Chapter 17 – Between Memories and Wounds

The mist receded as if fearing their return.

Three silhouettes appeared between the veins of the forest—a figure of muscles and scars that carried more on its shoulders than its own skin, a wolf with firm steps, hungry eyes and a burning soul, and a rabbit with a sharp gaze, two daggers strapped to its waist, like extensions of its own distrust.

Grumak, Malias, and Tibrok stepped back into the Warrior Rabbits' village.

And the world, even without knowing it, took a deep breath.

The gate opened without warning. Balbito was there.

The elder's eyes looked at Grumak with respect, Malias with surprise…
But when they saw Tibrok, the old man froze in time.

— Tibrok...?

— In flesh, bones… and a little less shame — said the rabbit, with a crooked smile.

Balbito blinked a few times.

— It's been… how many decades?

— More than I'd admit. But you're still the same… just with less hair.

Balbito let out a hoarse laugh, which quickly faded into a moved sigh. He lightly touched his old friend's shoulder, as if to check if he was real.

— I thought I would never see you again.

— And I thought there wouldn't be any village left to go back to.

Their entrance was silent, but charged.
There was no celebration—but there were glances. The Moonstones glinted subtly on Grumak's chest, and on Malias's wrists. The mission was complete. But no one here needed to hear it aloud.

Thargus was waiting for them at the Guild entrance.
Tall, feline, with dark gray fur and the golden eyes of a commander who had buried more allies than he cared to. She didn't smile.

But he tilted his head slightly.

—You have completed the cycle. The Moonstones pulse with an ancient rhythm… and with new blood.

Grumak nodded. Malias held his gaze—serious, firm, but uneasy.

Thargus led them into the hall.

The guildhall seemed denser than last time.
There, among the hunting tapestries and crests of ancient guilds, stood a crystalline structure—like a vertical cocoon, floating in magical suspension. Inside it… someone.

When Malias stopped in front, the air froze.

The figure was that of a wolf, with short hair, worn armor, and a vacant stare—but one side of her face was completely darkened, as if touched by a living shadow.

She couldn't see them. But she was breathing.

Tibrok stepped forward.

Balbito stood still.

— Sallira?

The voice came out like a whisper between prayers.

Thargus spoke softly:

—The last to accept the Jewels' mission. Balbito's adopted daughter.
Fallen during the siege of the Dry Veil… rescued by me, before the Echo took her for good.

Balbito raised his hand to his mouth, trembling.

— I… thought she…

— I was lost. We all thought so.

Grumak approached slowly.

— The darkened side… is it residue?

“Not only that,” Thargus said. “It’s a corrupted bond. Something that still pulses within her. But she held on. She didn’t break.”

Malias felt the blue-gold crystal around his neck pulse.

Sallira… vibrated to the same rhythm.

Thargus held out his hand, and a small wooden box opened before the three.

“You didn’t come just for justice. You came for a bond. And for promises.
Farlan still waits. Tibrok made a request. And Sallira… needs answers no one else can seek.”

She handed over the objects one by one:

For Grumak: a leather and iron bracelet, marked with living runes.
— “Inner Flame. For when even stones falter.”

For Malias: an amulet with black veins and a red core, warm to the touch.
— "Dark Instinct. For when the choice is between silence... or becoming thunder."

For Tibrok: a small lantern, made of carved bone and golden crystal.
— “Perfect Traces. Because sometimes… the trail we leave is what defines who we are.”

Tibrok accepted the gift silently. But his eyes were teary.

Thargus took a step back.

—The city of Eldoria awaits.
—And if you are to face what is coming… you must speak to the elder of Friendship Rock.

Grumak nodded.

Malias touched the blue-gold crystal on her necklace.

Sallira, in the cocoon… wiggled her fingers.

The silence after the gifts were delivered was thick.
Grumak felt the weight of the unspoken words. Malias stared at the cocoon, as if waiting for Sallira to awaken of her own accord. Tibrok simply watched—but the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed the turmoil beneath his skin.

The woman's shadow floating in the crystal—the side of her face consumed by something still breathing—was more than strange.

It was familiar.

Grumak stepped forward, his hands clenched.

—That shadow Blood-Echo summoned… the one that fought me…
—She looked like her.

Thargus tilted his head, his feline eyes fixed on him.

— Have you seen her?

— I felt it. I struggled with it.
— And now I look at Sallira… and I see the same dark tone in her eyes, the same broken weight.

Tibrok crossed his arms.

— Do you want to explain to us now why a mission that began with an inn, a simple request… ended in a fight against ancient specters, spiritual artifacts, and echoes that followed us?

Thargus did not hesitate.

— Because Farlan already knew.

Malias raised his eyebrows. Grumak clenched his jaw.

— Did he… know?

"Not exactly. But... he foresaw it. He sensed the movement.
He knew the Stones were reactivating. That the Echo was returning. He knew the real mission would only begin when you accepted something without knowing the price."

Grumak took a step, now in front of her.

— You got me involved in a war… over a night’s lodging.

Thargus smiled at the corner of his mouth. Not mockingly, but as if carrying old guilt.

— And that was the best bargain I ever made.

Silence.

Then she walked to the wall, where an old map rested—and dug her fingernail into the South, near Eldoria.

"I'm not asking you to change your journey. Help Tibrok. Go to the mixed city.
But when the mission is over... come back here."

- For what?

— Because maybe… just maybe… we can save Sallira.

Grumak stared at her.

— How?

"I don't know yet. But there's a thread connecting the Moonstones, the Echo, and her spiritual rupture.
Maybe there's a way. But I'll need someone who's faced her shadow and survived."

Malias lowered her eyes. The blue-gold crystal on her necklace pulsed.
She knew something inside her was also vibrating with Sallira's name.

Thargus added, in an almost gentle tone:

—Farlan said that if anyone could complete this cycle… it was you.

Grumak looked away, sighing as if carrying a forest on his back.

— I'll be back. But first… I'll help Tibrok.

Tibrok gave a slight smile—short, honest.

Thargus nodded. And then Balbito approached.

— Grumak…

The old man's eyes were moist, but his body was as firm as ever.

— If you… if you save her…
You will never pay for a bed in this village again. Even if you stay for a whole year.

Grumak extended his hand. Balbito took it tightly, as if offering more than just thanks.

As they left, the group was already preparing to leave.
Malias tied her hair in a simple knot. Tibrok checked the sharpness of his daggers. Grumak donned the reinforced cloak he'd received from the guild.

It was then that Thargus called them for the last time.

— Grumak.

He turned around.

— Show them.

The warrior raised his hands, pulling part of his cloak aside. On his back, between his shoulders, was the mark .

A perfect triangle.
Formed by three symbols:

An eight-pointed star at the top vertex.

A sun with a spiral core in the left corner.

An inverted waning moon on the right.

The Mark of the First Covenant.

Balbito clicked his tongue. Thargus closed his eyes for a second.

Malias lightly touched the edge of the triangle, as if recognizing a forgotten painting.

“It’s more than an inheritance,” she whispered.

Grumak put on his cloak again.

— It's a reminder.

And he set off, alongside the two, heading south.
Towards what was to come.

But now, not just as the warrior who defeated the Bloodecho.
Nor just as the bearer of the Moonstones.

Now, as the one who bears the mark that sealed the world—and who perhaps… is the only one who can reopen it.

The three of them descended the dirt path, plunging back into the forests that led to the unknown.
Tibrok's mission began here. The reunion with Farlan was near. And the mixed city… promised truths that could change the course of everything.

The trail wound beneath the dense forest canopy, where shafts of sunlight danced among thick leaves.
Grumak led the way, alert. Malias trailed behind, restless. Tibrok followed silently.

The grass crackled beneath their boots. The wind sang through the tall canopies, but the forest seemed… too still.

"If I eat one more fruit, I'll start howling just to scare squirrels," Malias grumbled, kicking a lichen-covered rock. "I need meat!"

"Next time, tell me you want to stop at a tavern before you leave," Tibrok retorted with a snort. "My people don't survive on beer and roast chicken, Malias."

— So now it's your people's fault?

Grumak just smirked, without turning around. The silence between them was comfortable, almost familiar.

Tibrok pulled out the map embroidered on ancient linen. In the center, intertwined symbols: moon, star, and sun .

"We seek Orun'Tarrak," he explained, tracing a circle on the cloth with his finger. "A guardian spirit. They say he protects an ancient relic called the Echo of Harmony . And that he rests where time folds over memory."

Grumak stopped suddenly, his body still, but his eyes heavy.

—Farlan told me that the history of the Heroes' War was rewritten. That the symbols of the Alliance were erased from the banners after the victory.

Tibrok nodded, carefully putting the map away.

"My people remember… but only in whispers.
The elders say the fallen guardians were marked not by their enemies… but by their allies." "Those who carry the ancient blood still feel these echoes. If the Echo of Harmony is real… perhaps it will reveal what has been kept silent."

Malias crossed his arms.

"If that Orun'Tarrak comes roaring in, I promise to be the first to kick him in whatever he uses for a chin."

"If he doesn't eat you first," Tibrok said.

—Let him try. At most, he'll choke on my rage bone.

They laughed. Even there, on the edge of the unknown, the laughter remained alive.

The sun was already setting when the greenery opened up into a natural clearing.
Intertwined roots formed a sort of natural altar. In the center, a shallow lake reflected the first rays of the night sky.

The silence there was deeper.
Grumak stopped and spoke in a low voice:

— You can spend the night here.

Malias looked around, assessing the place with a hunter's eyes.

— If there's anything nearby, I'll bring it.

Tibrok took off his boots and plunged his feet into the cold water with a groan of relief.

— By the stars, I needed this.

Malias disappeared into the woods before anyone could say anything.

Dusk was falling when she returned.
On her shoulders she carried a dew deer —a slender animal with blue-gray fur, closed eyes, and a small, clean cut on its neck. Mythical, nearly silent, and revered in many regions as a symbol of balance.

“Dinner,” she said, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

Grumak raised an eyebrow.

— Did you really find a dew deer?

— He looked at me as if he had accepted his fate. I thought it was only fair to respect the agreement.

Tibrok watched her for a moment. Then he got up and began to prepare the fire with dry twigs.

As the meat slowly roasted, the sky filled with stars.

Malias, exhausted, gathered a few changes of clothes and walked away.

— I'm going to take a shower. Don't follow me, or I'll lose the mercy I don't have.

Tibrok looked away, blushing.

Grumak removed his cloak, revealing his scarred torso and the symbol between his shoulder blades.

He dove into the lake.

That's when he realized. A look touched him. It wasn't a threat, but it wasn't light either.

Tibrok approached, slowly.

He stopped at the water's edge, his eyes fixed on Grumak's back.

— Since when do you have this?

Grumak turned his face away, confused.

- What?

—That thing I saw in the guild. The mark. The same one I carried in my dreams. The same one on the map.

Grumak placed his hand on his back, where he could feel the warmth of the tattoo.

— Since forever, I think.

— Grumak… do you understand what this means?

— Not everything. But I understand one thing.

He emerged from the water, his skin dripping, his eyes fixed on the sky above.

— I'm not from here, Tibrok.
— I was brought. They threw me into this world with a mission I didn't even understand. — But even without knowing… I will fight. I will bleed. I chose to stay.

Pause. He looked into his friend's eyes.

— I have a son. And I need to find him again.

Tibrok swallowed hard.

— That changes everything.

— No. It just shows what was always there.

Later, when Malias returned, he saw the two of them sitting by the fire, silent.
The flame crackled, and for a moment, it reflected something on Grumak's back.

Malias stopped.

The light drew a triangle.
And she didn't need to see it again to understand.

She sat down without saying anything. She just reached out, touching Grumak's shoulder with her fingertips.

—The First Alliance… still breathes.

Grumak did not respond.

But the fire danced higher.

And the world, for a moment, seemed to wait.