Chapter 10: Between Heroes and Secrets

Last Comradeship Camp

The dawn was cold, dew clinging to the tents and the boots of the mercenaries who were already up, sharpening blades or reinforcing stakes. The central campfire, now reduced to embers, sent thin spirals of smoke curling into the gray sky.

Tetanus, already awake, was adjusting his two-handed sword in its makeshift scabbard when a young mercenary with fresh cuts on his face approached. “Tetanus, the boss wants you. At his tent. Now.”

Tetanus nodded, his stomach tightening. He glanced around for his friends, but they were likely elsewhere. The camp seemed quieter than usual, as if everyone sensed something big was being planned. He adjusted his hood over his purple hair, a habit, and walked to Tiradentes’s tent, eyes alert for any sign of trouble.

Inside the tent, the air smelled of old leather and candle wax. Tiradentes sat in a chair, the scar on his face looking better. He held a tin mug, its contents steaming faintly, and his dark eyes rose as Tetanus entered. To Tetanus’s surprise, the commander smiled—a rare gesture that softened the hard lines of his face.

“Sit, kid,” Tiradentes said, pointing to a crate nearby. “No need to stand there like a statue.”

Tetanus hesitated but obeyed, sitting with his sword on his back. He expected a reprimand or a direct order, but Tiradentes’s tone was different, almost… affectionate. The old mercenary took a sip from his mug before speaking, his eyes fixed on some distant point.

“You know, Tetanus, ever since you got here, I’ve seen you as a son,” he began, his voice hoarse but steady. “A stubborn son, sometimes, but with potential. That’s why I was hard on you in training.” He chuckled, a dry sound echoing in the tent. “If I’d gone easy, you’d still be tripping over your own feet, not wielding a two-handed sword and taking down forest demons.”

Tetanus looked down, uncomfortable with the praise. He wondered if Tiradentes would still see him as a son if he knew the truth. “I… just did what you told me,” he mumbled, trying to steer the conversation away.

Tiradentes shook his head, as if sensing Tetanus was hiding something but choosing not to press. “You did more than that, kid. That day in the square, you jumped in front of a rapier for me. That’s not just following orders. That’s courage. And that’s why I trust you with what’s coming next.”

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made Tetanus sit up straighter. “The prince thinks he can crush us with these taxes, but he’s underestimating the Last Comradeship. We’re done negotiating. We’re taking Ouro Preto. A rebellion, Tetanus. We’ll invade the city, take down his guards, and show that the iron is ours. But it has to be quick, precise, and above all, secret. One misstep, and the gallows will be waiting.”

Tetanus felt the weight of Tiradentes’s words. A rebellion. Not just a confrontation in the square or an exchange of insults. It was war against the crown, everything that kept Ouro Preto under control.

“I’m in,” he said, voice firm, though his mind was in turmoil. “What do you need me to do?”

Tiradentes smiled again, clapping Tetanus’s shoulder. “For now, keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. We’ll hash out the details tonight with the other leaders. You’ll have a role in this, son. Don’t let me down.”

Tetanus nodded, the weight of Tiradentes calling him “son” settling heavily. Rising to leave, the commander’s trust felt like an added burden. He pushed through the tent flap into the cold camp air, the sky still heavy with clouds. But before he could take two steps, a movement in the shadows stopped him.

Rastro was leaning against a nearby tree, his face half-hidden by a hood, but his eyes glinted with a venom Tetanus recognized from afar. The crooked smile on his face said he’d heard everything.

“So, the boss’s son, huh?” Rastro said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Planning a little rebellion, are we? Think Tiradentes will protect you when the guards come for you?”

Tetanus’s blood boiled, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword’s hilt. “What’d you hear, Rastro?” he asked, voice low but sharp. “And what do you want with it?”

Rastro stepped forward, a knife twirling between his fingers. “Heard enough to know you’re neck-deep in this shit pit. And I know more, Tetanus. Like a certain dead lady in an Ouro Preto brothel. Purple hair, one eye… sound familiar?” He laughed, a low, cruel sound. “Imagine what Tiradentes would think if he knew his ‘son’ is a whore-killer.”

Tetanus lunged, half-drawing his sword, body taut as a bowstring. “You don’t know shit,” he growled, eyes locked on Rastro. “And if you open your mouth, I’ll cut you before the guards get here.”

Rastro raised his hands, still smiling, but took a step back. “Easy, kid. I’m not the one being hunted. But maybe I’ll keep your little secret… for a price.” He pointed to the pouch at Tetanus’s waist. “Those gold coins you’re carrying. Hand them over, and I’ll stay quiet. For now.”

Tetanus gripped his sword’s hilt, rage battling fear. He knew Rastro was a snake, and trusting him was as dangerous as fighting him right there. But with the rebellion looming and Ouro Preto’s guards on his trail, he couldn’t afford to make an archenemy.

“You wanna play dirty?” Tetanus said, voice cold. “Bring it. But if you try to screw me, Rastro, I swear it won’t be the prince you’ll fear.”

Rastro laughed again, but there was a glint of caution in his eyes. He sheathed his knife and shrugged, as if the conversation was just a game. “See you around, Tetanus. And keep that purple hair hidden. Be a shame to see you swing before the rebellion.”

He turned, vanishing among the tents, leaving Tetanus alone with the weight of his words. Needing to clear his mind, Tetanus left the camp’s central area, wandering aimlessly toward the woods bordering the camp. Following the same trail that led to a nearby stream, the sound of running water promised silence.

Maiden’s Stream

His steps were heavy as he set his sword aside, avoiding its weight as a distraction. He wanted just a few minutes of peace, but fate, as always, had other plans.

At the stream’s edge, the crystal water reflected the day’s last light. He was about to sit on a rock when a sharp whistle came from the trees, and a figure emerged from the shadows with confident steps. Captain Zara, the redhead, her unmistakable green eyes gleaming. She appeared with a half-smile, her monocle dangling around her neck, glinting faintly. Her red hair, tied in a makeshift ponytail, swayed as she walked.

This time, she wore a more casual outfit, hugging her body—not that it mattered, as Tetanus had already seen her naked before.

“Tetanus, what are you doing out here alone, looking like a lost dog?” Zara said, her voice firm but tinged with amusement. She stopped a few steps away, arms crossed under her breasts, emphasizing their size, her green eyes assessing him as if she could read every crack in his soul.

Tetanus shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “Just needed… to think. Too much on my mind.”

Zara raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Think? You?” She laughed, a short, sharp sound, but not cruel. “Come with me, kid. You need more than thinking.”

Before Tetanus could protest, Zara grabbed his arm with surprising strength and pulled him toward the stream. He stumbled, nearly falling, but she held him up easily, dragging him to the shallow, icy water’s edge. “You always look like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders,” she said, releasing him and starting to untie her tunic’s straps. “Can’t you relax for once in your life?”

Tetanus stood frozen, unsure how to react, as Zara stripped off her clothes with quick, precise movements, leaving them in a pile on the grass. Underneath, she wore black underwear that highlighted her strong curves and tanned skin. She kicked off her boots and, without ceremony, stepped into the water up to her ankles, turning to him. “Come on, Tetanus. A bath won’t kill you.”

He hesitated, heart racing. The idea of removing his shirt—exposing himself—made him uneasy, not out of shame, but at the thought of Zara seeing the mark on his chest. That strange spiral scar, he always worried someone might recognize something in it.

But this time, Zara’s firm, challenging gaze left no room for refusal. She bent down, scooped a handful of icy water, and splashed it at him, the cold liquid hitting his face and chest.

“Hey!” Tetanus stepped back, but Zara was already laughing, splashing more water with her hands.

“Get in, you coward!” she shouted, her voice a mix of authority and playfulness. “Or I’ll drag you in!”

Tetanus wiped the water from his face, the cold sharpening his senses. With a sigh, he began untying his armor, setting it beside hers. The shirt, though, he hesitated to remove.

Zara noticed and crossed her arms, water dripping from her hands. “What’s wrong, Tetanus? Shy?” She stepped toward the bank. “Or hiding something?”

He swallowed hard, his mind racing. Lying to Zara didn’t seem like an option—she had an uncanny knack for sniffing out secrets. With a slow, almost reluctant motion, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his muscled chest, marked by smaller scars from past fights, and the spiral mark. He avoided her gaze, bracing for a reaction.

Zara stayed silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the mark. Then, to Tetanus’s surprise, she just shrugged and returned to the water. “Interesting,” she said, her voice neutral but tinged with curiosity. “Everyone here’s got their marks, kid. Now get in the water. Obey your captain!”

Relieved but still tense, Tetanus stepped into the stream, the cold biting his legs. Zara laughed, splashing him again, and for the first time in days, Tetanus felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He retaliated, splashing back, and for a moment, they were just people, not mercenaries carrying the burden of an imminent rebellion or deadly secrets. Zara ducked her head under the water and emerged laughing, her red hair now loose and dripping.

“See?” she said, swimming closer to him. “Not so bad. You need to stop burying yourself in your own demons. War’s coming, and if your head’s not right, you won’t help anyone.”

Tetanus nodded, the cold water calming him.

Zara grinned, a rare genuine smile that contrasted with her commanding presence. “Good.”

Without warning, she pushed him deeper into the water. Tetanus gasped, emerging and spitting water, his purple hair plastered to his face. “Take off those pants,” Zara demanded.

His muscles tensed under her watchful gaze. Hands still gripping his pants, he asked cautiously, “What are you doing?” watching her half-naked body.

Zara gave a wry smile, her eyes roaming Tetanus’s toned, youthful frame as he hesitated. She stepped forward, the water rippling around her waist. “Helping you,” she said, her voice low and suggestive.

Without waiting for a response, she reached out and grabbed the waistband of his pants, pulling them down. Tetanus gasped, trying to cover himself, but she swatted his hands away. “Don’t be shy, kid,” she teased, brushing her fingers over his hardening member through his underwear.

Zara hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling it down. His cock sprang free, already half-erect and pulsing. She licked her lips, wrapping her hand around his shaft and stroking it slowly.

“Nice cock you’ve got there,” she purred, continuing to stroke him. The cold water and her warm hand sent shivers through Tetanus’s body. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan as she massaged his sensitive flesh.

Zara stepped closer, removing her bra, her breasts pressing against his chest as she whispered in his ear. “Relax, I’ll make you feel good…” She punctuated her words with a firm grip on his shaft.

Without warning, she dove under the water, taking his cock with her. Tetanus gasped as he felt Zara’s hot mouth engulf him underwater. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving his member deeper into her throat. She took him to the hilt, her nose pressing against his pelvis as she swallowed him, her tongue swirling around his shaft.

His head fell back, purple hair fanning out in the water as he moaned, the sound muffled by the current. Zara bobbed her head, sucking him hard and fast, her hand pumping what little air remained in her lungs. She could feel him pulsing in her mouth, his body tense as he fought the urge to cum.

Just when Tetanus thought he couldn’t hold on, Zara surfaced, a trail of water and saliva connecting her lips to his cock. She gasped for air, then dove back down, taking him to the peak again. This time, she raised a hand to caress his balls, rolling them gently in her palm as she sucked.

Tetanus was lost in a haze of pleasure, his mind clouded as Zara sucked him with skill and enthusiasm. He could feel his orgasm building. With one final, powerful suck, Zara pushed him over the edge. He came hard, his semen spurting from his cock and down her throat.

Finally, she emerged from the stream, dressing again. Tetanus followed, pulling on his shirt, hiding the mark once more. After what had happened in that stream, Zara knew too much about him—or at least, the surface: the mark, what had happened to his eye.

After receiving an underwater blowjob from the mercenary captain, his feelings were different, a sensation he’d never experienced before. He felt on top of the world, as if he could finally bury his trauma, but even he knew nothing stays submerged forever.

The sky was dawning as Tetanus and Captain Zara returned from the stream. The walk was silent but not uncomfortable. The fresh night air seemed to ease the weight Tetanus carried, though the memory of the stream encounter—Zara’s touch, the unexpected pleasure, the vulnerability of exposing his mark to someone for the first time—still made his heart race. Zara, meanwhile, walked with her usual confidence.

She didn’t mention what had happened, but the slight smile on her face suggested she knew the impact she’d had.

As they reached the camp, the central campfire was nearly out, only red embers lighting the mercenaries talking in low voices. Gume and Farpa were arm-wrestling, and Lâmina was sharpening her scimitar near a tent, casting a curious glance at Tetanus and Zara but saying nothing.

Tetanus avoided eye contact. Zara gave him a pat on the shoulder, a gesture both friendly and commanding. “Go on, kid,” she said, voice firm. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

Tetanus nodded, the camp’s air thick with the energy of something big. Tiradentes was at the camp’s center, studying a map. He was talking with two miners, gesturing over a rough map in his hands. Seeing Tetanus, he waved him over.

“Good to see you up, lad,” Tiradentes said. “We’re planning the rebellion, but first, we need food. Supplies are low, and I don’t want my men hungry while we figure out how to take down the prince.” He pointed to the forest surrounding the camp, a sea of dark trees stretching to the hills. “I want you to go out there and hunt something. A wolf, a wild boar, anything to feed these people. Take your sword, but go alone. I don’t want a group scaring off the game.”

“Count on me,” Tetanus said, adjusting his armor and slinging his sword across his back.

“Good. Be back before noon,” Tiradentes replied, returning to the map. “And watch your step. Those forests hold more than animals, and you know plenty about that.”

Tetanus grabbed an old bow and a quiver with a few arrows, though he knew his real weapon was the sword. He left the camp without looking back, the dirt trail giving way to a narrow path covered in roots and dry leaves. The forest was dense, the air heavy with the smell of moss and damp wood. The camp’s sounds soon faded, replaced by distant owl hoots and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

He walked carefully, eyes scanning the ground for tracks of large game. The mark on his chest pulsed faintly, as if responding to the forest’s stillness. Tetanus tried to ignore it, focusing on the hunt, but a sense of being watched made him nock an arrow just in case. The forest felt alive, branches swaying without wind, as if whispering to each other.

Then he heard it. A sharp crack, like wood snapping, from behind a twisted tree to his left.

He stopped, bow ready with an arrow nocked, but before he could aim, a tall, slender shadow emerged from the trunk, as if the tree itself had come to life. It was a Varapau, a forest guardian, its lean, elongated body made of living wood, with arms like twisted branches and eyes glowing like amber resin. Its skin, if it could be called that, was covered in bark and dry twigs.

The creature moved with supernatural grace.

Tetanus stepped back, arrow aimed, but the Varapau didn’t attack immediately. It tilted its head, amber eyes fixed on Tetanus’s chest, as if seeing through his armor and shirt.

“You…” the Varapau’s voice was like the creaking of ancient trees, deep and resonant. “You bear the mark. The spiral of the Anti-God. Why are you here, bearer?”

Tetanus froze, heart pounding. How did this thing know about the mark?

“I… just came to hunt,” he said, voice steady but with a slight tremor. “I don’t want trouble in your territory.”

The Varapau took a step forward, its branch-like fingers crackling. “The forest does not believe your words, bearer. The mark you carry is a poison. A destroyer. You do not hunt for hunger, but for blood.” Its eyes glowed brighter, and the ground beneath Tetanus trembled, thick roots emerging like serpents.

“I’m not an enemy!” Tetanus shouted. “I didn’t come to cut your trees!”

The creature seemed unconvinced. “The mark does not lie,” it growled, raising an arm. A nearby tree creaked, leaning dangerously toward Tetanus, as if obeying the creature’s will. “You are a threat. And the forest does not forgive.”

Tetanus dodged just as the tree fell, the impact shaking the ground and raising a cloud of dirt. He spun his sword into a defensive stance, heart racing. The Varapau advanced, its movements swift despite its ungainly form, its branch-arms whipping through the air with bone-breaking force. Tetanus blocked a blow with his sword, the impact reverberating through his arms, but he knew fighting a forest guardian was different from facing mercenaries or guards.

A Varapau was part of nature itself, and the forest seemed to fight alongside it, roots trying to ensnare his feet and branches falling dangerously close.

“Listen to me!” Tetanus shouted, dodging another attack. “I don’t want to fight! I just came for food for my people!”

The ent didn’t respond. Its amber eyes burned with greater fury now, and Tetanus realized it wouldn’t back down.

The tall, slender creature moved with agility that belied its wooden form, its amber eyes always fixed on the invisible mark under Tetanus’s armor. The ground trembled with the movement of roots, trees around leaning toward the mercenary, as if reaching for him.

Tetanus gripped his two-handed sword tightly, muscles tense, the blade reflecting the faint light filtering through the canopy.

“The mark is a threat!” the ent growled, its voice like snapping dry wood. One of its arms extended, stretching unnaturally, and Tetanus barely had time to raise his sword to block. The impact was brutal, the creature’s strength making his arms shake and his feet slide in the soft earth. The blade bit into the Varapau’s bark, splintering wood, but the guardian didn’t flinch, its amber eyes burning with resolve.

“FASTER, YOU ROTTEN LOG!” Tetanus shouted, sidestepping to avoid another blow that tore a chunk of earth from where he’d stood. Roots erupted from the ground, wrapping around his boots, trying to immobilize him. He slashed one with his sword, the steel slicing through the living wood with a dry snap, but more roots came, faster and more numerous. “Shit!” he muttered, leaping back, heart pounding.

The living wood creature gave no quarter. With a gesture of its arm, another tree groaned, leaning perilously. Tetanus saw it coming and rolled aside, the tree crashing with a boom that shook the ground, kicking up a cloud of leaves and dirt. He coughed, his eye stinging.

The Varapau advanced again, both arms extended, each splitting into smaller branches that moved like tentacles, seeking to trap him. Tetanus swung his sword in a wide arc, severing several branches with one blow. Splinters flew, and the Varapau let out a sound—half roar, half lament—as if the forest felt the pain. “You wound what protects!” the creature accused, its words echoing among the trees. “The mark condemns you!”

“I didn’t choose this shit!” Tetanus shouted, anger mixing with fear. He charged, exploiting the Varapau’s brief hesitation, and struck with all his strength, aiming for its torso. The sword cut deep, tearing off bark and branch, but the Varapau retaliated with terrifying speed, one of its arms striking Tetanus’s shoulder like a whip.

Pain exploded in his shoulder, and he was thrown meters back, nearly dropping his sword. The reinforced leather armor absorbed some of the impact, but he felt warm blood seeping under the fabric. “Damn…” he muttered, retreating to gain space. The mark on his chest pulsed stronger, as if responding to the battle’s fury, and for a moment, he felt a surge of energy course through him, as if the mark were fueling his strength.

The Varapau paused, its amber eyes narrowing. “You are more than you seem,” it said, voice thick with suspicion. “But the forest does not forgive.” It raised both arms, and the ground shook violently. Thick roots burst from the earth, encircling Tetanus like a living cage. He spun his sword like a whirlwind, cutting what he could, but they kept coming, faster, more numerous.

Out of options, Tetanus decided to risk everything. He ran toward the Varapau, ignoring the roots grabbing at his legs. One caught his ankle, but he broke free with the force of his charge, slashing quickly, using his momentum to leap. With a yell, he raised his sword overhead and brought it down with all his might, aiming for the creature’s head. The Varapau tried to block, crossing its branch-arms, but Tetanus’s blade was heavy, driven by a rage he barely understood. The steel sliced through, severing one of the Varapau’s arms, which fell with a dry snap.

The creature staggered, letting out a wail that made the surrounding trees tremble. “You… do not know what you do…” the Varapau murmured, its voice fading. It retreated, its body beginning to merge with the nearest tree, as if seeking refuge in the forest. “The mark… will destroy you… and all it touches.”

Tetanus stood panting, sword still raised, blood trickling from his wounded shoulder. The roots around him receded into the earth, and the forest fell silent, as if in mourning.

He lowered his sword, the weight of the battle and the Varapau’s words crashing over him. The mark on his chest pulsed, less intense now, almost painful, and he didn’t know if it was adrenaline or something deeper, something the ent seemed to understand better than he did.

With no game to bring back to the camp, Tetanus cleaned his sword on the grass and checked his shoulder. The wound wasn’t deep, but it stung. He needed to return before Tiradentes started asking why he’d taken so long. Looking around, he saw the severed arm of the creature on the ground and decided to take it, just in case.

Tetanus emerged from the forest aching, his shoulder throbbing where the Varapau had struck him. His two-handed sword, now clean, weighed heavily on his back, and the creature’s severed arm—a twisted branch covered in moss and bark—dragged in his other hand. The light was nearing noon, and he knew his delay would be noticed.

The Last Comradeship Camp came into view. Tetanus crossed an improvised exit leading from the forest into the camp, ignoring the curious stares of some men who noticed the strange branch he carried.

He headed straight for the central campfire, where Tiradentes, Gume, Lâmina, and Farpa were gathered, the commander examining the same rough map as before, now marked with chalk lines.

Tiradentes looked up as Tetanus approached, his expression hardening at the lack of game. “Where’s the food, kid?” he asked, voice firm but tinged with concern. “And what the hell is that you’re carrying?”

Gume, chewing a piece of dry bread, laughed but his eyes widened at the branch in Tetanus’s hand. “Hold up… that’s not just any branch, is it?” He stepped closer, examining it with a mix of curiosity and wariness. “Man, that looks like Varapau stuff.”

Lâmina, tossing a single gold coin up and down, sometimes letting it fall, stopped abruptly. “Varapau?” She stood, eyes narrowing at the branch. “You’re kidding, Gume. Those are legends. Forest guardians, tree protectors… nobody sees a Varapau and lives to tell.”

Farpa approached, eyes wide. “My grandpa told stories about them!” he exclaimed, voice trembling with excitement. “Says they show up for people who mess with the wrong trees. Did you cut an old tree, Tetanus? Was that it?”

Tetanus shook his head, tossing the Varapau’s arm onto the ground near the fire. It landed with a dry thud, and nearby mercenaries drew closer, murmuring among themselves. “Didn’t cut any tree,” he said, voice hoarse, shoulder still burning. “I was hunting, like you ordered, boss. Then this… thing showed up. Looked like a living tree, tall, thin, with eyes glowing like gold. Said I was a threat because of…” He hesitated, touching his chest instinctively where the mark pulsed. “Because of something I carry. Don’t know how, but it knew.”

Tiradentes frowned, crossing his arms. He crouched, examining the branch carefully, fingers tracing its bark and moss. “Varapau,” he murmured, more to himself than the others. “Not a legend, Lâmina. Rare, but real. Forest guardians, older than the empire itself. They only appear when they think the land’s in danger.” He looked up at Tetanus, his gaze piercing. “What’d it say exactly, kid? About this ‘threat’ you carry?”

Tetanus swallowed hard, feeling all eyes on him. He didn’t want to talk about the mark, not with so many ears around. “Didn’t say much beyond that,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Don’t know what it meant. Just know it came at me, and I had to fight. Cut off one of its arms, and it… merged with a tree, vanished. But at least we’ve got firewood now!” He let out a goofy laugh, then noticed Zara’s serious stare.

Gume whistled low, impressed. “Man, you’re really crazy!”

Lâmina, still suspicious, crossed her arms. “And you’ve got no idea why it attacked you? Just because of this ‘something’?” Her look seemed to pierce through him, as if she knew he was hiding something.

Farpa, meanwhile, was buzzing with excitement. “You’re like a legend now, Tetanus! Killed a forest guardian and seven Sacis! Bet they’ll tell stories about you in taverns!”

Tiradentes raised a hand, silencing the group. “No tavern stories,” he said, voice sharp. “Last thing we need is more attention. Varapaus don’t show up by chance. If it went after you, Tetanus, it sensed something.” He paused, eyes fixed on the mercenary. “You hiding something, kid?”

“Just brought what was left of it, boss. Don’t know why it attacked me. Swear.” He pointed to the branch, trying to shift focus.

Tiradentes sighed, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press further. “Fine. But no game means we ration what we’ve got.” He stood, kicking the branch aside. “Keep that, Tetanus. Might be useful, or at least proof you’re not making this up. And get that shoulder treated. I don’t want my best swordsman limping when the rebellion starts.”

Tetanus nodded, picking up the branch and wrapping it in cloth again. As he headed to the healer’s tent, he felt Gume, Lâmina, and Farpa’s eyes following him.

The camp was quieter than usual. The central campfire burned low, illuminating only the nearest faces, the rest shrouded in shadows. Tetanus, Gume, Farpa, and Lâmina sat around a crate used as a makeshift table, a game of truco spread out between them.

Gume tossed a card with a sly grin. “Three. Take that, Farpa.”

Farpa rolled his eyes, throwing a bronze coin onto the “table.” “You cheat, Gume. Always cheat.”

“Can’t cheat at truco.” Gume shrugged, winking at Lâmina, who ignored him, studying her cards with a calculating look.

Tetanus was distracted, fingers tapping the crate’s edge. His shoulder still ached, but the healer said it wasn’t serious—just a deep cut that would heal in days. What really bothered him were the Varapau’s words.

The mark will destroy you… and all it touches.

“Hey, Tetanus!” Farpa nudged his arm. “You playing or what?”

Tetanus blinked, snapping back to reality. “Oh, yeah. Here.” He tossed a random card, not thinking much.

Lâmina raised an eyebrow. “Two?”

“He’s still thinking about the ‘wood,’” Gume laughed, scooping up the coins. “Wanna talk about it, man?”

Tetanus shrugged, avoiding their eyes. “Not much to say. Thing showed up, I cut a piece off, it disappeared.”

“But why’d it attack you?” Farpa leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Did you do something to the forest? Cut a sacred tree? Curse Mother Nature?”

“Didn’t do shit,” Tetanus grumbled, grabbing the cup of cheap cachaça beside him and taking a swig. The burn in his throat helped drown his thoughts.

Lâmina watched him for a moment, then tossed her cards onto the “table.” “Enough games. Tetanus is hiding something.”

Silence fell over the group.

Gume frowned. “That true?”

Tetanus felt the weight of their stares. He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t tell the truth either. “The Varapau said something about… a mark.” He touched his chest instinctively but stopped halfway, as if catching himself.

Farpa’s eyes widened. “A mark? What kind?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tetanus said too quickly. “Just said I was a threat. Don’t know why.”

Lâmina crossed her arms. “Bullshit. You know.”

Gume looked between them, then sighed. “C’mon, Lâmina. If he doesn’t wanna talk, he doesn’t talk. Everyone’s got secrets.”

“Secrets are dangerous,” she shot back, eyes locked on Tetanus. “Especially now, with the rebellion coming. If there’s something that could screw us, I wanna know.”

Tetanus clenched his fists. “It won’t screw anyone.”

“Prove it.”

They stared each other down, the tension almost palpable, Lâmina nearly lunging at him.

Then Zara appeared, her imposing silhouette lit by the fire. “What’re you lot arguing about?”

All eyes turned to her.

Farpa, ever the excitable one, raised a hand. “Tetanus killed the Varapau and won’t tell us how!”

Zara looked at Tetanus, her green eyes studying him. “Oh, yeah?”

Tetanus felt his face heat up, unsure if it was the cachaça or the memory of the stream.

“No big deal,” he mumbled.

Zara gave a slow smile. “Sure it wasn’t.” She leaned down, picking up a truco card and examining it. “But if you’re so keen on stories, why not talk about the rebellion?”

The mood shifted instantly.

Gume lowered his voice. “Speaking of… when do we strike?”

Zara glanced around, ensuring no unwanted ears were listening. “Tiradentes will announce tomorrow. But the plan’s simple—invade Ouro Preto through the docks, take the guard barracks, and seize the prince before he can react.”

Lâmina whistled low. “Risky. I like it.”

“Everything’s risky,” Zara replied. “But if it works, the city’s ours.”

Tetanus stared into the fire, imagining the chaos to come. Deep down, he wondered if the Varapau was right—if he truly was a threat to all he touched. If so, he couldn’t risk endangering everyone he cared about.

Farpa broke the silence with a grin. “So tomorrow we’re either heroes or corpses. Cool.”

Gume laughed, raising his cup. “At least we’ll die famous.”

Tetanus said nothing. He just raised his cup too, pretending the mark on his chest wasn’t pulsing stronger with every passing minute.

The day dawned with a heavy silence in the camp. Tetanus woke to a sharp crack, like wood splitting. He leapt up, hand instinctively reaching for his sword.

Something was wrong.

The branch he’d brought—the Varapau’s arm—was gone from where he’d left it. Instead, thin, dark roots spread across the ground like crawling veins, leading to the camp’s center. There, where there had only been a piece of dead wood, a tall, slender figure was slowly reforming, its twisted limbs rebuilding.

The creature had returned.

“SHIT!” Gume shouted, jumping back as the creature rose, its amber eyes blazing with renewed fury.

The forest guardian let out a sound—part roar, part creak of ancient trees—and before anyone could react, one of its branch-arms lashed out like a whip, striking an unsuspecting mercenary and hurling him into a tent.

Chaos erupted.

“ARM YOURSELVES!” Zara bellowed, drawing her sword and charging.

Tetanus was already moving, two-handed sword in hand, heart racing. The Varapau turned toward him, its eyes locked on him as if recognizing its true enemy.

“You should not have returned,” the creature’s voice echoed, deep as distant thunder.

“Didn’t ask you to grow back, you piece of firewood!” Tetanus retorted, swinging a blow that severed one of the smaller branches reaching for him.

Gume and Lâmina took positions at his sides, weapons ready. Farpa, meanwhile, was running toward the fire, grabbing a burning piece of wood.

“Distract it!” Farpa shouted, dipping an arrow into the flames.

The Varapau attacked again, its limbs stretching like wooden serpents. Lâmina dodged a precise strike, spinning and slicing a root trying to grab her feet. Gume, less agile, took a hit to the chest and fell back, coughing.

“Gume!” Tetanus charged, stepping between his friend and the creature. His sword swept in a wide arc, cutting another branch, but the Varapau seemed inexhaustible.

Then a whistle cut through the air.

Farpa’s flaming arrow flew like a comet, embedding in the Varapau’s torso. For a second, nothing happened.

Then the fire spread.

The dry wood caught almost instantly, flames climbing the branches like a fuse. The Varapau let out an agonized scream, a sound from the forest’s depths, and thrashed, trying to extinguish the flames with its own arms—but that only spread the fire further.

“GET BACK!” Zara ordered, pulling Tetanus away.

Tetanus retreated, watching the creature burn. The Varapau staggered, its amber eyes fixed on him until the last moment.

“The mark… will consume all…” were its final words before its body collapsed into embers and ash.

The camp fell silent, only the crackle of the fire burning the creature’s remains breaking the air.

Farpa lowered his bow, panting. “Well… that was new.”

Lâmina looked at Tetanus, eyes narrowed. “It mentioned the mark again. What the hell is that?”

Tetanus didn’t answer. He just stared at the Varapau’s ashes, feeling the weight of that invisible curse in his chest pulse once more.

Zara approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk. Now.”

The camp erupted in commotion. Mercenaries swarmed Farpa, slapping his back and laughing in celebration.

“The kid took down the beast with one arrow!” one shouted, raising a bottle of cachaça.

“Hell of a shot, boy!” another added, ruffling Farpa’s head with dirty fingers.

Farpa, with his gap-toothed grin and shining eyes, puffed out his chest. “No big deal! Just did what I had to!” He raised his bow like a trophy, and the men around roared in approval.

As the celebration spread, Zara grabbed Tetanus’s arm with vice-like force.

“You. With me. NOW.” Her fingers dug into his flesh, and her green eyes left no room for argument.

Without another word, she dragged him away from the fire, toward the camp’s outer tents, where the mercenaries’ noise no longer reached. The smell of damp earth and smoke lingered, mixed with the bitter scent of the Varapau’s charred remains.

When they stopped, Zara shoved him against a fallen log, crossing her arms.

“Talk.” The command snapped like a whip.

Tetanus rubbed his arm where she’d gripped him. “Talk about what?”

“Don’t bullshit me, kid.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “The Varapau attacked the camp because of you. And before it died, it mentioned the mark again. I’ve seen that damn thing on your chest. Now I wanna know what the hell it is.”

Tetanus’s heart raced. He tried to look away, but Zara grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“No running from this.” Her voice was lower now, almost a harsh whisper. “If this is a threat to the rebellion, I need to know. Obey your captain!”

Tetanus swallowed hard. He knew Zara wouldn’t let it go. And deep down, he was tired of carrying this secret alone.

“I didn’t choose this,” he said, the words spilling out like a forced confession. “The mark’s always been with me. Since I can remember. But I don’t know what it does… just that bad things happen around me.”

Zara released him, studying his face for lies. “Bad things like what?”

“People dying.” He looked at his hands, as if they might be stained with blood. “Accidents. Things that shouldn’t happen. The Varapau… it said the mark is from the Anti-God. That it destroys everything it touches…”

In a flash of memory, Tetanus recalled Father Arture but didn’t want to bring it up.

Zara was silent for a long moment. Then, to his surprise, she let out a low, humorless laugh.

“Damn, Tetanus. You couldn’t have a simple past, could you? Had to be some ancient curse.” She ran a hand through her red hair, sighing. “Tiradentes can’t know.”

Tetanus blinked. “What?”

“If he finds out you’re carrying a cursed mark that draws trouble, he’ll send you packing.” Her eyes gleamed with determination. “And we need you for the rebellion.”

He didn’t know what to say. He’d expected anger, fear… not this.

“Why are you helping me now, out of nowhere?”

Zara looked at him for a second, then, without warning, yanked him close by his collar.

“Because I like underdogs,” she spat, before crushing her lips against his in a forceful kiss.

When they parted, Tetanus was breathless.

“Now let’s move before they notice the hero’s gone,” she said, giving his face a light slap, as if nothing had happened. “We’ve got a war to win, so you’re gonna raise that cup and smile like you don’t have a damn cursed secret.”

Before he could respond, she was already striding back to the fire, leaving him stunned, the taste of gunpowder and cachaça lingering on his lips.