The flickering glow of the braziers cast long shadows along the walls of Rhun Wolfsbane's chambers, bathing the old chieftain in a dim, wavering light. He sat at the head of a broad wooden table, his fingers drumming idly against the scarred surface as he listened to Ferme's measured voice.
"They don't belong here."
Ferme leaned back against the stone wall, her expression unreadable. Though she was younger than Rhun by many years, her presence carried the same weight—calm, firm, and unshaken. A warrior through and through.
Rhun sighed, rubbing his temple. "You sound like Lucien."
Ferme smirked slightly. "That's because he's right."
The old chieftain exhaled, casting a glance toward the heavy curtains covering the entrance of his chambers. Beyond them, the settlement still stirred despite the late hour. The humans had been here for barely two days, but already, the presence of outsiders had thrown everything into a quiet unease.
"They've done nothing to harm us," Rhun muttered after a moment. "The boy, Char, hasn't overstepped. The girl is quiet. The mage—well, he keeps to himself." He frowned, his mind flashing back to the way Merrick had spoken Valkari, a language meant to be forgotten by humans. Strange.
Ferme shrugged. "Perhaps. But it's not about what they've done—it's about what they could do. Strangers are unpredictable. And unpredictable people bring trouble."
Rhun let her words settle, then finally met her gaze. "What do you propose?"
Ferme tilted her head slightly, considering. "At best? We send them away. Quietly, before the rest of the settlement starts asking too many questions."
Rhun shook his head. "They won't survive the mountains alone."
Ferme scoffed. "That's not our concern."
"It is if we throw them to their deaths." His voice was quiet, but firm.
Ferme watched him for a moment before exhaling, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "You're getting soft, Rhun."
He chuckled dryly. "Maybe."
Ferme narrowed her eyes, folding her arms. "You weren't always this way. I remember the war. The old Rhun Wolfsbane wouldn't have hesitated to drive a blade through any outsider who dared set foot in our land. But now?" She gestured vaguely toward the curtain. "You allow them to stay? You give them shelter?"
Rhun sighed, leaning forward in his chair. "I have not forgotten the war," he said quietly. "I have not forgotten what Oryn-Vel took from us."
"Then why let them remain?"
"Because I have also not forgotten what happens when we act without reason."
Ferme's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
Rhun ran a hand through his graying hair. "The war hardened all of us, Ferme. You, me, Lucien. But we do not need to pass that same hardness down to the next generation. The world is changing. Whether we like it or not, the humans will not stay out of our affairs forever. Pushing them away will not stop that."
Ferme clicked her tongue in irritation. "And yet, you sit here debating their fate instead of ensuring they have no chance to betray us."
Rhun's gaze sharpened. "You think they will?"
Ferme hesitated. "…Lucien does."
Rhun's lips pressed into a thin line. "Lucien sees only enemies. He sees only what the war taught him to see."
"Perhaps because it's the truth."
Rhun shook his head. "Or perhaps because it's all he knows."
Ferme exhaled sharply, running a hand down her face. She wasn't a fool—she knew Rhun wasn't going to change his mind so easily.
After a long silence, she spoke again. "Then what do you intend to do with them?"
Rhun sat back, folding his hands together. "For now? We wait. We watch. If they are here to cause harm, we will see it soon enough."
Ferme's expression darkened, but she gave a reluctant nod.
Still, something about all this didn't sit right with her.
And if Rhun wasn't going to act, then perhaps she and Lucien would have to do something about it themselves.
*
Rhun Wolfsbane awoke to the sound of footsteps outside his chamber.
It was late—later than even the watchmen would be making their rounds. He sat up, instinct sharpened from years of war, and listened. A quiet voice spoke in hushed tones outside his door, then a soft knock followed.
"Chieftain," a voice murmured. "It's urgent."
Rhun sighed, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes before standing. He pulled on his cloak, ignoring the stiffness in his limbs, and stepped out into the cold, stone-lined corridors of the settlement.
Ferme stood waiting for him, arms folded.
"Come," she said simply.
No explanation. No greeting.
Rhun knew better than to ask questions.
He followed her through the dimly lit tunnels, the occasional flicker of a torch casting their shadows long against the rock. He recognized the path they were taking. The meeting hall.
His gut tightened.
When they arrived, he immediately noticed he wasn't the first one called.
Lucien stood near the long wooden table, hands braced against it, his expression tight with barely restrained impatience. His sharp golden eyes flicked to Rhun the moment he entered, but the young warrior said nothing.
And then Rhun's gaze landed on the outsider.
Flint.
He stood at the far end of the room, not leaning against the walls like a man at ease, nor stiff as a man in chains. No, Flint stood with the careful posture of a man who had been waiting for this moment. A man who had planned this moment.
Rhun exhaled through his nose, already feeling the weight of the situation settling onto his shoulders.
He closed the heavy door behind him, turning to face the three of them.
"I assume this is not a social gathering."
Ferme moved first, stepping past him and folding her arms. "We need to talk about the humans."
Rhun didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on Flint.
Lucien noticed. "He's with us."
Rhun turned his attention back to his son. "With us?"
Flint, ever the opportunist, finally spoke. "With you." He smiled, a careful thing, polite and precise. "I only wish to provide clarity on the dangers you may not yet see."
Rhun scoffed. "Is that so?"
Lucien straightened. "You're being naive, Father."
Rhun's gaze darkened.
Lucien pressed on. "Those three humans have no reason to be here. No reason to be trusted. And yet you've allowed them to stay, given them shelter—for what? What do you expect to gain?"
Rhun remained silent.
Ferme spoke next, her tone even but firm. "We've already discussed this, Rhun. They are an unknown factor. And now, we have another voice that can confirm it."
Flint tilted his head slightly. "Do you truly believe they found this place by accident?"
Rhun finally moved, stepping forward, slowly, deliberately. "You seem quite invested in this, outsider."
Flint chuckled lightly. "Call it… experience."
Rhun stopped a mere foot away from him, meeting his gaze with an expression carved from stone. "And what is it you want?"
Flint smiled.
But his eyes were cold.
The tension in the room thickened.
And for the first time in many years, Rhun Wolfsbane realized—
He was outnumbered.
*
Rhun let the silence stretch, let the weight of his presence settle over them like a blade against their throats.
"You speak of inexperience," he said, his voice quiet but carrying. "Of blindness. Of weakness."
He turned his gaze on Flint first. "You—a human, unknown and unproven—walk into my halls and expect me to trust your word."
Then to Ferme. "You, my most trusted general, sit in council with outsiders and speak to me of caution?"
And finally, to Lucien. His son. The one whose blood carried his own, the one who had stood at his side in battle, learned from him, grown under his rule.
"And you," he said, voice dipping lower. "You would tell me what it means to protect our people?"
Lucien clenched his jaw.
Rhun took a slow step forward, forcing them all to feel the weight of his presence. His height, his strength, his history.
"I was the one who led us from the ashes of war. I was the one who forged our home in these mountains when the world would have seen us buried beneath them." His golden eyes burned as he looked between them. "And you think I have forgotten what it means to safeguard our people?"
Flint, ever composed, gave an easy smile. "Not at all. I only seek to remind you that sometimes, threats do not arrive with swords drawn and banners raised."
Rhun exhaled sharply through his nose. "And what is it you think these three plan to do?"
"They are looking for something," Flint said simply. "Something powerful."
Ferme's eyes flicked toward him. "The Ascension Stones."
Lucien tensed, but did not deny it.
Rhun narrowed his eyes. "And how would you know that?"
"Because it is what I sought when I came here," Flint admitted, shrugging slightly. "That is why I followed them. And why I came to you."
Rhun studied him, searching for the deception in his posture, in his words.
Flint did not flinch.
Lucien seized on the moment. "They are not here for trade. They are not here by coincidence. You know what humans have done to us before." His voice was laced with frustration, but also conviction. "If they find something dangerous in these mountains, do you truly believe they will leave it alone?"
Rhun turned toward him fully, his expression unreadable. "And you think the answer is to kill them?"
Lucien's silence was damning.
Ferme sighed, pushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. "No one is eager for bloodshed, Rhun."
Flint smiled slightly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."
Ferme shot him a warning look, but Flint only chuckled.
Lucien crossed his arms. "We don't need to kill them. We only need to ensure they leave before they find whatever it is they're after."
Rhun let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them, he looked at Lucien not as his son, but as a man standing on the opposite side of a battlefield.
"You believe they are a threat."
"Yes."
"You believe they will destroy everything we built here."
"Yes."
Rhun stepped closer. Lucien did not move.
His voice was softer now. Almost thoughtful. "And tell me, son—what would you have thought of a man who stood before his people thirty years ago and was told he did not belong?"
Lucien's fingers twitched, but he didn't break eye contact.
For a brief moment, the room was utterly silent.
Then Flint chuckled. "What a stirring speech."
Rhun turned to him with a slow, deliberate movement, his golden eyes sharp as a blade.
Flint only smiled. "I respect your history, truly. But this is not about your past." He gestured loosely. "This is about the present."
Ferme sighed. "Rhun. We're not asking you to ignore what you've built. We're asking you to protect it."
Lucien stepped forward. "You always said survival comes first."
Rhun exhaled slowly.
Lucien's voice was quieter now. "Let me protect them like you did."
Rhun studied him for a long moment.
Then, finally, he said:
"Let me think."
Lucien's brow furrowed, but he nodded.
Ferme, too, seemed satisfied—for now.
And Flint?
He merely smiled