From Dreams to Battle

The days following her awakening felt like moving through a dream of their own. Whispers followed Akari wherever she drifted across the fortress, the warmth of reverence in every bow or nod that greeted her. Even those who hurried about their duties paused long enough to incline their heads. To them, she was no longer simply the odd spirit clinging to a human knight - she was something more, something touched by divinity. The Frostfire Festival had changed her, and though Akari tried to smile, the weight of those watchful eyes pressed against her like the snow pressing in against the fortress walls.

Noel never strayed far. He carried himself with his usual steadiness, but Akari noticed the subtle signs: the way he watched her out of the corner of his eye, as though making sure she didn’t fall over, the way his hand twitched as if to steady her even when she stumbled in her new fox form. It was comforting in its own quiet way. He didn’t bow. He didn’t whisper. He treated her like Akari - and that kept her from feeling like she was losing herself.

High Priestess Serina came to her chambers with the calm authority that always seemed to surround her. Serena moved slowly, her pale robes trailing behind her like ripples across still water. She touched Akari’s forehead, fingers cool and light, studying her with eyes that gleamed like polished amber.

“Your condition is stable,” Serina murmured, voice firm yet gentle. “But what you saw in your dreams should not be dismissed. Dreams are the domain of Mavren, the Dreamwalker, who sees beyond our waking sight. When he allows one to experience visions with such weight, it is no mere trick of the mind. It is a thread of truth.”

Akari shifted nervously, tail flickering embers against the floor. “So... what I saw was real?”

“Perhaps not in form,” Serina said, “but in meaning. God Mavren grants what must be understood. He has blessed you with a sign, child, and he has marked you as one who must walk a path only you can.”

Noel stiffened beside her, but Serina only offered Akari a soft smile before rising. “Do not fear the dreams. Learn from them. They do not bring harm.” With that, she departed, her presence lingering like the memory of incense.

…

Outside, the fortress seemed lighter. People who once regarded Akari with suspicion now smiled warmly, pressing small offerings into her paws - a ribbon, a charm, dried fruit wrapped in cloth. Children peeked from behind their parents, their giggles bright as sunlight. It startled her how quickly fear had turned to reverence, how easily their kindness replaced cold stares. For the first time, she wondered if this was what it meant to be seen as a blessing rather than a burden.

And then came Caldris. As always, the knight strode into the courtyard with cheer spilling from him like heat from a hearth. His grin was broad, his words louder than needed, and in his hands he carried a paper packet.

“Akari!” he called, waving. “You're a cute little critter now, eh? Good! Then you can eat this without having to burn it!” He pressed the packet into her hands before she could protest. Inside were dried slices of some root vegetable, dusted with spices. Akari blinked, tail flickering uncertainly.

“They’re... crunchy,” Caldris said with mock solemnity, as if imparting great wisdom. “I hope I made them well. They do taste delicious. A good knight’s fuel.”

Akari nibbled one carefully, the taste sharp and earthy, and her eyes widened before she shaked her head in reaction to the extremely strong taste. Caldris roared with laughter at her surprise. “See? Knew you’d like them!”

Even Seren, who lingered nearby, couldn’t resist a faint smile. The fortress hadn’t changed them - Seren’s steady seriousness, Caldris’s boisterous warmth - it was like an anchor that reminded Akari not everything had shifted.

But when she trained, she knew something had changed. Her flames no longer answered her with the same easy familiarity. They surged unpredictably, hotter, wilder, as if her new form had unlocked strength she couldn’t yet control. Small sparks scorched the practice ground even when she tried to keep calm.

Barkley padded closer, his canine shape imposing yet steady. “You’ll burn yourself out at this rate,” he grumbled. “Focus, Akari. Control is more important than power.”

She panted, frustration bubbling in her chest. “It’s... it’s like it doesn’t listen anymore.”

Barkley narrowed his glowing eyes. “Then stop trying to order it. Picture what you want. Shape it with intent. Image training, little flame. See it in your mind before you breathe it into being.”

He guided her through the process, his voice sharp but never cruel. She closed her eyes, visualized the flames gathering, not as a raging inferno but as a single ember, warm and steady. When she opened her eyes again, her fire flickered more softly, forming a controlled glow in her hands. Her chest eased with relief.

“Better,” Barkley said, though his tail gave a faint wag that betrayed his satisfaction. “Don’t think this means you’re done.”

Akari smiled faintly, the warmth of accomplishment mixing with weariness. Training would be harder now, but she wasn’t alone.

…

That night, the air grew heavier. Akari sensed it first, her flames trembling as though stirred by unseen winds. Barkley raised his head, hackles bristling. Seren and Caldris stood on either side of the gate, tense as they scanned the horizon. The lively chatter of the fortress quieted, conversations trailing into uneasy silence as the unease rippled outward. Guards straightened on the walls, villagers paused mid-step, all of them feeling the same unspoken shift. The night itself seemed to hold its breath.

“Noel,” Seren said quietly, hand resting on the hilt of his blade. “Something’s wrong.”

The torches lining the walls flickered low, their light struggling as if choked by an unseen force. The snow beyond the gates shifted unnaturally, and a thin wail echoed through the dark, too warped to be human yet sharp enough to claw at the ears. More voices joined it - distorted, broken cries that rose and fell like a chorus of anguish.

Shapes stirred within the storm, shambling figures half-shrouded by the night. Their outlines twisted, their movements erratic, as if pulled by strings from some cruel hand. The air reeked of rot and frost, thick with malice that set Akari’s flames sputtering in fear.

Her heart clenched. She knew that feeling, that suffocating wrongness. The memory of the Frostfire Festival’s extinguished flames returned like a knife to her chest.

“Corrupted spirits,” Barkley growled, fire licking from his jaws. “They’ve come.”

It was Akari's first battle since the day they entered the fortress.