Even when summer came to the Caldra Range, the mornings at Ergenholst Fortress remained cold. The bedrock blocked the heat. Deep within the cavern, the stone held its chill even in the height of summer. In air where a single blanket was still not enough, Ashna Vilhelm stood in a corridor near the training grounds. That night——the words the fortress's veteran soldiers had whispered still seemed to seep into the stone walls. Perhaps someone had leaked the location, she thought. There was no evidence for it. But words remain, even without evidence. She pinched the cuff of her shirt between her fingertips. A month and a half had passed since then. Her control over magic was still unstable, and each training session repeated cycles of overload and misfire. Zeerie had said, "You're trying to swim while drowning—that's why you sink." Her mind understood the meaning. But deep in her belly, she still did not. --- The executive briefing took place in the operations room deep within the fortress. A single rough-hewn table sat in a chamber carved from natural rock. A map was pinned to the wall—the ridgeline of the Caldra Range and the contours of the Trammel Wastes spreading south below it. The red-earth badlands. The place Ashna had walked for days. Zeerie Karlsvine stood before the table. Her long purple hair was bound at the back, and her silver eyes swept the room with measured calm. The small black horns at her temples reflected the firelight. "[serious]I will now issue today's orders," Her voice was quiet, yet it was the kind of voice that drew the air in the room taut. "[serious]We are to sweep the old mine. An abandoned pit on the eastern slope of the Caldra Range—once used by the demon race, abandoned twenty years ago. Scout reports confirm that at least two subterranean lizards have made their nest there," Subterranean lizards. Ashna had heard of them several times from fortress dwellers. Large reptiles exceeding three meters in length, they preferred underground spaces and darkness. Their eyesight was nearly nonexistent; they tracked prey by sound and heat changes. Their scales were thick, deflecting frontal blade strikes. Someone had said the basic strategy was to aim for the soft parts—the head or belly. Zeerie's gaze turned toward Ashna. "[serious]Ashna. I am assigning you as the attack unit—a user of flame magic. The lizards react strongly to heat. If used skillfully, you can even lure them," With only that, Zeerie called out names. "[serious]Grimhart Stark, Raeva, Theorn. The unit will consist of these four," Grimhart Stark stood against the wall, arms crossed. His silver hair fell to his shoulders. His mismatched eyes—one gold, one violet—looked once at Ashna, then turned toward Zeerie. "[cold]I have one question," His voice held no emotion. Not anger, but rather the tone of someone stacking facts. "[cold]Ashna's flame magic is still unstable in its control. If it misfires in a narrow mine shaft, we will be in danger before the lizards are. I do not believe assigning her as the attack unit is the appropriate decision," Ashna listened in silence. She could not deny it. His observation was correct. And because it was correct, it cut deep. But she would not crumble from that pain alone. Zeerie held her gaze on Grimhart for a moment. "[serious]She will not learn control through training—she will learn it through actual combat. That is my judgment," "[cold]...Understood," He said nothing more. But as he turned on his heel to prepare for departure, Grimhart did not look at Ashna even once. His profile alone told her that this man had left half of what he wanted to say unspoken. Ashna bit down lightly on her back teeth. She knew they thought her a burden. She understood that. And yet it was Zeerie who had told her to come anyway. Then there was nothing to do but answer that call—her mind reasoned this way. But deep in her belly, a cold stone of anxiety had settled and would not move. --- The entrance to the old mine lay halfway up a slope two hours' walk east of the fortress. A horizontal shaft bored into the bedrock, its stone entrance crumbling at the edges. The air carried the smell peculiar to places abandoned for twenty years—damp decay and earth. The summer mountain light blazed outside, yet the passage turned to absolute darkness within mere meters. Raeva lit a torch. Raeva was sixteen, her dark brown hair reaching her shoulders and tied back. Her frame was slight, but her movements were quick; she excelled at scouting. Theorn was seventeen, broad-shouldered and sturdy—the shield bearer. Both were young veterans of the fortress, having fought far longer than Ashna. The four advanced in single file through the mine shaft. The ceiling was low in places, barely a meter above an adult's head, and Grimhart had to crouch several times. The walls were rough basalt, and where the torch's light did not reach, there was complete darkness. Water seeped from certain spots, and the ground beneath their feet was slick. After about an hour of walking, the shaft opened into a wide space. A collapse site. Part of the ceiling had fallen, creating a chamber. The height was roughly five meters. The remnants of old support beams lay scattered across the walls. Then Raeva raised her hand. Everyone stopped. A sound came. A dragging, scraping noise. It came from ahead—and from behind as well, simultaneously. "[cold]We're surrounded," Grimhart drew his sword as he spoke low. The metal rang against the stone walls. In the torchlight's reach, smooth skin and an elongated body emerged—a subterranean lizard exceeding three meters, crawling from the darkness ahead. Its eyesight should have been nearly useless, yet its snout trembled in small movements. It was sensing their heat. The same sound approached from behind. Roles were assigned in an instant. Grimhart faced the one ahead; Ashna took the rear. Theorn raised his shield to cover Grimhart's flank, while Raeva used her mobility to harass and confuse. Ashna turned. The head of the approaching lizard floated in the torch's light. She searched deep within her chest. The hot something was there. She drew it out. In that moment—light bloomed. Stone walls engulfed in flame. A ceiling collapsing. Scorched colors. The blackened scales of the subterranean lizard overlapped with the color of Tuurya's walls from that day. Control shattered. With a sound like thunder, the flame projectile detonated at nearly three times its intended scale. The blast swept through the chamber. Raeva was hurled backward, slamming against the stone wall. Theorn pressed his hands to his ears and dropped to one knee. One lizard retreated, but fragments of collapsed rock scattered everywhere, and the torch went out. Darkness. Raeva's voice came as a groan. Theorn's ragged breathing was audible. "[angry]...Are you trying to kill us?" His voice was low. He had not shouted. But that very lowness conveyed a wrung-out anger more precisely than any other tone could have. Ashna clasped her hands before her chest. She sealed every outlet of her magic, pressing down with force the thing that thrashed within her body. She said nothing. She was not searching for excuses. She simply could not find words to return, because Grimhart's words were exactly, precisely right. Another torch was lit. Raeva rose from the wall, one hand pressed to her shoulder. She looked at Ashna. It was not hostility. It was the gaze of someone measuring whether she could be trusted—a cool, measured eye that had not yet rendered judgment. For a time, no one moved. Theorn stood, fighting through the ringing in his ears. Grimhart kept his gaze fixed on the darkness ahead, calculating the situation. The lizard that had retreated was still somewhere. They had not defeated both. --- The dragging sound began again. Two of them. From ahead and behind, crawling from deeper darkness than before. Subterranean lizards did not give up even when they retreated. They pursued whatever had entered their territory until it was gone. Grimhart turned and looked at Ashna. "[cold]I'll be the bait," It was not an explanation but a command. His voice was clipped, without waste. "[cold]I'll draw them with the sound of my blade. Once both lizards' attention is on me, wait three seconds—then fire from behind. Not a spread. A point strike," That was all he said. Grimhart struck his sword's hilt against the stone wall. Clang, clang, clang—the sound of metal striking rock echoed through the chamber. Both lizards' heads turned toward Grimhart, responding to the sound and vibration. Grimhart began to run. Across the chamber. Both lizards pursued him. Ashna stood motionless. She counted in her mind. One second. She stopped trying to summon emotion. She stopped trying to remember the village's flames. Instead, she thought of one thing alone—Grimhart was running because he believed she could wait three seconds. That man had trusted her with his instruction. Two seconds. Power gathered in her hands. This time, she felt the hot thing becoming flame, and she shaped it with her own will. Round. Small. Hard. A point. Three seconds. Ashna fired. Two fist-sized flame projectiles. The first struck the head of the forward lizard directly. The second hit the rear lizard's head almost simultaneously. The flames' scale was small. But they connected. They connected with precision. Both lizards staggered several steps. Then both went still. Silence. The torch's fire wavered. The shadows of four people fell across the stone walls. Someone exhaled long—whether Raeva or Theorn, Ashna could not tell. Grimhart stopped and turned. He looked at Ashna. He said nothing. But it was a gaze she had never been given before. Not anger, not distance, not assessment—something else entirely. Ashna could not yet name what kind of gaze it was. Only that it was different. In those three seconds of counting, Ashna felt she had finally understood in her body what Zeerie meant. "You're trying to swim while drowning—that's why you sink." It was not about erasing emotion. It was about not drowning in emotion, about narrowing your awareness to something else—just that. Only that. And she had not been able to do it for a month and a half. --- The four emerged from the mine shaft in the evening. Summer mountain light still lingered above the ridgeline. The outside air was cold, chilling deep into the lungs. Clothes reeking of sweat, earth, and iron felt heavier the moment they stepped outside. They would need to camp for the night to return to the fortress. The four built a fire on a flat rock outcropping a short distance below the mine entrance. Raeva's shoulder wound was shallow. Merely a bruise with no bone damage. Ashna took out her medicinal herb pouch to treat it, but Raeva said she could do it herself. There was no edge to her voice. It was simply the way of someone confirming she could manage her own care. Theorn distributed dried meat for the evening meal. No one spoke much. Soon Raeva wrapped herself in a blanket and closed her eyes. Theorn followed. Only the small campfire burned. Grimhart and Ashna remained. Grimhart watched the fire. The thin scar on his forehead was faintly visible in the light. The edge of a black scale pattern showed at his sleeve cuff—the mark of the Rite of Rebirth, the forbidden ceremony that transformed humans into demon race. Ashna chewed dried meat while watching the fire. It was not delicious. But her belly was empty, so she ate. After a time, Grimhart spoke. His tone was not directed at anyone in particular. "[serious]I was born on the Vernica Continent," Ashna did not move, dried meat still in her hand. "[serious]Born human. I had no family. I was placed in an orphanage and received only sword training. A facility under the Holy Staff Church—a place that existed only to raise disposable scout units. At fifteen, I was sent to the fron