Kyle moved carefully through the field, kneeling beside a patch of oddly discolored weeds.
The stems were brittle, and the leaves emitted a faint bluish hue—the sa shade that had beco synonymous with the cursed rain.
He pinched one between his fingers and rubbed it gently. The plant crumbled like ash, leaving behind a faint sar of blue on his glove.
"This isn’t just decay. It’s rejection. The earth is rejecting its own life."
He muttered to himself.
A sharp twang echoed through the air, the unmistakable sound of a bowstring snapping loose.
A split second later ca the thunk of sothing heavy hitting the ground. Kyle’s head snapped up, his senses sharpening.
The sound had co from the north ridge—just a few hundred ters away.
Without hesitation, he moved.
The terrain was uneven, pockmarked by old irrigation trenches and abandoned tools. As Kyle crested a shallow hill, his eyes caught movent.
Down below, in a shaded thicket, knelt a man—hunched and trembling—cradling sothing in his arms. The stench of desperation hung heavy in the air.
Kyle slowed his steps.
The man’s back was to him, but even from this distance, Kyle could feel it—mana. A trace so faint, so diluted, yet unmistakably familiar.
His eyes narrowed as he took a few silent steps forward, gaze fixed on the crumpled object in the man’s arms.
A bird.
Its wings were limp, feathers matted with blood. An arrow jutted from its side. But that wasn’t what caught Kyle’s attention.
It was the mana clinging to the bird’s body—the very sa signature he had felt a hundred tis before.
Nigel.
The bird must’ve been a ssage carrier.
Kyle stepped into view.
"Where did you get that bird?"
He asked, voice steady.
The man jerked, clutching the corpse tighter, his gaunt face twisting in panic.
"It’s mine! I found it!"
"It’s marked with mana. That bird ca from the Armstrong estate. It’s carrying sothing important."
Kyle said, his tone unwavering.
The man’s eyes were wild, sunken deep with hunger and fear.
"It’s dead! I shot it down. It’s not yours—it’s not anyone’s anymore!"
Kyle eyed the bird.
"It was carrying a ssage. If you give it to , I’ll give you food."
The man blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"I have supplies. All yours. Just give the bird."
Kyle continued, pulling a wrapped bundle of dried at and a flask of clean water from his satchel.
The man stared at the food like a starving animal. His grip loosened slightly, eyes darting between the at and the bird. The temptation was obvious.
"I—I’ll take it. Give it here."
He said, voice quivering.
Kyle tossed the bundle forward gently. It landed in the grass a few feet from the man.
The man snatched it up like a drowning man grabbing a rope, tearing open the at and shoving it into his mouth without even bothering to sit up properly.
He chewed noisily, greedily, sloppily. Kyle waited, unmoving, patient.
But when Kyle reached his hand out for the bird, the man’s eyes changed.
With one final bite, he lunged to his feet, the bird still clutched in his arms, and bolted.
Kyle sighed.
"I figured."
He raised his hand, his mana unfurling like a net through the air. He didn’t strike the man, didn’t even touch him directly—just gave the ground beneath his feet the slightest pulse.
The man’s foot caught.
He stumbled violently, crashing forward and skidding across the rough earth. The bird flew from his hands mid-fall, landing a few feet away with a lifeless thud.
Kyle approached calmly as the man groaned in pain.
"No need to run. I would’ve fed you regardless."
Kyle said, crouching beside the bird.
He picked up the bird gently, his fingers brushing the still-glowing remnants of Nigel’s mana. The ssage spell embedded inside was faint, but intact.
The man glared up at him from the dirt, fury and sha burning in his eyes.
"Why do you care so much about a dead bird?"
"Because this bird was trying to reach soone. And soone trusted it would get here."
Kyle replied without looking up.
He turned away, holding the bird close.
"You were just hungry. But this ssage might an the difference between life and death for hundreds."
The man said nothing.
Kyle paused, then tossed a second wrapped bundle behind him without turning around. It landed near the man’s side.
"Next ti, just ask."
And with that, Kyle walked off, the bird in hand, a rising tension tightening in his chest. Nigel had sent this bird.
That could only an one thing—sothing had gone wrong at the Armstrong estate.
Kyle moved briskly through the thinning trees, the bird cradled gently in his hand.
The mana lingering on its feathers pulsed faintly, flickering like a candle struggling against the wind.
He could already tell the ssage spell was damaged—faint cracks ran along the mana signature, signs of interference from the impact and death of the creature.
He needed sowhere quiet.
lissa and Bruce t him halfway down the slope. lissa’s eyes widened when she saw the limp bird in his hand.
"A carrier?"
Kyle nodded.
"From the Armstrong estate. Shot down before it reached us."
Bruce frowned.
"Deliberate?"
Kyle glanced at the horizon.
"No. Just desperation."
Bruce didn’t argue. lissa stepped closer.
"Can you still retrieve the ssage?"
Kyle knelt beside a large flat stone and laid the bird down gently.
"I can try."
He placed his hand over the creature and closed his eyes. Threads of mana extended from his palm, probing the spell etched into the bird’s being.
It was old magic—crude but effective—designed to hold a small ssage until either its death or its intended recipient dispelled it.
Kyle’s mana carefully wrapped around the spell and pushed.
The bird’s eyes glowed faintly for a mont, and then a whisper—soft and male, crackling with strain—echoed through the air:
[Kyle... it’s Nigel. Things are getting worse. Father isn’t acting. Supplies won’t last... We need help.]
The note cut out abruptly, the spell flickering and shattering like glass.
Silence returned.
lissa’s face hardened.
"He asked for help."
Bruce crossed his arms, brow darkened.
"So the Duke is still not acting?"
Kyle rose, his eyes heavy with thought.
"No. And Nigel’s worried. Which ans the situation is likely worse than what he could put into words."
lissa’s hand tightened into a fist.
"How many more are going to suffer while these nobles hesitate?"
Kyle didn’t answer.
He looked toward the northern skyline. In the distance, a column of black clouds churned slowly in the heavens, divine energy dancing like lightning behind them.
The land itself seed to throb with pressure, and the air tasted faintly of ash and iron.
"This isn’t a natural crisis. The land is being tested—twisted. And now, even safe territories like the Armstrong estate are vulnerable."
He said at last.
Bruce’s voice was low.
"You think soone’s targeting the duchy?"
Kyle’s gaze didn’t waver.
"I think we’re running out of ti. The rain isn’t just poisonous—it’s coordinated. And the people suffering the most are the ones farthest from power."
Kyle nodded, slipping the dead bird into a cloth wrap.
"We’re heading back. I need to get this to the scryers and alert the forward camps. If the duchy’s going to fall, we’ll make sure it doesn’t fall alone."
He turned on his heel, cloak billowing behind him.
The divine energy in the sky rumbled, distant but growing.
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