A day had passed.

  The lessons continued. The jungle shifted. The beasts kept watching.

  But Rell had stopped listening.

  —

  He sat near the cliff’s edge, arms resting on his knees, legs dangling just past the rock. Below, the jungle stretched endlessly — an emerald sea pulsing with life. But up here… it was quiet. Too quiet.

  The breeze whispered nothing.

  Even Ko’Mala hadn’t cracked a joke in three days.

  They all felt it.

  Something inside Rell was… dimming.

  —

  He should’ve felt grateful. Alive. He’d survived death. Twice. Been taken in by beasts of myth. Given a second chance.

  But none of it felt like his.

  Not the voice.

  Not the body.

  Not the jungle.

  Not the life.

  “I shouldn’t be here.”

  He said it softly. Like maybe the wind would carry it back to Brooklyn, to a subway platform covered in blood and courage.

  “I didn’t ask to fight demons. I didn’t ask to be a savior.”

  “I just wanted to go home. See my sisters again. One last time.”

  He looked down.

  The wind blew upward. Cool. Inviting.

  He stood slowly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  One foot stepped forward—

  —

  A coil tightened behind him.

  Not around his ankle. Not across his throat.

  Around his thoughts.

  Like a whisper that wrapped itself through memory and reason, pulling tight until doubt screamed louder than instinct.

  “If you’re going to die… at least understand what you’re dying to escape.”

  Rell spun.

  The clearing behind him was no longer empty.

  A massive serpent coiled between the trees, its body glistening like oil beneath the moonlight. His scales shimmered in waves — black, purple, and bruised gold. They didn’t reflect light — they swallowed it. His eyes were two hollow rings that pulsed like slow-turning galaxies.

  There was no hiss. No breath. Only a sound like hundreds of voices speaking just out of range — whispers layered behind Rell’s own regrets. When Siv’Varth moved, it wasn’t with motion… it was with distortion, like the air itself bent around him.

  The air soured with the scent of ink, old incense, and smoldered parchment — the aroma of truths burned too early.

  Being near him felt like gravity had shifted — as if the world tilted five degrees too far, and the ground had decided to stop agreeing with your balance.

  The air tasted bitter. Acidic. Like biting into guilt soaked in copper — and liking it just enough to be ashamed.

  Rell didn’t speak.

  Siv’Varth’s voice slid into his chest like a secret.

  “You wish to leave. I understand.”

  “But you’re not broken because you’re lost. You’re broken because you thought you were alone in it.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Rell stared at him, hollow.

  “Let me show you what the world has become in your absence. Maybe then… the choice will feel earned.”

  —

  The two emerged just outside a ruined border town. Cracked roads. Shanty structures. Slumped silhouettes too tired to beg. The air was hot, dry — wrong.

  Rell covered his nose.

  “What is this place?”

  “Civilization.”

  Siv’Varth slithered beside him, seemingly unnoticed by everyone.

  “These are the humans you wish to return to. Not kings. Not scholars. Just… survivors. Watched by gods. Forgotten by heroes.”

  He gestured with his tail.

  A girl — no older than fourteen — stumbled past in chains. Dirty. Bruised. Marked for transport.

  “She is product. Like you. And unlike you… no one is coming for her.”

  Rell clenched his fists.

  “What’s your point?”

  “I have no point. Only paths. But I will show you one more thing, if you allow it.”

  —

  They turned a corner near the outskirts.

  A cart stood overturned. A girl screamed. Two men shoved her down, blades drawn, playing their roles well.

  Rell didn’t hesitate.

  He exploded forward — instinct moving faster than thought — and cracked one across the jaw with his elbow, then dropped the second with a conjured root-lash from the earth.

  The girl sobbed. Not theatrically — real. Broken.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, clutching his arm like it was the only real thing in the world.

  Rell froze.

  He didn’t know why, but those two words hit deeper than any spell.

  He pulled back, stared down at his hands… and said quietly:

  “...I want to try again.”

  “Not for me. For… something.”

  —

  Siv’Varth said nothing.

  He only smiled — barely. And vanished into the shadows like the thought he’d planted was never

  ____

  The two men weren’t strangers.

  They were guild-linked — same brand, same crest scorched into their shoulder straps. Not rookies, either. These were trained operatives from Thessia’s division.

  And they were shaking like amateurs.

  One had a busted nose. The other was missing a boot and dignity.

  They sat tied against a tree, ropes etched with anti-magic runes. Their wrists bled from trying to wriggle free.

  “I told you we were gonna get paid,” one hissed to the other.

  “He said she cleared it—”

  Footsteps. Heavy. Unrushed.

  “She didn’t.”

  The voice came from the dark, slow and exact.

  A tall figure emerged — cloak dragging across dirt, spear clutched against her back like it was part of her spine.

  She didn’t sit. Didn’t even lower her weapon.

  She just stared.

  “You weren’t robbing her.”

  “You were offering her up.”

  Silence.

  “So tell me—”

  “Who’s the serpent that promised you coin in my name?”

  The two men froze.

  One of them finally muttered:

  “…You’re not gonna believe us.”

  Her eyes didn’t blink.

  “Try me.”