The Crystal Guild’s transport van was already an anomaly—an uncharacteristically roomy vehicle with plush seats and ample legroom. But this one felt luxurious even by their standards. Eryx Arcanis leaned back, stretching his legs. When did Gio decide to splurge? The guild leader was many things—calculating, infuriating—but generous? Not a chance. 

“Hold on back there!” the driver yelled over the engine’s growl. “This ride’s gonna be bumpy!”

Eryx barely acknowledged him. His gaze drifted out the window, watching the jagged terrain rush past. His thoughts wandered to Elara Max and her perpetual habit of running. He wasn’t sure if she hated him or strangers more, but either way, her absence was almost comically predictable. When had he started to consider himself not a stranger to Elara Max? He amused himself, imagining her tearing through the domain ahead of them.

“What’s got that scary smile on your face?” Hansel’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to the van’s confines.

Eryx smirked. “Just thinking about something... interesting.”

Hansel rolled his eyes. “I feel sorry for whoever it is.”

Before Eryx could retort, a head of fiery red hair popped over the seat in front of him. “Freya Valentine,” the woman introduced herself, her cobalt blue coat stark against the black uniforms around her. She extended a hand toward him, her smile unnervingly bright. “First time meeting you, Eryx Arcanis. Thanks for the ride.”

Eryx’s sharp eyes flicked to the emblem on her coat, and his mood soured instantly. A healer. Gio, you bastard. So this is what you had planned all along.

“I wasn’t the one to offer,” he replied curtly, ignoring her outstretched hand.

Freya’s optimism barely faltered. “Oh, well, I’m still grateful. It’s my first domain raid since awakening as an A-Class Healer.”

The van’s occupants stared at her with awe. She was the first A-Class Healer on record. Eryx, however, was uninterested borderline aggravated. Before he could retort, the van lurched violently. Freya yelped, and the Raiders braced themselves as chaos erupted.

Eryx reacted instantly, using his shadow ability to anchor the van’s frame as it threatened to tip. “Everyone out, now!” he barked.

Raiders groaned and stumbled out into the open. As Eryx stepped out, his sharp hearing picked up the unmistakable screech of Brass Doomwings circling overhead. The van had nearly drove off a cliff so he pulled it back to safety, though it looked undrivable from the damage caused by the lightning.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome back present!” Jaxon quipped, his hearty laugh filling the air. “First raid back, and it’s already a party.”

The flock of metallic-winged beasts dived toward them, their claws glinting ominously. Eryx barked orders, working to secure the rest of the team. Amid the chaos, Freya had run a bit but had collapsed, her legs giving out beneath her.

“Damn it,” Eryx muttered, sprinting toward her. A Doomwing had already zeroed in, its talons outstretched. Freya’s wide eyes locked on the beast, her body frozen in fear.

Eryx growled under his breath, pain shooting through his injured arm as he summoned his shadows. The inky tendrils lashed out, beheading the creature in a single, brutal strike.

“Can you stand?” he demanded, crouching beside her.

Freya shook her head, her lips trembling. Eryx sighed and scooped her up, ignoring the sharp protest from his arm. He carried her toward cover, each step sending spikes of pain through his body.

“You’re hurt,” Freya blurted out, finally snapping out of her daze. Without waiting for his permission, she activated her healing ability.

The surge of energy hit Eryx like a tidal wave. His knees buckled, nausea roiling in his stomach. “Damn it—stop,” he snarled, but it was too late. His strength drained rapidly, leaving him vulnerable. 

A massive Doomwing descended, its talons slicing through the air. This one was larger than the rest. He’d have trouble handling it in his current condition. With the last of his strength, Eryx shoved Freya toward Hansel. “Take care of her,” he ordered, his voice strained.

He used his shadow to lasso one of the Brasswing’s legs and hurled it into the dense forest. A plume of debris exploded from the collision. But even before the dust settled, the creature screeched and launched itself quickly toward him.

The pain in his shoulder now radiated through half his body and he could only manage enough strength to brace himself from being suffocated just as the talons of the Brasswing wrapped around him. His vision went black.

“Eryx!” Hansel yelled, but it was too late. The Doomwing carried him skyward, retreating with the rest of the flock toward the mountain range.

Hansel turned to the group, his expression resolute. “We’re going after him.”

“No,” Pip, an A-Class Raider, interjected. “Protocol for time-based raids is clear: no rescue missions for A-Class or higher Raiders.”

“Screw protocol,” Hansel cursed. “Even if he's an S-Class—he’s injured! We can’t leave him.”

But the others hesitated, their loyalty to the protocol outweighing their concern. Gio’s voice crackled over the comms, confirming the directive. Gio, you’re a cold son of a b*tch, Hansel swore.

Defeated but furious, Hansel shot one last glare at the mountains before storming off toward the domain’s core. You better stay alive assh*le.

High in the mountain range, Elara Max crouched in an empty Brass Doomwing nest, sorting through a disappointing pile of feathers. Each one was dull and brittle, useless for forging. She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Z’s not gonna like this,” she muttered, tossing a particularly pitiful feather aside.

Her wrist device vibrated incessantly, the glowing red light growing brighter. “Annoying piece of sh*t,” she muttered. Whoever is stupid enough to get caught by a Brass Doomwing deserves to be fed to their chickies. 

Her attention shifted to a dark storm cloud forming at a higher peak, red lightning crackling above.

“That must be the queen’s nest,” she murmured, her eyes narrowing. If she could get even one feather from the queen, it would be more than enough. Z did say he needed one from an adult Doomwing. And there is no Doomwing more mature than the queen. She tried to contact Z through the earpiece but was met with static again.

Elara stood up and stretched out her body. “Well, time for a little climb.” She scaled the ridges with ease, her movements quick and precise. She avoided the Doomwings as much as possible. It’d be faster moving stealthily than engaging in a fight.

When she reached the nest, she crouched low, avoiding the surveillance of the Doomwing queen circling above. It was massive and even from this distance, Elara could see the undeniable shine of its feathers.

One feather. Just one, she thought, hoping there’d be some shed in the nest. Well, maybe two or three won’t hurt. 

Peering over the edge, she frowned. No feathers. Just an unconscious figure sprawled near the edge beside two sleeping chicks. Brass Doomwing chicks were huge but, ironically, fluffy balls unlike their mature counterparts.

Elara rolled her eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud.” Of all the people, it had to be Eryx Arcanis.