Morning dew sparkled on the leaves like scattered gems, catching the first golden rays of sunlight that broke through the trees. Birds chirped cautiously, as if unsure whether the forest had survived the chaos of yesterday.

It had.

Mostly.

Faya woke up first.

She lay curled around the Verdant Hare, who was nestled in her arms like a warm, leafy pillow. Her blanket had slipped halfway off during the night, but she didn't seem to mind. The connection in her mind, the silent awareness of someone else present, hadn't faded overnight. If anything, it had grown clearer.

She blinked blearily and whispered, "Good morning, Malvorik."

<Good morning to you as well, Faya.>

Her lips curled into a smile. "You're still here."

<Unfortunately, yes. You sleep very loudly.>

She gasped and sat up. "I do not!"

<You mumbled an entire hymn in your sleep and sneezed into my conduit's ears.>

"I apologized for that already!"

<And I forgave you. >

The hare twitched his nose, oblivious.

Faya stretched her arms overhead, her braid slightly askew. "So… I'm a familiar now. I forgot to ask: Do I have duties?"

<Mostly, just don't die. And stay in touch regularly in case I need to communicate. That seems to be the only functioning part of this bond. My hope was that we'd be able to share some of my knowledge... but the conduit is still out of range.>

She perked up. "But you can still teach me normally?"

<Don't worry. I'll help. I may not know your school's curriculum, but I've taught much worse students than you.>

"Thanks?" she said, unsure whether to feel insulted.

From across the glade, Ulmenglanz stirred, rising with all the grace of dew-soaked ivy. She nodded a sleepy good morning to Faya, then began collecting herbs from the underbrush.

Weylan was already up, doing his morning routine of stretching and gymnastics. Faya waved to him. He gave a subtle, knowing glance toward the hare in her arms, and she gave a thumbs up in return. Their shared secret felt less heavy this morning.

Then came the screech. "Wake up!"

Mirabelle's voice shattered the calm like a thrown stone into still water. She stomped into the glade, fully dressed, hair immaculate, robes freshly cleaned. No one had any idea how she managed that. Faya suspected divine cheating. Or she'd gotten her hands on Weylan's spell focus.

Mirabelle pointed dramatically toward the academy's silhouette in the distance. "March formation in twenty minutes! Robes on! Bags packed! I want your brains fresh and your boots clean."

Faya giggled, then stood up and brushed leaves from her nightrobe.

<She's... spirited.>

"I have no idea where she gets the energy."

The day had begun. And while no one noticed the faint magical thread still pulsing between a sleepy priestess and a dungeon heart far away and deep beneath the earth, it had been woven all the same.

And it would not be so easily severed.

* * *

When Weylan took the lead together with Ulmenglanz, Selvara returned from her nightly patrol. She sat down on his shoulder and nearly dropped. He caught her and held her, until Ulmenglanz placed her herb bag around his neck and opened it, so he could place her inside. They sped up to get a bit of distance, so they could talk unobserved. "Everything all right, Selvara?"

"I was on patrol all night, watching for more monsters. Then, I just couldn't fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I had the weirdest dreams. Hares frolicking over colorful flower meadows. Feeding unicorns from my hand. Sleeping on a mountain of fur."

Weylan gulped. "Well… I may have an explanation."

Ulmenglanz glanced at him. "Really? You've learned to interpret dream oracles now?"

"No, not that. I think it has to do with something Malvorik did last night."

Selvara looked up from inside her cozy nest in the bag and sighed. "What did he do now?"

"He bound a second familiar."

"He did what!?" Now she was wide awake.

Weylan told her everything that had happened, then waited for a reaction.

Selvara was silent for a long moment. Then she snickered. "He bound Faya?"

Weylan closed the lid of the bag as the sound of Selvara's laughter could never be explained as anything an animal, no matter how clever, would make.

Weylan noticed someone nearing from behind, he glanced back and saw Silvea speeding up to catch up to them. He urgently whispered to Selvara. "Cut it, Silvea's coming. She'll hear you."

The dungeon-fairy didn't hear or didn't care. He opened the bag and, while keeping his body between Silvea and the bag, repeated the comment directly at the laughing raven.

"I… I can't…" Selvara still snickered, then cast a tiny Zone of Silence on herself. Weylan stopped as the silence immediately stayed behind uselessly. As soon as he stood still, the still laughing Silvea repeated the spell and fell silent. Weylan looked up. That had been to close for his comfort.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Silvea hurried to him and Ulmenglanz, she visibly resisted the urge to shout and spoke in a barely controlled volume. "Slow down. You're too far in front. We don't want our vanguard get ambushed without seeing you."

Ulmenglanz drew her attention to herself by bowing. "Sorry. We were too fast. Won't happen again."

Weylan thought of something he had wanted to ask before. This was a perfect moment to further distract their expedition leader. "Say, how many points do we get for the last fight?"

Silvea scoffed. "None. Points are only granted for academic achievements, tests and tournaments. Expeditions like these grant their own rewards in form of experience and skill training. Don't tell me you didn't level up at least some skills?"

Weylan stared at her for a moment, then called up the status page he'd ignored since the intense fight.

The viper turtles had been level 7 and gave a good chunk of XP. Not enough for a level up, but he hadn't expected one.

Skill increased: Climbing (Apprentice VII)

Skill increased: Crossbow (Apprentice VI)

Spell increased: Shadow Gate (Apprentice IV)

"Wait… Spells have tiers you need to increase?"

Silvea rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you didn't know that…"

"What? Of course. Just kidding." He gave her his most charming smile.

Silvea didn't look convinced, but gave a small shrug. "One more thing: We're getting close to the edge of were-folk territory. I'll inform the others at the next break, but as vanguard, you need to know now. From this point on, do not harm or kill any animals. No matter the reason. If you injure a were-being, even by accident, it could turn ugly."

Ulmenglanz gave a slow, thoughtful nod, but Weylan frowned. "What if they attack us?"

"You can defend yourself," Silvea said, "and protect others if needed. But even then, try not to injure the creature more than necessary. Avoid lethal force. You're still free to kill monsters. But you'll have to verify what you're facing before striking. Make sure it really is a monster."

As she turned to move on, Weylan stopped her. "Wait. Do you actually think they'll attack us?"

Silvea tilted her head, weighing the question. "Normally? No. But with all the revenant activity since the plague began... there've been incidents. Kidnappings. Experiments. Some were-folk were killed and harvested for alchemical use."

Ulmenglanz blanched. "So... they'll assume we're hostile?"

Silvea shook her head. "Not unless we provoke them. By entering their settlements, threatening their kin, that sort of thing. They're not mindless. But they're just... wary. Rightfully so."

She paused for a moment, then added, "Were-folk grow up surrounded by difference. Every child in a family can turn into a different animal. Fox, bear, owl, snake... Whatever. Each with its own instincts and moods. It makes them unusually tolerant. They're used to adapting, used to all kinds of behavior. They can supposedly identify each other in any shape. It is said, they are quite irritated we can't differentiate between a were-folk in animal shape and a normal animal, so they find it hard to accept such mistakes."

Weylan and Ulmenglanz exchanged a glance, then slowed their pace to rejoin the main group. Silvea lingered at the rear, letting the others pass until she again followed as the rear guard.

* * *

They marched on until around noon. A clearing loomed ahead. Small and grassy, dotted with low stone markers and signs of old campfires. The perfect place to rest. As the party settled in, Ulmenglanz pulled out a small kettle and began preparing tea, the scent of dried flowers and herbs mingling with the damp forest air. Others unpacked rations.

Mirabelle was the first to sit down, almost too fast. She dropped to a crouch near the fire, already tearing open her ration packet before anyone else had even settled. Her eyes were bright, a little too alert for someone who had hiked all morning. She glanced around often, not nervously, but with a sharpness that felt out of place during a break.

Weylan sat across from her, chewing on a strip of dried meat. "You're eating fast."

"I'm hungry," she said, not looking up. "Didn't eat much earlier."

That much was true. But the way her foot tapped against the ground, the constant motion of her fingers tugging at her sleeves, the shallow rise and fall of her chest… Something felt off.

Ulmenglanz offered her a steaming cup. "Chamomile and heartleaf. It'll calm your stomach."

"I'm fine," she said, brushing him off. She took the cup but didn't drink it, just held it near her face like she wanted to inhale the steam instead.

"You didn't sleep well, did you?" Ulmenglanz asked, keeping her tone light.

Mirabelle gave a short, high-pitched laugh. "Didn't sleep at all, actually. Stayed up working on a new spell."

Weylan blinked. "All night?"

She grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Time well spent."

"What kind of spell?" he asked.

Her smile tightened. "Something useful. Doesn't matter."

He frowned. "If you keep skipping sleep, even stamina potions won't keep you upright forever."

"They're not that bad," she muttered, shrugging.

Ulmenglanz cut in gently, "Stamina potions don't work that way. They restore spent energy, sure, but they don't replace rest. You can't use them to bypass sleep for long. Your body remembers."

Mirabelle rolled her eyes and stood up mid-chew, pacing the edge of the clearing with the remains of her ration in one hand. "I said I'm fine."

Silvea returned from the perimeter and passed behind her, pausing for just a moment. Her eyes lingered on Mirabelle's rigid posture and bouncing foot. She didn't say anything. Just continued to the far end of the clearing and sat down beside her pack.

Weylan leaned toward Ulmenglanz. "You think she's overdoing the potions?"

Ulmenglanz shook his head slowly. "No... this isn't that. Potions don't make your pupils that wide."

Weylan didn't reply, just watched as Mirabelle paced back toward the fire, sat down again for a moment, then stood up once more like she couldn't decide what to do with her limbs.

Whatever she used, it was something new. And he wasn't sure if it was safe.

* * *

Once everyone had eaten and the clearing had quieted, Silvea stood to speak. Her voice carried clearly despite the hush. "A quick reminder: from here on out, no harming animals. For any reason." She explained her reasons.

She let that settle, then continued. "We'll reach our destination, the edge of Everdark Canyon, this evening. Tomorrow, we'll hold a full-day competition. After that, we return to the academy. I'll explain the rules in the morning. The rangers say the area is clear, so we shouldn't run into any monsters."

Mirabelle raised her hand, winking frantically. "Isn't that where the were-bee hive is?"

Silvea nodded. "Yes, but their hive lies deeper inside. We'll barely see the entrance, and we won't approach it. Still, just in case: do not attack or provoke the giant bees. Do not damage the canyon's flowers. And absolutely no ice spells. The nightbloom flowers down there are the hive's main food source. If the bees think we're threatening it, things could get... difficult."

She waved off the inevitable questions about the competition and sat back down.

Later, once the others had wandered off and the fire crackled softly, Weylan eased down beside her. He kept his voice light, low. "So... the revenants start their mission tomorrow, while we serve as the distraction?"

Silvea turned to him fast, eyes sharp. "How..."

"It's what I'd do," he said with a shrug. "A busy competition, students running around all day? No scout would notice a few slipping away into the canyon. But won't the target recognize they're from our academy?"

Silvea scanned the surroundings before answering. "The were-folk requested aid from the Order of the Arcane Knights. A strike team is helping them to get rid of a siege turtle. That will earn us quite a bit of goodwill. Hopefully enough to keep things from escalating, even if the snatch team is spotted."

"Snatch team," Weylan repeated flatly. "That's not exactly reassuring. You're sure we won't be hunted down after they take whatever it is?"

Silvea exhaled slowly. "The were-bee queen has... a complicated personality. She'll rather demand reparations, instead of seeking revenge. Revenge does not benefit the hive. Hive first, pride second. She refused a normal trade, but we've prepared a compensation package. We just need to be out of her direct influence until she calms down again."

Weylan wasn't sure if Silvea had let the identity of their target slip on purpose… until she winked at him.

That didn't exactly calm his nerves.

No matter how carefully worded, the whole thing didn't feel like a calculated operation. It felt like a last-ditch gamble.

A one-shot mission. Take the risk, hope for the best, and pray the fallout isn't fatal.

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