The forest stretched around them, dense and silent. The trees were tightly packed, the ground damp and full of roots. Every step required care. Thalen and Tharion had stopped to quickly light a campfire. Thalen stacked the twigs with precision, observing the broken branches on the ground, while Tharion prepared the food, sorting berries and roots carefully. Every gesture was mechanical, the result of routines repeated day after day.

  Every morning, they walked with measured steps. Thalen slightly ahead of Tharion, exploring the terrain, scrutinizing every detail of the ground and every movement of the leaves. Their days were punctuated by pauses to drink from a stream or to examine the sky.

  In the evening, they set up a fire in a safe spot, away from the paths. Thalen quickly scanned the surroundings, checking that nothing lingered or watched them. Tharion prepared a little food while Thalen organized their belongings. They ate in silence, speaking in low voices, then partially extinguished the fire to avoid drawing attention. Each settled onto their makeshift bed, senses alert, ready to rise at the slightest sound. The next day, they would resume their routine: find a safe spot, light the fire, check the surroundings, eat and rest, always cautious.

  The city was not far now, barely two days’ march away. Occasionally, faint but clear lights appeared between the trees, reminding them that they were approaching. Tharion walked quickly, eager to arrive, stepping over roots and around stones, while Thalen remained cautious, attentive to every obstacle. The path was not easy: mud, rocks, fallen branches forced them to adjust each step. Sometimes, a clearing briefly revealed the city, but as soon as they plunged back under the trees, it vanished. These short glimpses kept up the pace: arrival seemed near, but they could not let their guard down.

  Then a sound tore through the silence.

  A violent impact, as if something had struck a trunk.

  Thalen barely had time to turn his head when a mass leapt out of the shadows, hurtling at full speed.

  By instinct, Tharion struck. His fist shot out like lightning, and the impact sent a shockwave cleaving the ground. The creature was thrown back with a sharp jerk, as if the air itself had slapped it.

  Tharion immediately stepped back, without thinking, just to gain a second. His body moved even before his mind had fully processed. He slid to the side, narrowly avoiding the monster’s path.

  And only then did his mind catch up.

  Inside his head:

  Shit… Thalen. I forgot Thalen.

  The monster struck. Thalen took a direct hit and was hurled against a tree. His paws trembled. The monster struck again. Thalen received another blow, crashing into a tree. His paws shook as he planted his claws into the ground to hold himself.

  It was enormous, far too tall, with a lean but tense silhouette, like a body built to spring. Its long legs bent strangely, almost bird-like… every movement sharp and violent, ready to explode at any moment.

  Its arms nearly dragged along the ground, ending in countless thin, clawed fingers capable of cutting effortlessly.

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  Its skin was dark, rough, etched with pale cracks, as if burned then stitched back together. In some places, something moved beneath… living veins undulating under its surface.

  Its head… vaguely resembled an elongated skull. No real face. Just a slit-like mouth, stretched, filled with uneven teeth.

  And its eyes… two cold, motionless glows, fixed on them. It did not breathe like a beast. It breathed like something imitating life.

  Then it leapt.

  One enormous jump, and it was already upon them.

  The monster charged at full speed. Tharion, too tall to place himself between it and Thalen, could only watch. But he was ready to act. During those fateful three seconds, the monster attacked Thalen.

  Thalen saw himself in his former life: building structures, designing roads and cars, hearing laughter echo through crowded streets. Then, in an instant, he snapped back, and his gaze changed.

  His eyes were mesmerizing. The pupil took the form of a perfect five-pointed black star, surrounded by golden filaments vibrating with energy. The iris, black and silver, revealed violet and pink reflections that shifted with the light, with patterns resembling tiny mosaics or lunar craters. A faint translucent halo and streaks of electric blue enhanced the impression of contained magic ready to erupt.

  Tharion had seen this. He did not fully understand what he was witnessing, but he remembered a feminine figure, like the one who had spoken to him when he had destroyed the kingdom… or at least, that was what his mind seemed to convince him of. As if his brain were playing tricks.

  The forest seemed to react to this transformation. Roots shivered, tensed, and cracked under the pressure. A brutal heat rose from the ground, coursing through Thalen’s legs and folded wings. Every feather vibrated, burning from within. His muscles tensed involuntarily, and his wings half-unfurled in a painful spasm. The ground roared beneath his strength; earth, mud, and stones flew in brutal chaos.

  The pain was unbearable. Thalen collapsed to the ground, wings folded against him, claws dug into the soil. Every breath was a sharp gasp, every movement a painful effort.

  The monster, frustrated by its staggering prey, let out a low, threatening roar. Its burning gaze fixed on Thalen, ready to strike again.

  Tharion felt his blood run cold. The air seemed heavy around them, every vibration of the ground heralding the creature’s impending fury. The entire clearing seemed to hold its breath.

  In a flash, he drew his sword and teleported next to Thalen. The world seemed to slow. The monster’s breath, the dust, Thalen’s ragged breathing: everything became sharp and clear. Tharion’s strike cut through the air with a high-pitched whistle—FSHHH!—and landed with almost supernatural force. The creature screamed in pain and collapsed, defeated.

  Before tending to Thalen, Tharion paused, staring at him. What he saw… surpassed anything he had known. Those eyes… they were not merely different; they seemed to hold something inexplicable, something he could not comprehend. Even after years among heroes, being a hero himself, and encountering transcendent beings with incredible powers, he had never seen anything like it. There was no visible magic, no obvious power, just… that gaze. Yet he felt those eyes hid something, a secret even he could not decipher.

  And silently, Tharion thought how strange it was: this beast… it was a chimera.

  Thalen lay unconscious, while Tharion, still breathing heavily, remained vigilant. Sword at the ready, he watched for any movement, prepared to face whatever might appear.

  Then he sheathed his sword, letting his shoulders drop under the weight of adrenaline and tension. In a low voice, almost to himself, he murmured:

  I have been strong… once again. And yet… something in me… remains… fragile.

  Tharion lit a campfire. The flame flickered in the night, casting shadows across the surrounding trees. The crackle of dry wood filled the air. He positioned Thalen beside him, adjusting his wings and ensuring he was stable. The fire’s warmth gently heated his still-sore body.

  Leaning over him, Tharion focused his magic, sending a white light from his hand. The glow enveloped Thalen, gradually healing his wounds and soothing his tense muscles. His eyes remained alert, watching every reaction of the young owl, concern evident on his face. Thalen’s breathing began to steady, and the warmth of the combined fire and magic allowed him to relax slightly.