With slow, cautious steps, InuShin, Syelira, and Dravien walked into the heart of the village, the foxfire lanterns lit their paths. Ambient glow of soft emerald and amber flickered off the homes, sculptures, and residents.

  Kobrrev of all ages paused from their actions; weaving, cooking, and playing. Each one with a wide, sharp-toothed smile.

  Three children Kobrrev scampered near them, tugging on the visitor’s clothes before vanishing into a puff of leaf-shaped illusions.

  Heart jumping, InuShin stepped back as he watched the leaves flutter around them. Ears flattening, Syelira gripped her bow tightly.

  An elderly Kobrrev cackled warmly and waved a hand, blowing the leaves away. “Don’t mind them, just testing new tricks.” Her eyes gleamed with pride.

  Heated clay, roasted wildroots glazed in honey, and herbal incense filled the village. The melodies of stringed instruments, harps and lutes, echoed through the forest canopies. Peaceful. Comforting.

  “This way! This way!” Rilka hollered, motioning for them to follow.

  “Papa is at the craftshop,” Rivven said.

  “Yeah! Follow us!” Rilka skipped through the village.

  The trio followed the children.

  Built into the gnarled roots of an ancient oak tree, a workshop emitted a faint heat, the flickering of fire light bouncing against the walls. Smoke billowed out of the small pathways, floating around the branches and rustling the leaves.

  A tall man with long orange hair, tied back into a single braid by a thin strip of deep green leather. His malachite eyes focused on the task at hand. Gripping the chisels of bone and stone, he shaped knives with fox-tail tassels.

  His orange fox ear twitched sharply as the children bursted into the workshop, Rilka’s laughter bouncing off the cured walls.

  He turned quickly. His movements were fluid, practice, like a hunter-experienced craftsman.

  A small smile crossed his lips then quickly faded as his gaze fell upon the newcomers, narrowing slightly. No immediate hostility, but there was weight in his stare. Protective. Calculative. The kind of look that measured intent and threat in a single breath.

  InuShin, Syelira, and Dravien slowly approached the workshop entrance.

  Before he could speak, Rilka skidded to a stop beside him, nearly tangling herself in his legs.

  “Papa! Papa!” she chirped, little ears perched high. “They played Shadow-Tag with us! And the one with the sword caught me!”

  Her older brother crossed his arms dramatically. “Only because I let him.”

  The man’s ears twitched once more, this time in restrained amusement.

  He looked down at his children, then back to InuShin, eyes tracing the careful way he stood.

  InuShin’s heart pounded, yet he stood tall, despite the lingering pain from his wounds and battle exhaustion. So this is their dad? Reminds me of Father. Does he craft swords as well?

  The man’s expression softened. “You caught her?” His voice was low and roughened by smoke. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Most grown hunters don’t manage that.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” InuShin said, exhaling slowly.

  “She never makes it so.” The man stepped forward and clapped a heavy hand against InuShin’s shoulder. Firm, not unkind, forcing him to lose balance. “Good reflexes nonetheless.”

  Syelira instinctively shifted her position, her hand hovering near her bow.

  The tension eased when the man inclined his head in a respectful bow, ears dipping. “I am Rasken, son of Tal’vorr,” he said. “And these two are my greatest troublemakers.”

  The children grinned proudly.

  “I thank you,” Rasken continued, voice steady, “for returning them unharmed. They can…” his graze flicked briefly to the disturbed soil clinging to InuShin’s clothes. “...get a little carried away at times.” A soft chuckle escaped him, followed by a sigh.

  Gesturing around the workshop, he said. “Come. You stand in a place shaped by patience and mistakes. Take a seat, relax. I wouldn’t be surprised if these two exhausted you.” He shifted his attention to his children. “Rilka, Rivven, please fetch something to drink for our guests. For me as well, it’s been a long day.”

  “Yes Papa!” Rilka dashed out of the workshop, light on her feet, giggling. Rivven followed close behind.

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

  Stepping inside, InuShin took a seat on a bench made of solid oak. His muscles were still tight. The warmth of the forge seeped into his bones, easing the ache in his ribs and lingering stiffness in his limbs. The fresh scent of heated resin and fresh wood filled his lungs, grounding him.

  In the distance, laughter and illusion-light danced through the village. Playful. Carefree.

  The Kobrrev feel like a mix between the Skifulv and S?lvcù.

  Syelira sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. She leaned against him a little, enough for comfort but not too much to cause him pain.

  A small warmth filled his heart as a smile tugged at his lips.

  Dravien leaned against a support root, arms crossed, gaze roaming the workshop with open curiosity.

  On one wall, pieces of jewelry clung to the walls. Woven textile with web-like patterns spaces between the jewelry, each one adorned with celestial patterns or crescent moons filled another wall. Intricate fox-like masks filled the third wall, each one with a unique pattern of different colors; red, orange, and white being the most predominant.

  Reminds me of the kitsune masks back home in Japan.

  Fox totems and different sorts of potteryfilled the shelves. Illusion sigils were etched into the clay molds, each one faintly shimmering as though breathing.

  “These aren’t just decorations,” Dravient noted quietly.

  Rasken smiled, stoking the fire with a hooked poker. “No. Every mark is a lesson. Every illusion is taught with intention. The forest listens. It remembers how you move through it.”

  A shift rippled through the space beyond the roots. Footsteps slowed. Voices hushed.

  Outside the oak’s base, shapes began to pass. Ears peeking around bark and woven walls. Curious faces gathered at a respectful distance, firelight reflecting in their malachite eyes. Small children gathered around the legs of the adults, clinging to their clothes.

  “Why are they watching us?” Syelira asked.

  “I’m not sure,” InuShin said.

  “Forgive them,” Rasken said, angling his ears back towards the growing crowd. “We don’t often receive visitors, not since the war. Once in a while, diplomats arrive. But never children. Maelira and Edrimar are our main visitors.”

  “Maelira and Edrimar came with us, but we had to take different paths in the forest,” Dravien said.

  “The Skifulv too,” InuShin added.

  “The Skifulv came here too?” The man’s eyes widened, his posture changing. Defensive. Protective. “What matters do the Skifulv have to come here?”

  Dravien opened his mouth but the crowd outside began whispering to each other, parting themselves in the middle. The others, every one safe, walked briskly toward the workshop. Rilka and Rivven led them, both carrying two cups each.

  Maelira’s eyes fell on InuShin and Syelira and her shoulders instantly relaxed. Closing the distance, he crouched in front of them, resting her hands on their shoulder. “Shin, Sye, I’m thankful you both are safe. You too, Dravien.”

  “I kept my word, though it was your son that helped us through the children’s game.”

  “A game?”

  “Yes, Mother.” He nodded. “On our route, we crossed paths with two little kids and in order for us to get out of the forest, we had to play their game.”

  “And they won!” Rilka handed a cup to InuShin and Syelira. “For bravery and playing our game.”

  Rivven handed a cup to Dravien and then his father.

  Rasken lifted his cup slightly. “Drink, there will be many questions soon. With so many visitors, it won’t be long before the Elders call for us.”

  The Elders. InuShin ran his fingers along the rim of the cup. Its steam drifting upward. The mixture of earthy aroma and sweet floral infiltrated his nose.

  Syelira nudged him with her arm and then took a sip. A small tug pulled at his lips and he took a drink, savoring the refreshing tea, the ache in his body slowly vanishing.

  “Maelira.” Rasken said, stepping towards her and shaking her hand. “It is good to see you. I hope it’s with good tiding; especially since you brought Skifulv to our village.”

  Her expression hardened, jaw clenching.

  “Another war,” Edrimar blurted out.

  Maelira glanced sharply at Edrimar.

  Gasps and murmurs erupted from the Kobrrev. Many in fear. Several in concern.

  “Another… war?”

  Maelira nodded slowly.

  A bell sang loudly, grasping everyone’s attention. Their ears twitched, angling toward the center of town. It was low, layered, and resonated throughout the village, as if it had been struck several times.

  “That sound…” he took another drink and then set his cup down “...means the Elders call for us.”

  The crowded villagers slowly dispersed, moving in the same direction.

  “Come. The Elders will want a full explanation.” Rasken stepped out of the workshop.

  “Can I bring my tea with me?” InuShin asked. “It’s helping me feel much better.”

  The Kobrrev man smiled. “Of course. They infused it with magic to help you recover.”

  It worked fast.

  Dravien and the others followed the Kobrrev villagers. Several children scampered ahead, laughing, only to be gently redirected by elders with amused clicks of their tongues.

  Syelira took InuShin’s hand in hers, walking slowly beside him as he took another sip of his warm tea.

  Their path brought them to the heart of the settlement, past woven homes nestled into the earth and timber arches hung with charms that sang softly as they passed. Illusions flickered at the edges of vision, foxfire lanterns that vanished when stared at too long. Carved masks smiled, as if presenting their own emotion of curiosity.

  At the center of the village, an open clearing shaped like a shallow bowl stood. Ancient stones ringed the space, each one etched with fox sigils, rune symbols, and lunar marks. Above, lanterns of woven bark and ghostly light of soft green and amber hovered, casting a warm glow that danced with every movement.

  Sitting upon low vine-covered stones seats, the Elders waited patiently. Their presence was quiet, but imposing. Some leaned on carved staves; others rested their hands on their knees. Dressed in loose robes, decorated in celestial symbols, their skin resembled worn leather.

  Their ears twitched subtly as InuShin and the others approached.

  Maelira stepped forward first, calm and composed. Zarien and Dravien followed suit along with the Skifulv warriors. Edrimar joined them, his steps measured and movements careful, though the fire in his eyes remained intense.

  Murmured among the villagers shifted once more, words of respect as they took in his bandaged wounds, dried blood, and unmistakable marks of battle.

  Pulling him forward, Syelira her position beside Maelira.

  One of the Elders rose slowly. “This is where truth matters, and stories are weighed.” His orange hair slightly faded with age. “State the reason for S?lvcù and Skifulv to make their appearance.”

  Maelira bowed her head briefly. “First, let me apologize for our intrusion. Especially so close to the Festival of Illusion. If it weren’t urgent, we would have waited until after.”

  As Maelira explained the situation to the Elders, InuShin noticed an illusion casting over the village.

  At the far edges of the clearing, additional foxfire lanterns were being raised. Some burned true and hot. Others danced, casting shadows that didn’t match the bodies that made them.

  Kobrrev moved in quiet purpose, carrying bundles wrapped in dark cloth. Many carried lang, curved pieces of wood, each etched with runes and spiral sigils and frayed at the ends.

  Are they going to burn those?

  Beyond sight, music filled the space. At first, wind instruments hummed softly, a single note that vibrated through bones rather than ears. Soon after, a dry rattle of bone and shell, rhythmic and deliberate, like a heartbeat waiting to quicken.

  “They’re preparing,” Syelira whispered. “Once the Elders finish, and the night falls upon us. Stories take control.”

  “Stories?” InuShin asked quietly.

  “Similar to the S?lvcù, the Kobrrev embrace life through storytelling and dancing,” she smiled softly. “Except theirs is filled with magical displays and colorful illusions.”

  After his Mother’s voice softened, speaking of loss and alliances, one of the Elders nodded gravely.

  Behind them, the first illusion flared to life above the treetops. A vast fox-shaped silhouette formed of fire and moonlight, towering briefly against the sky before dissolving into drifting embers that vanished before touching the ground.

  The villagers didn’t cheer. They bowed their heads.

  Whatever this festival is, we must embrace it like the Skifulv’s. That way they know we will work with them in order to maintain peace among the races.