A voice. Distant. Strange.

  "Selen var’ae tysh nuor en’al…"

  Traebus’s mind swam through fog, his thoughts sluggish, drifting. The words were soft but unfamiliar, carrying a melodic quality, like a river flowing over stone.

  "…valis tor'ae linthar…"

  His body ached. A deep, heavy throb radiated from his side, chest, arms—everywhere. The wounds were wrapped, the fabric snug but clean, the stinging sharpness of antiseptic salve seeping into his skin.

  Breathing felt slow and deliberate, as if his body was forcing him to rest whether he liked it or not.

  "…thal'vess aen lunor…"

  The words floated nearby, spoken in a soft, measured tone. His head felt too heavy to lift, but he could tell he was lying on something softer than stone—a mattress. His mattress.

  Traebus groaned. That meant he was in his house.

  His voice came out dry, hoarse. "Please tell me I didn’t die and wake up in a really weird afterlife… because this hurts way too much for heaven."

  A shadow shifted above him.

  Traebus barely had time to process it before the rescued woman loomed over him, her bright green eyes piercing, studying him with the same intensity as a predator assessing prey.

  His brain, still sluggish, jumped to the worst conclusion.

  "Oh, fantastic. Am I about to be lunch? Do people eat people here? Because I feel like I would’ve liked a warning if cannibalism was on the table."

  The woman, completely ignoring his babbling, pressed a cool palm to his forehead, checking his temperature before moving to his bandaged wounds. Her touch was practiced, careful, as she unwound some of the wrappings, checking the healing process. Her fingers brushed over the sealed wounds, and for a brief second, he felt a tingle—as if the magic he’d used on her was responding to something within her.

  Something foreign.

  He didn’t like that.

  Before he could complain, she helped him sit up, her strength surprising given her previously near-dead condition. She pressed something to his lips—a small leaf, cupped with water.

  Traebus blinked at it, taking the drink automatically. The water was cool and crisp, oddly refreshing despite the lack of a proper cup.

  It hit him suddenly.

  "Oh, wow," he croaked. "I don’t have silverware either. My base is the Stone Age." He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Look, I usually run a much more respectable operation than this. But, you know, got a little busy fighting dinosaur murder squads and didn’t have time to install proper cutlery options. Apologies for the lack of civilization."

  The woman didn’t react to his sarcasm.

  Instead, she pointed at Dusk, her expression unreadable.

  Traebus paused. Something about her gesture, her intent, felt oddly... familiar.

  Like he understood her, even though she hadn’t spoken a word he recognized.

  The moment passed as Dusk turned and left the room without hesitation. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying several strips of smoked meat in his jaws, dropping them beside Traebus.

  The woman nodded, satisfied, and sat back, waiting.

  Traebus, still trying to wrap his head around the unspoken exchange, slowly reached for the meat.

  "Right. Cool. Guess we’re doing this."

  Traebus ate slowly, his movements sluggish. Even with the energy-lifting properties of the smoked meat, he could only manage a few bites before exhaustion began pressing down on him again. His body, despite being mended, was still wrung out, sore, and stubbornly weak.

  He let out a long sigh, resting his head back against the wall. "Alright, this is ridiculous. I literally wrestled a giant lizard to the death, got thrown around, magically healed a stranger, and now? Now, I can’t even finish a meal without needing a nap. Fantastic."

  The woman sighed sharply and said something in that odd, flowing language of hers.

  "Varis en’thalor, tuen ve’lath naen."

  Traebus squinted at her. "I’m assuming that was you chiding me, because it sounded condescending. If you just called me weak, I’d like to remind you I saved your life, which should count for something."

  She didn’t react beyond tilting her head slightly, as if contemplating whether his suffering amused her or not. Then, she looked back at Dusk and pointed again.

  Traebus snapped his gaze to Dusk, his patience wearing thin. "Alright, buddy, what the hell is happening here? Am I hallucinating? Are you speaking in mystical lizard code with her? Do I need to worry?"

  Dusk, ever his unbothered self, flicked his tail lazily and sent a pulse of pure indifference.

  Females are complicated.

  Traebus’s eye twitched. "Oh, that’s real helpful. Thank you, Dusk. A sage among lizards, truly."

  Dusk then flicked one more image into his mind. A huge, terrifying monstrous figure, deep in shadow, eyes glowing with ancient power.

  Traebus went very still.

  "…Well, that’s ominous."

  Dusk flicked his frills slightly, his usual aloof air completely unshaken.

  Then, with what could only be described as a chuff of amusement, he sent one last mental image—the monstrous figure again, but this time, with a very distinct detail.

  It was female.

  Traebus's exhaustion evaporated for half a second, his brain screeching to a halt. "Wait. What? You’re telling me that—" He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall, rubbing his temples. "Oh, no. No, no, no. That is so much worse than just ‘ominous.’ That is ‘pack up and leave the planet’ levels of bad."

  Dusk, still wholly unbothered, turned and padded toward the door with all the casual energy of someone who hadn’t just dropped a reality-breaking revelation.

  "Yeah, sure, just walk away after dropping that on me," Traebus called after him, his voice laced with deep, weary sarcasm. "Don’t even explain it. It’s fine. I love being left in suspense about mysterious nightmare women in my own house. Really makes me feel welcome."

  Dusk’s tail flicked in clear amusement, and then he was gone, leaving Traebus alone with his thoughts.

  And his very, very bad feeling about all of this.

  Time passed in slow cycles of drinking, eating, and sleeping. The woman, ever silent, continued to tend to Traebus, offering water, adjusting his bandages, and making sure he ate just enough before exhaustion took him again. Each time he surfaced to wakefulness, she was there, sometimes speaking in her strange flowing language, other times simply observing him with those sharp green eyes.

  His strength returned in fragments. The dull ache in his limbs lessened with each cycle, and the fire in his wounds dulled to a lingering throb. His head grew clearer, though he still found himself slipping back into fitful sleep faster than he liked.

  Then, after what felt like days, he woke fully.

  The house was empty.

  For the first time since the battle, no one was inside. No woman. No Dusk. Not even Sparky, who usually caused some minor chaos just to remind everyone he existed.

  Traebus sat up slowly, expecting searing pain—but instead, there was only stiff soreness. He gingerly touched his side, feeling the smooth, tightly bound bandages. The worst wounds had sealed completely.

  He flexed his fingers, testing something he hadn’t been able to reach for since he passed out.

  Magic.

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  At first, it felt sluggish, like trying to stir honey in cold water. But as he focused, the sensation sharpened, and a familiar thread of power trickled through his fingers.

  "Alright," he murmured, rolling his shoulders. "Time to see if I’m actually functional."

  With measured care, he channeled a minuscule amount of mana, running it through his own body. The warmth spread through his limbs, sinking into his wounded flesh, reinforcing the natural healing already underway. The deep bruising faded, minor infections burned away, and his breathing eased.

  Thankfully, nothing exploded.

  Traebus let out a slow breath, leaning back against the mattress. "Well. That’s a first."

  He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing his balance before carefully standing up. His legs felt like dead weight, stiff and slow, but they held. The soreness was bearable, nothing compared to the agony of before.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, he took in his surroundings properly.

  The house had changed.

  On one side of the room, a neat stack of crude wooden bowls had been arranged, their surfaces rough but functional. Near them, woven mats—some large, but most small, clearly intended for the lizards—were laid out in careful organization. The material looked like fibrous plant matter, woven tightly together with unexpected craftsmanship.

  Above him, bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, drying out in the open air. Their earthy scent mixed with the lingering smell of smoked meat, giving the entire house a strangely lived-in atmosphere.

  Traebus exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Well. Looks like our mysterious guest has decided to move in. I hope she knows rent is at least two rabbits and a favor."

  He stretched, wincing as his muscles protested, then carefully made his way toward the door, pushing it open and stepping outside into the late morning sunlight.

  The warmth hit his skin almost comfortingly, the fresh air clearing his head as he took in the surroundings. His eyes immediately locked onto the woman, standing by the well he had dug, her back turned to him as she worked. Her movements were methodical, deliberate, as she filled a wooden bowl with water and set it aside.

  The small lizards were nowhere in sight, likely off messing around or tending to some unseen task under Dusk’s silent command. Dusk himself was nearby, lounging just out of reach of the direct sun, his tail flicking lazily as he kept a passive watch over their surroundings, his usual air of aloof control firmly in place.

  Sparky was gone.

  Traebus’s gaze shifted further, spotting Tank in the distance, the massive three-horn stretched out on the dirt near the farm, basking in the sunlight like an immovable statue.

  For the first time in days, everything felt strangely quiet.

  With careful steps, Traebus made his way toward the woman, still standing at the well. The movement must have caught her attention because she turned, her sharp green eyes locking onto him instantly.

  The moment she saw him standing, her expression shifted from neutral to annoyed.

  Before he could even attempt a greeting, she hurried toward him, her stride quick, almost scolding. Traebus barely had time to react before she was prodding his ribs, grabbing his arm, and checking the bandages as if insinuating he should still be in bed.

  He let out an indignant noise. "Hey! I just got up! Can we skip the guilt-checking process? I actually healed myself a little. Look! Functional arms! Not dead!"

  The woman was not impressed. She said something in her odd, flowing language, her tone sharp, clearly chastising him.

  "Talis var’an vel tuorn, en'kai lath ve’soren!"

  Her voice carried a mix of annoyance and authority, as if she had just scolded a reckless child for wandering too far from home. The cadence of the words was fluid, yet clipped, emphasizing her frustration.

  "Oh, come on. That has to be a lecture about how I should be ‘resting’ or ‘not exerting myself.’ I literally healed myself!"

  She ignored him entirely and pointed firmly back toward the house.

  Traebus let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, for the love of—listen, I get it, I’m fragile, but I refuse to become a bedridden hermit just because I took a couple of minor, completely survivable, not-fatal wounds."

  The woman arched a brow and folded her arms, clearly not buying a word of it.

  Traebus rolled his eyes and huffed. "Alright, look." He grabbed the edge of a bandage, peeling it back from one of his wounds. A thin, nearly healed cut oozed slightly, but nothing serious.

  Before she could protest, he pressed his fingers to the wound and channeled a trickle of mana. A warm glow seeped into his skin, the wound closing seamlessly before her eyes.

  The woman went still.

  For the first time since he had met her, she looked genuinely shocked.

  Her eyes widened slightly, flicking between his now-healed wound and his face.

  Traebus let the silence hang for a second before smirking. "See? Good as new. I promise I’m not going to drop dead in the next five minutes."

  The woman narrowed her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she let out a small exhale and turned away, picking up the bowl of water she had drawn from the well. The conversation wasn’t over, but for now, she seemed to accept that he wasn’t about to collapse.

  Still, the language barrier was getting old.

  Traebus pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Alright. I need to fix this, because if I keep getting scolded in a language I don’t understand, I’m going to lose my mind."

  The woman looked at him with mild confusion, but he waved a hand, motioning for her to follow. "Come on. If we’re going to be roommates—apparently—I need to be able to understand you. And since I doubt you’re going to magically learn my language overnight, I’ll do the next best thing. Make a translation ring."

  She hesitated, then fell into step behind him as they made their way toward the lab.

  As they approached the massive stone vault door, Traebus felt relief—it hadn’t been moved or tampered with. The enchantments he’d placed were still intact. Whatever curiosity the woman had, it hadn’t been enough to let her inside.

  She muttered something in her language, her tone carrying an edge of annoyance.

  Traebus quirked a brow, glancing at her. "What, mad that you couldn’t get in? That was the point."

  She gave him a flat look but said nothing else.

  With a smirk, Traebus pressed his hand to the stone, activating the mana lock. The door rumbled open, revealing the lab’s dimly lit interior.

  "Alright," he muttered, stepping inside. "Let’s make some magic."

  As they stepped into the lab, the woman looked around, her sharp green eyes widening as she took in the various materials scattered across the stone workspace. Shelves lined with raw minerals, carefully carved rune stones, and refined alchemical powders covered one side of the room, while a workbench sat at the center, covered in half-finished projects and carved sigils.

  She took a step forward, her gaze catching on a particular material.

  Obsidian.

  Her sharp intake of breath was audible. She moved toward it without hesitation, lifting a piece with reverence, her fingers trailing over its smooth, dark surface as if it were the most valuable thing in the room.

  Traebus, watching from the doorway, quirked a brow. "Huh. So that’s the thing you care about? Not the iron? Not even the Nekrium? But obsidian? Interesting."

  She didn’t respond, her attention fixed on the stone in her hands. That told him enough.

  Shrugging, Traebus moved toward his workbench, pulling out the iron sample chunk he had retrieved from the caves. He placed a hand on it, letting his mana flow into the metal, separating a thin strip from the block. The material glowed faintly, the metal shifting fluidly under his influence, shaping itself into a small, circular band.

  Behind him, the woman let out a soft gasp, then another ooh as she stepped closer, watching him work with fascination.

  Traebus smirked. "You like this, huh?"

  No response. Just rapt attention.

  He continued shaping the ring, etching tiny runes onto its inner surface, layering in the complex matrix needed for translation magic. He double-checked the inscriptions—six in total, balanced and interwoven, ensuring a stable effect.

  Satisfied, he lifted the ring and held it out toward her. "Alright, moment of truth. Try it."

  She took the ring carefully, turning it over in her fingers before glancing at his hand. She mimicked his gesture, sliding it onto her ring finger.

  Traebus blinked, then rolled his eyes. "Oh, fantastic. You’re married to my technology now. I didn’t realize this was a commitment ceremony."

  The woman looked at him blankly, clearly not understanding his words just yet.

  Traebus sighed. "Alright, let’s see if this works."

  He pointed at the workbench beside him. "Table."

  The woman blinked, then looked at the workbench, tilting her head slightly before responding. "Valin."

  Traebus pointed to the ring on his finger. "Ring."

  She glanced at the newly crafted band on her own finger, then back at his, before speaking. "Thal'os."

  He nodded slowly. "Alright, we’re getting somewhere."

  The process continued, object by object, their words halting and uncertain at first. Book. Scroll. Stone. Iron. Fire. Each time, the woman responded with her own language’s version, and with each exchange, the ring’s magic slowly calibrated. At first, the words were garbled and fractured, but as time passed, the translations became clearer, smoother.

  Then, midway through naming another object, she froze.

  Her eyes widened, and she touched her throat as if startled by her own voice.

  "...I understand you." Her words came out slow, hesitant, but undeniably in his language.

  Traebus grinned. "Hey, look at that! Magic does work! You’re officially my first successful translation ring subject. Congratulations, you’re no longer doomed to a lifetime of frustrating pantomime!"

  She took a moment, clearly processing what just happened, then exhaled a slow breath. "This is... very strange."

  "Yeah, well, welcome to my entire existence."

  The woman furrowed her brows, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the band of the ring as she seemed to process his words. Then, she looked at him intently. "How is this possible? I could not understand you before."

  Traebus stretched his arms, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness in his muscles. "Simple answer? Magic. Complicated answer? The ring doesn’t make you learn my language faster—it alters what you hear, convinces your brain you understand it. You’re still speaking your own language, but now it makes sense to me. Same for you."

  She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. "It changes... the mind?"

  "More like it hacks the language center of the brain, but yeah, close enough." Traebus shrugged. "If you’re about to ask how that works, just assume ‘because magic’ and save us both the headache."

  The woman seemed to consider this, then shook her head with a small, almost amused huff. "Strange magic."

  "You have no idea."

  A moment of silence passed before Traebus decided to cut to the real question. He gestured toward her. "Alright, since we’re actually talking now, let’s start simple. What’s your name? And also—why are you still here?"

  The woman hesitated for only a moment before answering. "Vaelya."

  Traebus nodded. "Alright, Vaelya. That’s a start. So why stick around? I get that I’m devilishly charming, but you don’t exactly strike me as someone who lingers without a reason."

  Vaelya’s expression softened slightly, and when she spoke, her voice carried a certainty that surprised him. "After the battle, I could not leave my rescuer to die. So, I stayed."

  Traebus looked at her, having expected a more complicated reason.

  "Oh."

  He crossed his arms, tilting his head. "So, where exactly did you come from? And—more importantly—are there more people like you?"

  Vaelya considered his words, then nodded. "Yes. My people live... far." She frowned, as if searching for the right phrasing. "I was... traveling. Alone."

  Traebus raised an eyebrow. "Alone? Through this death jungle? That seems like a terrible idea."

  She exhaled through her nose. "Not my choice. My village was lost."

  That made him pause. "Lost as in destroyed?"

  Vaelya hesitated before nodding once. "Gone."

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn. That explains why you weren’t exactly in top shape when I found you. Who—or what—did it?"

  She pursed her lips. "The monsters. Like those at your gate."

  Traebus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. So there’s more of them. And they’ve already wiped out villages. Fantastic."

  Vaelya didn’t argue. Instead, she studied him. "You ask much. I have questions too."

  He blinked, caught off guard. "Oh. Well. I guess that’s fair. What do you wanna know?"

  She gestured at him, sweeping her hand over his clothes, the rings, the lab behind them. "What are you?"