Chapter Nine: Sorayelle

Gwyn didn’t move.

Her breathing was shallow. Barely-there shallow. Her ribs lifted so faintly it was hard to tell if they moved at all under the blood-matted fur and ragged, gaping wounds.

I pressed my hands to her side and flinched at the heat—wet and wrong and too much. Fresh blood, still warm. Still spilling.

“Gwyn?” I whispered.

No answer.

I shook her gently. Then harder. “Gwyn—wake up.”

Nothing.

My hand slipped. My fingers brushed a gash near her ribs, and she didn’t even twitch.

Didn’t growl. Didn’t flick her ear. Just lay there.

I pulled my hand back and stared at it.

Red. Covered. Coated in her blood. My fingers shook.

“I’m…” My voice broke. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

And then something inside me snapped. Like a rubber band pulled too tight.

“No,” I said. Quiet at first. Then louder. Angrier. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes—but I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t cry.

“I already died because of this fucking System. You’re not going to too.”

I dropped to my knees and pushed my palms against her wounds, not caring about the blood soaking into my skin. I forced everything I had into my hands. All my mana, all my focus, all my will. The bond. The flame. Gwyn.

“You said I can create spells when I’m upset, right?” I hissed upward. “That’s the Class I got, yeah? Based on emotion?”

No response.

Of course.

“Well, I'm upset!” I screamed. “I’m upset! I’m fucking furious!”

Nothing.

I gritted my teeth. “Heal her! Just—just heal her! Please—"

She was the only thing that made me feel safe. The only thing that saw me here.

My chest burned. The skin above my heart glowed.

[You have created a spell! Essence Link [1st] added to spell list.]

I didn’t wait.

I shoved the spell forward, through our bond, through my hands.

A soft tether of light—blue-white and barely visible—linked me to her. I felt it draw from me. Not just mana—health. My life-force itself, draining through the bond.

Her wounds started to close.

But it wasn’t enough. Not fast enough.

I leaned into her, holding her body close, giving more. I pushed more. My vision dimmed. My heart thudded in my chest like it wasn’t sure it should keep beating.

Her breathing deepened.

Her ribs lifted.

And then—

She blinked.

Golden eyes, bloodshot but focused.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Relief slammed into me. I gave one more push just to be sure.

“Stop,” Gwyn said. Her voice echoed in my head, weak but sharp.

“Just a little more,” I breathed.

“No.” Stronger this time. She growled. “Stop. I’m alright.”

I let go.

My arms fell to my sides. My hands still pulsed faintly with light. I watched the tether fade into her, little sparks breaking off and vanishing into the air.

“I just…” My voice cracked. “I just needed to make sure you were okay.”

I swayed, the world tilting, and barely caught myself on a rock.

Gwyn stirred. Her legs shook—but she stood. Somehow. Even like that, she still looked like something sacred.

Then her ears flicked.

She turned toward the cliffs. What she saw flashed into my own mind over our bond.

We weren’t alone anymore.

A girl crept forward through the ivy. No… not quite a girl. Her frame was small, but something about her felt older. Caliban. I recognized the features instantly now. Wild hair, ember-orange, and silver eyes without pupils. Her clothes were roughspun, her posture wary. But she wasn’t running.

She’d seen us.

I looked up at her, still panting. “Who are you?”

She froze partway down the final slope. Her voice was soft.

“I… I’m Sorayelle. I’m not here to fight.”

Gwyn moved between us. Not aggressive—just steady. Guarded.

“You’re… a Caliban?” I asked.

She nodded slowly. “Did you… not know there are some of us left?”

I hesitated. “No. I’m not from around here.”

Her head tilted, like she didn’t understand. “Do you have a House?”

“…No.” I frowned. “Nothing like that.”

She stepped forward a bit, hands to her chest. “Are you… a Soravahn?”

“I… don’t know what that is,” I admitted.

“But you were using magic,” she said, almost reverently. “Real magic. You must’ve earned it before the System was cut off. Only the Soravahn ever fought like that.”

I forced myself upright. My health was crawling back, slower than I liked. My body still felt drained and lightheaded.

“You can’t use the System?” I asked.

Her brows pulled tight. “Only the elders. Everyone else’s progress froze when the WorldHeart fell. And people born after… we’ve never had it at all. But you… you look so young.”

“I can use it,” I said. “Look—I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m about to fall over.”

And I wasn’t going to collapse in front of someone I’d just met.

I whispered the name in my mind, called the spell.

[Blood of the Phoenix].

My veins glowed orange. Fire roared through me, tracing over cuts and bruises, sealing everything shut in a rush of burning heat. My HP spiked. My mana plummeted.

I gritted my teeth through the expense.

Her eyes widened. “By the Azu’rei…”

I exhaled slowly, strength flooding back into my limbs. “Sorry. Needed that.”

I looked back up at her. “Okay. Let’s start over. Where’d you come from?”

She hesitated. “From Daruvasht… that’s where my House lives. You can really fight them?”

I followed her gaze to the bodies dissolving into loot orbs. Their forms shimmered away as usual, replaced by familiar floating spheres.

“More or less,” I said. “It’s getting easier as I level up. But I’m getting tired of their shit.”

“We all are…” she whispered. “Without the Western Ruler… they’d drag us to the WorldHeart to be changed..”

Her gaze dropped to Gwyn. “Is that… the Ruler? Purified?”

I looked at my familiar. “No. I killed the Ruler.”

Sorayelle’s face froze.

“I wasn’t supposed to?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

“No—no,” she said. “She was corrupted too. But… she used to protect this land before that. In her own way she still did. She would’ve killed us if she saw us—but she killed the Southern Ruler’s minions, too. We think a piece of her remembered what she used to be.”

I frowned. “You still haven’t really told me what she was protecting you from? What do you mean by the Skulkers wanting to change you?”

She looked at me like I’d asked if the sun was real. “You don’t know?”

“No,” I said. And I meant it.

“They used to be Caliban.”

My blood ran cold.

“They… were people?”

Sorayelle nodded. “Taken to Cowagen. To the WorldHeart. Twisted by the Southern Ruler. She used to be our Empress. Our Shahmira. Before she was turned.”

I looked at one of the loot orbs. Just a glowing ball now. But minutes ago…

“That’s horrible,” I whispered. “I thought they were just monsters.”

“My sister was taken two years ago,” Sorayelle said softly. “She could’ve been one of those.”

My hands tightened at my sides. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “They’re not themselves anymore. But… if you have the System—if you can level up—would you come with me? Meet my Grandmother? She leads my House.”

I hesitated. “Where are you living?”

She gestured up the cliff. “Where Cowagen can’t find us as easily. Beneath the rocks. Underground.”

“Underground?” I echoed.

She nodded. “You’d be able to be among your own kind. And we could probably… find you some clothes. And food?”

I blushed. I really didn’t need reminding of how torn my clothes were—or how ridiculous my Charisma-enhanced… figure… had gotten. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest.

“Yeah. That’d be good.”

And food. Fuck, I hadn’t eaten in over a day. I was too tired before to cook what I had looted—though I was very glad I hadn’t tried to eat any of the Skulker meat now that I knew what it was.

I looked at Gwyn. “What do you think?”

Her golden eyes met mine, calm now. “I believe they have information. Information we need if we’re to find your way home.”

I nodded and turned back to Sorayelle. “Alright. Just give me a second to collect the loot.”

I hesitated, glancing down at the orbs. At the place where the Skulkers—people—had fallen.

They weren’t Skulkers--or people--anymore. They were loot.

And I hated that.

But I couldn’t ignore the gains the System provided. Not if I wanted to live. Not if I wanted to make it back to my people—my world.

Not if I wanted to go home.

So I swallowed the guilt, stepped forward with one arm still crossed over my chest—and silently hoped the System would finally drop a goddamn shirt.