The air grew thicker as they pressed into the second zone.

Mist clung to their skin, swallowing the path ahead, and even the guards who were usually loud with chatter kept their mouths shut.

Steel scraped against gauntlets as the battle mages tightened their grip on their weapons, while Selise and Nyra had their aether drawn close, ready to release at the first ripple of movement.

Zephyra's ears twitched every other step, her low growl humming like a warning no one needed words to understand.

Even Arden, who normally walked like the road itself would bend for him, carried a different weight. His senses stretched wider than before, his eyes scanning a world only he could feel.

The strange part wasn't that beasts lurked in the mist. It was that they didn't. Not a sound, not a rush of paws, nothing but silence. And silence here was never a gift.

Arden slowed, his brow furrowing. He could feel it now, faint but steady, like the pulse of buried treasure. The herb was close. Too close. And around it, a heavy gathering of life energies.

He found Boro watching him, like he had been waiting for Arden to speak first.

"You knew," Arden said quietly.

Boro's mouth twitched into the sort of smile merchants used when they were caught but refused to admit it. "I knew it would not be simple, yes. But if I had spoken of beasts nesting around every herb, you and your friends may not have agreed to escort us at all.

And if the labourers had heard of it, they would have run off before we even left the gates."

Arden stepped closer, his tone calm but sharp. "You dressed up a hunt as an escort. That's not just omission, Boro, that's a lie. My party isn't here to die for your profits."

A growl rolled through the mist ahead, deep and close enough to thrum in their bones. The guards stiffened. The labourers muttered. Arden didn't flinch.

"You'll get your harvest," Arden said, his voice cutting steady through the growing unease, "but you'll pay for the risk. Ninety percent of the herbs stay with you. But thirty percent of the profit you make from them will be ours, and ten percent of the harvest itself. My people don't bleed for free."

Boro's brows knitted as he let out a long sigh. "That's robbery dressed in silk, boy. Do you think I built my house by giving away coin to the first one who barked loud enough?"

Arden's eyes didn't waver. "No. You built it because you knew when to lose a coin so you wouldn't lose your life. If we leave, you'll be standing here with four guards, a handful of labourers, and a nest of beasts waiting in that mist. Tell me then, Boro, how much profit will be left for you?"

The growl ahead sharpened, answered by another to the right. The mist shivered with unseen shapes. Boro's lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of the moment squeezing out the usual smirk.

Finally, he let out a low chuckle, one without mirth. "You're a sharp one, Arden. Too sharp for your age." He extended his hand, rough with old calluses. "It's a deal. Ninety percent of the harvest for me, thirty percent of the profit for you, and ten percent of the herbs themselves."

Arden clasped his hand, firm and unyielding. "Good. Then we understand each other."

The tension broke with the grip. Around them, the guards loosened, labourers whispered, and even the growls seemed to retreat for a breath.

Boro, ever the merchant, found his humor again. "For someone who barely looks a man, you bargain like one twice my age. Are you sure you're not some grey-haired old fox in disguise?"

Arden allowed himself the faintest of smiles. "I have enough wits to cover my years. That's all that matters."

He turned from Boro and raised his voice for the rest of the group. "Listen well. We're close to the first herb. It won't be a simple pick-and-go. Beasts are nesting around it, and they'll defend it. Guards, you'll hold formation and follow my calls. Labourers, stay behind the line and don't scatter no matter what you hear. My team will handle the brunt of it, but no one acts without my word."

The mist pressed in again, carrying with it the rumble of claws against stone. Arden's eyes narrowed as he scanned the fog, already plotting where each of his people would stand when the fight began.

This wasn't just harvest. This was war over every step.

The first shadow lunged from the mist with a guttural snarl, claws flashing. Arden's voice cut sharp through the tension.

"Rael, left. Nyra, cover the centre. Guards hold the line—don't break formation."

Lightning cracked as Rael's gauntlet lit up. He stepped in, fist driving through the beast's chest with a burst of force that threw its body aside like it weighed nothing. A second came low, but Nyra's wind snapped out, forcing it back into her waiting ice. The ground hissed as frost bit into its limbs and locked it in place.

"Push forward!" Arden called, already moving ahead of the labourers. He wasn't reckless, his steps always measured, but somehow he was in the right place at the right time. A beast slipped past a guard's strike, jaws gaping for a man carrying a sack, when Arden's blade cut clean across its throat. He didn't linger, only gave the labourer a look that said move faster, then was gone again.

From the back, one of the merchants muttered, "They're… toying with them."

And it did look that way. Rael shifted from lightning to ice without hesitation, driving beasts into walls of frost then finishing them with thunder. Nyra's spells wove around his strikes, not clashing, but flowing, her ice holding where his lightning tore through. It was the kind of control no one believed dual affinity users could have, yet here it was, clear as day.

Zephyra was a blur of fur and claws, her growls ripping through the mist as she leapt on anything that slipped wide. She seemed more entertained than threatened, ripping a beast down with a playful snarl that still shook the labourers to their core.

The guards tried to keep up, and at first they looked uncertain. But Arden's voice gave them rhythm, telling them where to strike, when to pull back, when to brace. They obeyed almost without thought, and when they did, their attacks landed true, their defense solid.

"Guard the left flank tighter," Arden barked, and the leader adjusted instantly, pulling his men in. The next beast that tried to circle through that gap was met with three blades at once.

Boro's eyes widened as he watched from behind the safety of the line. He had seen many escorts fail to hold against such numbers, but here it was different. It wasn't brute strength alone; it was the way Arden's party moved, the way his voice seemed to bend the fight to their favour.

And still, the beasts kept coming. More shadows flickered deeper in the mist, their growls overlapping, the air trembling as if the ground itself carried their numbers.

Arden's eyes narrowed as he raised his sword, his voice steady, carrying over the clash of steel and roars.

"Stay sharp. This was just the first wave."

The labourers froze, clutching their tools, their eyes darting into the mist where new shapes stirred.

The fight wasn't over. It was only beginning.

A/N:

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