The journey inland was a pilgrimage into a world that grew stranger with every step. Following a stream, the gnarled pines of the coast yielded to a forest of towering copper-barked trees. The air grew thick with the damp scent of wet earth and alien blossoms.

  His boots sank into a springy, damp carpet of moss that swallowed the sound of his passage. The world grew quieter, the air thick and still. Clinging to the gnarled roots of the copper trees, clusters of fungi pulsed with a faint, sickly green luminescence, their glow a pallid counterpoint to the dappled sunlight.

  As the gurgle of the stream grew to a roar, the path ended abruptly at a sheer cliff of glistening black stone, a powerful waterfall cascading down its center.

  Dotted across the damp cliff face were dog-sized moths, their vast wings a pulsating tapestry of pink and yellow. They had big, fluffy faces and paws with wide, dark eyes. Their ornate fur was hiding their insectoid bodies. Their segmented exoskeletons were entirely hidden beneath their fur, which made them look like bizarre, poodled insects.

  "Don't," she said, commanding. "Giant Moths. Breathe too loud, and they're gone. Their wing powder will make you think your eyeballs are melting out of your skull."

  Trenn froze, his curiosity now tempered with a healthy dose of caution. From this safer distance, he could make out more detail.

  "If you get any closer, they'll flee. That's your test," Mara explained, whispering. "Your Charm spell is about connection. Creating illusory emotions. Concentrate on one of them. Invite it to be your friend. Feel the hum inside you."

  He focused on one of the pink and yellow moths, aiming his will at it like an outstretched hand. Be my friend. The silent, foolish command dissipated into the mist with no effect. The moth remained a simple splash of color on the stone, utterly indifferent.

  He flushed with embarrassment, a profound absurdity in his attempt to mentally coax an alien insect. "Hum?" he asked, the confusion plain on his face.

  Mara tilted her head. "You can't feel your own mana radiation? It's the energy that lets you cast spells." She gestured for him to be still. "Close your eyes. Listen past the waterfall. Can you feel it?"

  Trenn tried, but found only his own heartbeat. Then, another sensation intruded: a low, steady vibration against his calf. It was Skate.

  "I can't feel anything inside," Trenn said, opening his eyes. "But I can feel Skate."

  A look of brilliant understanding dawned on Mara's face. "That's it!" she exclaimed. "Your charm is binding Skate to you. The hum you feel from it... That's your own spell. Replicate that vibration. Project it into one of these sky puppies," she pointed to the colorful cliffside."

  It was a click. A key turning in a lock he hadn't known existed. The hum was his spell translating Skate's state.

  "Okay," Trenn breathed, a newfound confidence steadying him. He closed his eyes again, but this time, he wasn't searching blindly. He focused entirely on the tangible, rhythmic vibration coming from Skate. He let it fill his senses, memorizing its frequency, its texture.

  With a deep, steadying breath, Trenn opened his eyes, ready to put the theory to the test. He singled out a large, particularly vibrant pink moth clinging to a dark patch of moss near the edge of the waterfall, and prepared to reach out.

  The connection sparked. For a single, breathtaking moment, the hum within Trenn reached out and weaved an invisible tendril of influence aimed at the vibrant moth across the misty clearing. He was on the precipice of his first conscious act of magic.

  Mara’s voice dropped to a feral growl. "We're being surrounded. They must’ve been tracking us!" Before Trenn could process the words, three-inch claws slid from her fingertips.

  Her casual stance was gone, her body coiled into a low, predatory crouch, and vanished into the forest’s shadow. Trenn was left standing alone in the open, horribly exposed, his heart suddenly a frantic hammer against his ribs.

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  A piercing whistle sliced through the air. Instinct threw his body left, dodging a spear. A second whistle followed instantly from his left. He couldn't dodge both ways. Instead, he flicked his boot, sending Skate up to intercept the spear mid-flight.

  The third spear struck with the force of a thrown anvil. The impact was a bone-jarring concussion that buckled his leg and drove him to one knee. A spike of impossible agony burned through his shoulder, a physical violation that stole the air from his lungs.

  A raw, guttural roar ripped from his throat. His hands, slick with his own blood, found the spear shaft. Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, he pulled. The resistance of his own flesh, the grating of the obsidian head against his own bone, was a fresh wave of torment.

  A gruesome tearing sound filled his ears as it came free, and the world dissolved into a searing, featureless white. He staggered back to his feet, swaying, his left arm a useless, bleeding weight at his side. Through the swimming haze, four reptilian hunters emerged from the treeline.

  The same scaled, reptilian hunters from the beach, their lidless silver eyes burning with a cold, hateful fury.

  The one in the lead was horribly familiar. Its caiman head was a mangled, lopsided ruin of broken bone and scarred tissue. One of its eyes was a swollen, bloodshot mess. It let out a low, rasping snarl, a sound of pure, personal hatred.

  Mara exploded from the darkness, a silent blur of white fur. She was on the furthest lizard from Trenn in an instant. Her claws plunged. They pierced through the cured leather and scale of its back, sliding between its ribs with practiced ease.

  With a guttural snarl, she yanked her hands back. The sound was a horrific, wet tear. The hunter collapsed, its back a ruined mess, dead before it hit the ground.

  The three remaining hunters froze, their reptilian brains struggling to process the sudden, violent death of their companion. One of them, faster than the others, lunged at Mara, its maw opened wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth. But a giant pink and yellow moth dove from overhead and flew past its face, leaving a trail of powder that immediately burned the hunter’s eyes, causing it to scream in pain.

  The agony in his shoulder was incapacitating, but the sight of the leader’s mangled face ignited a purer fire. He poured every last ounce of his strength into a drop-kick that connected squarely with Skate.

  The grey sphere shot forward like a cannonball. The hunter with the ruined face, his attention half-turned towards Mara, had no time to react. Skate slammed into the side of its head with a pulping crunch.

  The hunter’s head snapped sideways at an impossible angle. It was lifted clean off its feet by the sheer kinetic force of the impact and landed in a boneless heap, out cold before its body even hit the mossy ground.

  Skate, its grim work done, did not bounce off randomly. It shot high into the air, a silent grey comet against the backdrop of the waterfall, curving back towards its master. It arced into a gentle lob.

  As Skate flew in a high curve angled at Trenn, Mara lunged, claws out, at the blinded hunter. It stood, dumbfounded, as her hand slashed four deep claw marks across its throat.

  The last hunter turned and ran. Skate hung in the air—a perfect setup. Though his body was a wreck, his right arm was still good. Channeling the last of his adrenaline, he planted his good foot, twisted, and met the sphere at its apex with a one-handed volleyball smash.

  His palm connected with Skate's surface in a thunderous THWUMP that echoed through the clearing. The kinetic transfer was perfect; the agony that followed ran through his entire body. There was a tearing sensation deep within his ruined shoulder. His scream was lost as his vision tunneled, the world tilting on its axis. His good leg gave out, and he crumpled, crashing to the mossy ground in a limp, uncontrolled heap.

  Skate blasted through the air like a meteor. It caught the fleeing hunter square between the shoulder blades. The hunter was slammed face-first into the thick, copper-colored trunk of a massive tree.

  The roar of the waterfall reclaimed the clearing, a backdrop to Trenn’s ragged, desperate gasps. He lay face down, the smell of damp earth filling his nostrils, the world a swimming blur of green and black. His vision pulsed in time with the throbbing in his shoulder, each beat pulling him closer to a waiting darkness. His vision was swimming with black spots as he stared at the still, broken bodies of his pursuers.

  Skate rolled to a gentle stop, climbing onto Trenn’s chest, beside the fresh shoulder wound. Its surface warmed and became malleable. Its hum became a low, steady, victorious purr as it began to clean the injury, staunching the flow of blood.

  Mara emerged from the treeline, moving with a predator’s silent grace. She surveyed the scene—four dead hunters, Trenn slumped against a tree, bleeding but alive. A single, sharp nod was her comment, but her amber eyes held a flicker of something new. Approval.

  "You did not hesitate," she said, her voice a low rumble. "You fought. You won." She knelt beside him, producing a small pouch from her belt. "Now, we heal."

  Trenn looked up to see the Giant Moth land a few feet away, with a whisper of wings. A low, soft chittering sound emanated from it, a vibration in his chest. It was a question. It was a greeting.

  Friend?

  Schedule and Launch Period

  After that, the schedule will settle into a sustainable rhythm of three chapters per week (Monday, Wednesday, Friday). If there's a lot of support and feedback, I will consider extending the launch period.

  Thank you for reading!

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