CHAPTER 106: LIGHTENED LOADS

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Fenna banked the surviving racks toward cooler air currents. Fatigue etched lines at her mouth. Zephyr draped a blanket around her shoulders; she leaned into his chest as they watched ember sparks swirl upward.

"Tomorrow—" she began.

He kissed her hair. "Tomorrow we’re unstoppable."

Star curled into a crescent around the camp, tail tip resting near Muse’s cart— huge guardian with molten gaze. Aurora, safely nestled beside Fenna’s neck, thrummed warm lullaby with each breath. Overhead, a fractured-glass sky glittered with mana shards and distant constellations.

Zephyr stared at glowing coals, mind replaying the day. It was full of fear, rage, and redemption. Regret transmuted to determination; caution to flame. "In three dawns," he vowed, "Ayan will learn the price of arrogance. If he brings mercenaries again, the whole of Emberwood will rise to burn them."

Night creatures prowled beyond, but the twin stench of two C-rank corpses kept them at bay. No predator dared cross a perimeter guarded by a drake, a phoenix, and an indignant war cow.

Under that broken sky, five hearts slowed in unison —dragon, phoenix, cow, archer / healer, future dragon ruler— breathing together like a single forge bellows, readying iron souls for the final march toward revenge. Sleep claimed them in ember-warm silence, destiny sharpening just beyond the rim of dawn.

The next forty eight hours blurred into a rhythm of hunt, dress, smoke, repeat. Aurora —still slightly larger after her core frenzy— acted as a radiant beacon at dawn, rousing the camp with a trill that made embers jump in the pits. Star, healed enough to flex both wings without wincing, took up the role of airborne shepherd: scanning treetops for scent-plumes, then dive-herding quarry toward Zephyr’s snares or Fenna’s arrows.

Day one, sunrise: a herd of ember-gazelles stampeded past the crater. Fenna dropped two with twin shots; Star hamstrung a third.

Mid-morning: Zephyr found a burrow full of Fire-Fang marmots— quick but not smarter than spider-cord nooses. Three cores added to the hoard.

Dusk: an Ash-Hide razorback tried stealing raptor jerky; Muse head-butted it so hard its tusks snapped. Zephyr quartered the body while the cow preened in bovine triumph.

Day two, afternoon: a Scorch-Talon cougar leapt for Aurora; Star intercepted mid-pounce, leaving only a steaming pelt and pristine E-rank core. That evening Fenna’s True-Fire arrows flickered over the racks like paper lanterns, sealing cuts for curing. Sweat, smoke, and the copper tang of viscera clung to everything, but so did a mounting sense of victory.

By end of second sunset, they’d amassed enough flesh to feed a frontier outpost:

-five ember-gazelle hinds

-two basilisk tail spools

-three ash-hide razorbacks

-one cougar, one marmot bundle

-leftover Dire-Emberjack ribs

More than five-hundred kilograms of meat’s and that didn’t count the trophies:

20 E-rank cores, 10 D-rank cores, 3 C-rank fragments scavenged from previous rogues, plus fangs, hides, and alchemic glands.

The drying racks sagged like overburdened laundry lines. Muse paced beneath them, ears flicking ash, giving everyone the side eye of a long suffering freight cow.

Moonrise of the second night found Zephyr scribbling inventory on birch-bark sheets while Fenna knelt by a heap of wrapped steaks higher than her shoulders.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "We can’t haul this. Even if Muse sprouted two more spines."

Muse, hearing her name, snorted in scandalized protest and thumped a hoof as if to say try me, but then quickly resumed chewing salt.

Zephyr set the quill down. "I wasn’t planning on overloading the cart."

Fenna arched an eyebrow. "What’s your genius solution?"

He rubbed his thumb against index finger— an unconscious tick when testing mana flow. "I, uh... remembered something while you were sparring with Aurora three nights back. You know how my dragon Tamer skills never quite fit any knowledge of the last five hundred years?"

He inhaled. "Turns out it’s... also a storage type skill."

Fenna blinked. Storage abilities —true spatial compression inside a personal mana field— were stories told about high tier tamers. Most professionals relied on ten-kilo satchels or overpriced rune chests.

"You’re serious." She stepped closer, eyes narrowing with incredulous delight. "How much can you pocket?"

Zephyr glanced at the meat mountain, then back to her. "Far more than this. I tested with a basilisk haunch—vanished, still fresh when I recalled it. No weight residual."

Fenna’s breath hitched, half awe, half disquiet. "If any guild official realizes you can store half a ton—"

"They won’t." He laid two fingers over her lips, gentle. "It’s our secret."

Her heartbeat thumped visible in the hollow of her throat. Suddenly the looming stacks and blood-smeared gear receded, leaving just Zephyr’s earnest eyes in firelight. She dropped her bow to the dirt and stepped into him, arms sliding around his ribs till her cheek pressed his soot painted chest.

"Thank you," she breathed, every syllable vibrating against him.

He rested his chin atop her hair. "No secrets between couples. You are my girlfriend..."

A flush crept across her neck. She leaned back enough to meet his gaze, pupils wide. She thinks, "Partners, Couples. Girlfriend, soon I will be your wife."

She kissed him— initially soft, then urgent, smoke and salt flavored, hands fisting in his shirt. He responded with equal fire, lips promising everything unsaid.

When they parted he whispered to himself, "Well... one secret isn’t exactly mine. The storage is tied to my... interface. A system I haven’t figured out. I can’t tell you that, at least for now."

She searched his face —curiosity flaring— but nodded. "What are you thinking? Let’s finish the work."

He smiled, grateful and guilty all at once. "I’ll show you how it works."

Zephyr raised his left palm. An ethereal circle, thin like frosted glass, flickered into existence. Air warped; suction tugged loose hair. He waved toward the meat pile.

In rapid pulses the slabs, haunches, and marrow bones dematerialized, pop pop pop, each departure leaving a swirl of blue motes. Ten seconds later the racks stood naked save for a few grease drips.

The system notifications rang in Zephyr’s mind. The interface was floating in front of his eyes.

[Ding! System Notification: Transference Successful.

Items added to Spatial Cache:

kg assorted Emberwood game meat

E-Rank cores (wolf, marmot, gazelle, cougar)

10 D-Rank cores (raptor, basilisk, ash hide, etc)

3 C-Rank fragments (Molten Ursine, Skyrend Wyvern, dier ember jack)

14 hide bundles, 18 fang sets, 2 ballistic glands and many more beast parts.

Remaining capacity: 70 % ]

Fenna’s jaw dropped. She poked an empty rack; it clanged light as kindling. "That’s... impossible."

Zephyr dismissed the circle with a flex. "Just complex."

Muse trotted over, sniffed the newly weightless cart. She gave Zephyr a suspicious grunt —where did my load go?— then perked up in the absence of burden, swishing her tail like she might forgive him.

"Journey home just got lighter," Zephyr told her. "Think you can handle an empty wagon?"

Muse tossed her horns as if saying try to stop me, then strutted in a full circle. It was a victory lap for reduced labour. She was truly happy after a long time.

Later, beneath a lantern glow, Zephyr and Fenna reviewed the last minute packing list: water gourds, salt, charfruit paste, medical kit, Aurora’s carved perch, Star’s spare scale guards. All trivial weight compared to what now resided in Zephyr’s invisible vault.

Fenna traced the quill feather across his forearm, playful. "You realize black market collectors would trade a city for your ability or to hire you."

"Good thing I’m not selling myself." His voice was low. "Besides, I already have a home."

She blinked, cheeks pink. "Oh! Where?"

He tapped her sternum gently. "Wherever you stand."

Her breath caught. She leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. "Corny," she whispered.

"True," he whispered back.

Muse chose that moment to insert her muzzle between them, demanding a scratch. The couple burst into laughter. Star rumbled in amusement; Aurora chirped a descending trill— phoenix laughter?

Zephyr obliged the cow with vigorous ear rubs while Fenna wiped mirth tears. "We should tie a bell to your storage pocket," she said. "In case you sneeze and lose me to the ether."

"Oh I’d keep you in the front pocket," he dead panned.

She threw a twig at him.

A few moments later...

Although bodies ached, they squeezed a final spar before ending of their training camp. Fenna drilled draw speed: nock, pull, loose— twelve arrows in under twenty seconds, each tip kissing the inner ring of a charcoal target. Aurora added tactical flashes, it was brief strobes, no overburn, to synchronize with arrow release.

Zephyr and Star practiced mid range coordination: Feint left, drake distract, swordsman hamstring; Feint high, Star’s tail sweep, Zephyr back-stab.

Muse observed from her bed, chewing cud like a jaded coach. When Zephyr’s footwork slipped, she mooed disapproval so loud Fenna nearly missed her shot from giggling.

Star ended the session with a controlled Rapid Fireball volley into the nearby pond, turning water to hissing steam clouds. It was a spectacular curtain drop on training season.