Mavie stood firm, boots planted on the cobbles slick with dust and shadow, her blade leveled at the creature's throat. The beast lay there, trembling, breath ragged and shallow, blood pooling beneath its flank. A low groan escaped its throat — more pained than threatening.
Aurelia stepped forward, her eyes wide, lips pressed tight in worry. Her gaze flicked from the wounded monster to Mavie's blade.
Before the sword could fall, she lunged, arms spread, placing herself between the steel and the beast.
Aurelia: "STOP!"
Mavie halted, brow furrowing.
Mavie: "What dost thou mean to do, girl? Stand aside!" she hissed, narrowing her eyes.
Aurelia: "Nay! Ye mustn't strike it down — thou knowest not what thou doest! This creature… it— it only seeks to go home!"
Mavie blinked, stunned by the words.
Mavie: "Home? What nonsense be this?" She raised her sword again, voice low and sharp. "Stand back, lest I strike thee as well."
Aurelia held her ground, fists trembling.
Aurelia: "Please! Hear me! This creature—'tis but a babe! Lost in the woodlands, wounded, alone… it did not come to slay or conquer. It came here frightened, not fierce."
The people behind them began murmuring, guards exchanging glances. Whispers rose like wind through trees.
"She said it's a baby?"
"Aye, but look at the size of it…"
"Then where be its mother?"
Aurelia: "Look—look upon its hide!" she said, pointing. "The claw marks—deep, not from our blades. 'Twas attacked ere it reached our walls. I saw it… it wandered in desperation."
Mavie's jaw clenched. The tip of her sword trembled, ever so slightly.
Mavie: "And how know'st thou this to be true?"
Aurelia's voice cracked.
Aurelia: "Because I heard it… not with ears, but with magic. I saw its thoughts — images, feelings. A call for its mother… not war."
The beast let out a whimper, low and mournful.
The guards faltered, some lowering their weapons. Villagers peered from behind carts and doorways, their expressions shifting from fear to confusion — and a spark of pity.
Mavie hesitated, blade still raised.
Aurelia: "Please, Mavie… if thou strikest it now, thou strikest not an enemy — but a child."
For a breathless moment, the square was silent, save for the distant caw of a crow and the wind against the broken walls.
Then, slowly… Mavie's sword lowered.
But her eyes never left the creature.
Mavie groaned under her breath, stepping forward, her boots scraping against the bloodied stones. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, knuckles white.
The creature whimpered faintly behind Aurelia, its breath shallow, pain etched in every twitch of its battered frame.
Aurelia: "Stop! Move not one step further!"
Mavie froze, startled. Her eyes widened at the force behind Aurelia's voice.
Mavie: "Why stand thou in my path? Step aside, lest thy foolishness see thee fall with the beast." Her blade rose, its cold edge hovering just beneath Aurelia's chin.
Aurelia's chest rose and fell, her breath sharp and fast.
Aurelia: "Please… grant me but a moment to speak."
The creature groaned again — soft, hoarse, and aching.
Aurelia: "This creature sought not to harm. It was frightened — confused — and you drew steel upon it before it could even make a sound."
The villagers murmured among themselves, their whispers rippling through the square like wind in tall grass.
Aurelia: "I swear to you… let me heal it. Should it turn its rage upon us again, I shall take full blame — but if it stays its claws… you'll know the truth. That it meant no ill."
Mavie narrowed her eyes, jaw clenched.
Mavie: "And why, pray, should I believe thee? Look around thee, Aurelia. The gates lie broken, homes shattered, blood stains the stone. All by its doing."
Theron watched silently nearby, eyes grave. At last, he gave a single nod — permission, or warning, none could say.
Aurelia turned, desperation bright in her gaze.
Aurelia: "There's more to this tale than battle and fire. I beg of you — don't strike down something that merely wished to be found. Let me show you that mercy isn't weakness."
For a moment, Mavie said nothing. Her sword remained raised — then, at last, she let out a long sigh, and slowly lowered the blade.
Mavie: "Very well… But mark me, mage — should it bare fangs once more, I'll not wait for thine approval to end it."
Aurelia nodded quickly, eyes damp but full of resolve.
Aurelia: "You have my word."
And in that quiet moment, as Aurelia turned toward the broken beast and laid her glowing hands upon its trembling hide, the townspeople watched — not with fear, but with cautious hope.
Aurelia stepped forward slowly, as though afraid the silence might shatter around her. Her cloak brushed the dust-covered stones as she knelt beside the creature's side. Its breath was ragged, shallow, its eyes fluttering half-shut in pain.
She opened her spellbook, fingers trembling, and began flipping through the worn pages. Her lips moved in silence, scanning words she'd only dared glance at in times of desperation.
Mavie stood a short distance away, her sword still lowered but tight in her grip. Her eyes never left Aurelia — sharp, doubtful, waiting.
Around them, the townsfolk muttered in hushed voices, eyes flicking between the mage and the beast, suspicion thick in the air. The scent of scorched earth and blood still lingered.
Theron let out a long sigh from atop the steps, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Theron: "Aurelia… cease this madness. There is no hope. 'Twill only rise again and finish what it began—"
But before he could finish, the pages of the spellbook lit up with a soft, green glow.
A low hum filled the square.
The magic whirled in gentle spirals, weaving through the air like wind-tossed leaves. A circle of light formed around the creature, faint at first — then growing, deepening into rich emerald strands of enchantment.
The monster groaned weakly, its claws twitching.
The glow intensified. Slowly, its wounds — long gashes torn by arrow and steel — began to knit themselves together. Torn flesh mended. Cracked bone aligned. Blood ceased its flow.
The beast's breathing steadied, and for the first time, it looked at Aurelia — not with fury, but with something close to recognition.
A stunned silence fell.
Even the whispers stopped.
Mavie's eyes widened. Her grip loosened. Her sword dropped lower still.
Mavie: "By the stars…" mutter
Gasps echoed through the square. One child tugged at her mother's sleeve, whispering, "Mama… it doesn't look scary anymore…"
Theron's brow furrowed, his arms crossed. He said nothing, but his gaze lingered on Aurelia with something caught between caution… and wonder.
The green light dimmed, flickering once, then faded into the air like mist at dawn.
The monster, though still weak, laid its head back down gently, its breath calm.
And Aurelia… closed her book, hands trembling, a quiet tear tracing down her cheek.
Aurelia: "There… You see? It merely needed kindness."
Mavie parted her lips, as if to speak — but no words came. Her jaw clenched, and she fell into a heavy silence, her blade still drawn but unmoving.
Theron's eyes widened, disbelief flickering across his face as the creature stirred. Slowly, shakily, the beast rose to its feet. Though its body still trembled with exhaustion, the magic had granted it strength enough to stand.
A wave of panic rippled through the crowd.
Villagers gasped and stumbled backward, dragging children behind cloaks and closing their doors with frightened hands. Guards raised their weapons once more, and tension thickened in the square like a storm about to break.
Mavie's stance shifted instantly, instinct flaring — she raised her sword with swift precision, steel gleaming in the moonlight.
But Aurelia stepped between them again, arms spread wide.
Aurelia: "No! Don't—do not strike it! Look at it! It means no harm… it's only curious."
The monster gave a soft, uncertain hum — a low sound, almost a coo — then coughed weakly, swaying slightly.
Its great eyes, glowing like embers dulled by rain, met Aurelia's.
Not with rage.
But with pleading.
Like a child lost in the woods.
Aurelia: "Its movements, its eyes… like a babe of three winters. It's afraid… do not scare it."
Mavie sighed sharply through her nose, lowering her blade. She tilted her head, squinting at the creature as though trying to see past her own instincts.
Mavie: "Gosh…" she muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Cautiously, she stepped forward.
The beast's ears twitched.
Its eyes locked onto Mavie's approach — and in a flash, it squeaked in fear, gave a panicked yelp, and scurried behind Aurelia, curling its long limbs around itself as though seeking shelter in her shadow.
Aurelia flinched but held her ground.
Aurelia: "D-don't you dare," she warned, glaring over her shoulder at Mavie.
Mavie snorted and rolled her eyes.
Mavie: "Tch… I wasn't planning on harming the creature… not yet." Her voice lowered on the last words, but the glint in her eyes remained unreadable.
The villagers stood stunned — guards hesitating, unsure whether to sheath their blades or ready for another charge.
Theron stepped down the stone steps, silent still.
And the night held its breath.
Theron: "If that's a babe…" he muttered, his voice low as he watched the towering creature curl at Aurelia's feet, "…then gods help us — how large is the mother?"
A hush fell over the crowd.
Aurelia didn't answer right away. She stroked the creature's rough, moss-like fur gently, her hand barely spanning the width of its skull. The creature leaned into her touch with a low, warbling hum — like the sound of wind brushing through hollow trees.
Aurelia: "I… I do not know."
She forced a smile as she looked up at Theron, but even he could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
Faint, at first — like a distant drumbeat.
Thud.
Then again.
Thud.
Aurelia froze. The creature whimpered and buried its face against her cloak, claws clutching fabric.
Mavie: "What in blazes is that?" She spun around, grip tightening on her hilt.
Another thud. Louder.
From beyond the trees. From beyond the ruined wall.
Birds scattered into the moonlight.
The creature moaned — not in pain, but in terror.
Theron drew his cloak tighter, his gaze locking with Aurelia's.
Theron: "...It calls for its mother."
A distant roar answered. Deep, drawn-out. Not rage — not yet. But mourning. And coming closer.
Aurelia stood slowly, her face pale.
Aurelia: "We've no time. We must lead it back… or prepare for what follows."
The creature whimpered again, and Aurelia placed both hands on its head.
Aurelia: "I need everyone to trust me. Just this once."
Theron looked at Mavie. Mavie looked at the guards. No one moved.
And then, at last, Theron gave a slow nod.
Theron: "Then let us pray to the old gods you are right."
The wind picked up. The trees groaned.
And somewhere out there, in the shadowed wilds, the mother was drawing near.
(TO BE CONTINUED)