Just Like Us

Sylvia turned sharply toward the guard who had called her. His tone wasn’t of surprise, but of alarm.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“The watchtower reports movement! A herd’s heading straight for us!”

Her eyes narrowed. “A herd? What kind?”

“Mutated deer, ma’am.”

Sylvia spun toward the eastern wall, already moving at a brisk pace. Kai and Rose followed close behind, the air filled with the heavy rhythm of boots on packed dirt. They climbed the makeshift watchtower after her, its wood creaking under their combined weight.

From above, the plains unfolded before them—wheat swaying under the wind, sunlight scattering gold across the open field. Then, through the haze, movement.
Dozens of figures charging in rhythm. Horns glinting. Eyes glowing with dull, yellow light.

“They shouldn’t be this close,” Sylvia muttered, fingers gripping the railing. “The wolves keep them from crossing the forest line.”

Kai and Rose exchanged a look that needed no words.

“I think that might be our fault,” Kai said quietly.

Sylvia’s head turned sharply. “What do you mean, your fault?”

Rose rubbed her arm, sheepish. “We might’ve… killed the wolves nearby.”

A pause.

Kai sighed. “They attacked us first. We thought it was a rogue pack. Didn’t realize they were keeping the balance.”

Sylvia exhaled sharply. “Even if you are what you think you are, there’s too many of them. If they reach our walls, they’ll crush half the village.”

Kai’s expression firmed. “Then stand back.”

He stepped to the platform’s edge and vaulted off the tower, landing cleanly on the grass below.

Everyone on the wall froze at the sudden drop.

Rose’s lips curved faintly. She glanced toward Sylvia. “Let us handle it.”

Then she descended, her cloak’s golden trim catching the sunlight as she glided down—graceful, controlled, and brilliant against the pale fields.

Kai looked over the open plain, stretching his hands as his body tensed. I know Rose can probably handle all of this by herself… but if I’m going to be useful to her, it starts here.

“Listen up, Kai,” Rose called, still hovering slightly above the ground. “Remember—they’re still food.”

He gave her a side glance. “Didn’t think you were such a glutton.”

“Just focus up,” she shot back.

A faint laugh passed between them—gone as quickly as it came. Rose’s gaze sharpened toward the horizon.

The first wave of deer burst through the wheat. Wind twisted around her fingertips, shaping into invisible blades. Three clean arcs—three heads fell, tumbling through gold stalks. Their abnormally large bodies crashing to the floor.

Then came more. Two dozen, maybe more, their bodies pulsating with the unnatural glow of mana. Rose’s eyes flicked in calculation. Too many to cut through at once. But I can stop them.

Her arms extended forward—the air thickened, heavy and tense. The herd slowed mid-charge, hooves sinking into resistance they couldn’t see.

Kai saw his cue. His form blurred forward. No magic—only strength refined by instinct and training. He slammed his reinforced fists into each deer’s neck, one after another, strikes snapping bone cleanly. Some required an additional hit, a testament of Kai not being the level he wanted to be yet. Each sound echoed like muffled thunder over the wheat.

Rose kept her focus, halting the largest beasts long enough for Kai to break through their numbers. When only a few remained, she swept her arm sideways, slicing the rest down in a single motion. The field went silent.

Kai exhaled, wiping dirt from his forearm, then he looked up toward the watchtower where Sylvia and the guards stared down. “You’ve got your herd stopped,” he called, a grin forming, “and your next few meals, apparently.”

Kai started toward the settlement where Rose stood, having not moved an inch. As he stopped beside her, he caught the whisper of her breath.

Rose exhaled, the faint rise and fall of her shoulders steadying. From this close, Kai could tell she was starting to grasp the rhythm of her power—less raw, more deliberate.

Sylvia stood at the top of the wall, staring down in disbelief. For the first time, her voice softened. “You two… really are something.”

“Something, yes,” she murmured in response to Sylvia’s voice from above. Her eyes upward on her, calm but alive. “But we’re just getting started.”

__________

The afternoon came slower than usual; its rays warm on the faces of those outdoors. Rose sat on a logged bench, her back against a tent much larger than the rest. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat and burning oak, the smoke curling lazily into the sky.

In the center courtyard, a large fire crackled in the daylight. Small groups had formed, each dividing between transportation, skinning, prepping, and finally cooking. The rhythm of work and laughter carried across the clearing—steady, grounded, alive.

Her eyes darted to the side where Kai walked in, carrying a deer with the assistance of a guard. His arms flexed under the strain, veins pulsing from the weight. He had insisted on helping transport the deer within the settlement’s walls.

Maybe twenty by now?

Rose thought as her stomach growled in anticipation.

She wasn’t just relaxing, however; she was waiting to be called into the tent behind her by Sylvia. But until that happened, she simply watched.

They had only heard about Grey Eyes in class, and to now sit in an entire settlement of them felt surreal. Their pale irises caught sunlight like silver glass, every glance alive with quiet power.

The first round of deer meat stew was being served. Children lined up first with wooden bowls, and women followed close behind.

Rose’s stomach rumbled again. She quickly crossed her arms over it, cheeks painted red in embarrassment.

“You can go up, you know.” Sylvia’s voice called from behind the curtain, her tone teasing. Her head poked out through the flap, silver hair catching the light. “You got us the meat after all. I mean—any longer, and I think you’ll cause a bigger earthquake.”

Rose sat speechless and vulnerable. One would hardly think she was capable of destruction by how she looked now—mortal, human.

She rose to her feet and, without looking back, joined the line.

Kai carefully placed the last deer neatly with the rest. He smiled faintly when he saw her waiting with the others. As he wiped his hands on his robe, he glanced at the last pair of children being served.

They were siblings, he thought—similar features, though the elder girl clutched the younger one close as if shielding him from the crowd. The sight pulled something quiet out of him. In a strange way, the elder girl reminded him of Rose.

The two stepped away with their bowls, disappearing behind the light of the fire.

By the time the men were served, the sun had lowered past the trees, leaving streaks of amber and rose across the sky. Laughter rose from the crowd as someone started clapping a rhythm. Soon, a few women began to sing, their voices carrying above the flames—soft at first, then rich and full, blending with the hum of the night insects.

Some people began to dance, arms interlocked, their shadows circling the fire like old spirits. The scent of spiced broth and seared meat mingled with laughter and song.

Sylvia stepped out of the tent and found Rose seated again with an empty bowl in her hands. Kai sat beside her with his resting on his knees, watching the flames.

“So,” Sylvia said, leaning against a post, “what do you think?”

Rose looked down at her empty bowl, a small frown tugging at her lips, then looked up. “The stew was good.”

Both Sylvia and Kai laughed.

Rose blinked between them. “What?”

Sylvia shook her head, a faint smirk curling her mouth. “You really are such a glutton, huh?”

Rose’s cheeks flushed, realizing the callback. Kai hid his grin behind his hand, remembering the same line he’d thrown at her before the fight.

She folded her arms with a soft huff. “Oh, come on…”

The warmth of the fire flickered against their faces, and the laughter around them swelled again as more people joined the dance.

Rose’s face warmed. “Oh.” She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “Well… the way the Capital alienated you all—it isn’t right.”

Sylvia tilted her head, her expression unreadable.

“You’re not different from us,” Rose continued. “You laugh, cry, bleed. If anything, you’re more free. Regardless of your circumstances… you don’t have to fear someone forcing you to tether.”

A quiet lingered between them, the kind that seemed to hum beneath the sound of crackling wood. Sylvia’s eyes softened.

“That’s why we were pushed so far away from any major town,” she said at last. “That’s why we’re cut off from the rest of the world.”

“It’s not bad,” Rose murmured, watching the dancers swirl in the firelight. “Being here makes me question who I could have been if I was born here.”

Sylvia looked out through the tent’s open curtain, her gaze following the same sight—the glowing faces, the music, the laughter echoing into dusk.

After a moment, she turned back to them. “Why don’t you both come in now,” she said. “You can leave your bowls there.”

They obeyed, setting the wooden bowls down beside the bench before following her inside.

Inside the tent, the air shifted immediately—cooler, quieter. The movement and song muffled as the curtains closed behind them. A hanging lantern swayed from the brief exposure of outside wind. Threads of incense burned from a clay dish, blending faintly with the lingering smoke from the fire outside.

Sylvia stood behind a low table. After a pause, she eased herself down cross-legged onto a large pillow; one of many scattered across the floor. The dim light inside the tent flickered softly against the hanging charms.

“Where are you two heading?” she asked, her tone more serious now. “It’s dangerous beyond here. You’re already north of the safe line. Humans don’t last long past this point. We’re probably the last settlement before the wild zones.”

Rose unrolled the worn map from her pack and spread it across the table. Her finger traced a path far beyond the northern markings, the parchment creasing beneath her touch.

“I need to reach here,” she said.

Sylvia leaned forward, brow furrowing. “That’s deep. You do know—the farther north you go, the stronger the mutations become.”

Rose nodded once.

“Then you understand,” Sylvia continued quietly, “that means stronger monsters too.”

“I do,” Rose replied. “But I’m being called there. And I intend to answer.”

Sylvia studied her for a long moment—the quiet determination behind those ocean eyes. No arrogance, just conviction.

“You know there’s a chance it’s a one-way trip,” she said at last. “No one really knows what’s up there anymore.”

Rose’s gaze drifted toward Kai, who sat beside her on another pillow. He met her eyes and gave a small nod.

“We know,” she said.

Sylvia exhaled slowly. “You think you can change the world.”

Rose’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know I can.”

A cool breeze slipped through the tent flap, brushing the hanging charms and ruffling the edges of the map once more. Outside, laughter and music still carried over the firelight—but within the tent, only purpose remained.