The dream felt almost real. I mean—I knew it was a dream, but it was so painfully, vividly clear I almost doubted myself. I could smell, hear, and see everything.

  The very ground beneath my feet carried a mana signature of its own. It pulsed softly, like a heartbeat under stone. As if the booklet’s teachings weren’t just applicable here—

  but amplified.

  A breeze rolled past me. Pine. Frost. The faint tang of iron.

  Then I saw her.

  The woman leaned casually with her back against a wide-barked tree, one knee bent, arms loosely crossed. Relaxed, almost lazy in posture—yet she looked like she could spring forward at any second.

  Her hair fell in thick braids—many of them—woven with silver rings and bone beads.

  Her skin seemed too clean, too smooth, too untouched for someone dressed in asymmetrical leather and furs.

  She looked like a noble who’d decided to cosplay as a hunter and accidentally become the real thing.

  But her eyes—

  Violet. Low glowing, soft but far too aware.

  I didn’t know what to do, or say, so I just… looked around.

  The sky’s beauty was unparalleled. It shouldn’t have been this bright, this alive. Colors swirled across it that I had never seen in Krail—not in any real morning. Nothing in the waking world looked like this.

  Then her voice cut gently through the quiet.

  “You’re just going to ignore the seemingly random woman sitting against a tree?”

  I flinched. My focus snapped back to her.

  “R-right—I apologize.”

  She raised an eyebrow like she was judging my entire existence. “Mm. Good instinct. Come here then.”

  I walked toward her slowly. The atmosphere felt different the closer I got—thick but not heavy. Like the world was watching.

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  When I was finally close enough to be polite, I offered a shaky smile. “Hello, I am Cade—”

  She stood before I could finish, brushing dirt off her leather and bare arms. “Grimmholt,” she said smoothly. “Cade Grimmholt.”

  I nodded once. “May I… know your name?”

  She gave a soft, amused chuckle. “You already know one of them, child. Goddess of the Hunt. Have you forgotten my presence already?”

  My spine stiffened. “No ma’am.”

  “Good.” She smiled—a small, knowing thing. “I’ve gone by many names over the ages. But formally?” She tapped her chest lightly. “I am Nythris.”

  The wind shifted at the sound of her name. The mana around us rippled.

  She looked around the forest, almost restless.

  “Do you know why you’re here, boy?”

  “No.”

  “Naturally,” she sighed. “You’re a few millennia late for most of the explanations anyway.”

  That didn’t help. At all.

  “You are here,” she continued, “because we’re forming a contract.”

  A contract implies paper. Ink. Two signatures. I never wrote anything.

  “A… what now?”

  Nythris pushed off the tree and began walking deeper into the woods. Then she glanced back and flicked her fingers, silently ordering me to follow.

  “A contract,” she repeated. “In this case, it means we each have something the other wants. So we’re writing the terms together.”

  That cleared up exactly nothing. “So… you help me with the booklet’s teachings? And I will help you… how?”

  She brightened a little. “Excellent question.”

  Then she dimmed again.

  “Unfortunately, your answer would require hundreds of thousands of years of explanation.” She shrugged. “Simplest version? You’ve made it this far. That already sets you above most.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “So it’s all confusing and you’re not planning on making it less confusing.”

  “Oh Cade,” she said, tone warm but painfully patronizing. “I’ve gotten you to where you are today, haven’t I? Isn’t that enough reassurance?”

  I stopped walking. She stopped instantly too—like she’d anticipated the exact moment my patience snapped.

  “The reason I’m in trouble with the Grand Marshals is because—”

  Before I could finish, she placed a finger softly against my lips.

  “Oh, Cade,” she murmured. “You clueless idiot.” Her eyes glowed faintly. “You landed yourself in hot water. I merely stirred it.”

  My heart dropped.

  “You’ve given yourself a chance to achieve something no one ever has—and yet, you resist every step toward change.”

  This was going nowhere.

  “Well, I appreciate your help so far, but what good is it getting me?”

  She smiled wider at that—pleased, maybe. “Good. Pivot to the future. So far this path has given you loyal friends. The next steps are yours to take.”

  Her expression turned suddenly cold. “But be warned, my child—one wrong move, and there will be more death than the gods can fathom.”

  My stomach twisted. That escalated quickly.

  I nodded weakly.

  “Well,” she said with a sigh, “that’s all the time we had for now.”

  She began to shimmer—like her form was turning into dust lit by moonlight.

  “But don’t forget, Cade.” Her voice curled through the dissolving air. “I’m always watching.”

  “Wait!” I shouted.

  She was almost gone when she whispered, softer than breath:

  “And helping, my child.”

  I don’t think she meant for me to hear it.

  Then she vanished completely.

  I jolted awake.

  My bed was soaked with sweat. My pulse hammered in my throat. I never woke like this—not even from nightmares.

  I drank water. I tried to steady myself. Useless.

  So I lay there, staring into the blindfolded darkness.

  And thought.

  And thought.

  And thought.