The cub didn’t run.

  It stayed just beneath the arbor — half-shadowed, half-lit by the gentle shimmer of mana-lamps strung through the overhead vines. Its feathers were matted and uneven, a little too scruffy to be called cute, with a slight tilt to its head that made it look permanently suspicious. Kalen didn’t recognize the species. A duck variant, maybe, but wilder — like something that hadn’t been bred for companionship or trained for utility.

  Just a creature trying to survive.

  Milo chirped from his perch on Kalen’s arm, his tail twitching in curious circles. He wasn’t alarmed — more intrigued. That was a good sign.

  Kalen lowered himself slowly, careful not to move too close. He sat cross-legged on the mossy flagstones, letting Milo hop down beside him. The cub’s golden eyes tracked every movement.

  He didn’t speak right away.

  Instead, he let the silence settle like a blanket — not heavy, but warm. Soft night breezes stirred the leaves. Somewhere deep in the sanctuary, a wind chime made of hollowed bone and crystal clinked in rhythm with the mana flow.

  Kalen reached into his satchel and pulled out a wrapped piece of dried fruit. He broke it in half and placed one chunk on the ground beside him. The other he handed to Milo, who took it without hesitation and began nibbling noisily.

  The cub didn’t move.

  But it watched the fruit.

  And Milo.

  And him.

  “That’s fine,” Kalen said quietly. “You don’t have to come closer.”

  He leaned back on one hand, eyes flicking toward the vines overhead, where a few of the old training glyphs still glowed faintly — faded from years of disuse. They pulsed like sleepy hearts, reminding him of bedtime stories under his uncle’s voice.

  He didn’t know why, but something about the moment made him want to speak. Not to explain. Just… to share.

  So he did.

  “There’s a story,” Kalen said softly, “about a giant ape. Not just strong — smart. Brave. But alone.”

  Milo paused mid-chew.

  “He lived on an island. Protected it. Protected the creatures there. But then… people came. They didn’t understand him. They fought. They hurt. And he fought back.”

  The cub’s eyes didn’t blink.

  “But later, something worse came. A monster even stronger than him. He couldn’t win alone. He had to trust someone. A human — just one, at first. Then a few more. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want help. But he accepted it.”

  Kalen exhaled, gaze flicking toward Milo. The monkey was stock-still now.

  “And that’s how they won,” Kalen said. “Not because he was the biggest or loudest — but because he finally had someone to stand with. Someone who believed in him. Someone he could protect… and be protected by.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He smiled faintly. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

  Milo shifted closer, pressing against his side. The monkey’s breath matched his, syncing in quiet rhythm. And Kalen felt it — not just presence, but resonance. Like something deep in his soul leaned forward and whispered, Yes.

  He blinked.

  There was no flash. No swirl of mana or dramatic glyph lighting.

  Just warmth.

  Milo’s small palm against his chest. His heartbeat steady. His gaze unwavering.

  The bond clicked into place.

  The air felt different after the bond settled — not heavier, but deeper. Like the sanctuary itself had inhaled.

  Kalen didn’t move.

  Milo stayed pressed against him, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable but calm. The monkey looked… proud, somehow. Not puffed-up or cocky, but steadied — like something inside him had clicked into place.

  Kalen’s heart swelled with quiet wonder. He hadn’t done anything formal. No ritual. No array. Just a story and a moment of trust.

  Was that really all it took?

  Movement caught his eye.

  The duck cub had edged closer — not much, but enough to cross that invisible line from watching to joining. Its eyes weren’t curious anymore. They were searching.

  It stepped toward the uneaten half of the dried fruit.

  Kalen didn’t move.

  The cub nudged it. Picked it up in its beak. Ate it in three messy bites, feathers twitching all the while like it couldn’t decide if this was bravery or betrayal.

  Then it sat.

  Not beside him.

  Not far away either.

  Just within the circle of light.

  Kalen smiled. “You’ve got good timing.”

  The cub looked away.

  He considered for a moment, then said, “You need a name.”

  Its head swiveled sharply back toward him.

  “I’m not going to pick something ridiculous,” he added quickly. “I mean… probably not.”

  Milo chittered.

  Kalen rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re scruffy. Stubborn. A little mean-looking, if I’m honest.”

  The duck cub puffed up in affront.

  “But graceful, when you move,” Kalen added. “Like a flower growing through a crack in the stone.”

  He paused.

  “Daisy,” he said. “That’s what I’ll call you. It suits you more than you want it to.”

  The cub didn’t protest.

  Didn’t leave.

  Just blinked — once, slowly — and turned her gaze back toward the fire pit’s embers.

  Kalen let out a long breath and stood. “Alright, you two. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Milo hopped to his shoulder with practiced ease. Daisy remained where she was.

  Kalen hesitated, then walked toward the sanctuary’s main building. As he reached the threshold, he paused — and glanced back.

  Daisy was still watching.

  Still waiting.

  Still there.

  The inside of the sanctuary smelled like time and memory — like old straw, dried herbs, and mana-oil soaked into worn wood. The main room was still functional, though dim. Ward glyphs flickered along the rafters like sleepy fireflies, responding to his presence with slow pulses of pale blue.

  He found the old sleeping nook near the central hearth — a raised cot lined with faded blankets and beast hair that hadn’t been cleaned in a year. He didn’t mind. He dusted it off with a sweep of his satchel, laid down, and pulled a thin woven cover over his legs.

  Milo curled up instantly at his side, then wriggled up to settle just beneath his chin like a furry scarf.

  “You really bonded with me, huh?” Kalen whispered, scratching behind the monkey’s ear.

  Milo let out a low hum of satisfaction and pressed in closer.

  A soft light caught Kalen’s eye.

  He shifted slightly — careful not to disturb Milo — and saw it.

  Just beneath the monkey’s fur, glowing faintly across his right shoulder blade, was a rune.

  It wasn’t elaborate.

  It was a book.

  Not a blank one — but with a single etched title across its open pages.

  The Next Great Adventure.

  Kalen stared at it, heart thudding.

  His soul-sigil.

  His mark.

  Somehow, seeing it there — not on his skin, but on Milo’s — made it real.

  Made everything real.

  He reached out and gently touched the mark. The glow warmed slightly in response, like a living ember. Milo stirred but didn’t wake, nestling deeper into his chest.

  From outside the half-cracked window, the wind rustled through the leaves, soft and low.

  Kalen closed his eyes.

  The sanctuary breathed around him.

  And for the first time since awakening, he didn’t feel like a guest in someone else’s life.

  He felt home.