Chapter 71 – Steam and Shadows

  The arena’s roar still echoed in Seven’s bones long after the matches ended. Bruises mapped his ribs and thighs where Arne’s rounds had clipped him, and the socket where his bionic arm would one day rest pulsed faintly, faint blue veins of light threading across his scarred shoulder. Nearly a year. He could scarcely believe it—a year since he’d stumbled into this world, clawing for every scrap of survival.

  A knock rattled his door.

  When Seven opened it, Arne leaned in the frame, wiry grin wide and full of mischief. Behind him loomed Erik, broad-shouldered and stone-faced, arms crossed as if still on duty. Hopper lingered at the back, shifting awkwardly in his recruit’s tunic.

  “Need something?” Seven asked wearily. “I was about to crash.”

  Arne slapped him on the back hard enough to rattle his spine. “Crash? After that brawl? Rookie, you earned yourself a soak. Hot springs are open. No excuses.”

  Erik’s ears twitched. “This is unnecessary.”

  “Necessary for morale,” Arne countered, already pushing past him. “And my morale needs a bath.”

  Seven considered the ache in his legs, the fire still burning in his lungs. The thought of hot water settling into bruises was too tempting.

  “…Fine. Couldn’t hurt.”

  The men’s side of the Guild’s great springs was already alive with chatter. Steam rose in clouds, curling around the towering frames of War Rabbits sprawled in the mineral water. Muscles gleamed in the lantern light, ears flicking idly in the rising heat. Compared to them, Seven’s lean frame looked almost fragile—scarred, smaller, out of place.

  Arne noticed, of course. He never missed an opening. “Don’t sulk, rookie. Scars just mean you’ve lived. Besides…” His grin sharpened. “Bet Fluffy sees your scars and thinks you’re mysterious.”

  Seven eased into the steaming water with a groan, heat sinking deep into his bruises. “Pretty sure she just thinks I’m broken. Especially with a glowing number carved into my neck.”

  Erik sat opposite, silent as stone, water beading across the hard cuts of his frame. His glare could’ve cut glass. “Drop it.”

  Arne only smirked wider. “What? Just saying. Our human’s bunking next to your dream girl, Erik. Don’t think the Guild hasn’t noticed.”

  Seven buried his face in the steam. “Not touching that subject.”

  Hopper nearly swallowed his tongue trying not to laugh, shoulders shaking.

  Across the wooden partition, the women claimed their own spring. Steam curled lazily as Raven leaned back against stone, her sharp profile softened in lantern-glow, eyes half-lidded. Beside her, Fluffy—always radiant in daylight—melted into the water like butter, ears lolling, her laughter a dreamy hum.

  Rhea and Lola traded quiet talk of duty rosters and schedules, voices carrying even in the haze. Brinley, arms usually grease-stained, sat with shoulders tense before finally letting them sink, scars etched across her forearms glimmering faintly in the water’s glow.

  “I could stay here forever,” Fluffy sighed, stretching until her toned arms broke the surface. “No swords, no drills. Just bubbles.”

  Raven cracked one eye open. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Tomorrow, drills return.”

  Fluffy groaned, sliding lower into the water until only her nose poked out.

  Back on the men’s side, Arne’s grin turned positively wicked. He tilted his head toward the partition. “So… what say we take a peek?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Erik bolted upright, ears flushing red. “Are you insane? That’s suicide.”

  Seven groaned, sinking deeper. “You’re kidding me. I already got shot a dozen times today. I’m not adding ‘killed for peeping’ to the list. Especially not with a sniper on the other side—I’ve seen Raven shoot a coin midair.”

  Hopper nearly choked on his drink. “They’d bury us alive,” he squeaked.

  Arne pouted, splashing the water. “Cowards. No sense of adventure.”

  “Call it survival instinct,” Seven muttered, “and I’d rather not get flattened by the Guildmaster again. You’ve tested that, Arne. Repeatedly.”

  Laughter rolled through the chamber—deep, easy, melting the tension of weeks. For a rare night, the Guild found peace in steam and shadows.

  Miss Hopps’ Perspective

  Not far from either spring, steam drifted lazily through the private chamber reserved for senior crest-bearers. Miss Hopps sat waist-deep in the mineral water, her red hair tied back, steam beading on her sharp features. For once, no scrolls, no maps, no reports cluttered her vision—just silence, warmth, and the faint echo of voices carrying through the vents.

  She exhaled slowly, letting the heat sink into her muscles. The day had been long, the matches draining, and the council’s endless pressure heavier still. She had come here to clear her mind.

  But the men’s chatter slipped through the thin walls, unmistakable. Arne’s laugh rang out first—boisterous, troublemaking, impossible to ignore. Then Hopper’s squeaky protests, Erik’s gruff retorts, and—most surprising of all—Seven’s dry, weary muttering joining in like he belonged.

  Hopps arched an eyebrow, listening.

  “Typical,” she murmured, lips curving faintly. “Young men and their noise. Always lively. Always foolish. Especially that damn Arne.”

  For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the steam blur the voices into background hum. Yet she couldn’t quite tune out the sound of Seven’s voice—steady, sardonic, woven into the rhythm of the Guild as though it had always been there.

  She hadn’t thought it possible. When she first dragged him in from the snow, she’d expected a liability, a burden, maybe even a mistake. Now… he laughed among them. Bled among them. Stood his ground in ways most recruits never could.

  Hopps leaned back, letting the heat rise around her ears. A small, private smile touched her lips.

  “…Didn’t think you’d last this long, human,” she whispered into the steam. “But maybe… maybe you’re proving me wrong.”

  She let the warmth claim her again, her body easing for the first time in weeks. Beyond the walls, the Guild was loud, alive, and full of trouble—but for now, that was exactly how it should be.

  Across the Partition – The Women’s Spring

  Steam curled thick and warm, carrying with it the sound of laughter—not from their side, but from the men’s. The voices carried easily through the vents and the thin wooden partitions.

  Fluffy’s ears twitched at once, her head popping up above the steam. “Oh-hooo, they’re laughing louder than us! What are they even doing over there?”

  Rhea gave a quiet chuckle, her lavender eyes soft. “Sounds like harmless trouble. Let them. It means they’re bonding.”

  Lola smirked, tipping her head back against the stone. “Harmless trouble? With Arne in the mix? Please. I’d wager half a week’s pay he’s egging them on to something stupid.”

  Brinley snorted, splashing a bit of water onto her knees. “If he drags Seven into it, I’ll kill him myself. That human’s reckless enough without Arne dangling idiotic ideas in front of him.”

  Raven, silent until now, opened her eyes slowly. She had caught every word, sharper ears than the rest. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s already tried. Something about peeking.”

  Fluffy nearly slipped beneath the water, choking on laughter. “Peeking?! At us? Oh, that’s rich.”

  Lola covered her face, shoulders shaking. “Idiots.”

  Rhea’s sigh was long but tinged with amusement. “Boys will be boys.”

  Raven’s gaze was cool, almost icy. “If they try, they’ll regret it. I don’t miss.” Her fingers brushed the air as though feeling for her bowstring, and for a moment, no one doubted her.

  Even Fluffy sobered, ears dipping beneath the steam. “…Okay, yeah, maybe we’ll let you handle it.”

  The laughter swelled again from the men’s side, echoing through the springs. For a brief moment, both sides of the Guild were noisy, alive, and unburdened by the weight of trials or politics.

  And though Raven rolled her eyes and Rhea shook her head, none of them could deny the rare warmth that came from hearing their comrades—human and bunnyfolk alike—finally sound like family.

  Lyra’s Return

  Far across the frozen Wildlands, the wind howled through jagged ridges of stone and ice. Snow spiraled like ash from a dead fire, cloaking the land in endless white. Even here—where mortals would freeze within hours—an Aku could move as if born to it.

  Lyra’s golden eyes cut through the storm as she approached the village, cloak snapping in the gale. The familiar black pillars of Lady Lumin’s hall rose before her, carved from stone and veined with mana that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  She slipped inside, the sudden warmth a shock after weeks in the open wild. The chamber smelled of incense and old wood smoke, the shadows bending around Lady Lumin’s towering frame.

  Lyra bowed low, her voice carrying the tension of long travel.

  “I found something, Lady Lumin. Far to the east. A structure. Human-sized. Untouched by time.”

  Lady Lumin’s golden gaze sharpened, the faint glimmer of her clawed fingers curling against her throne. “What kind of structure?”

  “Not ruins of the old war,” Lyra answered carefully. “Newer. Marked with a number. Forty.”

  The name hung in the air like a ghost. For a long moment, silence pressed heavy on the hall. Then, slowly, Lady Lumin leaned back, lamplight glinting off her dark hair.

  “So… Kinata’s whispers of spatial anomalies were not baseless after all,” she murmured. Her tone was calm, but the weight of her words pressed like frost against stone.

  Lyra lowered her gaze further. “I cannot say more. The place was… empty. But not abandoned.”

  “That is enough.” Lumin’s voice was final, dismissing her with a flick of her hand.

  Outside the Hall

  The cold night struck again as Lyra stepped outside. There, waiting at the foot of the great stair, stood Kinata—raven hair bound high in a ponytail, yellow flower glinting faintly against the dark. At seventy feet tall, her presence was thunder contained in flesh, her golden eyes alight with sharp curiosity.

  “You’re in one piece,” Kinata called down lightly, her smirk visible even in the moonlight. She nudged Lyra’s shoulder with a fingertip, playful but firm. “That’s rare for one of your long missions.”

  Lyra smirked faintly in return. “Maybe I’m getting better.”

  “Or maybe the world’s just getting boring.” Kinata stretched languidly, muscles shifting under her cropped jacket like coils of steel. Her tail flicked as she turned toward the village path. “Don’t worry, Lyra. I’ll keep you entertained on the walk back.”

  Lyra gave a small laugh, falling into step beside her giant kin. The two warriors disappeared into the night, their voices a soft counterpoint to the howling wind.

  Unseen above them, the stars burned sharp and cold.

  And far to the east, Shelter 40 waited—its secrets stirring like embers beneath the snow.