"You're looking perkier," Kith observed as the odd couple walked toward the village.

  Cocky walked taller, more confident. Having a predator for a friend felt kinda cool. "It's amazing how good it feels to have a friend by your side."

  "Don't get carried away now. I'm only helping you out here."

  "I'm just trying to say... thank you."

  "Don't mention it, feathers." warm feeling spread through her chest. Uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. She shoved it down.

  The village came into view.

  So did the villagers.

  "What's that?"

  "Is that the cockatrice from yesterday?"

  "Can't be—"

  "By the gods! Is that a hyena?"

  "That can't be good! It might eat the cockatrice!"

  "Oh no, don't eat our king!"

  "Kith," Cocky said quietly, "I think we've got a problem."

  "Don't worry about it. You'll be fine. You've got me."

  "Is that a hyena?"

  "Omens of evil, those are!"

  "It's going to eat our king!"

  "Hyenas eat chickens!"

  "Kill it before it kills the prophet!"

  An apple flew past Kith's head.

  Her legs stopped moving.

  She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

  The crowd surged closer. Hunters with bows. Arrows nocked.

  Mother falling. Arrow through her heart. Blood in the dust.

  Her throat closed. She shut her eyes. Shook her head hard.

  When she opened them—

  Wait. Is that a... broom?

  "It's going to EAT him!"

  "KILL THE BEAST!"

  Cocky stepped in front of Kith, wings spread wide.

  Kith's eyes went wider. Her legs still wouldn't move.

  Then—worse—a black shape racing toward them through the crowd.

  A dog. With intent. Dangerous.

  "So this is how I die," Kith whispered.

  She closed her eyes, bracing for impact.

  The dog raced past her and spun to face the crowd, positioning herself between Kith and the mob.

  Kith's legs wobbled.

  ***

  Ink growled.

  "Get out of it, stupid dog!"

  Ink took a step forward. The crowd hesitated.

  A few brave villagers crept closer.

  Ink barked, sharp, commanding, the villagers backed up a little before the people at the back pushed the front people forward.

  Stormdrink sang as Seren drew it, moving to stand next to Ink.

  "She's protecting the beast! Traitor!"

  The crowd closed in.

  Seren raised Stormdrink.

  Ink snapped at the air and growled—low, the type you feel in your stomach just before you realize you've made a serious mistake. But crowds don't realize danger until it's too late.

  A lute's opening chord cut through the chaos—loud, commanding, impossible to ignore.

  Then another chord. And another.

  The crowd hesitated. Turned.

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  Dain stood on a vendor's cart, lute in hand, grinning like chaos was his natural habitat.

  "OI! CITIZENS OF ELDMERE!" His voice carried—not polished, but real, the kind of voice that demanded you listen. "Yeah, you lot! Can we have a chat about what's happening here?"

  "Get down!"

  "This doesn't concern you, bard!"

  "Nah, see—" Dain played a sharp, aggressive riff. "—it concerns ALL of us. 'Cause you're about to do something proper stupid."

  He jumped down from the cart, walking toward the standoff. Still playing. Energy crackling off him.

  "Right, so—here's the thing you're missing." He pointed at Cocky with his lute. "That cockatrice? YOUR prophet? YOUR king? Look at him. Really look."

  The crowd shifted, uncertain.

  "He's standing in front of that hyena. PROTECTING them. Why d'you think that is?"

  "The beast will eat him!"

  "Will they though?" Dain looked at Kith, trembling and frozen. "Mate, that 'beast' is scared out of their mind. And your king—your KING—is the one doing the protecting. So maybe—just maybe—you've got this backwards, yeah?"

  He kept moving forward. The music shifted with him—softer, but insistent.

  "Yesterday. The prophecy. What happened when your cockatrice crowed?"

  Silence.

  "The rain stopped," someone said quietly.

  "The skies cleared!" another added.

  "He said the rain would clear—and it did!"

  "EXACTLY!" Dain's grin was wild. "Not five minutes later. Not 'eventually.' The SECOND he crowed, yeah? That's not coincidence, that's not luck—that's something real."

  He stopped playing. Let the silence breathe.

  "So this bird—who somehow KNEW the weather would change, who got it bang on—looks at this hyena and sees what? A mate. Someone worth protecting."

  His voice dropped, serious but still urgent. "So I'm asking you—d'you trust him or not? 'Cause you can't have it both ways. Either he's a prophet and you believe him, or he's just a drunk bird and none of this matters."

  An old woman stepped forward. "The lad's right. If the cockatrice chose the beast..."

  "Maybe the hyena's meant to be here," another voice said. "Part of whatever's coming."

  The crowd began to waver.

  Dain started playing again—triumphant now. "THERE we go! Thinking! Using your brains instead of your pitchforks! Love it. This is what I'm talking about."

  He spun toward Seren, gave her a quick nod and a wink. "You can put the sword away, Seren. We're good."

  "Are we?" Seren muttered, but she lowered Stormdrink.

  Dain glanced at Kith—still frozen, trembling. His grin faltered for half a second. He caught Seren's eye, tilted his head toward the hyena.

  Seren moved quietly toward Kith while Dain kept the crowd's attention.

  "Right! Now that we're not murdering anyone—"

  Thud.

  Cocky collapsed in a heap of iridescent feathers.

  The crowd gasped.

  "OUR KING!"

  Dain spun around. "—Oh brilliant. See what you lot did? Scared our prophet half to death!" He waved them back. "Everyone BACK! Give him space! He needs air, not you lot breathing on him!"

  The crowd shuffled backward, murmuring anxiously.

  "Someone get water!"

  "Is he breathing?"

  "Our poor king!"

  Dain surveyed the scene—Cocky unconscious, Kith still frozen, Seren trying to guide the trembling hyena away from the crowd. He turned back to the villagers, arms spread wide.

  "Right then! Once our king wakes up and stops giving us all heart attacks—someone's buying me a drink. 'Cause calming you angry lot down TWICE in two minutes? That's bloody exhausting work, that is."

  ***

  The tavern buzzed with celebration—ale sloshing from raised tankards, laughter bouncing off the low beams, and the sweet-sour smell of spilled beer soaking into old wooden floors.

  They'd claimed a corner table—as far from the celebrating crowd as possible. Cocky kept his wings tucked tight, trying to take up less space. Kith sat rigid, watching the exits. Only Dain seemed comfortable, sprawled across his chair like he owned the place.

  "So, weather-god, how's fame treating you?" Dain said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  "Mortifying," Cocky said slowly. Deliberately. He took a breath. Everyone waited for him to say something else. Silence stretched.

  Finally Cocky let go of his breath. "You could have died for me. Why did you all defend me?" His voice trembled. He looked at Ink, Seren, and Dain each in turn.

  "I didn't," Kith said softly, looking down at her paws.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  "I didn't do anything. I was supposed to protect you and I—" Her voice cracked. "I froze."

  Seren's hand tightened on her cup. She knew that voice. That self-blame. She'd heard it in her own head often enough.

  The silence settled like a weight.

  "Had a clan once. Hunters came." Still staring at her paws. "I ran. Left them. They died and I ran."

  Her voice was raw, angry—at herself.

  "Thought maybe this time would be different. Thought maybe I could—" She shook her head. "But I just froze. Again. And YOU—" She looked at Cocky finally. "—YOU protected ME. A Cockatrice. Protecting a hyena."

  The table went quiet.

  Cocky moved closer to Kith, making soft clucking sounds. "You came with me. You tried. That's more than nothing."

  "I failed you."

  "You're still here. I'm still here." Cocky’s voice was gentle. "That's what matters."

  Ink shifted, whined.

  “Freezing isn’t cowardice, it’s trauma” Seren said softly.

  Everyone looked at her.

  "She didn't choose to freeze. Her body chose for her." She looked at Kith. "I've seen it before."

  Seren's jaw tightened. Shut up. This isn't about you.

  Kith stared at Seren, her eyes glassy, her lip quivering.

  Ink licked Kith’s face.

  "They're going to crown you tomorrow," Dain said to Cocky. "Noon, probably."

  "I can't be king. I just want to crow at dawn and NOT have hundreds of people staring at me."

  "They won't let you walk away." Kith's voice was steadier now, like focusing on someone else's problems helped. "You prophesied. It came true. You're their hope."

  Kith drew a deep breath, and sighed. "Only way out is through."

  Everyone looked at her.

  "What do you mean?" Cocky asked.

  "Not sure yet. Just... thinking." She looked at Cocky. "You helped me today. When you didn't have to. When I'd failed you."

  "You didn't—"

  "I did." Kith's voice was firm. "But... maybe I can still help. Somehow."

  Dain raised his cup. "To the worst king Eldmere's ever going to have."

  Seren smirked despite herself. "And the shortest reign."

  Dain added "Three days. Maximum."

  Even Kith almost smiled.

  Someone pounded on the door. The whole inn went silent.

  "The council wants to see the prophet! The coronation is set for tomorrow at noon in Eldmere City!"

  Everyone exchanged looks.

  Cocky closed his eyes. "Brilliant," he muttered.