Dane walked back toward the Beast Camp as the first light crept over the dunes. The sun was still low, brushing the horizon in pale gold. His mana channels were not yet fully repaired, but now, with his core reforged, he could feel the natural current of flow again. It wasn't forced anymore; it wanted to move, to breathe. Once he found the rhythm of release, it became almost effortless. The memory of Draka's voice echoed through the stillness: "Overlap it with the meridians. Let the body and mana flow as one. Feel how your stamina stirs, and run the current beside it." He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, the pattern of energy aligning with the beat of his heart. Almost all of the channels were complete.

  He stepped into his soul space once more. Gathering each shard, he placed them one by one into the hollows of his spirit. Every fragment was a key point, a vital node, but their true nature eluded him. Draka had tried to explain once, twice, a dozen times, until his vacant stare finally made her sigh and give up. He smiled faintly at the memory.

  A few dry-fired spells later, and he could feel the seals placed on him by the elders before the rite crumble away. He tested the pathways, shaping a small portal, and his core stirred to life the moment mana began to move. Before, it had always felt like the power came from somewhere else, like he'd been a conduit. Now he understood. The mana was his. The core is where it had belonged.

  He looked back one last time toward the soul forge, its molten glow fading in the distance, then closed his fingers around Draka's necklace. She had been his first true teacher since his father, and leaving her felt like walking away from a pillar that had held him upright. For the first time in a long while, he felt small again, like a child lost and uncertain. He could almost hear her scolding him for that weakness. The thought made him grin once more. With a steady breath, Dane turned toward the camp and began walking, the ruins dissolving behind him into the heat.

  The sand shifted beneath his steps. Ahead, the mismatched hides of the Beast Camp flapped in the dawn wind. He could tell even from a distance that only a handful of the freed slaves remained.

  Most must have taken my offer to reject the Earthbound System, he thought. Still… I expected fewer.

  He lifted the tent flap and stepped inside. Half a dozen figures turned at once. Sara stood beside Zeph, and he could feel the hum of the Primal Accord wrapped around her like invisible flame. It didn't surprise him. No matter what he'd done for her, she still carried resentment and anger at the one who had denied her vengeance on Faerun.

  What did surprise him were the ones who had stayed. Four who would willingly fight for a world they had never known. The first to acknowledge him was a minotaur with a long white scar dragging over his shoulder. Two others were cat-folk that were slender, with sharp eyes, their ears twitching at every sound. With a hat and tucked tails, they could have passed for human. And of course, Lyra remained.

  Her gaze met his, and for a moment, he thought she could see everything: the forge, the scars beneath his skin, the hollow left by Draka's absence.

  "Zeph," he said quietly. "Join me outside for a moment."

  The eagle-kin nodded and followed him through the flap. The air outside was dry and heavy with sand. Dane hesitated before speaking, his voice steady but low.

  "Draka wanted you to have this." He held out the medallion.

  Zeph blinked, confusion crossing his face. "I get it," he said with a hollow laugh. "This is one of those pranks you used to talk about. Good one. You almost had me."

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  Dane didn't answer, just gave him a look that said everything. Zeph's smile died. His hand curled into a fist.

  "This isn't funny, Dane."

  "She wanted you to have it," he repeated. "Draka said she needed to return to the Golden Dragon. You're to lead the Beast Tide now."

  Zeph exhaled, the sound halfway between a sigh and a bitter laugh. I gave up my birthright for a life of freedom, he thought, though he didn't say it aloud. And still, the old dragon found a way to bind me to duty. He slipped the medallion around his neck, and the gold and ivory seemed to settle there as if it had been waiting all along.

  "Dane, it was a fun adventure. I wish we could have had more. Release me from my oath."

  "You never really meant it to begin with."

  "Just humor me. I'm a sucker for tradition."

  The words came to him through the System, unbidden yet formal, as though the world itself acknowledged the parting.

  [System Notification]: Zeph, you have fulfilled your oath and have served admirably. You are free to your own service once more.

  Zeph smiled faintly, the weight lifting from his shoulders. "Well, you shouldn't keep them waiting. They want to see their new home."

  Dane stepped forward and pulled the eagle-kin into a tight embrace. "If you ever need anything," he said quietly, "all you have to do is ask."

  Zeph's wings shifted against his back as he returned the gesture, brief but firm. "Then I'll try not to need much."

  As Dane turned toward the tent, he felt a hand pat his shoulder, a simple, grounding touch. No words followed, yet somehow, he understood. This was farewell. The last time he would see the Beast Tide.

  When he looked back, Zeph was already gone.

  "That was a touch dramatic," He said with a chuckle.

  He lingered outside the tent a moment longer, staring at the place where Zeph had stood. The wind had already erased his tracks. Only the faint shimmer of mana on the medallion chain told him the exchange had truly happened.

  "Was it true?"

  He turned. Sara stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the firelight behind her. Her ears were flat, tail still, voice quiet but sharp.

  "It was," Dane said.

  She stepped closer until she was beside him. For once, there was no venom in her tone, no simmering resentment: only exhaustion, and something like understanding.

  "I thought she'd outlive us all," she murmured. "That old lizard was too stubborn to die."

  "She didn't die," Dane replied. "She went home."

  Sara let out a dry laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Home. Must be nice." She looked toward the horizon, the dunes bathed in a faint golden haze. "You're going to the Collesium, aren't you?"

  He nodded.

  "Then don't die in there," she said. "I still owe you a few punches."

  He smiled faintly. "You can collect when this is done."

  Sara hesitated, then, almost awkwardly, touched her forehead to his shoulder before stepping back. "We'll keep the Tide moving. Thank you for... Everything."

  He didn't answer. She didn't wait for one. By the time he turned, she was already walking away, the wind tugging at her cloak until she vanished behind the rise.

  Dane exhaled and stepped back into the tent.

  The minotaur straightened as he entered, the white scar across his shoulder catching the lamplight. The cat-folk twins—if they were twins at all—stood close to one another, sharp-eyed, their tails twitching in subtle rhythm. Lyra was seated near the fire, turning her blade over in her hands.

  "If you've stayed," Dane said, "then you already know where this leads.”

  The minotaur's voice rumbled low. "You spoke of a war."

  "I did," Dane replied. "But that's not where we are heading, at least not yet.”

  He extended his hand, mana gathering between his fingers. The air shivered as space bent inward, a thin ring of light expanding into a swirling gate. Beyond it, clouds hung over an open plain, the familiar silhouette of the Dungeon Spire rising like a dark fang from the earth.

  Lyra rose to her feet, eyes narrowing. "We're leaving already?"

  "There's nothing left here," Dane said. "The Beast Tide has its leader."

  The smaller of the cat-folk tilted his head, watching the rippling portal. "What's on the other side?"

  "Chronowell," Dane said quietly. "It is the home of the Earthbound."

  He stepped through first. The world folded around him in silence. When he came to the other side of the portal, he saw a line almost a mile long. He tried to finish the walk home, but someone in the long line stopped him.

  "We've been waiting since yesterday," the man continued. "Said they were limiting entries to twenty a day. No way am I gonna let you cut me."