Iron & Aether

The forest was too quiet.

Only the crunch of leaves beneath their boots broke the silence as they followed the stranger. The Aetheralyx was long gone—vanishing skyward with a single beat of its wings.

Rokuro’s ribs ached, his legs still shaky from the beating he’d taken. He glanced sideways. Kagi was walking steadily, but a trail of blood ran down her arm.

“Oi,” he muttered, keeping his voice low. “You’re bleeding. Are you gonna be okay?”

She looked like she wasn’t in pain, or at least like she was hard-wired to not show it.

“I’m built to handle worse.”

Rokuro frowned but didn’t press. Of course she was.

Up ahead, Nero moved effortlessly, maddeningly silent in his coat of fur and bone-threaded leather.

They continued on in silence as the forest started changing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first.

The soft loam of the outer woods was gone, replaced by a layer of thin, gray flakes—like the forest floor had shed its skin and left behind rusted ash.

The trees, too, had shifted. Their trunks weren’t made of wood anymore—they were steel. Towering pillars of warped iron, reaching skyward like swords stabbed into the earth. Even the leaves above were wrong—thin, curved things that glinted like knives.

It was like walking into a graveyard where the trees had died and been reforged by a god with a blacksmith’s hammer.

Rokuro slowed slightly, unease crawling up his spine, “What in the blue hell is this place…”

Nero smirked, “This is our terrain.”

Rokuro took a good look around. Suddenly the ache of his body didn’t bother him as much as the fact that the trees were literally getting sharper.

“This forest is nuts,” he muttered. “You sure we’re not walking into a giant meat grinder?”

Nero didn’t slow his pace. “That’s not far off. Some of these trees do cut. Fire, too, if you’re lucky.”

“Lucky?” Rokuro blinked. “How the hell is fire the lucky option? What do they even fire?!”

“If you get too close you’ll find out.”

Kagi’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying they’re sentient.”

“Not in the way you think,” Nero replied. “The Ironwood reacts. If it doesn’t recognize you, it defends itself. The forest and the people here… we’ve grown together. Symbiotic, you could say. That’s the only reason we have survived this long and the state can’t hunt us down.”

Rokuro scowled. “So you’re saying this entire forest has a vendetta against outsiders?”

Nero glanced over his shoulder, his eyes—faintly silver, narrowing.

“I’m saying this forest remembers who it belongs to.”

They kept walking, each step taking them deeper into the glinting maze. Rokuro spoke again.

“That thing from earlier. The one with wings and horns the size of a truck—why didn’t it kill us?”

“Maybe it sensed you weren’t enemies. Or maybe it recognized you.”

Rokuro tensed. “Recognized me?”

Kagi’s voice cut in, calm and cool. “You called it a titan. What is it? The people in Crystalor think they’re monsters.”

“They’re not,” Nero said. “They’re the Eatheralyx. The guardians of the old world. Before kings. Before castles. Before all of Crystalor’s rot.”

“Then why do they attack?” Kagi pressed.

Nero was silent for a few beats. When he spoke again, his tone had sharpened.

“Because something was taken from them. And until it’s returned, they’ll keep coming.”

Rokuro exchanged a glance with Kagi.

“And why can you command… that dragon-bird if it’s so powerful?”

“Dragon-bird…” Nero sighed, “We do not command them. They don’t take orders from anyone. They choose to cooperate with us because we believe in them.”

Nero turned and glared at the direction of the Glass Castle.

“Unlike them…”

“So where exactly are you taking us?” Kagi asked.

“To Emberhold. The last place left that still remembers the truth of this world.”

“And why should we trust you, huh?” Rokuro raised a brow, trying to look intimidating.

“Save it. If you thought you couldn’t, you wouldn’t have followed me all the way here.”

“Damn it…” Rokuro clicked his tongue, “I hate it when they erase my delinquent aura with logic.”

Kagi rolled her eyes.

“When the forest is disturbed, we know. The Aetheralyx sense it too. She brought me to you.”

“She?” Kagi raised a brow.

Nero simply pointed to the sky.

Above them, faint but unmistakable, the same Aetheralyx as before soared in slow, watchful circles.

Every gust of wind passing through the forest made the blade-like leaves sing like chimes of a bell, filling the silence.

Eventually, the trees began to thin. Flattened into uneven paths, stone set between steel roots. Light flickered up ahead— a steady, bluish glow, pulsing from lanterns carved into the trunks of the massive trees around them.

Then the forest opened.

Right at the outskirts a few structures came into view—simple, rough-shelled huts half-sunk into the roots of massive trees.

Two people stood outside one of the huts. Their skin was the same pale gray as Nero’s. They stiffened as he approached.

“Nero?” one said, stepping forward. “You’re back early. Who are they?”

Nero didn’t break stride. “Potential allies. Wounded ones.”

The guards eyed Rokuro and Kagi in silence, then exchanged a glance before knocking twice against the side of the hut.

A moment later, the wooden door creaked open—and a medic stepped out. A woman with gray skin and tired eyes scanned the newcomers, then jerked her chin toward the benches outside.

“Sit down.”

Kagi didn’t move. Neither did Rokuro.

Nero glanced back. “What, you think we’re going to poison you?”

Rokuro crossed his arms. “Great. First the knife-trees, now you want me to play lab rat?”

The medic sighed and folded her arms. Nero just exhaled through his nose.

“The people of Ironwood aren’t cruel,” he said. “We don’t let people bleed out before deciding if they’re friend or foe.”

He looked pointedly at Kagi’s arm, then at Rokuro’s bloodied temple. “You want to stand in front of the council looking like that?”

“Council?” Rokuro titled his head. Kagi however took it in stride.

“He has a point.”

She sat, lifting her sleeve without a word.

Rokuro grumbled. “Fine…”

The medic worked without a word— silver-blue light spread from her palms, weaving across wounds like mist clinging to skin.

Kagi barely flinched as the gash in her shoulder stitched itself shut. The magic felt strangely warm.

Rokuro hissed at first—then blinked. The ache in his ribs eased. The pounding in his head dulled to a throb, then faded entirely.

The medic didn’t smile.

“You’re stable. Move.”

“Thanks… I guess?” Rokuro muttered beneath his breath as he put his jacket back on.

He and Kagi stood, newly patched, and followed Nero the rest of the way.

After the outposts there was nothing between them and…

Emberhold.

It wasn’t a city—not in the way Crystalor had been. No soaring spires. No marble towers. The homes were carved directly into the ironwood trunks, jagged huts lashed together with sinew and scrap metal. Balconies made from curved steel branches jutted out overhead, forming winding catwalks in the air. Magical lanterns were embedded into the bark and walls, casting the village in a pale, ghostly hue.

There were people everywhere—but none like Rokuro had ever seen.

Their skin had the same dusky, gray-silver hue as Nero’s. Their hair, without exception, was white. Bone-white. Even the children. Their eyes shimmered faintly—some silver, some lavender, some a washed-out blue so pale it was nearly white.

Rokuro’s steps slowed. He couldn’t help but stare.

Kagi noticed. “It’s not dye,” she said quietly. “The Ironwood did this to them.”

He looked at her. “What, you mean like a curse?”

“No. A mutation. Generations of it. Living in a forest steeped in such strong magical residue changes things—your body adapts, or it dies. They’re not just in Ironwood. They are Ironwood now.”

That was oddly unsettling, Rokuro thought.

A few heads turned as they passed. Most didn’t say anything, but Rokuro could feel the glances sticking to him like static. He could feel the questions before they were even uttered. Who were they? Why were they so… different?

A few guards along the path clutched their spears tighter, and stepped forward cutting off their path.

“Nero, who have you brought back now?” One of them spoke.

Nero sighed nonchalantly, “Move aside, Fen. This is the Lock and his aide.”

The other guard almost choked, “The Lock?!”

“The other members of the council must know of this at once!”

“That’s where I’m taking them, smartass.” Nero sighed, motioning them aside.

The guards made way. Rumors spread across the townsfolk who overheard the exchange.

Rokuro raised a brow, “Aren’t they curious…”

“Unfortunately for them you’re the closest thing they’ve seen to a hero since they can remember.”

Unfortunately indeed. Rokuro gritted his teeth. If only they knew the limitations of his power, then they wouldn’t get their hopes up.

They passed under a towering root arch. At the far end of the main path, nestled at the base of the largest tree Rokuro had ever seen, stood a darkwood platform surrounded by torches and standing watch posts. The tree itself rose high enough to swallow castles whole.

“This is the Elder Tree.” Nero simply said.

Beneath it—waiting at the foot of the path—stood a single figure.

He looked to be in his middle 30s, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, but unlike the rest, he wasn’t gray-skinned. His tone was fair, like someone who hadn’t been born here. Hair dark. Yet his posture was that of someone who belonged.

Nero stopped, nodding once.

“Lykos.”

Rokuro’s brow furrowed. The name hit him sideways.

“…Tell him we never stopped waiting. We just want him to be safe. His name is...”

Lykos.

That was the name of the son—the one the old couple in Crystalor had spoken of. The one who’d never come home.

His eyes widened.

“Wait… that’s the Lykos?”