Doc ended the transmission with a thought, the comm-line going quiet. The transmission had been brief but reassuring—Ironha was prepared. Eighteen tonics ready, more being made. She amazes him sometimes.

  He walked toward the trade wagon, its frame now visible through the thinning crowd. The bed looked different—lighter now.

  Most of their trade goods were gone.

  Where sacks of hearthgrain and wrapped pelts had once rested, crates now sat stacked and secured. Doc caught the faint shimmer along their edges—cold light, almost like frost on glass. He didn’t know what was in the crates, but the villagers handled them like something precious. Marron had called them mana stones earlier.

  Doc stopped beside the wagon. Snow Tusk stood in harness, looking unbothered. Tanna brushed his coat while Moss-ear perched on his head, ears twitching.

  Voices drew Doc's attention.

  Kraggir and Marron stood near the wagon's side, deep in conversation. The kobold gestured toward the settlement's storage sheds, his tone practical.

  "More crops would help," Kraggir said. "Ashroot, deeproot, hearthgrain if you can spare it. Potions too—especially fever tonics."

  Marron nodded, thoughtful. "We can manage that. What else?"

  Kraggir's claws tapped the wagon's edge. "Tools, if you have them. Knives, hammers, anything that holds an edge. We were planning on doing a trade run to Glasshold but we have too many injured to do that safely now."

  "I'll see what I can arrange," Marron said, offering his hand.

  Kraggir took it. They shook—firm, deliberate.

  A door opened across the courtyard.

  Ygrana emerged, carrying a small cage woven from bone and salvaged materials. Inside, six birds huddled together—two larger ones with bright combs, four smaller hens with mottled plumage.

  She crossed the snow-dusted ground and stopped in front of Tanna.

  "Hardweather fowl," Ygrana said, setting the cage down carefully. "Two cocks, four hens. They'll survive the winters."

  Tanna's face lit up. She crouched beside the cage, studying the birds with quiet intensity. "Hardweather fowl…"

  Her fingers brushed the bone latticework. The hens clucked softly.

  "This is incredible," Tanna murmured. She looked up at Ygrana, gratitude plain in her expression. "Thank you."

  Ygrana's gaze shifted—not to Tanna, but across the courtyard. Doc followed her line of sight.

  The settlement sprawled beyond them. Simple structures, patched walls, smoke rising from cookfires. Goblins and kobolds moved through the snow, some tending wounds, others salvaging draugr remains.

  Ygrana looked back to Doc. Then Mazoga.

  "It's the least we can do," she said.

  Her tone was steady. Measured.

  But the look in her eyes was genuine.

  Doc inclined his head.

  Ygrana held his gaze a moment longer, then turned and walked back toward the hearth chamber.

  Marron climbed onto the wagon bench. Snow Tusk shifted, hooves crunching through the packed snow.

  Mazoga approached from the gate, Bran and Calen trailing behind her. She signaled the group to gather.

  Doc moved closer. Fish fell into step beside him, tail flicking once.

  "Listen up," Mazoga said, voice low but firm. "Remember the plan."

  She gestured toward the settlement. "Bran, Calen, and I are staying."

  Calen adjusted the radio strapped to his belt, looking serious.

  "Doc, Tanna, Marron, you guys head back to the Settlement," Mazoga continued. "Faster pace without the full group. Grab supplies, return as soon as you can."

  Her amber eyes scanned the treeline beyond the wall. "I'm still not convinced we've seen the last of the draugr. If more show up, I want to be here."

  Bran nodded once. "I'll help with food stores."

  "Calen set up a relay on the ridge," Mazoga added. "We've got radios now—me, Bran, Calen."

  She looked at Doc. "Any trouble, you call."

  "Understood," Doc said.

  Tanna secured the fowl cage to the wagon's side. Moss-ear hopped down from Snow Tusk's head and settled near Tanna's pack.

  Marron checked the reins. "Ready when you are."

  Doc walked to the wagon's edge. Fish jumped up onto the bed, settling among the crates. Tanna climbed up beside Marron on the bench.

  Snow Tusk huffed, breath steaming in the cold air.

  Mazoga stepped back. "Move safe."

  Marron snapped the reins. The wagon lurched forward.

  Doc glanced back as they passed through the gate.

  Mazoga stood watch near the wall. Bran waved once. Calen gave a small nod.

  Beyond them, the settlement stretched into the hillside—damage but rebuilding.

  Doc turned forward.

  The path ahead was clear.

  Calen stood beside Bran near the gate, watching the wagon roll away. Snow Tusk's broad shape grew smaller against the white expanse. The banner fluttered above the cargo bed—bright yellow, absurd, but somehow comforting.

  Calen kept watching until the wagon crested the ridge and disappeared.

  Mazoga grunted beside him.

  "I'll talk with Rurran," she said, voice flat. "See what they need."

  She looked at Calen, then Bran. "You two check with Ygrana and Kraggir. If they need help somewhere, find it."

  Bran nodded once. "We will."

  Mazoga turned and headed toward the wall where Rurran stood watch.

  Calen exhaled slowly. Frost puffed in front of his face.

  Bran gestured toward the central hearth. "Come on."

  They crossed the courtyard together. Goblins moved between buildings, hauling salvage from the draugr remains. Kobolds reinforced the gate with scavenged wood. A young gnoll swept ash from the northern wall.

  The settlement looked tired.

  They found Ygrana near the eastern shelters.

  She knelt beside a makeshift cot where a kobold lay bundled in furs. His breathing was shallow, skin pale beneath his scales. Ygrana held a vial of violet-gold liquid—one of the fever tonics they had brought to trade.

  She tipped it carefully, letting a small amount fall onto the kobold's tongue.

  He swallowed. His breathing eased slightly.

  Ygrana corked the vial and set it aside. There were five more lined up on a wooden tray—three empty, two still sealed.

  Bran stepped closer. "Will they be okay?"

  Ygrana didn't look up. She checked the kobold's pulse, then adjusted the furs around him.

  "Seven," she said quietly. "Seven bad wounds. Necrotic infection spreading."

  She gestured to the other cots. A goblin. Two gnolls. Another kobold. A female goblin with gray-streaked hair. One more gnoll near the end.

  "They'll survive," Ygrana continued. "But they need rest. A lot of it."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  She finally looked up at Bran and Calen. Her yellow eyes were tired but steady.

  "The tonics help. But I have to make them last."

  Bran crouched beside her. "I could cook something for them. I have Cook's Warmth—a Hearthwarden skill. The food helps people recover faster. Settles them."

  Ygrana's eyes brightened slightly. "A recovery skill in the food itself?"

  Bran nodded. "We still have crops we unloaded from the wagon. Hearthgrain, ashroot, deeproot. I can make something hearty."

  A faint smile touched Ygrana's lips.

  "That would be very helpful."

  Bran stood. "I'll get started."

  He headed toward the storage shed without another word.

  Calen wanted to follow—but stopped.

  Calen looked down at Ygrana.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She studied him, her gaze drifting from the radio at his belt to the circuit-scars faintly glowing along his forearms.

  “What skills do you have?” she asked.

  Calen hesitated. Explaining this always felt strange.

  “I can sense energy,” he said. “How it moves. In stone, metal, tools… anything that holds power. I can tell when something’s unstable. Or about to fail.”

  Ygrana considered that in silence.

  “That won’t help me here,” she said. She nodded toward the injured lined up along the walls. “These need warmth and rest. Nothing you can sense or fix.”

  She straightened and glanced around.

  Ygrana paused, her yellow eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she glanced toward the entrance.

  "But Kraggir might need you," she said slowly. "If you can read energy under stone—feel its flow, its weakness—he'll want to hear it."

  She turned toward the passage leading deeper into the Hold. Her voice rose, sharp and commanding.

  "Sivvy!"

  A moment later, a thin goblin boy emerged from the shadows near the tunnel mouth. His ears were oversized even for his kind, flopping slightly at the tips as he shuffled forward.

  He stopped a few feet away, shifting his weight nervously.

  "Yeah?"

  Ygrana gestured toward Calen. "This one needs to find Kraggir. He's near the mines. Take him."

  Calen smiled, recognizing the thin goblin. "Sivvy. Good to see you're doing alright after the attack."

  Sivvy's expression brightened. He shifted on his feet, ears flicking slightly. "Yeah. Me and Brikka were with the other children. We helped keep watch while the fighters held the gate."

  Calen's smile widened. "Protection duty. That's good work."

  Sivvy nodded quickly, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "We didn't fight, but we made sure nothing got through to the littler ones."

  "Sometimes that's harder than fighting," Calen said.

  Sivvy blinked, considering that. Then he gestured toward the tunnel entrance. "Follow me. Kraggir's at the mines."

  They walked together through the settlement's outer courtyard.

  Calen watched the village move around them.

  The horde had left its mark.

  Claw marks darkened the stone near the northern wall. Broken timbers lay stacked for salvage. The gate—where the bulk of the fighting had happened—hung crooked on reinforced hinges, the wood splintered and gouged.

  But the people didn't stop.

  Goblins hauled debris away from the damaged sections. A pair of kobolds worked together to replace broken beams, their clawed hands moving with practiced efficiency.

  Near the gate itself, Mazoga stood with three goblins.

  She gripped the end of a heavy timber—easily twice her height—and lifted. The wood groaned, but it rose. The goblins scrambled beneath it, adjusting supports, driving stakes, reinforcing the damaged frame.

  Mazoga didn't speak.

  She set the beam down gently when they signaled, then moved to the next one.

  Calen slowed, watching.

  The goblins worked without hesitation around her. After seeing her face down the Greater Draugr, Calen understood why they trusted her so quickly.

  One of them called out—something sharp and quick that Calen didn't catch. Maz nodded and shifted her grip.

  They worked like they'd done this before.

  Like they knew each other's rhythm.

  Calen looked past them.

  A kobold repaired a shelter's roof while two gnolls held the ladder steady. A goblin child carried water to the workers, distributing it with quiet determination. An older gnoll directed traffic near the storage sheds, keeping the flow of materials organized.

  Three different kinds. Three different voices.

  One community.

  It reminded him of their own Settlement.

  Of Edda organizing supply lines while Tor and Brenn built. Of Carl and him working side by side in the workshop. Of Tavi, Fenn, Lina, and Jem finding their places through work and patience.

  Different people. Different skills.

  Same hearth.

  Sivvy tugged his sleeve. "This way."

  Calen followed.

  They descended into the tunnel—stone walls carved smooth by working hands. The passage sloped gently downward, lit by faintly glowing lichen that clung to cracks in the ceiling.

  The air grew cooler. Quieter.

  The sounds of repair faded behind them.

  Ahead, a new sound emerged—steady, rhythmic. Metal against stone.

  The tunnel widened.

  Calen stepped into a broad chamber lit by hanging lanterns. The walls were marked with geometric patterns—veins of froststone traced through the rock like frozen lightning.

  Kraggir stood near the center, his slate-blue scales catching the lantern light. His tail flicked slowly as he examined a section of exposed stone, running his clawed hand along the surface.

  Sivvy stopped at the chamber's edge. "Kraggir! Ygrana said Calen might be helpful down here in the mines."

  Kraggir turned.

  His sharp eyes settled on Calen—calm, measuring.

  Calen met his gaze. "She said you might need someone who can read energy under stone."

  Kraggir's tail stilled.

  He studied Calen for a long moment.

  Then nodded once.

  "Come," he said. "Let's see what you can do."

  Kraggir stared at Calen and Sivvy as they approached.

  Someone who can read energy under stone.

  The words hung there, pulling at him with the same insistence as his Vein of Opportunity skill. Different, though. Specific.

  He needed to understand what this meant.

  "Before we begin," Kraggir said, "I'd like to know how your class skill works. Specifically, this... energy reading."

  Calen paused, considering his words.

  "It's called Resonance Veins," he said slowly. "I can sense how magical energy flows through objects. Mana stones, cores, enchanted items—anything that holds power. I see where the energy pools, where it's dense, where it's thin. The patterns tell me what's valuable and what's not."

  Kraggir's tail flicked once.

  Direct. Useful.

  "Can you sense if something is stable or brittle?" Kraggir ask.

  Calen nodded. "Yeah. The flow changes when there are fractures or weak points. The energy bleeds differently."

  Kraggir felt the pull again. Stronger.

  This one might solve problems.

  "I'd like to run a test," Kraggir said. "Nothing dangerous. We do this with all first-time miners. Are you willing?"

  Calen shrugged. "Sure. I don't mind."

  Sivvy stepped forward, ears perked. "What kind of test?"

  Kraggir glanced at the thin goblin. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

  Sivvy's ears drooped slightly, but he lifted his chin. "I wanted to help too."

  Kraggir smiled despite himself.

  Scrap-gleaner. Always looking for value in what others miss.

  He shook his head and gestured down the tunnel. "Come, then. Both of you."

  They descended deeper.

  The passage narrowed, walls closing in around them until lantern light barely reached the ceiling. Froststone veins traced through the rock like frozen rivers, glowing faintly blue-white in the dark.

  Kraggir stopped at a familiar junction.

  Two veins branched from the main corridor. Both exposed, both untouched.

  Lessons carved in stone.

  "These are test veins," Kraggir said. "We use them to see if new miners understand what they're looking at."

  He pointed to the left vein first.

  Thick. Broad. The froststone glowed bright and dense, spreading wide across the rock face like frozen sunlight. It looked rich. Promising.

  Then he pointed to the right.

  Thin. Narrow. The glow was dimmer, the vein barely wider than his palm.

  "One is worth mining," Kraggir said. "The other is not. Choose."

  Sivvy stepped forward immediately, eyes fixed on the left vein. "That one. It's bigger."

  Kraggir nodded. Expected.

  Calen didn't move.

  He stared at both veins, head tilted slightly. His eyes unfocused—seeing something else.

  Kraggir waited.

  Let him look. Let him prove it.

  Calen stepped closer to the left vein first. His hand hovered near the stone, not quite touching. His brow furrowed.

  Then he turned to the right vein.

  Repeated the motion.

  Silence stretched between them.

  Finally, Calen lowered his hand and pointed to the thin vein on the right.

  "That one."

  Kraggir's tail stilled.

  Sivvy blinked. "What? But it's so small—"

  "Why?" Kraggir interrupted.

  Calen glanced at him. "The big one bleeds energy everywhere. The flow's chaotic, spreading thin across the surface but not running deep. It looks dense, but it's shallow. And the stone around it is fractured—probably not stable. Mining it would collapse the tunnel or crack the vein before you got anything useful."

  He pointed to the thin vein.

  "This one's different. The flow is tight. Concentrated. The energy runs deep into the rock, not wide. And the stone around it is solid. No fractures. No weak points. It's safer to mine and worth more once you extract it."

  Kraggir felt something settle in his chest.

  Exactly right.

  Kraggir laughed.

  The sound echoed through the tunnel, warm and genuine.

  "Most miners get that wrong the first time," he said, grinning. "Your skill must be very useful. What else can you do?"

  Calen felt his ears warm. He opened his mouth to answer—

  A sharp chirp cut through the air.

  Calen flinched before he caught himself. The sound came from his belt. Right. The radio.

  He unclipped the bronze device and pressed the side switch.

  “Calen here.”

  Bran’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Where’d you go? Mazoga’s looking for you.”

  Calen winced. “Sorry. I’m in the caves helping Kraggir. Didn’t mean to disappear.”

  “Just checking,” Bran said. “Don’t get lost.”

  “I won’t.”

  The line clicked off. Calen lowered the device.

  Kraggir stared at it like Calen had just pulled a spell out of thin air. Sivvy stared too—eyes huge, ears pitched forward.

  “What is that?” Sivvy blurted. “How’d Bran talk through it?”

  Calen found himself smiling. He liked this part—explaining things, getting to show the pieces that made sense in his head.

  “It’s called a radio,” he said, holding it up. “It lets you talk to people far away. No magic—just signal and energy.”

  Kraggir leaned closer, studying the metal mesh. “How does it work?”

  “It converts sound into energy waves,” Calen said, tapping the casing. “Sends them through the air. Another radio turns them back into sound. Doc and Carl built them. I helped stabilize the battery inside.”

  “Who’s Carl?” Kraggir asked.

  “Engineer back at our settlement,” Calen said. “He designed the cores these use.”

  Kraggir’s eyes narrowed—like his thinking. Really thinking.

  “Can I try it?” he asked.

  Calen shrugged. “Sure. Want to call Marron? He’s with the others, still in range.”

  He handed the radio over and showed Kraggir the button. The kobold pressed it, waited.

  Static hissed. Then—

  “Marron here. That you, Calen?”

  Kraggir grinned. “Not Calen. Kraggir.”

  A pause, then amusement. “How are things at the settlement?”

  “Stable,” Kraggir said. “Calen’s helping us with froststone. Your people are solid.”

  “Good to hear.”

  Calen pointed at the button. Kraggir pressed it again. “Nothing else. Safe travels.”

  The line went quiet.

  Kraggir turned the radio over in his hands, almost reverent.

  He handed it back slowly. “Are you willing to trade these?”

  Calen blinked, then nodded. “We brought more. I can leave two as samples. Try them out. See how they work for you.”

  Kraggir’s tail flicked—a thoughtful, pleased motion. “Samples. Smart.”

  “What do you want in exchange?” he asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Calen said. “Just let us know if anything breaks. Me and Carl want to see how people use them outside our settlement.”

  Kraggir laughed again—deep and appreciative.

  “Deal.”

  Sivvy bounced on his toes. “Can I hold one?”

  Calen glanced at Kraggir, who nodded.

  “Sure,” Calen said, pulling out a second radio. “I’ll show you both.”

  He demonstrated the buttons, the battery slot, the signal range. Sivvy hung on every word. Kraggir watched with the quiet, sharp attention of someone reevaluating an entire map of the world.

  Calen wasn’t used to anyone looking at something he made—or helped make—like it mattered.

  But Kraggir did.

  And that feeling settled warm in Calen's chest, steady as the glow in his scars. Like he'd finally found the right place for a piece that hadn't fit anywhere else.

  Kraggir’s voice came low, more to himself than to Calen:

  “These strangers aren’t just traders… They’re builders.”

  Calen didn’t answer.

  But a small, quiet part of him agreed.

  Kraggir and Sivvy kept turning the radio over, testing the buttons, whispering to each other. Calen watched them for a moment, the edges of his scars warming faintly. He wasn’t fixing anything big. Just giving them something useful. Sometimes that was enough

  Thanks for reading!

  Chapter 67 will drop next tuesday!