4.2.25 - The 9 Eyed King and His Blind Fate pt 4

Parable 4 – Runedance of Guilt

Pel dropped down from the port hatch and grabbed his knapsack and shield. He looked around for Iris and spotted her beside a bapple crate, fiddling with her shell and fixing her hair.

"Iris, once we get to the nest, let’s follow the mercenaries," Pel said, breathless and drenched in sweat. "They probably won’t know which parts of the gruhanas to harvest and will move to support my father. That’s the perfect time to grab some shell pieces."

His body ached. He sat down, breathing heavily. Iris waited quietly until he recovered enough to stand again.

"A few of them came in while you were gone," she said. "I hid in the bapple box. They took some of the shields, but I don’t think they saw your bag. I forgot to grab it—everything happened so fast once Rocco started moving."

Her green eyes shimmered like mist catching the morning sun above the endless waterfalls.

Together, they made a plan: once the third group left the nest, they’d sneak in and scavenge what they could.

But Rocco stopped early.

The pod doors hissed open.

No time to hide in the port—back into the bapple box. Pel stuffed dried modospo meat into his mouth while Iris crunched on rations. They held still. Outside, the raiding party grabbed gear, voices rising and falling. Then—silence.

The two emerged.

No one in sight.

Pel readied his gear—shield slung, bag secured. He glanced at Iris, concerned. But then he remembered the first time he saw her fight. She'd shown up out of nowhere, made fast friends with the orphans, and broke the wrist of a boy who got handsy. Then she flipped—did a flip no one could forget.

She always came back. Always.

Iris pressed the side hatch. They dropped from the pod.

She paused as Pel adjusted his shield. Two runes pulsed on it—Nadiian and Rhofalian.

"You sure you don’t want this? It’s got solid runes. Great for defense—and running away."

Iris didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed Pel’s face and turned it toward the branch ahead.

Pel, lips puckered in confusion, followed her gaze.

The nest entrance was massive. Hollowed wide enough for a dandra to walk through. Pel had never seen anything like it. His skin prickled.

"Should we just go back?" Iris asked.

Pel was halfway to the pod already.

Then—

A scream.

Not of pain. Of agony. Of soul-deep dread.

It was the kind of scream you never forget. Not from an animal. Not from instinct. From a person who knew what was happening.

Pel froze.

Then ran.

Heart pounding. Breath shortening. He raced forward.

And saw it.

Humans and aydhams locked in bloody chaos against a horde of gruhanas. Not a pack—a horde. An impossible number. Gruhanas didn’t travel like this. Too cannibalistic. Too wild. No alpha could maintain control.

And yet—they fought together.

Iris joined him. She covered her mouth in horror.

Down below, Roc fought alone—six gruhanas and one alpha, top and bottom jaws both open. Absol and Theodam each wrestled separate leads. Healers in the rear worked desperately, weaving runes, casting chants, trying to keep the frontline intact.

Roc’s movements blurred—a runedance. Pel had only seen it once, long ago, in a memory blurred by time. Staff spinning, feet gliding, Roc moved like the forest itself. He dodged claw and tentacle, blade and bile.

Pel couldn’t hear him, but saw his lips moving—chanting.

Then—

BOOM.

A golden bolt of lightning erupted from the ground. Dust and shimmer bark flew. The world shook.

Pel’s legs gave. He couldn’t move.

Push through. Your father needs you.

He looked up.

And saw her.

Iris.

Soaring.

She flew like a bird. Graceful. Fearless.

She landed on her toes behind Absol. His Nadiian arm pulsed as it blocked a charging gruhana, but the tentacles corroded his skin despite the junior weavers chanting reinforcement hymns. His defense was unraveling.

Iris moved.

Absol saw her mid-leap. He let two gruhanas latch on and threw them into the air.

Iris intercepted.

She spun. Blade flashed.

She split them both mid-air.

By the time her feet touched ground, both beasts had been gutted—one half landed by Theodam, the other at the feet of the alpha.

The gruhanas hesitated.

Six green ichor spikes erupted from the earth, impaling the hungry ones who lunged for the bodies. One lead went down. Only two remained.

Absol. Theodam. Iris.

Together, they ended it.

Pel turned his gaze to his father. The dust had not cleared.

He ran forward.

And in that moment—just for a breath—he saw it.

Three topaz horns.

Rising from Roc’s head.

Then gone.

The dust blew away. Roc stood among the corpses. Alone.

And victorious.

The party erupted—cheers and chants echoed through the woods.

For Roc. For Absol. For Theodam. For Iris.