An old lover.

Infection pt 2.

“I don’t want to pry or anything, but what can you tell us about your people?” Ikaro asked from behind. His voice carried over the crunch of gravel and roots beneath our boots. Entinos walked ahead, each heavy step driven by something more than purpose, determination twisted with resentment. Even from behind, I could feel it radiating off him, that quiet anger still festering from Vod’s betrayal.

“We are the last hope Egosea has,” Entinos grunted, his tone like a low growl. “If it wants to survive Vod’s scheme, it will need us.” The words came with a weight that didn’t match his stoic expression.

Noor arched a brow, her voice sharp but wary. “Come on, Horns. We’re walking blindly here… How do you even know your people aren’t dead? Or worse, working with Vod?”

Entinos froze mid-step. The forest seemed to hold its breath. He turned slowly, his golden eyes flashing. “Watch your tongue, sorceress,” he snapped. “The Rhaadkat would never kneel to that traitor. We were exiled because we refused him. Need I remind you of that?”

“Calm down, Entinos. We’re all together in this,” Iris said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. I could see the tension ripple through his muscles before he exhaled. She looked at me with quiet concern, as if silently asking me to intervene before his temper got the best of him.

I stepped closer. “One way or another, could you answer Ikaro’s question?”

Entinos’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. As he turned forward again, I caught the flicker of something human in his expression, loss, maybe even guilt. “My people,” he began slowly, “are the oldest clan. There are many of us, but only the Great Five lead the rest: the Rhaadkat, the Recniq, the Kauq, the Cheqae, and the Vasin.”

“The ‘Great Five,’ huh?” I said, trying to follow. “Who’s who, exactly?”

“You already know the Rhaadkat and Recniq, our warriors,” he said, his voice softening slightly as if recalling something long buried. “The Kauq handle trade; they’re our merchants and diplomats with the other old creatures or sometimes human but that depends on the occasion. The Cheqae, your tongue would call them shamans, speak to the spirits and are our guides in the spiritual and material world, In the inner councils of the clan a Cheqae must be part of it. They are fewer and far between the rest of us and they are only satyrs.

"Is there an explanation for that?" Noor asked intrigued, she recalled had been reading in the book about them somewhere in the spirit sections.

"None that I full grasp it's understanding." He answered. "What we know about them is that when a young satyr has the potential to become a Cheque is taken away from his family for training and protection. They carry old and powerful knowledge that it's passed through birth between us and that's why they need to be careful and above all be the guides not the leaders." He explained.

"interesting, so they act only as guides then for the clans?" Iris asked curious, a trait shared sometimes, like this time, with her brother.

Entinos made an affirming hum, and added. "Like I mentioned before, they are the closest to the spiritual world and by extension the skill of casting magic compared to the others. That's why they can't be the Taedaz they would be too above of the rest in power, the balance would shattered."

"What about the Vasin? What make them stand out?" Ikaro asked the stoic satyr.

"The Vasin… they’re the centaurs, guardians of the old borders." He chuckled at his obvious response "I know it sounds simple but it truly is, they are one unified big clan."

"Why is that? Don't they have their own sub-clans of their own?" Aerys asked this time, her own curiosity peek.

"not anymore... It's been almost three centuries since the centaurs have surpassed us in raw strength and numbers. After the last "nimohem", the battle of the ancients," He translated for the group. "The centaurs began to setback in numbers."

"I read that the centaurs have a longer lifespan compared to most species, some of them can live for thousands of years!" Aerys commented on.

"Indeed, although those are few are far between. Their estimated lifespan is 300-400 unless you are Chiron who is the oldest living centaur at age 640 from what we know. " Entinos explained "this lifespan is the reason they are not as many as they used to be, it takes a lot more for them to produce offspring with the lack of young satyr around... Hopefully in the future we could see them return to their glory. The world knows it needs more people like Chiron in it."

The air between the trees thickened with moisture as we moved deeper into the forest. The scent of sap and moss grew stronger, sticky in the lungs. Fungal light shimmered faintly between roots like dying embers.

Aerys spoke up from the back, her tone gentle but curious. “Aren’t the Vasin concerned about Vod’s sudden rise? If I were them, I’d be furious that Chiron’s missing and Vod’s doing nothing to find him.”

“On the contrary,” Entinos replied grimly, “they’re the most volatile now. Chiron’s absence left them ****. Vod’s lies filled that void, he convinced them the ritual would bring back balance.” He glanced at me briefly, as if measuring my reaction. “They won’t help us unless Chiron returns. And the Cheqae… they’re a power of their own. You never know what side they’ll take.”

“Looks like we are completely alone on this then.” Noor said from the back.

“That will depend on who will ally with us, flames.” Aerys replied to her. “If we allow Vod’s tactics work on us to then forget about standing a chance.” She looked at me. “We can’t allow this no matter what Kayn, Sparta and the rest of the south won’t stand a chance against a combined hostile faun army.”

I nodded at her in agreement “I will not allow him to win, believe me.”

Entinos slowed suddenly, eyes narrowing at something ahead. “After this ordeal is over,” he murmured, “I will ask Chiron and the shamans to help you recover another memory.” His voice carried a rare gentleness then, almost a promise. I nodded thankful, but before I could respond, his arm shot up, signalling us to halt.

The forest had gone utterly still.

Entinos approached a nearby tree and brushed his fingers over a small carved symbol, a sigil shaped like a spiralled horn and leaf. His hand lingered there too long, trembling slightly. I saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. “This mark…” he whispered. “I carved this one the night I left.”

For a moment, the stoic satyr was gone. The mask cracked, revealing a man wrestling with ghosts. He inhaled deeply, the bark-scented air stirring some old ache within him. “I was a lost man back then,” he muttered under his breath. “I will not return to being that. I’m someone else now… something better.”

We moved forward as we moved deeper into the forest, Entinos guided us as he focused on following the pattern of the sigils left behind on the trees
“Something’s off,” I whispered to the others, catching the tension building in his posture. “Get ready.”

Entinos gave a low whistle, a strange melody repeating twice, part signal, part prayer. The sound drifted through the mist. It was almost like he was announcing himself to whoever or whatever might be listening.

“What’s he doing?” Aerys whispered, sword half-drawn.

Before anyone could answer, a dark shape dropped from above with a roar of motion. Entinos hit the ground hard, pinned beneath a lithe figure. A curved blade pressed to his throat.

The satyr crouched above him wasn’t just any warrior. She was his mirror, horns sharp and black, skin dappled with earthen tones, eyes fierce and bright. “You’re getting old, Jukrur,” she hissed, voice low and mocking.

Entinos didn’t flinch. “And you’re getting sloppy, Stregia,” he shot back, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I heard your steps a mile away.”

Ikaro blinked. “…Should we step in?” he whispered

A taut silence followed, until the woman’s expression shifted. The edge of her blade trembled… then she laughed. The sound was sharp and disarming, slicing through the tension. Before anyone could move, she leaned down and crushed her lips to his in a wild, sudden kiss. A weapon’s threat became something rawer, a teasing bite between old lovers.

“Never mind.” He added as we all looked confused at each other.

The woman finally pulled back, laughing under her breath as she helped Entinos to his feet. “You? Traveling with Gipkuhs? Interesting.” Her gaze swept over us; assessing, predatory. She was nearly as tall as Entinos, but carried herself with a subtle, commanding grace. Even her stance felt dangerous, like a blade at rest. She was gorgeous, a beautiful face accompanied by some accessories around her horns and ears while some small scars marked her body and face adding a sexy dangerous allure to her. Her body was a killer, trained and with an hour glass figure to follow in her beautiful and dangerous style that she leaned on.

The clearing around us pulsed faintly with light from the fungi veining the trees. It smelled of crushed moss and old rain; the air tasted faintly of sap and iron.

“They are not Gipkuhs,” Entinos replied in his native tongue. “At least… not all of them.”

It was strange, the words rolled off his tongue like music, deep and coarse, yet ancient. I could follow most of it, but certain names and titles resisted translation. The language itself felt older than the world that now carried it.

The woman’s nostrils flared as she studied us. “Three of them smell different,” she murmured. “One especially. The others… human, but altered. Still humankind, just touched by something else.” Her arms crossed, an unreadable expression, suspicion and curiosity in equal measure.

Iris leaned closer to me; voice low. “Kayn, what’s she saying?”

“They’re… uh, talking about us,” I said awkwardly, pointing between Noor, Iris, and myself.

Noor rolled her eyes. “Oh great, the old mystical sniff test. I should’ve brewed a translation spell when I had the chance.”

Aerys tilted her head, calm but intrigued. “Could you make one for me too?”

“Anytime, sister,” Noor said, her tone light but edged with pride. The two exchanged a small fist bump, cutting the tension just enough for the group to breathe again.

“They are heroes sent by the gods,” Entinos explained to the woman. “They are here to help.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We don’t need help.”

Entinos’s voice softened, uncharacteristically. “Nixia,” he said, taking her hand gently. “I know what Vod did. You… the Rhaadkat… you need them, if we’re to have any chance at all.”

Her sharp confidence flickered for a heartbeat. She studied him as if seeing him for the first time. “It’s been a long time since you left” she said quietly. “You really think outsiders will fix the perception of our people of you?”

He didn’t answer, only met her gaze, the weight of old guilt thick in the air between them. “I do. I believe in them, and especially him.”

After a pause, Nixia stepped forward, her attention shifting to me. “You are the leader, I take it?” she asked. Her Common tongue was accented but clear. “By the look of you, you understand me, that’s rare for humans.”

I nodded. “I’m a chosen of the gods. We believe the ones we’re hunting are close.”

Nixia tilted her head, eyes flicking toward the others. “And what about the rest of you?” she asked. “Do you believe in his mission are you all just paid arms?”

Ikaro crossed his arms, ever the loud one. “We met the guy who claims to run this place. Capital-A asshole, for the record. It’s that good enough of a reason for you?”

That earned a laugh from her deep, genuine. “I don’t serve Vod,” she said finally. Then, in her tongue: “Can I trust them?”

Entinos didn’t hesitate. “You can. I vouch for them with my life.”

She considered that for a long moment. The faint hum of insects in the damp air filled the silence before she finally nodded. “The Rhaadkat are scattered,” she said. “But I can take you to our main camp. Though tell me, Entinos, are you truly ready to return home? After everything?”

“There will be no repercussions,” he replied calmly, though his eyes told a different story. “The Balance knows my truth. That’s all that matters.”

Nixia smiled faintly not kindly, but knowingly. “Then hear my terms,” she said, stepping back and lifting a hand. “Ground rules for outsiders.”

Everyone tensed as she held up a single finger. “Rule one: no weapons. You keep your hands empty, and you keep your lives. Break that, and my people will take something from you you’ll miss dearly.”

A ripple of unease went through the group. Ikaro’s hand hovered near his sword. Iris’s jaw clenched, unwilling but silent. Noor gave a small, **** smile. “Cute. We’ll be perfect guests,” she said lightly. “Until you try anything funny.”

“Rule two,” Nixia continued, her grin widening. “I’m Nixia. And until you’re under my roof, you follow my command.”

The words hung in the air firm, final, and absolute.

Entinos gave a single, respectful nod. “Lead the way, then, Stregia.”

Nixia smirked, eyes gleaming with both mischief and warning. “Try to keep up, Jukrur. The forest remembers those who don’t.”