Hibana walked slowly back to camp, his pace uneven. His wings ached — not from exhaustion, but something deeper. Something structural. The kind of ache that hinted at change. Growth. His muscles had been stiff for days now, especially at the base of the wings where flesh met spine. Every stretch, every breath seemed to pull at something that wasn't quite ready… but would be, soon. It had been stronger since his last transformation. Maybe because he was pushing it more often now. Quiet errands into town. False faces for guild work. Blending in. Every six hours of True Polymorph aged his body by six months. And he'd used it dozens of times by now.
On the way to Hearthflame, he paused beside a river and leaned over the still water.
His reflection rippled back at him — familiar, but evolving.
The horns had begun to curve. Not just stubby growths anymore, but proper ridges, pushing out and back with a defiant grace. The skin at their base was red and raw, new bone forcing its way forward through tender flesh.
His teeth ached too, shifting subtly beneath his gums — sharpening, lengthening.
But it was the mane that caught his eye.
Once barely more than a fuzz of soft hair at his crown, it now flowed down the back of his neck in thick, fire-kissed strands — wild and luminous, like molten copper caught in motion. The color had deepened too: a burnished bronze laced with glowing reds, alive with flickers of light when it caught the sun. It trailed halfway down his back, untamed, swaying with each breath.
He blinked slowly at the sight.
"I think I'm certainly no longer a baby now," he thought.
"Perhaps… a child. The equivalent of maybe a twelve-year-old boy?"
That sounded right.
His limbs were longer. His wings heavier. The curve of his back stronger. He wasn't awkward anymore — not quite. There was something balanced in his build now. Something beautiful.
Hibana left the riverside and continued toward Hearthflame.
Up ahead, Zerrusha stood near a wooden watchtower, his arms crossed and eyes scanning the horizon. A pair of kobold children darted past, laughing as they slipped between his legs, nearly knocking him off balance.
Zerrusha cursed under his breath, but his annoyance vanished the moment he saw Hibana approaching.
Their eyes met.
Without hesitation, Zerrusha dropped to one knee, bowing low, his head nearly touching the ground.
Hibana stopped in front of him.
"Rise, Zerrusha," he said softly. "You bow to no one. Not even me."
Zerrusha rose and nodded. "Forgive me, great healer Hibana… It isss in our traditionss. I owe you my life."
Hibana shook his head. "I didn't do it to put you in my debt, Zerrusha. I did it so you could live. This world still needs you. I still need you. If you feel you owe me anything, then let it be this — protect this settlement."
Zerrusha's expression softened into something like joy, and Hibana offered him a small smile in return.
"Where iss the little human mage?" Zerrusha asked.
Hibana's gaze dropped. "I need to speak with Tsu about that. Have you seen her?"
Zerrusha nodded and gestured toward a distant tree. Hibana followed his eyes and spotted her — seated beneath its trunk, still as stone, deep in meditation.
"You look different," Zerrusha added. "Your hornss… your wingss…"
Hibana nodded. "Yeah. I'm growing fast. I'm trying not to… but it's a side effect of one of my spells. It's useful. Just expensive."
Zerrusha said nothing, only nodded again.
Hibana gave him one last glance, then turned and walked toward Tsu.
As Hibana quietly approached, Tsu spoke without turning.
"What do you want, dragon?"
He stopped a few paces behind her and sat down, the grass shifting under his weight. His voice was low, steady — but there was a tension beneath it.
"I know your code," he said. "And what I'm about to ask… I don't ask lightly."
Tsu didn't move. Her posture remained composed, meditative.
"What is it?" she asked.
Hibana hesitated only a moment. "Solryn… he's been taken. Kidnapped by bandits. And I need—" he exhaled, the word catching in his throat, "I need your help."
One of Tsu's goat-like ears twitched.
"I see."
A pause followed — not long, but heavy.
"How many?"
Hibana looked toward the horizon, toward the ruin-covered forest that hid the camp. "A couple hundred. Maybe more."
Tsu sighed — not in surprise, but with the weary acceptance of one who had long known how the world worked. She rose to her feet in a single smooth motion, then turned to face him.
"Then your mage friend is already dead," she said plainly. "Though… you might find a way to save him with that strange power of yours."
Her eyes met his. There was no cruelty in them — only clarity.
"As for me," she added, resting a hand lightly on the hilt of her blade, "I would relish the chance to thin their numbers. It would be a good death."
Hibana looked her directly in the eyes. "I've seen their camp. I observed it quietly from the outside. Solryn is alive. They're holding him there for three days. Why, I couldn't say."
Tsu remained silent.
"I'm not asking you to fight with me," Hibana continued. "I'm asking you to come… in case I can't convince them to release him."
Tsu's brow lifted slightly.
"If it comes to bloodshed," he said, "I want you to be my last resort."
Tsu stepped closer, her gaze cutting into him.
"I have yet to understand what you are," she said. "I keep calling you a dragon because that's what I see. But how you act? You're nothing like any dragon I've ever known. Any other would have burned entire villages to ash for what you've suffered. And yet, you still hesitate."
She studied him — not with cruelty, but with the cold, focused scrutiny of a warrior judging the edge of a blade.
Then she scoffed, turned her back.
"I will not stain my sword with cowardice," she said. "If I go, it will be to slaughter the entire lot of them. Nothing less."
Hibana's voice was soft. "I understand. Just know this doesn't make me think any less of you."
Tsu walked away.
"And don't think this makes me think any higher of you, dragon."
Hibana got up and walked toward the outskirts of Hearthflame.
"Looks like it's just gonna be me, then," he thought. "Sure, I could bring the kobolds. I could call on the lizardfolk. But they've already suffered enough."
He tightened his fist. "It's high time I showed this 'Ghost of the Forest' that I give as good as I get."
Then he paused.
"But… how am I going to free Solryn?" he muttered aloud. "I can't exactly stroll in as a young dragon and say, 'Hey guys, that's not very nice of you—let him go.'"
He snorted — a short, warm laugh that surprised even him.
The smile faded quickly, replaced by thought.
"These bandits… I know why they exist. They're desperate. The world denied them a place in it, and now they're carving out one of their own. But what if..."
His gaze drifted to the treetops.
"What if I gave them that place? What if I showed them… that there's room for them in the Fae Wilds, too?"
Hibana continued walking.
"I am not being naive. this world has already showed me what these monsters really are. How quickly they wanted something better. They only needed someone to show them the way."
Hibana began running back to the bandit camp.
"Im coming Solryn! You just hang in there!" he shouted as he ran into the Trees.
Solryn watched as the wooden door to his room creaked open.He couldn't speak — the gag was still tight against his mouth — and his arms were bound to a thick post in the center of the room.
A man stepped in wearing a heavy brown leather cloak over battered half-plate. His hair was messy, brown, and unkempt. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days. His face was stern, weathered — not cruel, but cold.
He dragged a wooden chair across the floor and slammed it down in front of Solryn. Then, without ceremony, he spun it around and sat in it backward, resting his arms across the backrest.
He smirked, just a little.
"Now… if I hear you so much as think about casting a spell after I pull this gag off, I'll put my dagger in your ear so fast you'll be dead before you hit the floor. Understood?"
Solryn glared at him but gave a slight nod.
"Good."
The man reached forward, yanked the gag down, and Solryn coughed violently — spit and breath fighting their way back out of his throat.
"So… what were you doing in my forest?"
Solryn rolled his eyes. "Picking flowers for a pretty maiden."
Riven smirked. "Cute."
He suddenly drove his dagger into the post — the blade landing inches from Solryn's head with a solid thunk. Solryn flinched, breath catching, then glared at the man.
"My name's Riven Alabaster," the man said, casually resting his arms across the chair's back again. "Maybe you've heard of me. The Ghost of the Forest."
He tilted his head.
"Now. Why don't you tell me what you were really doing out there? I heard you were traveling with some warrior. Thought you could sneak up on me, collect the bounty? Lot of fools have tried."
Solryn scowled. "Get to the point."
He was already tired of this thug's bravado. "If you wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already. And if you're hoping for ransom… you'll be disappointed."
Riven laughed — a short, genuine bark of amusement.
"You've got some stones, mage. I'll give you that." He leaned in, voice lowering just a bit. "No. I don't want ransom. I want soldiers."
He gestured broadly, as if that explained everything.
"Like I said, there's a big ol' bounty on my head. Courtesy of our friends in the Church of Ordos."
His smile faded slightly.
"And you mages… well. You and the Church don't exactly break bread, do you?"
Solryn sighed. "They've been known to get on my nerves from time to time, yes."
Riven grinned and nodded. "Thought so."
He leaned back in the chair, stretching just a little — like this whole conversation was just a formality.
"Well, it just so happens I've been building what you might call… a little family out here. Bunch of C, D, and B tiers — all sick of the Church and their damn lies. People like me. People like you, maybe."
He gestured around vaguely, like the whole crumbling room was a throne room.
"We're growing all the time. Right here in my little hidey hole in the forest."
Then he leaned forward again, voice lowering just enough to sound sincere.
"So here it is. I want you to join the family."
A pause.
"The pay's good. The food's better. And the women? Well…" He smirked. "We're working on that."
Solryn blinked.
Then, slowly, he started to laugh.
At first it was soft, but it grew — a dry, wheezing laugh that echoed off the wooden walls like it didn't care who heard it.
Riven raised an eyebrow. "Something funny?"
Solryn shook his head, still smiling. "You have no idea."
He leaned forward as much as the ropes would let him. "You think this is rebellion. A camp full of outcasts. A charismatic leader with a chip on his shoulder and a cause in his back pocket."
He gestured with his chin toward the door. "You know what I was doing before I ended up here, Ghost? Living in a stone tower under another man with too much power and not enough answers. The robes were cleaner, sure — and the food didn't come with mold — but it was exactly the same."
Riven didn't speak.
Solryn's smile faded into something almost... tired.
"You didn't escape anything. You just flipped the table and sat at the other end."
Riven nodded once, then pulled the knife from the post and sheathed it. Without a word, he gagged Solryn again and stood up.
"I see you're immune to bullshit. Good."
He turned, pausing at the door.
"The real reason I'm doing this?" he said. "It's because me and my men — we're tired. Tired of being told we don't matter. Tired of a world that expects us to crawl into the gutter and die just because of where we were born."
His voice sharpened, fist clenching at his side.
"This world... these people... they've let A-tier fat cats run the show for too long. I think it's high time for revenge."
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Me and my crew? We're gonna show them we're worth more than some number stamped on our birth."
A pause.
"I'll give you a couple days to think it over. After that? Well…"
His smirk returned.
"You can join your buddies in the Church."
Riven stepped out, slamming the door behind him.
Solryn stared at the door in silence.
"Funny," he thought. "He reminds me so much of Hibana."