Vol. IV Chapter IX: Kha’shara

A choking haze of smoke hung heavy over the ruins, ash drifting down like gray snow.

Lucius pushed aside a charred hide, his fingers already blackened with soot, his eyes darting restlessly over the wreckage of the village.

“Over here!” Tairaku called from somewhere to Lucius’s left.

Lucius leapt over a collapsed tent pole and came to an abrupt stop.

Beneath burned hides and splintered beams, a charred, fur-covered hand jutted out, followed by a weak, strangled groan.

The others rushed over. 

Liviana immediately knelt, pressing two fingers to the neck of the unmoving figure.

“He’s alive. Barely, but alive.”

Glizzy was already clawing at the debris with her bare hands.

“Hurry, or he’s going to suffocate!”

Together, they heaved the heavy beams aside until Tairaku could pull the body free, a large Kirraka, long-limbed, his broad ears singed, his left side caved in.

“He won’t last much longer,” Meiruna said, her voice unusually grim.

She pulled out a small glass vial in which a golden essence shimmered faintly, uncorked it, and carefully poured it into his mouth.

Then she laid a hand on his forehead and spoke the words:

“Eth’lara aras en tal.”

A gentle glow spread through his body and his crushed ribs lifted slightly while his breathing deepened.

The Kirraka’s large black eyes flickered open and he stared at them, blinking, and rasped in halting, broken Common:

“Who… you?”

Lucius stepped forward, tense and urgent.

“Was Melissa here? Did you see her?!”

But Liviana lifted her hand slightly, speaking slowly:

“We… are looking for someone. A Selvarin woman, with hooves and horns.”

The Kirraka blinked sluggishly, searching for words.

“Kha’shara… you seek?”

Lucius frowned.

“Kha… what?”

“Kha’shara,” he repeated. 

“Horn. One… horn.”

He tapped the side of his head and Lucius’s heartbeat quickened.

“That’s her! Where is she?!”

“Was… here. But Yashar… take many in cage when she not here. Hunting.”

Liviana leaned forward.

“And her?”

“When back, she fight.”

He coughed, the sentence breaking, then whispered:

“Strong… like storm.”

The group pressed him with more questions, piecing together a fragmented account, enough to carry their minds back to the day before, when Refalesh still stood.

---

That day, the scent of smoke and tanned hides lingered in the clear morning air.

Melissa sat on a low bench outside Eucho’s tent, wrapped in a cloak of soft fur.

Her wounds had healed well, aided by the warm, unfamiliar healing magic of the Kirraka, whose healers had tended to her regularly.

The pain was still there, but her strength had slowly returned, and she had even become part of daily village life.

She helped weave the long sinew cords from which nets, straps, and lines were made.

Children ran laughing around her, touching her fur or brushing their fingers over her single remaining horn until a sharp call from the adults shooed them away.

That morning, there was an unusual bustle.

In front of a gate made of bent animal bones, about a dozen Kirraka gathered, armed with spears and nets.

Melissa leaned against the gatepost, watching the preparations.

“What are they doing?” she asked as Eucho passed her.

The tall Kirraka kept his head slightly lowered.

“Hunting Thargosh. Bring meat. Big. Strong. Dangerous.”

He studied her as if to crush the thought before it began.

“Not for you, Kha’shara. You stay. Rest.”

Melissa raised a brow.

“Why not?”, she demanded.

“No.” 

Eucho’s voice was firm, almost fatherly.

“Hunt dangerous. Bite bone like wood. Many hunters… not return.”

“But that means they’ll need every hand they can get!”

Without waiting for an answer, Melissa straightened and stepped toward the hunting party, arms folded.

“I’m coming with you.”

The hunters paused, giving her long looks, exchanging murmured phrases she didn’t understand, though the mix of skepticism and amusement on their faces was clear.

Eucho stared at her for a long moment, then called something to the hunters and their posture shifted.

Finally, he snorted softly and gestured toward her, as if to say: 

Go, then… but at your own risk.

One of the hunters silently offered her a spear, but she just clenched her fists and shook her head.

“Thanks, but I already have everything I need.”

The Kirraka hesitated, his dark eyes widening, then accepted her strange choice.

Soon after, they set off.

The path led them out of the sheltered hollow of Refalesh into open, stony terrain.

Wind whispered through the low thorn bushes, and not far off, dust rose where something heavy shook the earth.

The Kirraka moved low, slipping from rock to rock and pausing to listen, with spears and nets at the ready, while Melissa mirrored their movements as best she could manage.

At last, they halted on a low rock ledge overlooking a shallow basin.

Melissa heard the heavy scrape of horn against stone, followed by a deep, throaty snort.

Then she saw their quarry.

A Thargosh.

The massive beast stood in the basin, its body long and scaled like that of a great lizard, two curved horns rising from its brow.

Its long, muscular tail lashed restlessly through the air as it shoved through brush, snapping branches, grinding them between its broad teeth.

The hunters readied their ropes; one made a quick, circling hand gesture, apparently coordinating the strike.

Melissa’s heart raced as she watched, waiting, knowing she would have to be ready when the moment came.

“Lor’ath sha’ven!” one finally called, and at the signal, two hunters split off.

They hurled bolas, tangling them around its hind legs, but the beast roared and charged immediately.

Dust and pebbles exploded under its pounding weight, a gray-black mass of muscle hurtling toward the group.

A net flew, but the Thargosh shredded it with a single whip of its tail.

When two hunters tried to flank it and a young Kirraka stumbled, the beast was only moments away from crushing him, and Melissa reacted instantly.

She leapt from a rock and landed on its back, legs clamping down, claws digging into the scaled hide.

The Thargosh reared, twisting, trying to throw her off, but she held fast.

“Drenalna! Drenalna!” the hunters shouted, rushing in.

Melissa ducked as the bony tail swept past her head, forcing the beast toward the others.

She wrenched its head aside, opening its flank to their spears, which struck deep into vital points and the Thargosh’s roar broke into a rattling gasp before it collapsed beneath her.

Melissa jumped down, chest heaving, a grin spreading across her face as she met the others’ eyes.

A few Kirraka studied her, one giving a single, firm nod.

“Kha’shara,” an older hunter murmured, respect in his tone.

Melissa smiled to herself, knowing she had won a deeper measure of their trust.

They dressed the kill where it fell, skilled hands stripping meat from bone, taking the valuable horns, steam curling from the blood into the cool air.

Melissa helped as best she could, carrying a bound bundle of meat over her shoulder.

On the way back, the Kirraka even laughed quietly with her, patting her shoulder in approval.

But then, one of them stopped.

“Lor… lor!” he called, pointing toward the horizon.

Over the cliffs where Refalesh lay, black smoke billowed up, and the hunting party broke into a run.

The smoke thickened, the air grew hotter, and when they reached the village, Melissa’s breath caught.

Refalesh was burning.

Tents of hide and wood collapsed in flames, screams echoing between the rocks.

“Yashar…” Melissa breathed.

The Kirraka hunters charged into the burning village without hesitation, unaware of the danger that still lurked within.

“Wait!” she shouted as the hunters vanished into the smoke.

“Come back! They’re waiting for you!”

But the only answer was the sound of their death cries, rising from within the flames.

Melissa froze when the smoke cleared just enough for her to see them.

The hunters she had laughed with only hours ago now lay sprawled in the dirt, their spears broken, their fur scorched, their lifeless eyes still wide with shock.

And above them, five figures emerged, tall, clad in black plate armor, their helmets shaped like skulls.

Cold, bluish vapor leaked from the eye sockets of their helmets, drifting to the ground and swirling around the hunters’ dead bodies.

For a moment, the world narrowed to the sight of them, faces she had only just begun to trust, hands that had pulled her to her feet after the Thargosh fell.

Gone. All of them.

Her hands shook, her chest tightened like a crushing weight pressed against her ribs.

Not again. Not another home burned. Not more friends lost.

She barely noticed the tall, black-armored shapes stepping from the haze until their voices cut through.

“A Selvarin?” one asked, helm turning toward her, the blue vapor leaking from its skull-shaped visor curling in the air.

“What’s she doing here?” another said, voice low, mocking. 

“Doesn’t matter. She’s alone.”

The Kirraka had taken her in when she was broken, fed her, healed her, laughed with her while she played with their children.

And now the Yashari would drag them into chains, just as they once did with her.

"Not... anymore..." She growled, and the beast inside her awakened.

Her vision tinged red, a coal-bright glow flared in her eyes, narrow and horizontal like a predator’s.

Lightning danced through the violet aura blooming around her, the air prickling as though a storm had descended and her hair lifted, writhing in a wind that wasn’t there.

At her brow, bone cracked and split. 

From the stump of her broken horn, a new point forced its way forward, short, jagged, yet burning with runes, a distorted echo of the horn that still remained whole.

The ground shivered under her hooves.

“What the...” one Yashari began, but Melissa was already gone.

Her first step cracked the ground and blurred into the distance and just a heartbeat later, one of them slammed into a burning post with a crunch of splintering wood.

The next one raised his sword, but she caught the blade mid-swing, wrenched it free, spun once, and drove it deep through his own armor.

The other three, now realizing she wasn’t an ordinary enemy, unleashed their strange death magic all at once.

Blue vapor erupted, sweeping toward her and curling around her whole body.

It filled her mouth, her nose, searing down her throat, choking her as it had choked the hunters.

Coughing, her vision dimming while the shadows in the smoke reached for her, clawing at her strength, leeching it away.

She fell to one knee, her chest heaving, claws digging into the scorched earth as if to anchor herself.

The voices of the Yashari were close now, sneering.

“Not better than the fur-rats, hehe...”

Their laughter cut deeper than the smoke. 

Faces flashed in her mind, the Kirraka who had laughed with her. 

Dead and gone. 

And now these things would make her join them.

The haze thickened, pressing in, drowning her breath while her chest felt as if something was crushing it, her pulse slowing, darkness closing in at the edges of her sight.

No… Not like this.

Something broke loose inside her and the roar that tore from her lungs wasn’t human.

It shook the air, raw and primal, as if the beast within had finally burst its cage.

Rage and grief fused into one shattering cry, and the shockwave ripped outward, shredding the death-smoke into tatters.

The Yashari staggered back, their sneers wiped from their skull-helms, the blue vapor recoiling as if afraid.

But before they could react, Melissa was already charging.

Her claws ripped a throat open, blood hissing on scorched ground.

She leapt, spun in mid-air, and came down hard, slamming another to the dirt.

The third flew backward from a bone-snapping kick, crashing through the wall of a burning tent.

And finally, there was silence.

Melissa stood amid the wreckage, her breath a harsh, steady rasp while the rest of the blue smoke curled from the corpses, fading into the black.

The village was nearly gone, nothing but collapsing frames, the stink of blood and smoke.

No sign of Eucho. 

No sign of the other villagers.

Tracks led east, deep and heavy, like the wheels of great cages.

They must have taken them.

Her hands clenched into fists, the words left her lips as almost a growl: 

"I won’t forgive you…"

Without looking back, she sprinted after the trail, hooves striking sparks from the stone.

But beneath the wreckage, someone still lived.

Buried under a fallen tent, half-conscious, Eucho had caught only fragments, but he knew enough.

---

“Kha’shara… strong,” he finished.

“Eucho… too weak. Stay… here.”

He lowered his head, as if ashamed to have survived.

Lucius’s heart pounded in his ears, barely hearing the rest. 

All he saw were flashes in his mind, Melissa alive, fighting, somewhere out there.

“She’s alive…” he murmured, first like a prayer, then louder: 

“She’s alive!”

He seized Tairaku’s arm, half-ready to drag him along.

“We have to go after her. Now.”

“Lucius, wait.”

Liviana stepped between them, her voice calm but her gaze steady.

“He didn’t say where she went, only that she followed the Yashari.”

“Yes,” Eucho confirmed simply.

“They go… east. Big cages. Many taken. Please. Rescue.”

Lucius’s eyes hardened and he turned to Eucho.

“I swear to you we will. Can you show us the way?”

Eucho nodded slowly.

“I show.”

A brief glance passed among the group, no one said no. 

Lucius clenched his fists.

And so they left the smoking ruins of Refalesh, following the tracks out into the barren plains, toward a place where something awaited them that was more than just the Yashari.