The wind had settled since the attack.

  What was left of the town stood quiet—shattered wood, cracked stone, and smoke curling zily into the morning sky. The beast was dead. The bodies had been buried. But the silence lingered, like scorched leather clinging to the skin.

  Outside the edge of town, under a sparse pine canopy, a fire crackled low between two figures.

  Damstiel sat on one side, coat draped over his shoulders, gaze steady. Across from him, Kazh sat slouched, silent, the silver chains looped around his wrists catching firelight with dull glints.

  “So, tell me,” Damstiel finally said, voice low, “where’d you come from?”

  Kazh didn’t respond right away.

  “…Cael ‘Arin.”

  The name came out quiet, but with weight. Like a secret too heavy to hold.

  Damstiel furrowed his brow. “Cael what now?” He tilted his head, as if trying to recall something, but the name meant nothing to him. “You say that like I’m supposed to know where that is.”

  Still, Kazh said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the fmes, half-lidded but alert.

  Damstiel leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You killed that thing with your bare hands. And those chains?” He gestured at Kazh’s wrists.

  Kazh didn’t speak. He simply raised one arm and pointed toward Damstiel’s coat—toward the pistol holstered beneath it.

  Damstiel chuckled dryly. “Touché.”

  “This thing?” he said, opening his coat and unholstering the gun. “I know more than you believe. I hunt things. Unimaginable creatures. Monsters hiding in the dark. Sometimes worse.”

  Kazh, trying to decipher the words, echoed softly: “H-Hunt?”

  “Yeah,” Damstiel said, resting the gun back in pce. “Hunt.”

  A silence fell again. The fire popped. A breeze rolled through the pine needles above, and Kazh shifted slightly, ying his head on a log.

  He raised a hand and pointed upward, toward the night sky.

  “I came from up there,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “I thought the fall would end me. But it didn’t.”

  Damstiel followed his gaze. The stars blinked in the distance.

  “Well,” he said, “wherever you came from, I better not end up dead ‘cause of you.”

  Kazh didn’t answer.

  After a while, he spoke again, voice lower than before. “Why… don’t I shine like the others?”

  His fingers brushed over the faint light pulsing at his palm. “Even when it’s dim… it still hurts.”

  Damstiel didn’t respond. He adjusted his hat, pulling it over his face slightly. But beneath the brim, his eyes flicked to Kazh.

  There was something in the kid’s tone. A heaviness Damstiel understood all too well.

  The next morning, warm sunlight filtered through the trees. The fire had long since died, leaving only embers and cold ash. Birds stirred overhead.

  Kazh stirred awake, pain dull but present. He sat up slowly, gncing around. Damstiel was gone.

  He stood and followed the sound of flowing water. Nearby, Damstiel stood knee-deep in a river, sleeves rolled up as he washed dust from his coat.

  Damstiel looked over his shoulder. “Morning, sunshine,” he muttered. “Go wash, you’re worse than me.”

  Kazh, hesitant, stared for a beat, then walked across to the opposite side of the riverbank. The water was cold but refreshing. It rushed over his hands and face, numbing the ache in his wrists.

  “You hungry?” Damstiel called.

  No answer.

  “Well, I am. Let’s hit the saloon.”

  The town hadn’t changed. If anything, it had grown quieter. People still watched Kazh—but now with a mixture of fear and awe. They had seen the beast. They had seen what the chains could do.

  But awe didn’t mean trust.

  Kazh stepped carefully behind Damstiel as they entered the saloon. Conversation dimmed. The weight of Kazh’s presence made the room feel heavier. Gsses trembled slightly on their shelves.

  Damstiel ignored it and made his way to the bar.

  “What’ll you have?” the bartender asked.

  “Something strong,” Damstiel said. “And food.”

  Kazh lingered by the door. Damstiel gnced back. “You coming?”

  Kazh nodded slowly and stepped forward, each footfall faintly resonating with that invisible pressure. As he passed, one man flinched, dropping his gss.

  Damstiel pulled out the chair next to him. “Sit.”

  Kazh did.

  The bartender slid a drink toward him. Kazh reached out. The moment his fingers brushed the gss—

  Crack.

  The cup shattered in his hand. The weight had surged again.

  Damstiel gave the bartender a nod. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Then, to Kazh: “You’re gonna need to get that under control.”

  Kazh lowered his gaze.

  Damstiel leaned back, watching him for a moment. “Hey, you speak any of our tongue yet?”

  Kazh blinked. “Tongue?”

  Damstiel tapped his lips. “Words. Language.”

  “…Learn,” Kazh said, slow but clear.

  Damstiel smirked. “There you go. We’ll make a decent outw out of you yet.”

  He pulled out a napkin and drew a crude symbol. “This?”

  Kazh looked, then picked up a nearby piece of charcoal and wrote beside it.

  The symbol was foreign—but the shape resembled his name.

  “Kazh,” he said.

  Damstiel looked at the symbol. “Huh. Fancy writing.”

  Kazh pointed. “You… write?”

  Damstiel nodded. “We’ll get you there.”

  For now, they sat in silence. Not comfortable. Not tense. Just… human.

  In that moment, Kazh didn’t shine. But for the first time, he didn’t feel invisible either.