The flicker vanished.
Only the dull, barely-glowing stone remained in Fang's hand.
Fang tried to channel more mana, but it didn't work; his mana couldn't find a way inside the stone.
"Shit..."
Smoke slithered closer from the shadows, its form twitching, as if aware of the failed resurrection. Fang gently placed the mana stone back into the wooden bowl and sat down again, staring at it for a long moment in silence.
Isgram finally broke it. "So what was that? Did it work, or did you almost bring it back?"
"It didn't work," Fang admitted. "Whatever lives inside the stone is bound by how much energy remains. That one…" he nudged the dim stone with a finger, "…might be too weak."
Isgram grunted. "Looks like the gods want you to work for your death-pets."
"They always do."
Fang leaned back against the cave wall, the firelight warming his face. Outside, rain kept falling like a steady drumming on stone. Smoke coiled up beside the fire, curling like a content cat, its body faintly pulsing with darkened purple magic.
"You ever think about what that thing is now?" Isgram asked, his eyes on Smoke. "It's not just a pet, Fang. It's a soul in a cage. You ever wonder if it remembers being alive?"
Fang didn't answer right away.
"I've wondered. But it follows me. Hunts for me. Sleeps beside me. Whatever it was before… it chose something else now."
Isgram's brows furrowed, his voice dropping. "Or maybe it didn't have a choice."
Fang shot him a glance, sharp as a blade. "Neither did we, Isgram."
They both went quiet again.
The fire crackled. The cave walls seemed to breathe in rhythm with the flickering flames, and the sound of rain outside grew louder.
Isgram tossed another branch into the fire, watching it catch with a soft crackle. "There's another one," he said after a moment.
Fang glanced over. "Another what?"
"You know what." Isgram said, not looking away from the fire.
"Another chosen." Said Fang as he exhaled.
Isgram nodded. "Same batch as you. Not like me, I woke up five years ago if you remember. She came around when you did, around a month ago."
That caught Fang's attention.
Isgram continued, voice low. "She's been spotted a few times. Adventurers say she's demon kind. Full horns, black veins, red eyes. No one wants to get close. Not even the bounty freaks. They say she's… different. Not feral. Just watching. Following travelers for days, then disappearing into the woods."
Fang frowned. "Demon kind. Thought they were extinct from your stories."
Isgram shrugged. "That's what the stories say. But she's alive. And powerful, from what I heard. No one's seen her cast anything, but any adventurer who tried hunting her didn't return, or at least not sane."
He paused, then added, "Some even say she talks to shadows."
Fang stared into the fire, jaw tight.
Isgram poked the coals with a stick. "You know what that means, right? Demon kind weren't just strong. They were the god of death's people. He was their most substantial god, the creator of life for them as they fed on death itself. For them, death is life.
When the war was nearing, the god of death gave them the opening order: Eat. Kill. Sacrifice."
He met Fang's eyes. "And they did. Necromancers, fire mages, ice mages...
The demon kind didn't just want war. They wanted extinction. The world barely survived. And now one of them walks again, wearing a chosen one's soul."
The silence that followed was thick and heavy, broken only by the rain.
Fang stared into the fire as if weighing the possibilities.
"You know," Fang began slowly, his voice steady, "I'll defend every chosen one. No matter what. That's what I was sent here to do. Protecting all of us."
Isgram's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his voice low. "That's noble, Fang, but you're talking about a demoness. Not just any chosen one."
Fang's raised his voice in anger. "She's one of us. She's got the same fate, the same purpose—"
"Don't get too attached," Isgram interrupted, his tone sharp. "You can defend her, sure, but don't be naive. You don't know what's been twisted inside her, not yet. She's a demon, lad. The demon kind were known for waging wars. You think she's any different?"
The silence once again plagued the room.
Fang shook his head, trying to push past the concerns. "She's not a demon, Isgram. She's been resurrected, just like me, so she is from Earth too.
She was chosen for a reason. Maybe it's time the chosen ones stick together and find common ground. We can be more than just fight."
Isgram's lips thinned, and he looked at Fang. "I hope you're right. But be careful."
"I'll take my chances," Fang said. "I'll deal with her, if it comes to that. But I'll defend her first."
Isgram sighed, rubbing his temple. "Just... don't go in blind. You're playing with fire, Fang. I've seen shit hit the fan more than once. We're not exactly easy to control, lad."
Fang gave a half shrug and a glance at the rain-soaked world outside. "Guess we'll find out."
The fire crackled, the shadows flickering in the dark cave. It was a matter of time before they found their next ally. Fang was certain of it. There was something about her that intrigued him. He just hoped he wasn't taking a bite bigger than he could swallow.
----------------
Fang awoke with a groan, his body stiff from the hard ground.
'For fucks sake, we really need to get ourselves something softer to lie on.
He wiped the remnants of sleep from his eyes, letting his hand linger on his face for a moment, still feeling the weight of the conversation that had carried them into the late hours. The warning Isgram had given him echoed in his mind.
"Well, no need to worry about it now. I should tend to the garden first."
sgram had already stirred, sitting by the edge of the dying fire. His eyes were distant, the weight of their conversation still hanging over him, but there was a hardness in his gaze. It was as if he, too, had been up all night thinking about the consequences.
Fang sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Morning."
Isgram grunted in acknowledgment but didn't look over immediately. Instead, he stared at the remnants of the fire. "You didn't sleep much."
Fang huffed a tired laugh. "Neither did you."
A beat of silence passed between them before Isgram spoke again. "I meant what I said last night. Don't go in blind. You might be willing to die for her, but there's a lot at stake, Fang. You'll be dealing with something far worse than just some warriors of the guild."
Fang's gaze was steady, but he nodded. "I know. For now, let's go to the garden we got work to do, Isgram. Let's start building a fence before the plants grow and something or someone will try to eat it up."
Isgram chuckled, rolling his shoulders as if the simple motion could shake off any lingering tension. "Always ready to get my hands dirty, Fang. It's nice to have a change of pace from all the... drama." He winked, and the light in his eyes matched the cheer of the day.
The sun was just starting to peak through the trees, casting golden rays across the forest floor. The air felt warm, fresh, and full of life. Birds sang their cheerful melodies, and the rustling of leaves sounded almost like a soft breeze dancing through the branches.
The yellow light was starting to filter through several cracks in the cave's ceiling.
Fang stretched as he stood, the ache in his body from the night before easing away with the morning light.
Fang nodded, his smile widening. "A little farm work never hurt anyone, right?" He started to walk toward the small garden they'd started setting up days ago, a mix of plants beginning to sprout from the rich soil. He had already started some herbs, but the potatoes were growing leaves now. The ground had been well-tended, and the garden was looking promising.
"Right," Isgram agreed, walking beside him. "I've been thinking about adding some new stuff. I will try and forage in the forest for more vegetables. What about you?"
Kneeling down to inspect one of the plants. "We'll need to set up a little fence to keep the critters out. I think I will gather some branches and tie some vines to make it."
Isgram was deep in thoughts, but then said, "I think you can do it more efficiently if you use Smoke to kill the vermin around the garden.
I do think the fence will be good for the long run, especially against animals like rabbits and boars, but we should start with the most immediate problem."
Fang was surprised at Isgram's idea, "This is quite a nice suggestion my friend. Smoke will eat some mana as well, so no harm there I guess."
Isgram gave a quick nod, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Glad you like it. Better to make use of what we have. We're not exactly swimming in resources, so we have to be clever."
Fang considered this for a moment. Smoke had been a useful tool, and the more they utilized it, the more efficient they could make things. He glanced at the shadowy form of Smoke, coiled nearby, seemingly unfazed by the conversation. The creature's ethereal nature was both a gift and a curse, feeding off of life energy, but it had its uses.
"Alright, Smoke," Fang muttered. "Time for some gardening assistance."
He extended a hand toward the creature, and it responded immediately, its form unfurling with a slight tremor of darkness. Smoke's eyes, two glowing orbs, locked onto Fang's and then drifted toward the garden.
"Let's take care of the vermin first, then. We'll get to the fence after."
As the words left Fang's lips, Smoke slithered off toward the patch of garden, its shadowy body gliding silently over the earth. It moved like liquid darkness, merging into the surroundings until it was almost invisible. The faintest flicker of energy surged around it as it began hunting.
Fang watched with a quiet sense of satisfaction. There was something strangely satisfying about watching Smoke work. It wasn't quite alive in the traditional sense, but the instinct to protect, to hunt, was unmistakable. Even if Smoke had once been an animal, it was now a tool—no, a partner. And its actions had become an extension of Fang's own will.
'This will be a good day.'
Little did he know he was being watched.