The stags were restless at first since they left the village range and entered the frost-ridden flats between Volgraan and the ridges.
But Raika's stag, settled under her steady grip on the reins. His broad hooves crunched over the snow in a rhythmic, heavy tread that she could feel through the saddle and into her bones. Around them, the wind still whispered cruel things through the broken rocks, but it was almost peaceful now. The storm had long passed.
The others rode close. Veyn was silent, his gaze scanning the horizon like he expected the infected to pop up out of the earth. Seyna wasn't far ahead, riding tall in her saddle, the stiff braids of her hair glimmering white against her dark leathers. Zarvana led the column in silence, but even her presence felt lighter today.
Raika found herself watching the way their stags moved as one, their breath fogging out in steady bursts like a practiced unit of soldiers. She hated to admit it, but it felt good. Like they were finally working together for once instead of sizing each other up, waiting for someone to make a fatal mistake.
But then… they heard it.
Raika thought it might've been the wind again, maybe even the dull scrape of Veyn's sword against his backplate. But no. This was different.
It wrapped around her, through her, like a lover's hand trailing against her skin. She wasn't sure if it was meant to soothe her or seduce her, but it was working.
"Do you hear that?" she asked finally, her voice quieter than usual. She barely wanted to disturb the air.
"I do," Veyn replied. "It's… music."
Seyna was already slowing her stag, her sharp eyes narrowed.
"No instruments make sounds like that," she muttered. Her hands rested on the pommel of her saddle, but Raika noticed she wasn't reaching for her weapons. Yet. "Not here."
Zarvana said nothing. She just rode forward, as if following a thread only she could see.
The notes thickened, swirling around them. Actual lines of light and color danced in the air. Raika blinked. Swaths of glowing silver and gold, like threads of sunlight stitched into the wind, traced along the edges of the notes as they flitted around them.
They weaved through the horns of the stags, around their antlers, across their riders' shoulders like ribbons. Every time one of the lines brushed Raika's skin, a faint tingle shot down her spine. It wasn't unpleasant. It was… unnervingly nice and arm in a way she wasn't used to in these lands.
The music shifted again. It was softer now, sweet in a way that made her chest ache. Her grip on the reins loosened without her meaning to and her stag let out a soft, pleased grunt as if the music was working on him too. Raika straightened up, narrowing her eyes.
"This is strange."
"No," Seyna murmured. "This is wrong."
But neither of them moved. No one did. Not until they crested the low ridge near the edge of the range.
There, standing in the middle of the snow, was a man hooded in black, his head tilted down as his hands moved expertly across some kind of instrument Raika had never seen before.
It was thin, sleek, and curved like a crescent of polished obsidian, strings stretched taut between two gleaming arcs of silver. And it glowed faintly with every note he drew from it. His fingers worked fast but graceful, as if every motion was a caress.
The bow he held was less a solid object and more a line of light. Every stroke across the strings sent new waves of sound through the frozen air.
Raika's throat was dry. She'd seen strange and monstrous things but this was something different entirely. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the man lifted his head.
And they all forgot how to breathe.
He was, by all accounts, the most beautiful man Raika had ever seen.
And not just her. She glanced sideways to confirm that she wasn't going mad. Seyna was staring, her mouth slightly open, her usual hard edge softened into something that looked alarmingly like awe.
Zarvana's lips parted ever so faintly, her eyes glinting with the same strange light that danced around them. Even Veyn made a noise under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a stifled grunt.
The man's skin was bronze and his lips—Raika actually squinted—were carved into a faint, knowing smirk. But his eyes..
His eyes were molten gold, radiant in a way that made her own eyes sting to look at them. And he was looking right at her.
At them. No, her.
Raika's heart slammed in her chest. She stiffened in her saddle and heard Seyna swear softly.
The man slowly lowered his instrument. His movements were so smooth they almost didn't seem human. Or maybe they weren't. Raika wasn't sure. Her pulse was a mess of thoughts she couldn't sort.
"...This is fine," Raika managed. "This is totally fine."
Veyn turned his head slowly toward her, his expression unreadable. "Is it?"
"No."
Zarvana cleared her throat. Once. Loudly. And yet, it still sounded a little breathless.
"Hold."
They did. All of them. Even the stags stilled, heads turned toward the man as he tucked his strange instrument under his arm like it belonged there and straightened to his full height.
He was tall. Of course he was tall. Raika resisted the urge to scowl at his height on principle. He was even taller than the Chieftain herself.
He tilted his head slightly, the faintest of smiles touching his mouth
"You hear my music," he said, his voice low and melodic, like the notes he'd been playing moments ago. "Mmm... didn't expect you to be Sentient Krepsunas."
Zarvana spoke first. "We are."
"And you like it."
It wasn't a question, but Raika glared anyway.
"Who are you?"
He looked at her and she swore the air grew warmer. His eyes flickered over her and it felt less like an assessment and more like he was peeling her apart and putting her back together in his head.
"Does it matter?" He asked softly.
Raika's mouth went dry. "It matters."
He smiled again. It was infuriatingly perfect.
"You may call me... Peony's Apathy."
Veyn's hand was already on the hilt of his sword. Zarvana's eyes sharpened in that way that usually meant someone was about to die and every single one of her men who flanked them shifted in their saddles, stags grunting in restless anticipation.
Raika had already half-pulled her dagger from the sheath strapped to her thigh. She didn't think about it. Her muscles did the work before her brain could get a vote.
"I see," Zarvana said. "So you're him."
The man tilted his head, as if mildly curious about the sudden weight in the air. His golden eyes flickered lazily over each of them, but Raika didn't miss the subtle way his shoulders shifted.
"You don't need to do that," he said softly. His voice didn't rise, didn't plead. It just was, and that made it worse somehow. "I have no intention of fighting."
Veyn's grip didn't loosen. "People who say that usually do."
The man sighed. Actually sighed. As if they were children pointing wooden sticks at him.
"If I wanted to kill you," he said, "I wouldn't have started with music."
Seyna frowned, "You sure about that? You played it like a weapon."
"Did it hurt?"
No one answered.
"Then no."
The man spoke again, shifting the conversation like a quiet wind slipping under a door.
"Did she kill them? Chrysanthemum?"
He wasn't looking at them now. He was glancing around lazily, like he was asking where someone put his cloak.
Raika followed his gaze, frowning at first. But then she saw it.
Infected Krepsunas. The insectoid beasts, their glassy carapaces had been cracked open like brittle shells. Some had been cleaved clean through. Others… she wasn't sure there was an "other" to find.
Legs lay separated from bodies, spines shattered like cheap wood. And none of it had made a sound when they rode up. No battle, no fight, no signs of struggle in the snow. Just death, laid out neat like an offering.
Raika's stomach turned, and for once, it wasn't from disgust. Zarvana's jaw clenched, but she said nothing.
That's when they saw her. The hooded woman.
She appeared as if she had always been standing there but none of them had noticed her arrival.
The woman approached quietly, her boots leaving delicate impressions in the snow. She stood beside the man, glanced at the carnage around them, and then back up with a bright smile that made Raika blink.
"It's done as you asked, Master."
Raika stared. She wasn't alone. Even Zarvana's men were stunned into silence.
Because as the woman stepped forward, she reached up and drew back her hood. And Raika wasn't sure the air didn't actually get warmer.
A lot of long, heavy golden hair spilled out, falling in loose, gleaming strands around her face and shoulders. Her skin was pale and her eyes were deep crimson, bright enough to glow against the stark white of the world.
But it wasn't just that. It was the smile. Her cheeks were full and round, giving her the look of someone who had been caught mid-laugh.
"Hello there!" she said cheerfully as she waved at them. "We meet again."
Raika blinked. "Again?"
The woman giggled. "Well, not exactly again. But it sounds nice, doesn't it?"
Seyna stared and for once, Raika saw her struggling to keep her jaw in place.
Even Veyn's usual blank expression faltered. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again as if the words he wanted were slippery things that wouldn't stay still.
The woman meanwhile, didn't seem to notice, or maybe she did. She turned toward Peony's Apathy with a brilliant grin and clasped her hands behind her back like a child waiting for praise.
But instead of praise, he lifted his hand. Raika thought it would be a gesture of approval, maybe a pat on the head or something equally strange.
He pinched her cheek.
The woman squeaked, a sound that Raika swore was almost kitten-like.
"Ow!" She protested immediately. "Master, stop! Stop, please!"
He didn't.
His fingers held her cheek in place as he turned her face toward him with the ease of someone handling something delicate but exasperating.
"You're too loud," he said simply.
"But I was polite!" She argued, her voice warbling slightly from the pinch. "I even said hello! That's polite! Right?"
"You're always polite," he said. "And always nosy. I told you... ugh, never mind."
She pouted, her lips forming a perfect, soft curve that might have worked if he wasn't still holding her face hostage.
"Please let me go," she said, her crimson eyes wide, her lips trembling slightly.
He let out a soft sigh, then released her.
She immediately cupped her cheeks with both hands and glared at him, but it was the kind of glare that carried no heat. More like sulking than fury.
"You're so mean."
"You're too much."
Raika, watching all of this, had to admit something horrifying. It was… cute?
In the way a wild animal taking a nap on your lap was cute. Adorable, but deeply confusing and slightly terrifying if you thought about it for too long.
Seyna muttered under her breath, "Is he disciplining a child or a pet?"
Zarvana's voice was dry. "Both."
Peony's Apathy finally glanced at them again, his golden eyes narrowing at them.
"Well then, I want all of you to follow me to Central. If you don't, I will kill you all here and now. Easy, right? And please, call me Mr Vastarael. Peony's Apathy is a title my enemies use for me."