. Controlled.
"Good. I was starting to feel too comfortable."