Dawn bathed Opeka's village hall in pale gold, but Killyaen felt like a Gromble had chewed him up and spat him into a Zeltar's horned stampede. His tunic, shredded from the Zenoite mine, reeked of Gromble oil and Rotting Blind Mice guts, clinging to his olive skin like a botched prank. N'Nazmuz's curse pressed thirty kilograms against his bones, each step a slog, but his gold-flecked eyes gleamed with defiance. A thigh gash itched as it healed, a rib burn throbbed faintly, and a grazed arm stung under a makeshift bandage, the curse's regeneration dulling the worst. His gold-tipped braid, oil-slicked, swung like a tavern mop as he hauled a leather satchel—stuffed with a Zenoite shard, a Moonflower crystal, and a single Krovar scale from his mine haul.Elder Mara sat in a carved wooden chair, her Middle Expert earth charms rippling the floor into subtle waves, a quiet flex of her cultivation. Her gray braid was as stern as her gaze, pinning Killyaen like a Flaevyn caught stealing grain, those crystal-flecked birds humming disorientingly in Opeka's coops. Villagers crowded the hall's doorway, whispering about the "Supreme Elf's" Krovar-slaying legend. Janko, the Plumed Cat, slouched nearby, his scowl sharper than a Zeltar's crackling horns, his beard still glinting faintly from his botched Moonflower prank, plotting revenge after his recent humiliation."Killyaen," Mara began, her voice like grinding Zenoite, "you cleared the mine—mice and Krovar both. Impressive, for a qi-blind fool. But your chaos, and Janko's meddling, nearly cost us our Zenoite trade." She gestured to Janko, whose fists clenched at the mention. "Explain this… partnership you're to undertake."Killyaen grinned, dropping his satchel with a thud, the Krovar scale clinking inside. "Elder, the Plumed Cat tripped into my heroics," he said, mimicking a cat's yowl, drawing villager snickers. "I buried that sparkly lizard under a boulder, slick with Gromble oil—miners' grease, stinks worse than Janko's pride. Saved his hide, too, when he fumbled his sticky sap trap. Supreme Elf style!" He winked, ignoring his rib's twinge, the curse's weight anchoring his swagger.Janko's face purpled. "Lying elf! You set me up!" he snarled, but Mara's soil ripple silenced him, a pebble orbiting her hand like a tiny moon. "Enough," she snapped. "You'll both scout the mine's lower tunnels today—no pranks, or I'll bind you in earth charms and let the mice feast." Her eyes narrowed, and Killyaen's amulet pulsed faintly, as if mocking her threat with whispers of "ancient ruins" from Vuk's Solspire tale.Killyaen saluted, his grin pure mischief. "No tricks, Elder? Meow, that's cruel," he purred, dodging a villager's playful swat. Janko shoved past, muttering, "You'll choke on your jests, Supreme Fool." Killyaen flicked a stray Flaevyn feather at him, taunting, "Keep meowing, Plumed Cat. Let's see who rules the mine." The feud burned hotter, Janko's recent humiliation fueling his spite.By midday, Killyaen and Janko stood at the mine's mouth, its dusty maw swallowing light. Killyaen's twin swords—Marko's feather-light blades—glinted at his hips, nicked but sharp. Janko carried a heavy axe, his scowl darker than the tunnel's shadows. "Stay out of my way, elf," he growled, hefting a torch. Killyaen smirked, twirling a sword. "Lead on, Plumed Cat. Try not to trip on your whiskers." The curse dragged his steps, but its stamina kept his senses keen.The mine's air was a rancid stew of rot and damp earth, Zenoite veins pulsing faintly with Azurion's wave carvings. Killyaen's amulet pulsed in sync, stirring thoughts of his books—Chronicles of the Dragon-Gods, Legends of the Middle Sea—and their cryptic "cursed ruins." A skittering broke the silence—a Glintmite, its scaly Zenoite shell glimmering like a star, its qi-sensitive antennae twitching. Killyaen chuckled, tossing it a crumb. "Keep my secrets, little spark," he whispered.Janko swung his axe at a lingering Rotting Blind Mouse, its decayed fur and glowing red eyes bursting under the blow. "Keep up, elf," he sneered, but his torch wavered, betraying nerves. Killyaen spun into Wind's Rebuke, slicing another mouse with a wet squelch. "Slow down, Plumed Cat. You'll scare the shiny rocks." He grinned, humming "Cursed Cat," his voice a low, taunting melody: "Oh, Janko swings, all gruff and crude, while the Supreme Elf dances in the stinking mood!"A low rumble shook the tunnel, dust raining. Janko froze, axe raised, as a new creature scuttled from a side passage—a Zenoite Skitter, a dog-sized beetle with jagged pincers and a shell glinting like Krovar scales, its six legs clicking rhythmically. Its amber eyes glowed with Middle Scholar ferocity, drawn to the mine's qi. "By Azurion's waves," Killyaen muttered, grinning. "Another sparkly friend?"The Skitter charged, pincers snapping. Killyaen dove, the curse slowing his roll, and chained Thunder's Edge, slashing a pincer, sparks flying. Janko swung wildly, his axe glancing off the shell, stumbling into Killyaen. "Watch it, Plumed Cat!" Killyaen shouted, shoving him aside. The Skitter lunged, pincers grazing Killyaen's arm, reopening his healing graze. The curse's healing kicked in, blood slowing as he taunted, "Nice try, sparkles! Dance with the Supreme Elf!"Janko, seizing the chaos, smeared Moonflower sap from a hidden vial onto Killyaen's back, its illusory glow shimmering. "Let's see you dance now, elf!" he sneered, bolting for the exit. The Skitter, drawn to the sap's glow, chased Killyaen, pincers clicking. Killyaen cursed, his rib burn flaring, and sprinted deeper, the curse dragging his steps. "Plumed Cat, you'll pay!" he roared, spotting a narrow crevice lined with Moonshadow fungi, their pale caps pulsing like Verdantrix's vines.He slid into the crevice, the Skitter's pincers scraping inches behind. Panting, Killyaen smeared the sap onto a rock and tossed it, the Skitter chasing the glow, crashing into a Zenoite vein. The vein sparked, a tremor loosening a stalactite that pinned the Skitter's shell, its legs twitching. Killyaen laughed, crawling out. "Supreme Elf, two! Sparkly bugs, zero!" His amulet pulsed stronger, as if echoing the mine's carvings.Emerging at dusk, Killyaen found Janko boasting to villagers about "saving" the elf. Killyaen sauntered over, sap-stained but grinning, and flicked a Glintmite shell at Janko's head. "Nice try, Plumed Cat. Your sap prank got me a new dance partner." Villagers laughed, chanting "Supreme Elf! Plumed Cat!" Janko stormed off, his revenge foiled again.At the Black Stone Tavern, Killyaen slumped at a table, Bera tossing him a rag. "You smell like a Gromble's armpit, hero," she teased, her wooden spoon twirling. "No kiss for that stench." Killyaen winked, dodging her swat. "Scrub me clean, Bera, and I'll make it worth your while." She snorted, tossing a bread roll that bounced off his chest, their chemistry a playful spark.Goran loomed, his Element Lord aura heavy as Zenoite. "Upstairs, elf," he growled, jerking his head to the tavern roof. Killyaen climbed, the curse cracking a rung, his injuries aching but healing. On the roof, under Aeneria's star-strewn sky, Goran sat, tankard in hand, beard a shadow. "You outwitted that Skitter and Janko," he rumbled. "Reckless, but clever."Killyaen sprawled on the shingles, ribs throbbing. "Thanks, big guy. Didn't know you cared." Goran snorted, then spoke, voice low. "I wasn't always Opeka's drunk. Ran with the Destroyers—Solaria's elite. Fought in the Orc Wars, carved my name in the Immortal Arena. Seven wins, kid—beasts, men, worse." Killyaen's jaw dropped, nearly rolling off the roof. "You? A legend?"Goran's eyes softened, staring at the stars. "There's more—ruins, wars, things you'll face." He clammed up, sipping ale. Killyaen pressed, "What things?" but Goran grunted, "Later." Killyaen clutched his Zenoite shard, its blue glow warm, thoughts on Solspire's "cursed ruins." A luminescent fox darted below, its teal fur flashing, a fleeting omen of Aeneria's wild heart.
