Lenora kept her distance.
Not far.
Just far enough that if Derpy did something weird again, she’d have room to move.
But her eyes kept flicking back to him anyway.
Like she was checking he was still breathing.
Derpy couldn’t blame her.
He couldn’t even blame himself.
He sat on a rock, shivering, Mia pressed against his side like a heated blanket with teeth.
Sphinx sat in front of him, tail wrapped neatly around his paws, staring at Lenora like he was judging her entire bloodline.
Derpy wiped his face with his sleeve.
Lenora watched him shiver. He looked like a boy who had barely survived a terrible accident, not someone who ought to be carrying a Calamity.
If he was telling the truth, why did he have one? Who would entrust that kind of power to someone who didn't even know what it was?
“Derpy,” she said. “Can I examine your skills?”
“My what? Like cooking?”
“Abilities. Things you can do that other people can't.”
“Oh. I don't know if I have any.”
“That is why I'm asking. May I check?”
Derpy glanced at Mia, then at Sphinx. Neither animal relaxed. “Sure. As long as it doesn't hurt.”
“Turn around. And don't look back until I'm finished.”
“Okay, but that sounds suspicious.” He turned anyway.
Lenora stepped behind him and raised her hand. The examination was real, but it wasn't the only reason she wanted to touch him. She wanted to know whether the crest would speak again.
Her palm rested lightly between his shoulders.
Heat bloomed beneath her clothing. The crest glowed, warmer than it had ever been, yet the old pain never came.
Not the one. That was what it had always told her when she tried to let someone close. The warning had driven her away from friends and strangers alike.
Now she waited for the words. They did not come. For an instant, relief rose in her chest—followed by fear. The warning had always told her when to pull away. Without it, she would have to decide for herself whether to trust him. What if the silence meant nothing? What if she chose wrong?
Why are you silent with him? she wondered. Does that mean I can try? She kept her hand steady, though she no longer knew whether she wanted an answer.
“Lenora?” Derpy asked. “Is something supposed to happen?”
“Be still.” She steadied her breathing. “Skill Reader.”
A thin pane of light unfolded before her eyes.
TARGET: DERPY
ADAPT — Able to adapt to any situation.
SHED — ????????????
DEVOUR — ????????????
Lenora read the first entry twice. Any situation? Surely that description left something out. She inspected Shed, but the question marks remained. Then she selected Devour. No explanation appeared. She dismissed the detail pane and opened Devour again, more carefully this time. Still nothing: no conditions, no limits, only the same unreadable marks.
Devour. The name unsettled her, though a name was not proof of danger. And Shed—what was it supposed to mean?
Her eyes moved from the unreadable entries to the boy beneath her hand. A Calamity, three strange skills, and no sign that he understood any of it.
She dismissed the pane and withdrew her hand. The crest's warmth lingered.
“You can turn around.”
Derpy faced her. “So? Am I good at anything?”
“You have very odd skills,” Lenora said. “One is called Adapt. It says you can adjust to any situation, but I don't know how far that goes.”
“Sounds useful.”
“It might be. The other two are called Shed and Devour. I couldn't read what they do.”
Derpy frowned. “Neither could I. I didn't even know they existed.”
She searched his expression for a lie and found only bewilderment.
“If we're going to find out what Adapt does,” she said, “you'll need to learn how to protect yourself. I could help you train.”
“You'd do that?”
“I'm offering to test what you can do, not promising that I trust you.”
“Fair enough.” Derpy rubbed his wet sleeves. “Could we start when I'm not freezing?”
“First we talk,” Lenora said, glancing at the book. “There are still things you need to explain.”
“Okay,” he said hoarsely. “So. Calamity Book. That’s a thing. Cool. Love that for me.”
Lenora’s ears flicked.
“You didn’t know,” she said.
Derpy barked a laugh.
“No. I thought I bought a journal from a weird cosplayer.”
Lenora’s gaze sharpened.
“A dragon projection,” she corrected automatically—then stopped, like she’d revealed she knew more than she meant to.
Derpy blinked.
“A what?”
Lenora exhaled through her nose.
“Never mind,” she said.
Derpy stared.
“No, no, you can’t ‘never mind’ that,” he snapped. “I’m in a fog forest with a murder-book and bracelets that turn into—” He gestured wildly. “—that. You don’t get to ‘never mind’ me.”
Lenora’s eyes narrowed.
Then she looked away.
For a second, she looked tired.
And then she looked… embarrassed.
Like she wasn’t used to being questioned—and also wasn’t used to caring what the answer did to someone.
“Fine,” she said. “Calamity Books are… old. Dangerous. Sentient. They choose people.”
Derpy swallowed.
“I didn’t ask to be chosen.”
Lenora’s mouth tightened.
“Neither did most of the people who died because of them,” she said.
The words hit like a slap.
Derpy went quiet.
Mia growled low, like she didn’t like Lenora’s tone.
Sphinx’s eyes narrowed.
Lenora noticed.
Her gaze softened—just a fraction.
“I’m not blaming you,” she said, more carefully. “I’m telling you the cost.”
Derpy’s throat went dry.
He looked at the journal.
It sat on the riverbank, edges faintly warm.
Like embers under ash.
Derpy swallowed.
“Okay,” he said. “So what were the bracelets doing? Why did they drag me here?”
Lenora’s eyes flicked to his wrists.
“Tracking,” she said.
Derpy blinked.
“Like… GPS?”
Lenora snorted.
“No,” she said. “Worse. More… playful.”
Derpy’s stomach sank.
“They’re a hot-and-cold game,” Lenora continued. “They pull you toward something. Or away from something. Sometimes they lie.”
Derpy stared.
“That’s not tracking. That’s bullying.”
Lenora’s mouth twitched.
“Calamities don’t care about your comfort,” she said. “They care about their goals.”
Derpy’s jaw clenched.
“My goal is not dying,” he said.
Lenora nodded once.
“Then you need training,” she said.
Derpy blinked.
“What?”
Lenora sheathed her sword—slowly, deliberately.
It wasn’t trust.
It was a choice.
“A Calamity bearer who can’t control it is a disaster waiting to happen,” she said. “You froze a river on instinct.”
Derpy flinched.
“I froze me,” he muttered.
Lenora’s ears twitched.
“And you survived,” she said. “Because you found an anchor.”
Derpy swallowed.
“My pets,” he said quietly.
Lenora’s gaze flicked to Mia and Sphinx.
“They’re bonded to you,” she said.
Derpy stiffened.
“What does that mean?”
Lenora hesitated.
Then she said, “It means if you fall apart, they might too.”
Derpy’s stomach dropped.
Mia whined.
Sphinx leaned into Derpy’s shoulder, purring low.
Derpy clenched his fists.
“Okay,” he said, voice tight. “So what do we do?”
Lenora looked at him.
Really looked.
Not at the bracelets.
Not at the book.
At him.
Her face went full pink again.
Immediate.
Unforgiving.
She snapped her gaze away like it was a reflex, ears stiff, jaw tight.
“I’m heading to Whisperfen,” she said too fast. “There’s… information there. People who know more than I do.”
Derpy swallowed.
“Whisperfen,” he repeated.
The word felt like fog on his tongue.
Lenora nodded.
“You can come with me,” she said.
Her voice was stern.
But her eyes—when she dared glance back—were careful.
Protective.
Then she looked away again, her mouth a thin, professional line, as if she were mentally reviewing a list of tactical maneuvers.
“Or you can wander alone until those bracelets decide to drag you into something worse than a river.”
Derpy stared.
Mia pressed closer.
Sphinx’s tail flicked.
Derpy exhaled.
“I don’t even have shoes for this,” he muttered.
Lenora blinked.
And then—very, very faintly—she smiled.
It was gone almost immediately.
But it was there.
Derpy looked up.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”
Lenora’s ears lifted.
Her face pinked again like it had been waiting.
She looked away so hard she nearly turned her whole body with it.
“Good,” she said, stern like a commander. “Stay close.”
“But,” Derpy added quickly, “I’m not your prisoner. I’m not your weapon. I’m not your—”
Lenora held up a hand.
“Partner?” she said, like she was testing the word.
Derpy froze.
Then he nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
Lenora’s cheeks went bright.
Like, oh no, that word did something to me bright.
She cleared her throat like she could clear the heat out of her face.
“Fine,” she said. “Partner.”
Derpy swallowed.
Mia barked once, like she approved.
Sphinx blinked slowly, still judging.
Lenora glanced toward the forest.
“We move before dark gets worse,” she said.
Derpy stared at the fog.
“It can get worse?”
Lenora’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes,” she said simply.
Derpy sighed.
“Of course it can.”
They returned to the campsite before attempting anything else. Lenora coaxed the fire back to life while Derpy changed out of his wettest layers and sat close enough to warm his hands. Mia settled beside him; Sphinx kept watch at the edge of the light. Lenora let him rest until the shivering eased. Only after he stood on steady legs did she find a thin fallen branch and hold it across her palms.
“One small test,” she said. “No magic. No weapons for you. Just dodge.”
Derpy stared at the branch. “You said we were leaving.”
“We are. This will take a moment.” She tapped toward his shoulder slowly enough to give him room to move.
He jerked away, tangled his feet, and nearly sat down in the dirt.
“Too slow,” Lenora said.
“Too unexpected!”
She tried again. Derpy ducked awkwardly. On the third attempt, when she changed the angle, he shifted out of reach a fraction sooner.
Lenora lowered the branch. Perhaps he was simply learning her rhythm. Perhaps Adapt was helping. Three attempts proved nothing.
Derpy bent over, hands on his knees. “Please tell me that's enough training for today.”
“For now.” Lenora set the branch aside. “Tomorrow we'll see whether you can repeat it.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Walking to Whisperfen comes first,” she said. “And you stay where I can see you.”
Her crest gave a quiet pulse. Lenora ignored it, though she couldn't ignore the question it left behind: what would happen if she truly gave this boy a chance?