The bird and the wolf(1)

The last traces of night faded from the sky, and soon the army of Selene arrived at the borders of the eastern kingdom. The air was thick, filled with tension.

But Cyrus did not hesitate, especially after the attack on his men. With his sword drawn, he moved forward, cold and resolute. This was his retribution, and no mere force of man would stand in his way.

Yet, as they pressed onward into the enemy's lands, an unsettling sight greeted them. Towering figures loomed against the treeline, massive beasts with thick, twisted bodies that looked like they had been pieced together by some dark magic. Behind them stood an army of vampires, their eyes gleaming red, and werewolves, their forms grotesque and corrupted, nothing like the purity of the Selene pack. The human soldiers stood among them, expressions vacant, as if their minds were held captive.

Cyrus's gaze narrowed as he surveyed the scene. His jaw clenched as he realized these creatures resulted from black magic, a sorcery that he didn't expect. He didn't understand why the werewolves and vampires had allied with the enemy, but it hardly mattered. At that moment, all he saw was prey.

"Charge!" his voice rang out, sending his forces forward. Selene's soldiers moved as one, their loyalty unbreakable, wielding weapons that flashed under the rising sun. Swords, spears, and claws clashed in a storm of violence.

The first wave of monsters lunged, their claws sharp as daggers and teeth bared in feral snarls. Cyrus didn't wait, he leapt forward, his movements faster and more brutal than ever. With every strike, he tore through flesh and bone, his fury against the twisted creatures. He ripped through a vampire, pulling out its heart, scream echoing as it disintegrated in his grasp, then turned to face two monstrous werewolves.

They bared their teeth, and their bodies moved with unnatural strength, but Cyrus was unrelenting. In seconds, he had taken both down, his sword dripping with blackened blood.

Beside him, Darius fought with equal ruthlessness. His sword pierced through a hulking beast as he shielded the soldiers around him, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. He'd always known Cyrus was ruthless, but these creatures made even the bravest man hesitate. He fought harder, ensuring not a single enemy advanced past his brother.

Cyrus and his army pushed on, ruthlessly cutting down everything in their path, the battlefield a hellish blend of monstrous bodies and fallen soldiers. But the further they went, the fiercer the resistance grew, as if the dark magic had infused new strength into the creatures. Each time Cyrus thought they'd made progress, another beast would emerge, each more twisted than the last.

In the heat of battle, a sudden force slammed into Cyrus, almost tearing his upper body from his lower. Pain seared through him as claws scraped bone, and he staggered, blood pouring from the deep wounds. His vision blurred, but his resolve only hardened. He fought on, ignoring the tearing pain, his fangs bared as he pushed his way through. The creature, an enormous monster with horns lunged again, but Cyrus managed to grip its horn, and with a final snarl, he tore the creature apart.

Dusk fell, and the tide of monsters seemed to falter, dissipating into shadows as if they had been summoned back into the darkness from which they came. Cyrus, bleeding heavily, stumbled. His soldiers hurried to his side, Darius reaching him first, his face etched with worry.

"Hold on, Cyrus," Darius muttered, quickly wrapping what remained of his cloak around Cyrus's wounds. Though a werewolf's healing was strong, the dark magic wounds were slow to close, leaving Cyrus weak. They used whatever cloth and supplies they could gather, securing his injuries as best as possible before making their way back to camp.

Meanwhile, back in the mansion, Nila fiddled with the pen, her parchment still empty, what could she possibly write to him when he had gone to fight for his kingdom?

'How many people did you finish killing?'

'Were there too many of them?'

'Was your sword sharp enough?'

Nila ran her hands through her hair frustrated, she did want to write to Sol, but her mind kept making ridiculous jokes so she left the ink and paper on the desk as she went to the garden to take a stroll.

Amidst her wandering, she noticed the little bird she and Sol had helped a few days before, perched atop a low branch. Smiling, she approached it, leaning in close.

"Hello there, little one. Seems like you're doing well," she murmured as if the bird could comprehend what she was saying.

To her surprise, the bird tilted its head, its dark eyes meeting hers with a gleam that seemed almost understanding. She continued to speak, laughing softly at the bird's reactions, yet the bird stayed still as if listening intently. She paused, the realization dawning on her.

"You…can you understand me?" she whispered, and at that moment, the bird let out a soft chirp as if confirming her suspicion.

A thrill of wonder swept through her, her eyes wide with amazement as she looked at the tiny creature. There was more magic here than she had ever known, and she found herself wondering what other mysteries Selene held.

Nila pinched herself wondering if she was dreaming, ''What kind of sorcery or magic is this?''

Nila stared in awe, her fingers barely grazing the soft feathers of the small bird before her. Her thoughts tumbled over one another, filling her with an excitement she hadn't felt in ages.

"So... you can understand me?" she asked again, her voice filled with a strange mix of wonder and caution.

The bird gave a small nod, well, as much as a bird could and let out another soft chirp. It tilted its head as if waiting for her to continue, its bright eyes shining with a wisdom that felt both endearing and cute.

Nila's heart raced. She had never heard of such a thing, not in Navaria, not anywhere she had read about. The creatures of Selene held many secrets, she knew, but a bird understanding her words? That was something else entirely.

"Well… I'm not quite sure what to say to you, now that I know you can respond." She chuckled, feeling a little foolish.

''Or maybe… you know something about Cyrus?"

The bird hopped closer to the branch, fluttering its wings before settling once more. It didn't speak, of course, but its gaze lingered, as if aware of her question. Nila felt an odd sense of relief wash over her, a strange comfort in the bird's quiet company.

For a while, she stayed in the garden, speaking in low tones as the bird listened, its head cocking from side to side, as if following her words. She spoke of her loneliness, of the uncertainty that plagued her every decision, and, hesitantly, of her feelings for Cyrus.