Red

The beast’s momentum sent Elias sprawling backward. As he tried to rise, his hands shot out instinctively, as though to shield himself–and in that instant, a massive stone wall surged up before him. The beast crashed into it with a thunderous roar.

Elias’s legs buckled before he could get up, and he collapsed again, gasping for breath as though he had just run a marathon.

From behind the guards, Fawks unclasped what Elias had thought was a belt. The strip of fur unfurled, revealing itself as his tail–and then, impossibly, Fawks began to lift off the ground. He was flying!

The beast, rather than circling the wall, smashed against it twice more, each blow shaking the stones. With every strike, Elias felt himself weaken further. The wall was not only his defense–it was being sustained by him. He realized he couldn’t hold it any longer.

Summoning the last of his strength, he somehow let go. On the third strike, the beast tore through nearly the entire wall.

Elias slumped helplessly, unable to move. At that moment, Fawks darted forward, shouting to draw its attention, before shooting upward just out of reach. His tail whipped and twisted constantly, and wherever the white tip pointed, he flew in the opposite direction–down meant soaring up, back meant darting forward, and so on.

The trick worked. The beast leapt after him, ignoring Elias.

That gave two guards just enough time to drag Elias toward Tarlmere’s gate.

But it also gave the Archguard her chance. She bellowed, “Attack!” and the rest of the guards surged forward, spears bristling. They struck as one, but the beast swept them aside with a single violent swipe, sending men sprawling–some out cold before they even hit the ground.

Only the Archguard remained on her feet. In a desperate charge, she raised her warhammer and stormed forward. She leapt high, the weapon arcing overhead. She tore through the fallen soldiers, even stepping off one as he rose to leapt higher toward the beast. It struck at her and missed, and she slammed the hammer with all her might into its face.

The blow was so unnaturally powerful that the beast was hurled backward, crashing through trees several meters away.

But the Archguard herself landed hard, crumpling into unconsciousness.

“Red! Chief!” the guards cried, rushing to her side.

“Come on, chief!” They shook her, but she didn’t stir.

“Let’s carry her to her quarters,” one ordered. Together they lifted her and bore her through the gates.

Elias could only watch from where he lay. One of the guards pressed a bluish gem to his lips. He bit into it, and though still exhausted, felt a surge of vitality–enough to stay conscious.

Across the field, the beast’s corpse had already begun to decay. Its body turned to ash, the wind scattering it into the night.

“So… you are a fox,” Elias managed to whisper, smiling faintly at Fawks.

“Haha, just the tail.”

“And… you can fly!”

“Oh… I don’t like to boast,” Fawks said, scratching his head with an awkward grin.

“I see… well, thank you.”

“Ah… it was nothing.”

“No, really. Thank you! Twice now you’ve saved me. Plus the shoes, the meal, everything… Until now, it all felt like a dream–I guess I forgot the basics. So, thank you.”

Fawks gave him a look of sympathy so deep it felt familiar, though Elias couldn’t place why.

“Don’t mention it,” Fawks said at last, forcing a smile. Then his brow furrowed slightly. “You know… your eyes look a bit different?”

“Yours too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. They’re not as pale anymore–they’re kind of yellow.”

“Oh! Well, yours are really yellow!”

Elias teased, “Have you stared enough? Can we go now?”

“Yeah. Let’s finally get some rest.”

Helping him to his feet, Fawks guided him slowly back toward the inn. Behind them, the wooden gate creaked shut for the night.

“I wonder what’s become of Red,” Elias murmured.

“Who’s Red?”

“The Archguard! Didn’t you hear the guards call her that when she fell? Even half-fainting, I did.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re always thinking about the redhead!” Fawks teased.

Elias ignored him, though a blush warmed his cheeks. “She didn’t look well when they carried her past me… and if she’s more drained than I was, she might be in real danger.”

He half-limped as they walked, aching not from wounds but from exhaustion. After a moment he added, “Oh–I ate one of those gems. The guards slipped it into my mouth when I couldn’t move.”

“Really?!” Fawks perked up. “What was it like?”

“Refreshing,” Elias admitted. “Like biting into a flavorless shard at first, but the core melted like honey–juicy and sweet. I instantly felt my spirit return. Without it, I’d have collapsed completely.”

“Mhm…” Fawks nodded.

A few steps later:

“So… huge stone walls, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Elias said, almost marveling. “I guess that was me. Hard to believe.”

After what felt like a long walk, they reached the inn. The place was hushed; news of the battle had spread quickly.

“Poor Anang,” someone whispered at a table.

“If only we’d done something–but what could we?” another murmured.

Fawks rented them a bunk room, and the two collapsed upstairs into sleep.

Though Elias slept through the night, his rest was uneasy. He dreamed of flashing lights–like the harsh ceiling lamps of a hospital corridor flickering above him while he was wheeled on his back. Somewhere in the blur, a sound cut through the haze:

Beep… beep… beep…

That was the last thing Elias heard before he opened his eyes the next morning.

He and Fawks prepared to set out again–Fawks had somewhere he wanted to show him. But before they could leave, a figure appeared on the cobbled street ahead: Red.

She looked weary, drained–but alive. And as she drew near, they noticed something else. The red-haired Red now had red eyes.