Chapter 88: Echoes of the Past

  The morning sun crested over the rolling hills, casting long shadows over the uneven path ahead. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and wildflowers, yet despite the serenity, tension hung in the air.

  They were close.

  Auralis Glades lay just beyond the next stretch of dense forest, a region spoken of in scattered stories but rarely visited by outsiders. A place where beastfolk and wanderers passed through but never stayed. It was fitting—if Arixa’s parents were anywhere, it would be somewhere elusive.

  The group packed up camp with routine efficiency. Thalron, as always, ensured nothing was left behind, while Arixa fastened her warhammer across her back with a taut expression.

  Marcus stretched out his sore limbs, rolling his shoulders as he took in the quiet. Vira stood beside him, idly rubbing a rune into the cover of her grimoire, her golden eyes flickering with curiosity as she glanced toward Arixa.

  “She’s quieter than usual,” Vira noted, voice hushed.

  Marcus followed her gaze. Arixa stood a few feet away, staring toward the forest with a distant look. She’d been like this since they broke camp, her usual sharp remarks and playful bickering noticeably absent.

  “She’s got a lot on her mind,” Marcus admitted.

  Arixa took a deep breath, then turned to the group. “We should get moving. No use standing around.”

  There was an unspoken agreement—no one pressed her.

  Into the Glades

  The forest leading into Auralis was unlike any they had traveled through before. Towering trees with thick, twisting roots formed natural barriers, their bark almost silver under the sunlight. The air smelled richer, more alive, filled with the scent of damp earth and blooming flora.

  Travel was slower through the thick undergrowth, and the silence that accompanied them felt heavy. It wasn’t unnatural—there were no signs of lurking threats, no predators waiting in the shadows—but there was an eeriness to it.

  “This place feels… strange,” Thalron murmured as he navigated around an exposed root. “Like it doesn’t want to be found.”

  Arixa exhaled through her nose. “Beastfolk don’t settle in one place for long. We follow the land, not control it. But some places hold history. Old stories. This might be one of them.”

  Vira glanced around. “Any of those stories involve what we’re looking for?”

  Arixa hesitated.

  There it was.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Marcus caught it—the flicker of doubt in her stance. Arixa, always so sure of herself, suddenly unsure.

  “…I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just—” She stopped, exhaling sharply. “I just have to see it for myself.”

  And that was all there was to it.

  Marcus nodded. “Then let’s keep moving.”

  The deeper they went, the denser the foliage became, vines wrapping around ancient trunks, thick moss carpeting the ground beneath them. Birds fluttered overhead, their calls distant but rhythmic, like the heartbeat of the forest itself.

  Then, suddenly—

  Arixa stopped.

  Not out of hesitation, but because something was there.

  In the center of a clearing stood a monolith—a massive slab of stone, partially covered in moss and etched with ancient markings. The language was old, unfamiliar, but there was something undeniably beastfolk about it.

  Arixa stepped forward, her fingers brushing against the carved letters.

  She didn’t need to read them to understand.

  “…This was theirs,” she murmured.

  Marcus frowned. “Your parents?”

  Arixa shook her head. “Not just them. Others.”

  The realization hit them all at once.

  This wasn’t just a marker.

  It was a memorial.

  A place meant for remembering those who had been lost.

  The air was thick with something unseen, a weight pressing against Marcus’ chest as Arixa traced the markings.

  Vira tilted her head, gaze sharp. “What does it say?”

  Arixa was silent for a long moment before speaking.

  “We are the ones forgotten. The ones who should not be.”

  Thalron inhaled sharply.

  The weight of the words settled over them like a shroud.

  Arixa took a step back, her jaw tightening.

  “This isn’t just about me,” she murmured. “There were others. Like me. Half-breeds.”

  Marcus felt something cold coil in his gut.

  “They weren’t just outcasts,” Arixa said, her voice steadier now. “They were erased.”

  The realization left an uneasy silence between them.

  Arixa clenched her fists, her shoulders taut. “I thought… maybe my parents left me because they couldn’t raise me. Maybe they were forced to. But what if—” She stopped herself.

  Marcus spoke softly. “What if they never had a choice?”

  Arixa swallowed, her breath unsteady. “I need to find them. Not just for answers—for this.” She gestured toward the monolith. “If they were part of this, then I need to know why.”

  Thalron studied the carvings. “If this place was meant to be hidden, there’s a chance someone tried to make sure no one ever found it.”

  Arixa’s expression darkened. “Then we dig.”

  They spent the next hour carefully examining the monolith and the surrounding clearing. It was clear this place had been undisturbed for years, maybe decades. The deeper they looked, the more markings they uncovered—names, dates, symbols of different beastfolk clans.

  Then, at the very bottom, almost completely covered in dirt—

  A crest.

  A symbol of two horns entwined with a broken horseshoe.

  Arixa’s fingers hovered over it.

  Marcus knelt beside her. “Is that—?”

  Arixa nodded. “It’s theirs.”

  Her parents.

  A confirmation that they had been here.

  Her breath hitched, but she steadied herself.

  Vira placed a hand on her shoulder, uncharacteristically gentle. “We’ll find them.”

  Arixa exhaled. “Yeah. We will.”

  They spent the rest of the day searching for more clues. There were signs—old campfire remains, tattered cloth caught in the roots of a tree, weathered footprints fossilized in the hardened ground—but nothing recent.

  Whoever had been here was long gone.

  But they had a direction now.

  And that was enough.

  As the sun dipped beyond the horizon, the group set up camp beside the monolith. The air felt different now—not just heavy with history, but with purpose.

  Marcus sat beside the fire, watching the flames flicker. Arixa sat across from him, lost in thought.

  Then, softly, she said, “Thanks.”

  Marcus met her gaze. “For what?”

  A small, tired smile played at her lips. “For this.”

  For helping her move forward.

  Marcus smiled back. “Anytime.”

  The Journey Continues

  As the fire crackled in the cool night air, the group prepared for the next step.

  Tomorrow, they would follow the trail.

  Tomorrow, they would take the first real step toward finding the past—and deciding what to do with it.