The wind howled, a frigid breath from the cavern's depths that whipped Valerian's cloak around him. He stood on a jagged rock, his gaze sweeping over the scene below. A thick, icy spray from the waterfall stuck to his skin, making it impossible to see the ceiling. The air smelled of damp earth and ancient stone, and the deafening roar of the falling water was a constant, powerful presence. Below him, the ground was a nightmare of loose scree and rocky mounds—a chaotic, impossible foundation for a new home. His frustration was a tight knot in his chest.

  But then, his eyes found Sou.

  The fragile figure stood in the very center of the chaos, dwarfed by the immense space. Sou's hands rose, his knuckles turning white as he visibly strained against an invisible force. A faint, golden light, no bigger than a firefly, sparked at his fingertips and began to hum, growing in a slow, steady pulse. The light cast a warm glow on his face, illuminating the beads of sweat on his brow, and as the hum intensified, his hair began to shimmer, turning into liquid gold. The humming resonated deep within Valerian's chest as a brilliant golden aura erupted from Sou's body, rippling through the cold air like a heat haze. The spell, Earth Construct, took hold.

  It was a mesmerizing, almost terrifying sight. The earth seemed to inhale with a groaning sigh, the ground below undulating like a living sea. Jagged stones ground themselves into fine dust, the rocky humps melted and flattened, and the treacherous scree settled into a solid, unyielding plane. The chaos was transformed into a perfectly level, earthen canvas, as if the mountain itself had been commanded to hold its breath and submit to their will.

  Valerian felt the tension in his shoulders dissolve, replaced by a profound sense of awe and relief. This was more than just spell; it was the quiet, determined act of creating a home. He looked at the others. Dhruba, now safe and sound on the stable ground, let out a loud, satisfied grunt as he began clearing away stray rubble. Rufe stood still, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his face, his eyes distant as if listening to the new, stable energy humming from the ground. Anya, ever practical, knelt and began to score the first lines of a structure into the newly flattened surface with a piece of sharp slate. The cavern was no longer a cold, damp shelter. It was a blank slate, a promise. Sou's magic hadn't just moved rock; it had forged a foundation for their future, and in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of their long journey, Valerian felt a deep and calming sense of purpose. This wasn't a place to hide; it was a place to build.

  Valerian’s tight-lipped smile broadened as Sou finished his work and came forward, his golden hair fading back to its natural color. "We are ready for teleportation."

  Dhruba stepped forward, a frown creasing his brow. "Is it necessary? We saw no threat coming here, so why waste our precious materials? We can escort all of them here either in one go or in batches."

  Valerian shook his head, his face turning grim. "No. It's always risky to travel in a group, and you are still underestimating the wildness of the Cursed Lands, Dhruba."

  Dhruba’s shoulders slumped in a silent sigh. He couldn’t help but agree with Valerian’s concern, even though he was clearly vexed about using their scarce materials for the teleportation.

  "Now, let's set up the teleportation here," Valerian said, turning to Rufe. "Can you hold the fort when we are gone?" he asked.

  Rufe sensed the underlying concern in his lord’s voice and gave a low, rumbling chuckle. "Don’t worry, my lord. It's a walk in the park for me here."

  Valerian nodded, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "Everyone, get to work."

  Five days later, they arrived back at the camp. Antheros saw only Valerian, Anya, and Dhruba returning, and a cold knot of dread twisted in her heart.

  "No, no, no… you are mistaken," Valerian said with a warm smile, seeing the panic on her face. "We found a good space, and they are there. Not one casualty. We just need to escort everyone over now."

  "Wish we could say the same," Lisa said, arriving near Antheros, followed by Mike. Her face was pale, and her eyes held a haunted look.

  Valerian’s voice trailed off, his eyes scanning the crowd. "What happened?" He couldn't see his son. He knew Antheros never left Azuma’s side.

  "Hee... no need to worry, darling, no one is dead. But..."

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  Valerian’s frown deepened. "But what? Where is Azuma?"

  "Come with me," Antheros said, her hand tight around his wrist as she led him toward one of the treehouses. Inside, Azuma was playing with wooden toys, oblivious to everything. In the corner, Virkam lay on a pile of furs, his body convulsing, drenched in sweat as if being grilled over a fire.

  Valerian’s relief at seeing Azuma safe was immediate, but it was quickly replaced by a grim concern for Virkam. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He knew the danger must have been significant to have left a warrior like Virkam in that state.

  "It's a long story. Come, let's sit."

  "Azumaaaaa!" Virkam yelled, his eyes flying open in a wild panic as he sat upright, frantically searching the room for the boy.

  "Nannummmmen," the boy replied, not looking up from his toys.

  "Thank god," Virkam rasped, and then immediately collapsed back onto the furs, falling back into a troubled sleep.

  Valerian was dumbstruck. He looked at Antheros, bewildered.

  "You need something to drink first," she said, pouring him a strong, dark brew before she began to narrate the story.

  "So, you found Virkam lying unconscious near Azuma with a huge wolf's head beside him? And whenever he wakes up, he frantically searches for Azuma as if his life depended on it, only to immediately fall back asleep once he confirms the child is okay?"

  "Yes," Antheros said, taking a sip from her own cup.

  Valerian took a long drink, the strong brew doing nothing to soothe the tightness in his chest. He looked at Virkam. "His fever hasn't come down at all."

  "Well, it's far better than before, but he is still having some effects. Sheesh, Val, we need a good healer with us. How is it that no healer came with us?" Then they both remembered an old man who had sacrificed his life to bring Azuma back, and they both sighed in unison. "He was a good healer, and I am sure he would have come with us if he was alive," Valerian said, his voice softer. After a moment of shared remembrance, a deep frown returned to his face, pulling him back to reality.

  "What is it?" Antheros asked, her voice laced with worry.

  "I need to check something. Be right back. Oh, and ask our people to pack our things. We will be teleporting to the new place soon."

  "How is the new place?" Antheros asked in a hurried whisper, as Valerian was already one step out of the house.

  "Hee hee. You will see," Valerian said with a mischievous smile before he disappeared.

  "Amzuammmmaaaa!" Virkam yelled and sat up again.

  "For the love of Mayogam, will you wake up already?" Antheros yelled back in exasperation.

  The people were ready and excited to see the new place, waiting for their leaders. Those remaining in the campsite were waiting for Valerian, and soon he came, but his face was tight with a grim resolve that promised bad news.

  "What is it?" Antheros asked. Others, like Mike, Anya, Dhruba, and Leo, were looking at him with worry.

  "Only half of the traps were triggered," Valerian stated, his voice flat.

  The group frowned, but they thought it was normal. After all, the wolves came from only one direction. But Valerian's next words made them swallow their assumptions in a rush of cold dread.

  "The traps set by me were all activated, even some of them where I couldn't see a single Death Singer. Whereas the traps set by Virkam were not activated at all."

  The group went silent, the tension thick in the air. "Not even one?" Leo finally asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  Valerian simply nodded his head.

  "How could that happen?" Antheros asked, her voice cracking with confusion. "Did the wolves find a way to deactivate them? Was it a new kind of magic?"

  "The Death Singers are beasts, Anthy, not mages," valerian grunted, his brow furrowed in concentration. "And even if they were, why would they only deactivate Virkam's traps and not Valerian's? That makes no sense."

  Mike, the forge master, stepped forward, his face pale. "Unless… unless someone deactivated them from inside. But who?"

  Antheros shook her head, her face a mask of certainty. "That's impossible. I know every person who came with us. They are artisans and fordgemaster. Not a single one of them knows formation work."

  Valerian sighed, the sound a tired puff of air. "You're right. A formation is a lock. You can't just stumble upon its secrets. You need the key, or you need to be a master yourself. Someone has been messing with the traps from the start. That's why the attacks didn't stop."

  His words hung in the air, the silence now heavy with an unspoken dread. There was only one other person in their company who knew formation work. The one who had insisted on laying his own traps. The one who was now lying in a fever, his body wracked with a strange, unknown ailment.

  Antheros shook her head, refusing to believe it. "It can't be... Virkam wouldn't do this. He had more than enough time to kill Azuma, but he didn't. He even fought valiantly with the Death Singer to protect Azuma, like you told him to do. He is in this state because of that!"

  Valerian’s gaze was unyielding, cold as ice. "Then who, Antheros? Who else knows formation work besides myself and him? And why, when the main force was gone, did the attack happen? We have been living peacefully for more than a month but this sudden hord came out of nowhere just in the right time how can you explain this?

  Antheros flinched, but she could not argue against the undeniable logic. The only possible explanation was the one she refused to accept. The truth was as cold and bitter as the Cursed Lands themselves.

  "No matter," Valerian said, his voice now a low growl of grim resolve. "Until we find the reason for this incident, we cannot move forward. We are halting our transit. Tell everyone."

  Without waiting for their opinion, he left the camp, his cloak whipping behind him like a dark shadow. He needed to find the answer to the deepest and most painful question he had ever had to ask. Why?