ã€ŠOf Mortals and Flameã€‹


 Chapter 1: Azure wind Road

    <hr>

    The plains rolled endlessly beneath a burning copper sky, where wind whispered through tall grass and dust trailed like memory behind each creaking wheel. Thirty wagons moved in slow procession, each pulled by weary oxen whose hides gleamed with sweat. Faded banners clung to wooden poles, fluttering like old prayers. This was the Azure Wind¡ªa caravan that drifted between towns like a ghost of an older world.

    They were merchants, wanderers, and survivors¡ªliving not by place, but by motion. The road was their only home, and it remembered them. Long before trains carved through mountains and engines roared across the horizon, they had moved like this: slowly, steadily, never stopping for long.

    At the lead rode Kivas, pipe clenched loosely between his teeth, reins held with a hand that had long stopped worrying. His skin carried the beige hue of endless suns, his ember eyes squinting out beneath wind-frayed lashes. Hair once deep brown now caught streaks of silver, tied at the nape and dancing with the sway of his horse.

    To his left rode Zafran. He wore a dark travel cloak, half-buttoned, and rode with practiced ease. Black hair, straight and cut short. Skin fairer than most in the caravan. Green eyes that kept track of wagons without ever seeming to. Even though he tried not to look apart, his physical features somehow betrayed the effort.

    ¡°Town¡¯s just over the ridge,¡± Kivas said, voice casual, as if pointing out a cloud.

    Zafran nodded. ¡°Think they¡¯ll give us water for free this time?¡±

    ¡°If they don¡¯t, I¡¯ll drink the barkeep¡¯s sweat,¡± Kivas muttered, then grimaced. ¡°Ugh. No. Never mind.¡±

    Zafran gave a quiet snort.

    Kivas smirked and shook out his shoulders. ¡°You coming along tonight? There¡¯s a tavern by the well. Wood-framed. Bit of a lean to it. Last time we passed through, I arm-wrestled a woman twice my size and woke up with a missing boot.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass.¡±

    ¡°Still not your scene?¡±

    Zafran gave a faint shrug. ¡°Scene¡¯s fine. The people, less so.¡±

    Kivas nodded, chewing the stem of his pipe. ¡°Fair. But you could do with some noise now and then. Can¡¯t let the wagons be your whole world.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse worlds.¡±

    Kivas chuckled low in his throat. ¡°You always this charming?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Zafran said. ¡°Only with you.¡±

    Laughter peeled out of Kivas like dry thunder. ¡°Damn. Ten years, and you still catch me off guard.¡±

    Zafran tilted his head, eyebrow raised.

    Kivas waved him off. ¡°Don¡¯t look like that. You¡¯ve been here a while. Long enough to stop being ¡®the quiet one¡¯ and start being ¡®ours.¡¯ Whether you like it or not.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer, but the corner of his mouth curled slightly.

    Behind them, a boy¡¯s shout rang out. They glanced back to see Ysar, perched at the edge of a moving cart, juggling three green apples while arguing with someone inside the wagon.

    ¡°Are you going in, Kivas? Zafran? Can I join?¡± he shouted from afar.

    Kivas groaned. ¡°Don¡¯t let that one near the tavern. I swear he can talk the paint off a wagon wheel.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t he banned from the last two towns?¡±

    ¡°Three,¡± Kivas corrected. ¡°Which is why he¡¯ll be guarding the oxen tonight.¡±

    The road dipped slightly, and the first slanted rooftops of a town came into view, nestled in a shallow basin and painted in the warm glow of sundown. Smoke rose in slow spirals. A water tower leaned just a little too far west.

    The caravan pressed on, the Azure Wind curling down the slope like a living thing¡ªslow, sprawling, and unshaken by time.

    And as always, Zafran rode with it.

    <hr>

    The Azure Wind moved like a tide¡ªslow to stop, but swift to transform. As the town of Nelpha emerged over the ridge, the rhythm of the caravan shifted. What had been a line of wagons became a hum of intent. Conversations stirred. Tools clinked. Ropes were loosened.

    Kivas lifted his hand, and the wagons began to slow.

    ¡°Nelpha ahead!¡± someone called down the line, and the energy rippled like a pulse through the caravan.

    They rolled to a stop just outside the town, settling along the worn outskirts like they had done many times before. The oxen exhaled as if in relief. Horses shook dust from their manes. Wagons groaned under shifting weight.

    Then came the familiar work.

    Canvas was unfastened. Crates were unloaded. Wheels were blocked. Within minutes, the first stalls began to rise¡ªmakeshift counters laid across wagon sides, cloth covers strung between poles, baskets of herbs and spices already being sorted by practiced hands.

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    Zafran dismounted, leading his horse toward the picket line. Around him, the air buzzed with the familiar rhythm of setup: traders shouting for space, guards checking their gear, kids darting between boots and barrels with wild laughter.

    ¡°Make sure the cattle get watered,¡± Kivas called out as he passed. ¡°And don¡¯t let Ysar anywhere near the wine cart.¡±

    Zafran gave a nod, not breaking stride.

    He walked through the unfolding market, his sword slung at his back¡ªa straight-edged blade in a sea of curved ones. No one commented. No one needed to. He belonged, whether or not he matched.

    ¡°Zafran!¡±

    He turned at the voice.

    Elsha approached, eyes sharp, steps swift. Twenty, lean, and striking¡ªnot in the polished way of noble courts, but in the unmistakable grace of someone who could scale a moving wagon, toss a knife, and land clean in the same breath. Her beige skin, ponytail, and angular features marked her as one of the truest children of the Azure Wind.

    ¡°Have you seen Ysar?¡± she asked, crossing her arms, clearly not asking for fun.

    Zafran raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wasn¡¯t he handling the horses?¡±

    ¡°That was the idea,¡± she muttered. Her gaze swept the stalls¡ªand locked on.

    ¡°There.¡±

    Sure enough¡ªYsar stood at a vendor¡¯s table, arms full of bread, skewers, and a bottle under one elbow. Nineteen, beige-skinned like Elsha, same wiry frame, same sharp-edged face¡ªbut with none of her focus. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he spun another wild story for a half-interested listener, clearly in his element.

    Zafran watched as Elsha stormed over, grabbed his ear mid-sentence, and yanked him away.

    ¡°Ow¡ªow! Elsha! I¡¯m contributing to morale!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re contributing to my headache.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not even real wine¡ªow!¡±

    The market hardly noticed. Around them, traders set up shop, townsfolk began to wander in, and the Azure Wind unfolded itself like a living tapestry.

    And as always, Zafran moved through it¡ªquiet, steady, familiar with the rhythm of this wandering world.

    <hr>

    By nightfall, the market had faded.

    Townsfolk trickled back to their homes, the last of the stalls were shuttered, and lanterns dimmed as the caravan turned inward¡ªinto its own little world.

    Campfires flickered across the wide encampment, dotting the plains like quiet stars fallen to earth. Around each one, small groups gathered¡ªtraders passing bottles, guards sharing old wounds, musicians plucking soft tunes on half-tuned strings. Laughter mingled with the hiss of burning logs.

    Zafran sat with a group near the edge of camp, cup in hand, leaning against a crooked tree. The drink was rough¡ªprobably barley liquor¡ªand it burned going down, but it was warm, and the night was cold.

    Kivas lounged nearby, legs stretched out, his pipe forgotten behind one ear. He looked sour.

    ¡°The tavern was closed,¡± he announced to no one in particular. ¡°Apparently, we ¡®caused trouble last time.¡¯¡±

    One of the older guards snorted. ¡°That was you.¡±

    Kivas raised a brow. ¡°I remember it differently.¡±

    Zafran smirked, swirling the dregs of his cup. ¡°So now we suffer through your sulking?¡±

    ¡°Sulking?¡± Kivas scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m grieving. There was a woman there with arms like tree trunks and a voice like thunder. She could¡¯ve thrown me across the table.¡±

    ¡°And you call that love?¡±

    ¡°I call that respect.¡±

    Laughter rolled around the fire.

    Someone passed a fresh bottle. Someone else tossed another log into the flames. Sparks rose into the night.

    Zafran closed his eyes for a breath, the noise and warmth settling deep in his chest. This was the best part of caravan life¡ªafter the work, after the deals¡ªwhen no one had to be anything but tired and alive.

    ¡°Zaf,¡± one of the guards grinned, ¡°you ever gonna stop brooding and get yourself a girl?¡±

    Zafran opened one eye. ¡°When I find one who doesn¡¯t talk as much as you.¡±

    More laughter.

    Kivas raised his cup. ¡°Here¡¯s to that.¡±

    But then he paused mid-sip. His eyes shifted¡ªfixed just beyond the firelight.

    A figure stood at the edge of the camp. Cloaked. Still. Watching.

    Zafran followed his gaze.

    A girl. Unmoving, uncertain. Not local¡ªmore like someone with a very specific reason to be here. She looked around, hesitant, unsure where to go next.

    ¡°Well,¡± Kivas muttered, setting his cup aside, ¡°looks like someone¡¯s lost.¡±

    He stood with a groan and motioned for Zafran to follow.

    They approached the figure. She didn¡¯t back away, but her hands were tight around something beneath her cloak.

    Kivas offered his usual disarming smile. ¡°Evening, miss. Looking for something?¡±

    The girl pulled back her hood.

    She was pale, with crimson eyes and red hair tied low behind her neck. A lone freckle marked her cheek¡ªstrange, striking, beautiful. Not threatening. Just¡­ out of place.

    ¡°Ah¡­ I heard you take on jobs. Escort jobs,¡± she said.

    ¡°Sometimes,¡± Kivas replied. ¡°Depends who and where.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Karin,¡± she said quickly. ¡°I need escorts. Here.¡± She unrolled a map and pointed to a spot near the northern edge.

    Kivas leaned in¡ªand frowned. ¡°The hell? The Silent Desert? That deep in? Sand doesn¡¯t make for pleasant company. And going there costs a lot of gold.¡±

    ¡°I have money,¡± she said, pulling a pouch from her cloak.

    Kivas caught it mid-air, weighed it, opened it.

    He looked unimpressed. ¡°Really? You have twenty.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ yes. That¡¯s all I have.¡±

    Kivas exhaled through his nose. ¡°Why do you want to go there?¡±

    Karin hesitated.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± Her voice softened. ¡°The Flame Ash. The Academia sent me to retrieve it.¡±

    Kivas blinked¡ªthen let out a dry laugh. ¡°The Flame Ash? As in Aftree¡¯s Flame Ash?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯re risking your life for a children¡¯s tale?¡± His tone turned sharp. ¡°If the Academia really wanted it, why not send an army?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ it¡¯s a secret mission.¡±

    Kivas narrowed his eyes. He clearly didn¡¯t buy it.

    He shook his head. ¡°Then I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯re not paying enough to get my people killed chasing stories.¡±

    He turned to leave.

    Then he caught sight of them¡ªjust beyond the firelight.

    Ysar, still juggling bottles for a bored guard.

    Elsha, sharpening her blade, pretending not to eavesdrop.

    Zafran, arms folded, already scowling.

    Kivas paused.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Zafran didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Zafran sighed. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Kivas said, nodding to Karin. ¡°Three escorts. Food and rest are on you. And you owe us more gold later. Got it?¡±

    Zafran turned to him, voice low. ¡°You¡¯re sending two kids and me into the worst stretch of wasteland on the continent.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sending you to make sure those two come back alive.¡±

    ¡°And her?¡±

    Kivas shrugged. ¡°She¡¯s the client. If she dies, we still get paid.¡±

    Zafran pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°This is going to be a disaster.¡±

    Kivas grinned. ¡°Maybe. But come on¡ªreal experience.¡±

    ¡°Near-death experience.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re with them, then it¡¯s alright.¡±

    Zafran sighed and turned to Karin. ¡°Alright. Tomorrow. First light.¡±

    ¡°O-okay. Thank you.¡±

    She nodded and slipped into the dark, away from the fire.

    The fire crackled behind them.

    Zafran stared after her a moment longer, then muttered, ¡°You¡¯re lucky I didn¡¯t go to the tavern.¡±

    Kivas clapped him on the back. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I did.¡±

    And just like that, peace was gone.

 Chapter 2: Four horsemen

    <hr>

    The air still held the bite of night when Zafran stirred beneath his cloak. Overhead, the sky was shifting¡ªno longer deep navy, not yet gold. That liminal gray where even the stars knew it was time to leave. Somewhere, an ox coughed. Metal clinked. A wheel creaked as someone rolled their gear into place.

    But what woke him wasn¡¯t the usual morning murmur of the caravan.

    It was Elsha¡¯s voice, sharp and tired, cutting clean through the dawn.

    ¡°Ysar. Pack your things. Now.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t move at first. He blinked at the paleening sky, let out a long breath, and listened.

    ¡°I am packing!¡± came Ysar¡¯s all-too-familiar whine.

    Zafran finally sat up and looked toward the wagons.

    Near one of the smaller carriages, Elsha stood with her arms folded tight, her stance rigid as a pulled bowstring. Her ponytail hung long down her back, swaying as she shifted her weight with that distinct, unimpressed tilt of the hip.

    Ysar stood across from her, somehow already disheveled despite just waking up. A leather satchel hung halfway open over his shoulder, and a waterskin was strapped upside-down at his belt. His saddle lay abandoned in the grass behind him.

    ¡°If you¡¯re packed,¡± Elsha said coolly, ¡°then what¡¯s your saddle still doing there?¡±

    Ysar turned, saw it, and gave a weak shrug. ¡°That¡¯s not packing. That¡¯s¡­ optional equipment.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s part of your gear,¡± she said, voice flat. ¡°Your horse can¡¯t carry imagination.¡±

    ¡°I was gonna do it next.¡±

    ¡°Like you were gonna tie off your rations?¡±

    ¡°That was a calculated delay.¡±

    Zafran couldn¡¯t help the slight smile curling on his face. This was routine. The bickering, the small fires of frustration that sparked between them every time they were assigned to a mission together. Elsha was precise, methodical. Ysar was chaos in a tunic. They were opposites¡ªand somehow, they worked.

    Ysar flopped onto a crate and waved a dismissive hand. ¡°You¡¯re too uptight about this. We¡¯re going into a desert, not a war zone.¡±

    Elsha gave him a long, silent look. No scowl, no sigh¡ªjust the weight of her stare, sharp enough to draw blood.

    ¡°Just fix it,¡± she said.

    That was Zafran¡¯s cue.

    He stood, stretching his back until it cracked, then wandered toward them with the easy gait of someone trying to delay responsibility by five more minutes.

    ¡°You two always this dramatic before sunrise?¡± he muttered.

    Elsha didn¡¯t look at him, but her voice softened by a fraction. ¡°You¡¯re up early.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re arguing loud enough to wake the cattle.¡±

    Ysar pointed an accusing finger. ¡°She¡¯s being unreasonable.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s being unprepared,¡± Elsha replied.

    Zafran glanced at the forgotten saddle, then at Ysar. ¡°She¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°She always is,¡± Ysar muttered. ¡°It¡¯s exhausting.¡±

    Elsha finally let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

    Zafran didn¡¯t comment on it. He just nodded and moved to check their own gear.

    They had a single reinforced carriage for this trip¡ªwood paneled, canvas-covered, and built for rough trails. Four desert-bred horses were already saddled, restlessly stomping and snorting in the chill air. The rising sun touched the metal fittings on their harnesses, turning them briefly to gold.

    Elsha disappeared into the wagon to double-check the supplies. Zafran knew she¡¯d packed them the night before, but that wouldn¡¯t stop her from counting every ration, every waterskin, every arrow. Twice.

    Ysar, meanwhile, had finally taken the driver¡¯s seat and was casually adjusting the reins like he hadn¡¯t just lost a minor argument about saddles.

    ¡°So,¡± Ysar said, glancing sideways, ¡°this Karin girl¡­ Think she¡¯s just mad, or one of those nobles playing at being an adventurer?¡±

    Zafran gave no answer.

    Elsha¡¯s voice floated from inside the wagon. ¡°She said she was sent by the Academia. Ocean Tide¡¯s magic circle. She¡¯s looking for The Flame Ash.¡±

    Ysar groaned. ¡°Of course. A rich scholar chasing a ghost story.¡±

    He leaned back, eyes half-lidded. ¡°Well, if she turns out to be beautiful, I guess that makes it worth it.¡±

    Elsha stuck her head out of the wagon, arching a brow. ¡°You¡¯d follow a complete stranger into the desert just because she¡¯s pretty?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d follow her halfway,¡± Ysar replied. ¡°Then blame the horse.¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t dignify that with a response. She disappeared back inside.

    Zafran stood beside the carriage, adjusting the strap on his sword belt. He didn¡¯t say it, but the mission didn¡¯t sit right with him. Flame Ash. A myth. A name whispered in campfire stories¡ªashes that never cooled, left behind by a god¡¯s death long ago.

    And twenty gold coins.

    That was the part Elsha and Ysar didn¡¯t know.

    They thought Karin had paid handsomely. They thought this was a high-stakes escort. If they knew how thin the coin purse actually was, they¡¯d probably walk back into camp and throw Zafran into a barrel.

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    ¡°Hope she pays in advance,¡± Ysar muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

    Zafran said nothing. His eyes were on the eastern edge of the camp¡ªwhere the shadows were receding fast, and footsteps were approaching.

    <hr>

    The sun was just starting to bite when Karin arrived¡ªhood drawn, pack slung over one shoulder, and dust on her boots that didn¡¯t match the crispness of her robes. She looked like she hadn¡¯t slept, but her stride was steady as she approached the carriage and the trio waiting beside it.

    Zafran gave her a help, putting all her baggage inside the carriage.

    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± he said.

    She blinked, surprised. ¡°It¡¯s barely sunrise.¡±

    He stepped aside and motioned to the wagon.

    Ysar leaned over from the driver¡¯s bench. ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. He wakes up grumpy and stays that way.¡±

    Karin nodded politely, then turned to Zafran. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    Without another word, she climbed into the carriage. Zafran followed, settling across from her while Elsha climbed up beside Ysar, reins already in hand.

    The wheels groaned as they rolled forward, leaving the last shapes of the camp behind them. The path was dry, well-worn, and stretched endlessly east. Tall grass bowed in the wind. The world felt both too quiet and too wide.

    Ysar held the reins with one hand, occasionally flicking them like he was trying to wake the horses from a nap. Elsha sat beside him, alert and watching the road like it might shift under them.

    Inside the wagon, Zafran sat with arms folded, his back to the sunlit flap, eyes closed. Karin sat opposite, quietly checking the straps of her satchel, adjusting the folds of her robe.

    Of course, the silence couldn¡¯t last.

    ¡°So,¡± Ysar called over his shoulder, ¡°you some big-shot scholar or just rich enough to buy yourself into trouble?¡±

    Karin blinked, caught off guard.

    Elsha didn¡¯t look away from the road. ¡°Ysar.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± He shrugged dramatically. ¡°It¡¯s a fair question.¡±

    Karin opened her mouth, but Zafran beat her to it. ¡°Don''t pry into others'' business .¡±

    Ysar sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not fun at all.¡±

    Elsha smirked faintly. ¡°Not fun if you keep embarrassing yourself.¡±

    Unfazed, Ysar tried again. ¡°So, mage, right? Aren¡¯t you spellcasters usually holed up in towers? What brings one of you out into the sand?¡±

    Karin tilted her head, voice calm. ¡°I can handle myself.¡±

    Zafran glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. ¡°You heard her.¡±

    Ysar leaned back in his seat, grumbling. ¡°Could¡¯ve just said she was spoiled. Would¡¯ve saved me the trouble.¡±

    ¡°Or,¡± Elsha said flatly, ¡°you could mind your own business.¡±

    Ysar chuckled. ¡°Where¡¯s the fun in that?¡±

    The wagon creaked on, rolling steadily toward the horizon, toward sun-bleached sands and stories too dangerous to speak aloud.

    <hr>

    The sun climbed steadily, casting long shadows behind the wagon as it rolled through the thinning plains. The breeze still carried the cool of morning, but the warmth was rising¡ªcreeping in through the canvas walls, pressing against their skin with a steady, growing weight.

    Ysar, of course, didn¡¯t know how to leave a silence alone.

    ¡°You know,¡± he began, stretching theatrically across the driver¡¯s bench, ¡°I once crossed the Silent Desert with nothing but a waterskin, a knife, and my wits.¡±

    From inside the wagon, Zafran didn¡¯t even glance up. ¡°You¡¯ve never been to the Silent Desert, let alone the wits.¡±

    Ysar made an offended noise. ¡°You don¡¯t have to shut me down that fast.¡±

    Elsha gave a slow sigh, eyes still on the road. ¡°Better now than letting you run with it for an hour.¡±

    ¡°I was building tension,¡± Ysar muttered. ¡°There were going to be giant scorpions. Possibly a sandstorm duel.¡±

    ¡°No need,¡± Zafran said, voice dry as dust. ¡°Reality¡¯s bad enough.¡±

    Karin, sitting across from Zafran, looked up from adjusting the straps on her satchel. There was a flicker of amusement in her expression¡ªquick, but genuine. ¡°You¡¯ve all traveled together long?¡±

    Elsha nodded without hesitation. ¡°Most of our lives.¡±

    Karin¡¯s gaze shifted to Zafran. ¡°And him?¡±

    Elsha gave a small shrug. ¡°He¡¯s been with us long enough.¡±

    Ysar grinned. ¡°Which is the polite way of saying ¡®he doesn¡¯t talk about himself.¡¯¡± He leaned back, arms behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself. ¡°But tell me, Zafran¡ªhonestly¡ªis it really as cursed as the stories say?¡±

    Zafran let out a breath through his nose. ¡°It¡¯s not cursed. Just¡­ unforgiving.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Ysar groaned. ¡°No ancient spirits? No buried cities full of gold and forgotten gods? Not even a single monster king sleeping under the dunes?¡±

    ¡°Just bandits,¡± Zafran replied.

    Karin frowned. ¡°Bandits? Out here?¡±

    Zafran nodded once. ¡°They¡¯re the real danger. Nothing to patrol the roads, no laws. They know the land better than most and disappear into it just as fast. Plenty of ravines, canyons, dried-out riverbeds. Easy to get ambushed. Hard to get out.¡±

    ¡°Lovely,¡± Ysar muttered. ¡°I¡¯d just charm my way out.¡±

    Zafran gave him a flat look. ¡°They don¡¯t take hostages.¡±

    Ysar blinked. ¡°¡­That¡¯s unfortunate.¡±

    Elsha shook her head. ¡°Stick to driving.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Ysar mumbled. ¡°I¡¯m just saying, a little mystery wouldn¡¯t hurt. Lost ruins, cursed artifacts¡ªsomething to make the stories worth telling.¡±

    Zafran leaned his head back against the wooden frame. ¡°We¡¯re not here to make stories, Ysar. We¡¯re here to survive them.¡±

    Outside, the grasslands were fading fast, giving way to rougher terrain¡ªdrier, flatter, sunbleached. The horizon shimmered faintly ahead, where the land would soon turn to sand.

    <hr>

    Night fell slow and wide across the plains.

    By the time the horses had been watered and tied, and their simple camp was set, the light had all but vanished beyond the horizon. The stars blinked into view one by one, quiet and unbothered above a world that still hadn¡¯t learned to rest.

    A single fire crackled at the heart of their small camp. Around it, the four travelers sat¡ªtired, dust-covered, and held together more by necessity than trust. But fire had a way of softening edges.

    Ysar leaned back against his pack, arms behind his head, stretching like a man who¡¯d spent the entire day sitting and still wanted praise for it. ¡°You know,¡± he said, voice casual, ¡°a train would¡¯ve made this trip a lot easier.¡±

    Elsha gave him a look without turning her head. ¡°Right. Because laying rails across the Silent Desert sounds perfectly reasonable.¡±

    ¡°Hey, we¡¯ve tunneled through mountains. Why not flatten some sand?¡±

    ¡°Because sand moves,¡± Elsha said flatly. ¡°Mountains don¡¯t.¡±

    Karin, seated cross-legged near the flames, chuckled softly. ¡°You sound like the engineers back in Fyonar.¡±

    Ysar perked up. ¡°You¡¯ve been there? That city¡¯s obsessed with shiny stuff. Ever ride one of those new trains?¡±

    Karin nodded. ¡°A few times. But the real obsession isn¡¯t trains anymore. It¡¯s electricity.¡±

    Ysar blinked. ¡°Electricity?¡±

    ¡°Like lightning,¡± she explained, ¡°but controlled. Stored. People are building machines¡ªthings that run without magic. Lights. Engines. Doors that open themselves.¡±

    Ysar made a face. ¡°That still sounds like magic.¡±

    Karin smiled. ¡°It isn¡¯t. No planar breath, no casting, no symbols. Just science.¡±

    ¡°Still sounds like lazy magic,¡± Ysar grumbled.

    Elsha smirked. ¡°That¡¯s because you don¡¯t understand either.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I understand plenty. Magic has rules. Electricity just¡­ works? That¡¯s creepy.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why some people fear it,¡± Karin said, her tone softening. ¡°Especially mages. Magic takes years to master¡ªdiscipline, talent, control. But with electricity? Anyone can use it. Anyone can own power.¡±

    Ysar raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait¡­ magic¡¯s not something you¡¯re born with?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes,¡± Karin said. ¡°Some are gifted. But if you''re not born with it. you can just study and train.¡±

    Ysar stared at her. ¡°No way.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s telling the truth,¡± Zafran said quietly, still staring into the fire. ¡°You should try¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s insane,¡± Ysar muttered, poking the flames with a stick. ¡°But now you¡¯re saying that this ''electricity'' is replacing magic?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not replacing magic,¡± Karin said. ¡°It¡¯s challenging it.¡±

    Ysar let out a long, theatrical sigh. ¡°Steam, lightning¡­ next you¡¯ll tell me someone¡¯s trying to fly.¡±

    Karin grinned. ¡°Actually¡ª¡±

    ¡°NO.¡±

    Everyone laughed¡ªexcept Zafran, who rubbed his temple as if warding off a headache.

    ¡°You talk too much,¡± he said.

    ¡°Someone has to,¡± Ysar replied, flopping onto his back with a groan.

    The laughter faded, replaced by the steady pop and hiss of the fire. Beyond it, the plains stretched silent, the wind carrying the scent of distant sand and the sharp chill of oncoming night.

    They sat for a while longer¡ªwatching sparks drift upward like fading stars, letting exhaustion settle where words no longer needed to fill the space.

    Tomorrow they would ride again, deeper into unknown lands.

    But tonight, they rested¡ªbetween old magic and new machines, between silence and story.

    And for now, it was enough.

 Chapter 3: Edge of the Sands

    <hr>

    After days of steady travel, the land began to change.

    The green of the plains thinned. The air grew brittle. Grass gave way to cracked earth, and the wind¡ªonce soft¡ªnow carried grit and heat. By the time Windstail appeared on the horizon, the haze of sand was already clinging to the sky like a warning.

    The town stood as the last breath of civilization before the dunes. A rough-edged outpost, born from necessity. No walls, no banners¡ªjust squat buildings of hardened wood and canvas, thick-roofed awnings stretched over worn stone. It was a place of trade, rest, and silent calculations about survival.

    As their carriage rolled through the main street, they passed a collage of weathered travelers, dusty merchants, and armed figures leaning in the shade. Water barrels were being filled. Coins exchanged in hushed, haggling tones. The air buzzed with tired energy.

    At the heart of it stood Windstail¡¯s pride: a towering wooden arch with a trough dug deep into the ground, fed by a narrow, trickling stream. Not much, but clean, cool, and constant. It drew beasts and people alike with quiet reverence.

    Zafran eyed the sun, low and crawling toward the edge of the sky. Still time before dusk.

    ¡°It¡¯s Windstail.¡± Elsha called over her shoulder as Ysar slowed the carriage near the watering station.

    ¡°We¡¯re restocking and rest here for a night.¡± Zafran said, stepping down. ¡°Won¡¯t get comfort like this again for a while.¡±

    Karin nodded, pulling her bag from under the bench.

    Ysar stretched with a loud groan, arms flung wide. ¡°Finally. I was getting sick of being the driver.¡±

    Elsha shot him a dry look.

    ¡°What?¡± Ysar said, hands up. ¡°I¡¯m just saying¡ªyou¡¯re better at it.¡±

    Elsha rolled her eyes and moved to unharness the horses, the familiar clink of buckles and reins following her.

    Ysar, undeterred, turned to Karin with a grin. ¡°So, lady scholar¡ªfeel like having dinner with a charming guardian?¡±

    Karin tilted her head slightly. ¡°No.¡±

    Ysar blinked. ¡°Ouch. At least pretend you hesitate.¡±

    Karin just climb down the carriage without respond to him.

    Zafran stepped in. ¡°Ysar, find us an inn. Something cheap. Four rooms.¡±

    Ysar looked confused. ¡°Four? We¡¯ve got two guys, two girls. Why not two rooms?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not your cost to cover,¡± Zafran replied.

    Karin gave him a side glance but said nothing.

    ¡°I¡¯ll handle supplies,¡± Elsha said, already moving.

    ¡°I¡¯ll join you,¡± Karin added, falling into step beside her.

    Ysar waved a hand lazily. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯ve got the rooms.¡±

    As the three turned toward the marketplace, Ysar stood alone by the carriage, watching them disappear into the narrow streets.

    He sighed, muttering to himself, ¡°Aren¡¯t you all a bit too trusting?¡±

    Then, with a shrug, he headed toward the inn, whistling softly, already imagining what sort of discount he could haggle¡ªand how much trouble he could stir before sundown.

    <hr>

    Windstail buzzed in its own rhythm¡ªquieter than the cities, but no less alive. Boots scraped against dry earth. Merchants barked half-hearted deals beneath shaded cloth. A bard played a slow, sour tune somewhere near the tavern, drowned out by drunken laughter and slurred toasts.

    Zafran moved through it with silent ease.

    He wasn¡¯t just stretching his legs. Wandering meant listening. Watching. Old habits didn¡¯t fade.

    Stopping at a small fruit stall, he picked up a pear, weighed it, and glanced at the man behind the cart. ¡°How¡¯s the road ahead?¡±

    The merchant squinted. ¡°You mercs heading into the Silent Desert?¡±

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    ¡°Escort job.¡±

    The man snorted. ¡°You¡¯d better pack patience along with your water. Few caravans turned back this week.¡±

    Zafran looked up. ¡°Bandits?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Word is, someone¡¯s been poking around. Ghostfangs, or maybe some new pack tryin¡¯ to make a name. No one¡¯s saying for sure.¡±

    The merchant leaned forward, lowering his voice.

    ¡°They don¡¯t go for strong groups. They pick the edges. Hit the ones who lag, or travel light. If they think you¡¯re worth the trouble¡­ you¡¯ll know.¡±

    Zafran offered a faint nod and a few coins, pocketed the fruit, and moved on. Nothing confirmed, but enough to keep his blade close and his sleep light.

    <hr>

    The inn was modest¡ªjust clean enough to keep complaints quiet, just cheap enough for mercenaries to tolerate. Warm stew filled the air with the smell of onion and salted meat. A few travelers sat scattered around the room, hunched over drinks and plates, heads low, voices lower.

    Zafran slid into the seat across from the others, setting his cup down with a soft clink.

    ¡°You were gone a while,¡± Elsha noted, sipping her drink without looking up.

    ¡°Picked up a few things,¡± Zafran replied, then added, ¡°Bandit activity¡¯s rising. Ghostfangs might be moving in¡ªor someone worse.¡±

    Karin glanced up, halfway through a bite. ¡°In the desert?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Couple caravans turned back. Could just be rumors, but¡­ too many for comfort.¡±

    Ysar paused mid-chew. ¡°So, instead of one band of cutthroats, we¡¯ve got two?¡±

    ¡°Or one smart one spreading fear,¡± Zafran said. ¡°Either way, it¡¯s noise.¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t look worried. ¡°Bandits have always circled this area.¡±

    ¡°They have,¡± Zafran agreed.

    ¡°So we¡¯ll know it¡¯s serious,¡± Ysar muttered, ¡°once someone decides we look like lunch.¡±

    ¡°Oh we pretty much look like their lunch¡±

    Ysar huffed, taking another drink. ¡°Lovely. Just the right amount of risk to season the trip.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly comforting,¡± Karin murmured, pushing her food around.

    A quiet pause stretched across the table.

    Then¡ªpredictably¡ªYsar broke it.

    ¡°I still say they¡¯d be idiots to try us.¡±

    Karin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh? And why¡¯s that?¡±

    Ysar gestured lazily. ¡°We¡¯ve got a brooding swordsman, a razor-sharp warrior, and me¡ªan unpredictable genius.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the most robbable one here,¡± Elsha said, deadpan.

    ¡°I¡¯m charming,¡± Ysar argued, hand to chest. ¡°That¡¯s tactical value.¡±

    ¡°Only if we¡¯re bargaining over drinks,¡± Karin said dryly.

    ¡°Exactly!¡± Ysar pointed triumphantly. ¡°She gets me.¡±

    Zafran shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ll talk us into a fight.¡±

    ¡°Details.¡±

    Elsha chuckled. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope the bandits are too busy stealing from each other.¡±

    Ysar raised his cup. ¡°To optimistic delusion.¡±

    Karin sighed but raised her own. The cups clinked gently.

    The tension from earlier faded into soft banter, the kind shared by people who knew the road would only get harder.

    Tomorrow, they would ride out into the sand.

    But tonight¡ªthere was food, warmth, and the momentary illusion of safety.

    Karin glanced across the table, watching the three of them joke like it was second nature. Then she looked down at her drink, murmuring just loud enough to hear:

    ¡°¡­Am I really trusting these people with my life?¡±

    Ysar didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Too late to back out now, lady scholar.¡±

    Elsha laughed. Zafran sighed. And Karin¡ªhalf-smiling despite herself¡ªtook another sip.

    <hr>

    The heat was already pressing by the time light seeped through the inn¡¯s worn shutters¡ªthick and slow like a blanket laid over the world. Windstail stirred early, as it always did. Traders moved like clockwork, filling buckets, tightening straps, hauling goods while the sun was still survivable.

    Inside, Zafran was already awake, strapping his gear in near-silence. The worst of the sun was coming. The only smart thing to do now was wait it out¡ªrest while the world boiled, then ride when night cooled the earth.

    Then came a loud thud from the next room, followed by a groggy, miserable groan.

    ¡°Morning already?!¡± Ysar¡¯s muffled voice bled through the wall. Another thump. ¡°¡­Ugh, I hate mornings.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t look up. ¡°The sun¡¯s halfway to murdering us. You should be grateful we¡¯re not riding yet.¡±

    Elsha stepped out from her room, dressed and armed, hair tied back as she checked the weight of her belt. ¡°Grateful? From him?¡±

    She passed Ysar¡¯s door with a long-suffering glance and disappeared down the stairs.

    Karin emerged next¡ªhair slightly tousled, her robe slung over one shoulder. She glanced at Zafran, then tilted her head toward the noise. ¡°¡­Should we be worried he¡¯ll fall asleep while riding?¡±

    Zafran smirked faintly. ¡°He¡¯ll complain the whole way, but he stays upright.¡±

    Ysar¡¯s door creaked open. He stumbled out looking like he¡¯d lost a bar fight in his dreams¡ªshirt half-done, one boot on, one hand shielding his face from the light.

    ¡°I hate all of you.¡±

    Elsha¡¯s voice called up from below. ¡°You hate mornings. Not us.¡±

    ¡°Same thing,¡± he muttered, dragging himself toward the scent of food.

    Downstairs, the common room buzzed softly. Other travelers dozed, chewed, or grumbled into mugs. The innkeeper, sharp-eyed and quiet, set down their meal¡ªbread, salted meat, and cool water in clay cups.

    ¡°Leaving at night?¡± he asked.

    Zafran nodded. ¡°Just after dusk.¡±

    ¡°Smart.¡± The innkeeper rubbed his chin. ¡°Silent Desert¡¯s been loud lately. Bandits, sure¡ªbut something else too. Don¡¯t know what. But people come back¡­ different.¡±

    Karin looked up. ¡°Different how?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Some don¡¯t speak. Some don¡¯t stop walking.¡±

    With that, he moved on.

    ¡°Fantastic,¡± Ysar muttered. ¡°Love that kind of mysterious foreshadowing, are you serious it¡¯s not a spun some mages made up to sell their potions?¡±

    Elsha sipped from her cup. ¡°We knew the risks.¡±

    Zafran ate in silence, the words settling heavy on his shoulders. The desert didn¡¯t warn you. It waited.

    By the time they stepped outside, the sun had reached its peak. They weren¡¯t leaving yet¡ªnot until the heat backed down. Their horses were saddled and waiting under the stable¡¯s shaded awning, bags packed light.

    They¡¯d rest through the dead hours of the day. At sundown, they¡¯d ride.

    Zafran checked his gear one last time, eyes flicking to the skyline of Windstail¡ªthe last outpost before silence.

    ¡°Rest now,¡± he said. ¡°We move at dusk.¡±

    Ysar groaned, slumping into the stable wall. ¡°This better be the last desert job I take.¡±

    Elsha gave him a flat look. ¡°This is the first.¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡±

    Karin gave a soft sigh, watching the horizon. Then she turned to her horse, quiet and thoughtful.

    Evening was coming.

    And the desert was waiting.

    <hr>

 Chapter 4: Noon is Death

    The sun had dipped beneath the dunes when they set out¡ªits dying light casting the horizon in deep reds and golds before giving way to indigo skies. The desert came alive in the absence of heat. Wind curled over the sands like breath from a sleeping giant, and moonlight spilled across the dunes in soft silver streaks.

    Their group moved in a quiet line, horses stepping carefully over shifting terrain. Hooves left no lasting trail¡ªeach step swallowed up by the ever-changing sand. There was no road here. Only instinct, starlight, and memory.

    Zafran led the way.

    His eyes scanned the moonlit landscape, watching for motion where there should be none, listening for any rhythm beyond the crunch of hooves and the wind¡¯s long hum. Behind him, Elsha kept pace with steady discipline, while Ysar yawned loudly for the sixth time in half an hour.

    ¡°This is unnatural,¡± Ysar muttered, rubbing his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to sleep at night. Not impersonate ghosts.¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s stopping you,¡± Elsha replied flatly. ¡°Lay down, and the scorpions will keep you company.¡±

    Ysar made a strangled sound. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±

    ¡°Am I?¡±

    Karin rode behind them, her cloak pulled tight against the breeze. Her posture was stiff, alert.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to used to this¡± she said after a time, breaking the hush of the night.

    ¡°Riding during the day cooks your brain,¡± Ysar chimed in. ¡°And Elsha will gets cranky when she sweats.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m always cranky,¡± Elsha said calmly.

    ¡°Exactly my point.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s voice cut through their bickering. ¡°The heat kills. The dark doesn¡¯t.¡±

    Silence returned, save for the creaking of saddles and the whispering sand.

    The stars glittered overhead¡ªsharp, cold, unblinking. The moon had risen full tonight, casting long, distorted shadows over the dunes. It was beautiful, in a way only danger could be.

    Karin studied the terrain with open curiosity. ¡°It looks endless.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Zafran replied.

    ¡°No landmarks. No trails.¡±

    ¡°Well, there are, but just so hard to see¡±

    ¡°¡­You sound like a guide.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m now¡±

    The dunes rolled on. Time lost its shape.

    By the third hour, they stopped briefly to let the horses rest. They dismounted, stretched, checked water and gear. The sand was cool beneath their boots now, but it would not stay gentle for long. Desert fatigue was slow and creeping¡ªjust like the danger.

    Karin leaned on a rock, watching the sky. ¡°It¡¯s so quiet.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem,¡± Zafran said. ¡°When it¡¯s not.¡±

    They resumed the journey in silence.

    The wind picked up slightly, brushing the dunes in long, slithering patterns. No birds. No trees. Just an ocean of whispering earth and the deep pull of distance.

    No one spoke for a while after that.

    Then Ysar said, voice soft, as if afraid to break the mood:

    ¡°¡­Do you ever wonder if something¡¯s watching from under the sand?¡±

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    Elsha didn¡¯t respond. Neither did Zafran.

    But Karin, after a pause, whispered:

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    No one laughed.

    The desert didn¡¯t like jokes.

    <hr>

    The dunes had dulled to grey beneath the fading moonlight, the stars softening in a sky that hinted at morning. The air was colder now, with that strange sharpness that came just before the heat returned.

    It had been hours since they¡¯d spoken. The rhythm of the desert¡ªthe sway of horses, the whisper of sand¡ªhad lulled them into tired silence.

    Then Elsha pointed ahead. ¡°There.¡±

    A low hill of jagged stone jutted out from the surrounding dunes¡ªdark and firm, like an island in a sea of shifting earth.

    Zafran nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll rest there.¡±

    They reached the outcrop just as the sky began to pale. The moon dipped low. A thin breeze swept across the sand, tossing loose grains into ghostlike curls. The horses moved slower now, hooves dragging. Even Ysar was too tired to complain.

    They dismounted in silence.

    Zafran moved first, circling the stone with a careful eye. No signs of recent passage. No ash from an old fire, no scraps of cloth, no tracks in the sand. He scanned the far dunes¡ªnothing moved.

    Satisfied, he gave the signal.

    ¡°Here,¡± Elsha said, patting the side of a narrow gap in the rock. ¡°Good enough for wind cover.¡±

    They led the horses into the natural barrier, giving them water before unstrapping the saddlebags. The ground was firm enough, the sand not too deep here. A good resting spot¡ªfor the desert, at least.

    They laid down cloaks and travel blankets, forming a rough circle behind the sheltering curve of stone. No fire. No light. Just food, water, and rest.

    Karin sank onto her cloak, her face paler than usual under the grey sky. ¡°Feels like we¡¯ve been riding for days.¡±

    ¡°Close enough,¡± Ysar muttered, already chewing a strip of dried meat. ¡°At least no one got eaten by sand beasts.¡±

    ¡°Yet,¡± Elsha added, tone dry.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tempt fate,¡± Ysar grumbled. ¡°I¡¯m tired enough to let one eat me just to get some peace.¡±

    Zafran passed around a water skin without a word.

    The meal was quiet.

    Bread that cracked. Jerky that fought back. A few bites of dried fruit that stuck to their teeth. Nothing luxurious, but no one complained. They were too tired.

    Karin rubbed her eyes and leaned back against her saddlebag. ¡°I¡¯ll never ask for silent desert again¡±

    No one disagree.

    Once the food was done, they began to settle. Elsha rolled into her blanket without fuss. Karin took her time, eyes still flicking to the horizon, as if expecting the dunes to move.

    Zafran didn¡¯t lie down.

    He remained seated, sword across his lap, eyes distant.

    Karin noticed.

    ¡°You¡¯re not sleeping?¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡±

    ¡°You said we¡¯d rest during the day.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the first stretch of watch,¡± he replied simply.

    ¡°I can help¡ª¡±

    ¡°You paid for protection, not shifts.¡±

    She frowned. ¡°Alright.¡±

    Zafran said nothing. He just kept watching the sand.

    Karin stared at him a moment longer, then gave in, pulling the cloak over her shoulders and curling into the corner of the stone.

    Within minutes, she drifted.

    One by one, the others followed. Even Ysar, after tossing for a while, eventually stilled. The wind faded. The first rays of sun crept over the horizon, casting golden streaks across the dunes. Heat was coming.

    But for now, it was quiet.

    Zafran sat alone, eyes sharp, body still.

    He didn¡¯t blink when the wind shifted.

    Didn¡¯t flinch when a dune collapsed in the distance.

    <hr>

    The sun had dipped behind the dunes, turning the desert sky to a dull wash of violet and gold. The air cooled fast, but the heat still lingered beneath the sand¡ªtrapped like breath beneath a blanket.

    Camp stirred.

    Elsha fed the horses, brushing their flanks and murmuring softly to calm their restlessness.

    Karin crouched beside her pack, securing her scroll tube and checking the map one last time.

    Zafran sat near the edge of the outcrop, cinching his belt and strapping on his straight-edged sword. His eyes scanned the horizon. Too still. Too quiet.

    Ysar yawned, tossing a small throwing knife between his fingers, then sheathed it alongside his curved blade. ¡°That was the worst nap I¡¯ve ever had. I feel like my soul melted.¡±

    ¡°You snored,¡± Elsha muttered, already double-checking her own curved sword at her hip.

    ¡°I don¡¯t snore.¡±

    ¡°You do,¡± Elsha and Karin said at once.

    Then¡ª

    A sound.

    A whisper of shifting sand.

    Zafran tensed. The horses¡¯ ears flicked. Elsha froze, hand tightening on her hilt. Karin¡¯s head snapped up.

    And Ysar¡ªwandering just a few paces off¡ªcaught movement in the dunes.

    Low, sliding shapes. Dark forms cresting the nearest ridge.

    Then another. And another.

    Too smooth. Too close.

    His stomach dropped.

    ¡°¡ªHey, guys¡ª¡±

    He didn¡¯t get to finish.

    A sharp whistle tore through the air.

    An arrow slammed into his shoulder.

    He grunted, spun sideways, and crashed into the sand.

    ¡°Bandits!!¡± he roared.

    The camp exploded into motion.

    Figures burst from the dunes, rising like wraiths wrapped in tan cloth, blades drawn, bows already loosing second shots before the first had landed.

    Zafran met the first with steel¡ªstraight blade flashing as it rang against a curved sword, pushing back with brutal precision.

    Karin scrambled back, hands glowing, trying to summon a ward¡ªonly for a blur of motion to break toward her from the flank.

    Too fast.

    Too close.

    Zafran stepped in, grabbed her cloak, and yanked her back behind him just as a blade flashed through where she¡¯d been. His own sword answered a breath later, slamming against the attacker¡¯s weapon in a clean, brutal arc that sent the bandit stumbling.

    ¡°Stay behind me,¡± he said coldly.

    Sand kicked up. Shadows danced under the moonlight. Chaos had begun.

    <hr>

 Chapter 5: Fire

    <hr>

    The night shattered like glass.

    Ysar hit the sand hard after dodge another arrow aimed at him, the world spinning around him.

    A second passed.

    Then a blur of movement.

    Boots pounding.

    A figure rushing in¡ªcurved blade raised high.

    Ysar rolled on instinct.

    The scimitar plunged into the ground where his chest had been, spraying grit. He gasped, pain biting through his shoulder, and shoved himself up with his good arm. Another figure closed in, fast and silent.

    His fingers tightened on his sword.

    He slashed.

    The edge of his curved blade met thigh. Flesh tore.

    The bandit screamed and staggered.

    Ysar didn¡¯t wait.

    He lunged, driving his sword up beneath the ribs. The man collapsed.

    No time to breathe.

    ¡°They¡¯re good!¡± some one shouted, maybe, but the number is not on their side.

    Another was already on him.

    He brought his blade up just in time¡ªmetal slammed against metal. Sparks flew. The impact rang down his bones, made his knees tremble. He couldn¡¯t keep this up.

    Then came Elsha.

    Descended like lightning¡ªblades flashing, movements sharp and exact. Her first push the blade of that bandit away from Ysar, the second gauze open a long wound on hit chest before he back away with a hiss.

    Elsha didn¡¯t even blink.

    ¡°Get your shit together, Ysar,¡± she snapped, backpedaling into a guard stance.

    Ysar staggered upright. ¡°Was just warming up.¡±

    ¡°No more mistakes,¡± she hissed.

    More of them closing in.

    Elsha moved first.

    She deflected one blade, spun low, and sliced across her attacker¡¯s leg. He collapsed into the sand with a howl. But the second was faster.

    His strike crashed into her crossed blades. She held him, grit spraying around her feet as she was forced backward.

    Too much pressure.

    She shifted to parry¡ªand her footing betrayed her.

    The sand slipped.

    Her balance faltered.

    The scimitar came down.

    Ysar intercepted, steel meeting steel.

    The shock of the block lit up his wounded arm, but he held, shoved the enemy back.

    Elsha surged forward, driving her blade into the bandit¡¯s side.

    One more down.

    But more shadows were moving. More shapes rising from the dunes.

    Zafran moved in the distance¡ªa ghost of steel.

    He said nothing. His sword did all the talking.

    Clean, sharp arcs. No wasted movement. Every strike effective.

    But his priority was clear¡ªhe kept Karin behind him, shielding her from the chaos.

    She try to keep up with him, hiding behind.

    Zafran parried a blow¡ªstepped into his attacker¡¯s guard¡ªand drove his straight sword through the man¡¯s gut.

    Then spun to the next.

    The bandits weren¡¯t mindless.

    They coordinated.

    They pressed the attack from all sides, circling like wolves, picking at weakness. Always moving. Always pressuring.

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    And they were gaining.

    Ysar was slowing.

    His shoulder screamed every time he lifted his blade. His breaths came ragged. Another enemy closed in, slashing low. Ysar twisted, blocked, but staggered.

    A blade caught him across the cheek.

    Shallow. But enough.

    He stumbled back, vision blurred.

    The enemy raised his sword for the kill.

    Then Elsha again¡ªsharp and clean. Her twin blades danced.

    She disarmed him, cut deep across the ribs, and ended it with a clean strike through the chest.

    But she was bleeding now too¡ªarm slashed, her right sleeve dark with blood.

    She didn¡¯t flinch.

    Another came at her before she could breathe.

    She ducked.

    Too slow.

    A blade kissed her side, shallow but enough to burn.

    She growled, dropped low, swept his leg, and opened his throat when he fell.

    She turned.

    Ysar was down again.

    ¡°Ysar!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡ªfine¡ª¡± he grunted.

    He blocked another strike. Barely.

    Elsha moved to cover him. Again.

    Their footwork was dragging. Their bodies heavy. Their blades dulled with blood.

    Too many.

    Still coming.

    The desert had come alive.

    And it wasn¡¯t letting go.

    <hr>

    Zafran moved like a dancer in a storm.

    His sword wasn¡¯t wild¡ªit was refined. A clean, straight edge guided by years of control. While Ysar and Elsha fought in furious bursts, Zafran moved with rhythm¡ªpauses, pivots, strikes. Each motion was deliberate. Each cut counted.

    Another bandit charged him, screaming.

    Zafran turned just enough. The scimitar glanced off his bracer. He didn¡¯t flinch. His blade slipped forward¡ªno flair, just a thrust through the ribs. The man folded without a sound.

    Another came from behind.

    Zafran pivoted low, letting the blade whistle over his head, then came up and brought his sword down like a hammer.

    Steel cracked collarbone.

    The man dropped.

    But he didn¡¯t move on.

    He turned¡ªchecked.

    Karin.

    She was still behind the rock. Her hands hovered at the ready, eyes locked on the battle. Tense. Watching. Waiting.

    Good.

    Zafran stepped back, drawing the fight closer to her. He wouldn¡¯t stray far. She was the heart of this formation, and mages didn¡¯t survive being left alone.

    A scream drew his gaze left.

    Ysar faltered¡ªhis blade caught in a block, his footing slipping.

    Zafran grabbed a curved blade from the sand. It was still warm from a dying hand.

    He hurled it.

    It spun twice¡ªthen buried into the side of a bandit lunging for Ysar.

    The man dropped.

    Zafran didn¡¯t wait. He moved in.

    He reached Ysar and Elsha just as another bandit charged in. Zafran intercepted the strike aimed for Elsha¡¯s back, his sword catching the blow mid-arc. The impact shook the air.

    Elsha didn¡¯t look surprised. ¡°About time.¡±

    ¡°I was giving you practice,¡± he muttered, pivoting to strike low.

    The three of them formed up, Karin just behind them. Zafran adjusted their stance subtly¡ªtightening the gap, giving her space to act if she needed to.

    More enemies came.

    Zafran moved like he was reading a script.

    Feints read. Footwork anticipated. Each swing placed with purpose.

    He turned with the flow of battle, slashing low, parrying high. He moved around Ysar, stepped into Elsha¡¯s blind spot, caught a blade before it reached her.

    But it wasn¡¯t sustainable.

    They were being pushed.

    Zafran¡¯s gaze swept the field¡ªquick, sharp.

    There was a rhythm to this chaos. The bandits didn¡¯t act like rabble. They moved with intent, timing, discipline.

    Someone was leading them.

    He looked¡ªscanned the ridges.

    There.

    A shadow, distant, watching. Still as stone.

    Zafran¡¯s eyes narrowed. His heart quickened.

    This wasn¡¯t a raid.

    It was an execution.

    Unless they ended it first.

    Zafran stepped back, just far enough to keep Karin in his periphery. He shouted, loud and clear¡ª

    ¡°Karin!¡±

    She looked up, startled¡ªbut focused.

    He pointed.

    ¡°There!¡±

    She followed his gesture¡ªsaw the figure on the ridge.

    Still. Commanding. Silent.

    And that was enough.

    The heat pulsed around her.

    No words. No chant.

    Just fire, already rising.

    <hr>

    Her hands lifted into the air, fingers trembling from pure arcane pressure.

    A pulse of heat rippled outward.

    Fire.

    A sphere of flame bloomed in her grasp, enormous¡ªtoo enormous. It pulsed like a second sun, swirling with chaotic energy. Not conjured. Unleashed.

    The very air recoiled.

    Magic coiled in her lungs like a scream she hadn¡¯t let out in years. It begged to be freed.

    Zafran turned¡ªcaught sight of it.

    His eyes widened. ¡°Wait¡­ that¡¯s¡ª¡±

    But it was already too late.

    Karin let it go.

    The fireball roared into the sky, massive and furious, its light turning the night into molten gold.

    And then¡ª

    The world caught fire.

    Wind snapped toward the blast point, as if the desert itself held its breath. Then¡ª

    Detonation.

    A tidal wave of flame crashed into the ridge. Screams never had time to rise¡ªconsumed instantly in a furnace of sand and ash. The earth groaned beneath the force, dunes collapsing as a shockwave burst outward.

    Zafran cursed, grabbing Karin and shoving her to the ground. ¡°Down!¡±

    The air ignited.

    Heat surged toward them¡ªmerciless, searing. It tore across the camp like a living inferno, burning through cloth, scorching exposed skin.

    Ysar and Elsha were just as close.

    Both dropped low, shielding their faces, bracing against the firestorm.

    And still, it burned.

    The ridge was gone.

    Melted.

    A crater of jagged, blackened glass lay where the leader and his guards had once stood. The sand hadn¡¯t just been scorched¡ªit had been reshaped.

    The heat at their position was unbearable. Even crouched behind stone, even at that distance¡ªit licked at their backs like the breath of a god.

    When the flame finally died down, the desert was still.

    Silent.

    Only the hiss of vaporized sand cooling remained.

    Then¡ªmovement.

    One of the bandits turned. Another shouted. Panic began to spread like a contagion.

    ¡°The Academia!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s an Arch Magi!¡±

    ¡°Run!¡±

    The retreat was immediate¡ªundignified. Swords fell. Bodies stumbled. Boots thundered over sand as they scattered, directionless, driven by terror.

    No one tried to stay.

    No one even looked back.

    And then¡­ silence.

    The kind that felt sacred.

    Zafran stood slowly, brushing ash from his shoulder. His cloak was singed. His sword¡¯s guard warped with heat. His jaw locked tight as he stared at the smoking crater.

    Ysar emerged, coughing hard, one hand gripping his side. ¡°I thought I was dead.¡±

    Elsha stood beside him, blade still in hand, but her face blank. Her cheek was streaked with soot, hair curled from the heat, eyes locked on the girl behind them.

    Karin.

    She was still on the ground, braced against the sand where Zafran had thrown her down.

    But slowly¡ªdeliberately¡ªshe rose.

    Smoke curled from her fingertips. Her cloak hung scorched and ragged around her shoulders. Her breaths came shallow. Controlled. As if she were holding something back.

    Her eyes glowed faintly. Not with triumph¡ªbut relief.

    Not pride.

    Just release.

    Zafran watched her rise, silhouetted against the smoldering crater, and for a moment¡ªshe looked untouchable.

    Powerful.

    Alien.

    He said nothing for a long time.

    Then finally, in a low voice that cut through the quiet¡ª

    ¡°¡­What is that?¡±

    <hr>

 Chapter 6: A Strangerâ€™s Table

    The battle had ended.

    The bandits had fled, vanishing into the dunes. Their leader¡ªgone.

    The desert was quiet again.

    The only thing left was the heat.

    Not just from the spellfire, but from the molten glass crater, still smoking where the ridge once stood. The air still carried the scent of scorched sand, burnt leather, and blood.

    The world had shifted. And none of them knew what to say.

    But Zafran moved first.

    He turned from the wreckage, eyes sharp as he scanned the group.

    Survival came first.

    Ysar slumped against a rock, blood seeping from his shoulder, his tunic torn and damp. His breathing was steady¡ªbut weak.

    Elsha sat nearby, arm cradled against her ribs. She was breathing hard, quiet and composed.

    Neither of them spoke.

    Zafran knelt beside Ysar and pulled out a pouch of bandages. ¡°Stay still.¡±

    Ysar exhaled a sharp breath, smirking despite the pain. ¡°Not planning on dancing, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Zafran ignored him, working quickly. Cut. Press. Wrap. Tighten. He was neither gentle nor rough¡ªjust efficient.

    Elsha glanced over. ¡°You should¡¯ve checked me first. I did more work than he did.¡±

    Dry. Not warm. Just enough to keep Ysar talking.

    It worked.

    Ysar chuckled weakly, tipping his head toward her. ¡°And yet, I¡¯m the one bleeding more. Funny how that works.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t react. He tied the last knot and moved on.

    Then¡ªKarin dropped to her knees beside Elsha.

    No hesitation. No words.

    She just grabbed more bandages from Zafran¡¯s pack and started wrapping Elsha¡¯s arm.

    Zafran didn¡¯t stop her. He knew she couldn¡¯t heal¡ªbut she needed to do something.

    Elsha raised a brow, eyes sidelong. ¡°So you¡¯re a medic now?¡±

    Karin smirked. ¡°I¡¯m whatever I need to be.¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t reply, but she didn¡¯t stop her either.

    The moment settled.

    By the time Karin finished, the last traces of fire had faded. The crater still smoked faintly, and the coolness of night was beginning to thin. Dawn wasn¡¯t far.

    The sand, once soft and gold, had been fused into black glass¡ªjagged, warped, unnatural.

    Zafran stood and turned back toward the destruction.

    A ridge had been there. A man had stood atop it.

    Now¡ªnothing.

    His gaze shifted to Karin.

    She sat back, brushing grit from her gloves. Her face was unreadable. Her hands still faintly steamed.

    Zafran exhaled.

    ¡°You,¡± he said. ¡°A Flame-Touched?¡±

    Karin met his gaze, steady. ¡°Yes.¡±

    He looked back at the crater. ¡°Never heard of one that powerful.¡±

    Karin stretched, arms overhead. ¡°Not all of them¡ªof us¡ªare.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change. ¡°Yours is Arch Magi level.¡±

    Karin smirked. ¡°Thanks for the flirt.¡±

    Ysar let out a half-laugh, half-wheeze from the rock. ¡°Real smooth, Zafran. Should¡¯ve bought her a drink first. But seriously¡ªwhat¡¯s a Flame-Touched?¡±

    ¡°Someone who can only use fire magic,¡± Elsha answered simply.

    ¡°Usually stronger than average,¡± Karin added.

    ¡°Cool,¡± Ysar said. ¡°That makes me an Air-Touched?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re just too stupid to study magic,¡± Karin replied.

    Ysar clutched his chest. ¡°Ouch.¡±

    Karin leaned back, letting the cool air hit her face. ¡°There¡¯s only Flame-Touched. No water, no earth, no air. We believe it¡¯s tied to Aftree¡¯s death.¡±

    ¡°The fire god,¡± Ysar muttered. ¡°Sounds like a bedtime story.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Zafran said quietly. ¡°Maybe not.¡±

    He didn¡¯t elaborate. Just stared at the battlefield.

    Then¡ª¡°You need to learn to control it.¡±

    Karin¡¯s smirk lingered.

    Then faded.

    She exhaled and rolled her neck. ¡°Can I?¡±

    Zafran¡¯s brow twitched. ¡°Can you?¡±

    She scratched her head. ¡°It¡¯s hard.¡±

    Elsha, rewrapping her bandage, spoke without looking up. ¡°Hard isn¡¯t impossible.¡±

    Karin groaned. ¡°It just means annoying.¡±

    Zafran crossed his arms. ¡°You¡¯ll kill the wrong people with power like that.¡±

    Karin held up her hands. ¡°I get it. Big fire, bad.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t budge. ¡°We don¡¯t want to be roasted in the next fight.¡±

    He stepped forward, reached down, and pulled her up.

    Ysar lifted a hand dramatically. ¡°No hand for me?¡±

    Elsha kicked lightly at his leg. ¡°Stop whining.¡±

    ¡°Ow¡ªalright, alright.¡±

    Ysar winced. ¡°But really¡­ next fight? Hope it doesn¡¯t come to that.¡±

    Zafran looked toward the horizon. The wind was rising¡ªdry and faint.

    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here. Not like this.¡±

    Elsha stood slowly, stretching. ¡°Nearest place?¡±

    ¡°Tavreth,¡± Ysar said, leaning back against the stone. ¡°Little oasis town. Bit off the path. Neutral ground. No bounty hunters. Just merchants, sand, and overpriced stew.¡±

    Zafran adjusted his belt. ¡°We go there.¡±

    Karin dusted off her coat. ¡°Better than bleeding out in the sand.¡±

    They started walking.

    The crater faded behind them.

    No one spoke¡ªuntil Ysar paused mid-step, glancing around.

    ¡°¡­Where are the horses?¡±

    Silence.

    Zafran turned. The tethers still hung from the stone¡ªsnapped, frayed. Hoofprints scattered in the sand, wild and panicked.

    The blast had driven them off.

    Karin dragged a hand down her face. ¡°Of course.¡±

    Ysar groaned. ¡°They ran. They actually ran.¡±

    Elsha glanced toward the broken ridge. ¡°After that explosion, I would¡¯ve too.¡±

    Zafran traced a few hoof marks. Then stopped.

    Gone. Scattered into the dunes.

    Ysar tilted his head back. ¡°I was just starting to fall in love with them.¡±

    Karin shaded her eyes. ¡°So, how far¡¯s Tavreth?¡±

    Zafran sighed. ¡°Half a day. We walk.¡±

    Ysar threw up his arms. ¡°Of course we do.¡±

    Karin smirked. ¡°You could always stay behind.¡±

    Ysar pointed at her. ¡°I¡¯m going to complain the entire way.¡±

    Karin swept her arm dramatically. ¡°You always do.¡±

    Elsha was already walking.

    Zafran followed.

    Karin turned from the shattered camp and joined them.

    Ysar sighed one last time and trudged after them, muttering.

    ¡°I miss my horse already.¡±

    <hr>

    By the time they reached Tavreth, the sun was high enough to paint everything in shimmering gold. Heat clung to their backs, sand crusted their boots, and sweat dried into salt at their collars. The oasis town rose from the dunes like a memory half-remembered¡ªlow buildings of bleached sandstone, clustered around the deep green mirror of water at its center.

    Palm trees lined the edge of the market square, offering narrow pools of shade. Stalls were set up along cracked streets, merchants shouting beneath sun-bleached canopies, selling everything from dried fruit to faded silks, from water skins to desert steel.

    But Tavreth wasn¡¯t friendly.

    It was careful.

    People walked like they were listening for someone behind them. Voices stayed low. Transactions were quick. There were no names exchanged¡ªjust coins, nods, and the flick of robes disappearing around corners.

    Karin took it all in, brushing sand from her sleeves. ¡°This place is charming. In that ¡®don¡¯t trust anyone¡¯ kind of way.¡±

    Ysar let out a low whistle. ¡°Smells like home.¡±

    Elsha shot him a glance, neutral as always. ¡°Your home must¡¯ve been a mess.¡±

    ¡°To be clear,¡± Ysar said, ¡°I lived next to you.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t comment. He kept walking, eyes scanning every alley, every rooftop, every hand resting a little too close to a knife.

    This was neutral ground, sure¡ªbut neutrality didn¡¯t mean peace. It meant the right people were making sure no one messed with their business. That was all.

    They passed a man lounging beneath a faded awning, whittling a stick into a shiv. He watched them without blinking. Nearby, two women bartered over dates and spices while one of them quietly passed a blade to a third hidden behind a crate.

    Eventually, they found a crooked little inn tucked between two crumbling buildings. The kind of place where the name had long since peeled off the signboard. Its door leaned, the windows were clouded, and something sour hung in the air like old beer and hot sweat.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Zafran stepped in first. No words. No pause.

    The others followed.

    Inside was dim¡ªlamplight flickered on cracked wood, casting slow shadows across uneven floors. A few travelers hunched over low tables. No one looked up. No one asked questions.

    A woman behind the counter glanced up, her skin dark as oil, her eyes sharp. ¡°Only one room tonight,¡± she said before anyone asked.

    Zafran nodded. ¡°Room, food, and water.¡±

    ¡°Five silver.¡±

    He paid without haggling.

    Minutes later, they were seated around a splintered table with flatbread, dried meat, and clay cups of lukewarm water. Karin poked at her food. Ysar was already chewing. Elsha sat still, back straight, eyes occasionally drifting toward the rest of the room.

    Then Zafran froze.

    His gaze locked on something in the corner.

    Karin followed it. At first, she thought he was watching a fight about to happen. But no¡ªjust one woman. Alone.

    The woman¡¯s robe was unadorned, pure and silent. Her hair fell straight and dark over her shoulders. In her hand, a cup filled with wine, and a half-filled bottle sat before her.

    And nearby¡ªtrouble.

    Three men loitered too close to her table. Their movements were slow and coiled. They weren¡¯t speaking loud, but the intent bled through their posture.

    One leaned closer. ¡°Come on now, sweetheart. Don¡¯t be rude. We¡¯re just saying hello.¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond. She lifted her cup, drank.

    Another scoffed. ¡°Maybe she¡¯s too good to talk to us.¡±

    Still, she said nothing.

    Zafran stood up slowly.

    ¡°Hey, what are you doing?¡± Karin asked.

    ¡°Not again, I¡¯m all bruised up and dying,¡± Ysar muttered.

    But Zafran strode across the room leisurely and sat down across from her.

    The men blinked.

    The woman raised her eyes slightly, her expression unchanged¡ªbut her grip on the cup stilled.

    Zafran picked up her bottle, calmly poured himself a small glass.

    And took a sip.

    The silence stretched.

    One of the men barked, ¡°Hey. You know her?¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t look at them. ¡°She invited me.¡±

    The man sneered. ¡°She didn¡¯t invite shit.¡±

    Zafran met his gaze then¡ªflat, unblinking.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t she?¡±

    The man stepped forward, one hand drifting near his belt. ¡°You looking for a problem?¡±

    A dagger flashed.

    Fast.

    But he was faster.

    His chair didn¡¯t even scrape.

    He shifted just enough to avoid the stab. One hand caught the man¡¯s arm and yanked him forward. The other drove an elbow hard into the thug¡¯s nose.

    A crack. The man dropped with a grunt, blood streaming from his face.

    The other two froze.

    Then one turned, looking toward the bar¡ªtoward Karin, her red cloak unmistakable in the firelight.

    His breath caught.

    He leaned in close to his partner and whispered.

    ¡°Wait¡­ is that¡­?¡±

    The other followed his gaze. Both stiffened.

    ¡°The Arch Magi¡¯s party,¡± one murmured.

    That was all it took.

    They grabbed their fallen friend without another word, dragging him toward the door, muttering curses as they vanished into the street.

    The woman in white finally set her cup down with a sigh.

    Her gaze lingered on Zafran¡ªcalm, unreadable.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t poke your nose into other people¡¯s problems.¡± she said.

    Not cruel. Not warm.

    Just a simple cut.

    Zafran blinked.

    She stood.

    ¡°Wait¡ªmiss,¡± he said, rising halfway, voice low. ¡°Can I at least know your name?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer. Didn¡¯t look back. Just left two silver coins on the counter and stepped out the door.

    Zafran stood there a second longer, then slowly walked back to the table.

    He sat. Drained the wine.

    Said nothing.

    Karin raised her hand lightly, mimicking. ¡°Wait¡ªmiss. Can I at least know your name?¡±

    Ysar answered. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t poke your nose into other people¡¯s problems.¡±

    Karin smirked. ¡°She said it cooler.¡±

    ¡°She actually did.¡±

    Ysar leaned in, voice mock-serious. ¡°But really¡ªwhat happened to my cool, untouchable master Zafran?¡±

    Zafran rubble his temples ¡°Both of you please shut up¡±.

    Karin grinned.

    Ysar chuckled.

    He just focused on his food, shoveling it down like he wanted the moment behind him.

    Elsha watched him once, silently then to the door, and back to her meal, frown a little, and continue eating.

    The fire crackled.

    Karin adjusted her position against the wall, resting her arm over her stomach. ¡°We leave in the morning?¡±

    Zafran shook his head. ¡°Maybe two or three more days, we need to make sure Ysar won¡¯t die on the road.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s reassuring, I wasn¡¯t ready to crawl onto a horse just yet.¡±

    Elsha looked at him. ¡°We don¡¯t have any horses.¡±

    Silence.

    Karin froze for a second. Her grin faltered, only slightly, but it was enough.

    Ysar exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.

    Karin quickly cleared her throat, straightening. ¡°W-well, uh. Walking is good for you. Builds character.¡±

    Zafran gave her a side glance, but said nothing.

    Ysar groaned, rubbing his face. ¡°I take back everything. This is actually worse than dying.¡±

    Karin clapped her hands together. ¡°Anyway! We should all get some sleep.¡±

    <hr>

    Heat greeted them the moment they stepped outside.

    Even in the early hours, the sun had already turned the stone streets into a furnace, sending waves of shimmering heat into the air. Tavreth was awake now¡ªslow, deliberate. The marketplace stirred to life beneath faded awnings. Vendors shouted softly. Sand crunched underfoot.

    Karin squinted up at the sky. ¡°How is it this bright already?¡±

    Ysar dragged his feet, looking half-awake. ¡°Mornings should be illegal.¡±

    Elsha adjusted the pouch at her side, eyes scanning the street like she didn¡¯t trust it. ¡°We¡¯ll need supplies. Herbs. Bandages. Maybe more cloth.¡±

    Zafran nodded, tightening the strap across his chest. ¡°I¡¯ll check the stables. See what¡¯s left.¡±

    Elsha gave him a flat look. ¡°With what money?¡±

    Zafran shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll improvise.¡±

    Karin stretched with a groan. ¡°I guess that means I¡¯m on food duty.¡±

    Zafran handed her a few silver coins. ¡°Get something decent.¡±

    She held them up with mock solemnity. ¡°I promise not to spend it all on fried lizard.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d take that over nothing,¡± Ysar muttered.

    ¡°You¡¯re with me,¡± Elsha said, already walking.

    Ysar groaned, dragging his boots after her. ¡°I knew that was coming.¡±

    ¡°We need medicine,¡± she called back without turning.

    ¡°If I pass out halfway, that¡¯s on you,¡± Ysar muttered.

    ¡°You already did once,¡± Elsha replied.

    Karin smirked, spun the coins in her palm, and vanished into the crowd.

    Zafran lingered a moment longer, then turned toward the stables.

    They went their separate ways.

    <hr>

    Afternoon in Tavreth

    The air inside the inn was thick with the scent of warm spices, old wood, and the ever-present dust of the desert. Light filtered through crooked slats in the shutters, casting shifting patterns on the worn floorboards. The low murmur of conversation drifted between tables¡ªtraders haggling, travelers eating, laughter behind closed doors.

    At a corner table near the back, Karin sat alone, a silver coin spinning slowly between her fingers.

    Still no sign of Zafran.

    Her foot tapped. She glanced toward the door again. Gone since morning. No word. Not even a hint of where he¡¯d wandered off to.

    The hinges creaked.

    Elsha stepped in first, brushing dust from her sleeves, a pouch of herbs slung at her hip. Ysar followed, dragging his feet like he¡¯d walked through a sandstorm.

    Karin sat up. ¡°Finally. I was starting to think you¡¯d melted.¡±

    ¡°We almost did,¡± Ysar muttered, flopping into the nearest chair. ¡°It¡¯s hotter than hell out there.¡±

    Elsha gave a small shrug and set the pouch on the table. ¡°Got what we needed.¡±

    Karin leaned forward. ¡°Any sign of our lovely wandering swordsman?¡±

    Ysar shook his head. ¡°Not a whisper. Maybe he¡¯s off chasing that woman from last night.¡±

    Karin¡¯s eyes sparked. ¡°Ooh. The lady in white?¡±

    Ysar gave her a lazy grin. ¡°Who else? Maybe she took his heart along with that harsh phrase.¡±

    ¡°Or maybe he just likes mysterious women who throw verbal daggers,¡± Ysar added, picking a fig from the wrapped bundle.

    Elsha, still sorting herbs, didn¡¯t look up.

    Karin noticed.

    She turned slightly, a teasing edge curling into her voice. ¡°You okay, Elsha? You¡¯ve been quiet.¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t answer right away.

    Just kept crushing a dried sprig of mint.

    Then, flatly: ¡°You¡¯re imagining things, He¡¯s not that kind of person.¡±

    Karin leaned in, voice light and sweet. ¡°I mean, if I liked a guy and he vanished to maybe flirt with some other girl, I¡¯d be quiet too.¡±

    Elsha¡¯s hands paused for half a breath.

    Then resumed.

    ¡°Like I said, you¡¯re imagining things.¡± she said, with just enough force to sound practiced.

    Ysar kept eating without commenting out loud.

    ¡°This is getting interesting.¡±

    Karin¡¯s grin grew. ¡°Right. Of course you don¡¯t.¡±

    Still no response.

    ¡°Not even a little bit?¡± Karin asked in a playful murmur.

    Elsha picked up the pouch of herbs and dropped it onto Karin¡¯s lap.

    ¡°Focus,¡± she said.

    Karin laughed, pulling the bundle of food closer. ¡°Fine, fine.¡±

    She unwrapped the cloth. ¡°Anyway¡ªlook. I got actual food. Flatbread, figs, salted meat. You two better be grateful.¡±

    ¡°Very,¡± Ysar mumbled with his mouth full.

    Elsha gave a nod that might¡¯ve been approval.

    Karin leaned back with a sigh. ¡°See? I can be useful.¡±

    Elsha raised an eyebrow.

    Ysar grinned. ¡°On a rare occasion.¡±

    Karin gave them both a mock glare. ¡°You two are lucky I¡¯m generous.¡±

    They settled into an easy rhythm¡ªsharing food, checking what they¡¯d gathered, talking about what they still needed. For a moment, it felt like things had returned to normal.

    But Karin¡¯s glance slid again toward Elsha.

    <hr>

    Evening at the Inn

    By nightfall, the inn had filled with heat, noise, and the smell of sweat and stew. Traders sat hunched over drinks, some loud with laughter, others quiet with exhaustion. The windows glowed faintly from torchlight outside, flickering like restless stars against the stone walls.

    At their usual table, dinner was nearly done. The stew was watery but warm, the rice sticky, the bread dense but fresh. It wasn¡¯t good food¡ªbut it was food.

    Karin leaned back, half-full cup in hand, watching the door.

    ¡°Still nothing,¡± she muttered.

    Ysar stretched, legs kicked out under the table. ¡°Maybe he got himself mugged.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯d mug them back,¡± Karin said.

    Elsha didn¡¯t say anything.

    Karin drummed her fingers on the rim of her cup. ¡°Or maybe that woman dragged him into some mysterious desert ritual. You know, soul-binding, blood oaths, weird chanting.¡±

    Ysar tilted his head. ¡°I¡¯d believe that.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯d be into that,¡± Karin added with a smirk.

    Elsha¡¯s eyes flicked up, then away.

    Before anyone could say more¡ª

    The door opened hard.

    Karin jumped, nearly spilling her drink.

    Ysar froze with bread halfway to his mouth.

    Zafran walked in.

    But he wasn¡¯t alone.

    Behind him came two men¡ªone bound at the wrists, the other clutching his ribs like they were broken. Their footsteps were uneven. One limped. The other cursed under his breath.

    The tavern fell quiet.

    Karin blinked. ¡°What the hell?¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer. He scanned the room, calm as ever¡ªuntil he locked eyes with someone seated near the wall.

    The stablemaster.

    A broad man with a battered coat and arms like stacked rope. He leaned back in his chair and grinned. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d pull it off.¡±

    Zafran gave the bound man a nudge forward. ¡°He¡¯s yours.¡±

    The man stumbled, snarling. ¡°You bastard! I was just doing business!¡±

    The stablemaster rose slowly. ¡°You¡¯ve been bleeding this town dry for years, Malkin. That¡¯s not business. That¡¯s robbery.¡±

    Karin leaned toward Ysar and whispered, ¡°What the hell is happening?¡±

    ¡°No idea,¡± he whispered back.

    The second man didn¡¯t argue. Just stood with his head low as the inn guards arrived and dragged both men toward the door. The crowd stayed quiet, watching.

    The stablemaster stretched, cracking his knuckles. Then he turned, pulled something from his coat, and tossed it to Zafran.

    A small iron key.

    ¡°One horse, as promised.¡±

    Karin blinked. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?¡±

    Zafran caught it with one hand and finally walked back to their table.

    Karin sat up. ¡°You mean to tell me you just went out there, took down two extortionists, and traded them for a horse?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Zafran said, sitting down like nothing had happened.

    Karin gawked. ¡°You didn¡¯t think to mention where you were going?¡±

    Zafran poured himself a drink. ¡°Didn¡¯t think I needed to.¡±

    Ysar groaned, head in his hands. ¡°He always does this.¡±

    Karin narrowed her eyes. ¡°One horse?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what he had,¡± Zafran said, unfazed.

    Karin threw her arms up. ¡°We could¡¯ve had more!¡±

    Zafran gave her a look.

    Karin hesitated.

    Then slumped. ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡±

    Ysar grinned. ¡°You mean how you scared off all the others?¡±

    ¡°I said don¡¯t say it!¡±

    Elsha unrolled the map onto the table, clearing her plate to one side.

    She tapped a spot past Tavreth. ¡°Next stop¡¯s four days away. No towns in between.¡±

    Ysar groaned. ¡°Four days. Walking.¡±

    Zafran nodded. ¡°We travel at dawn and dusk. Rest during the worst heat.¡±

    Karin sighed. ¡°So we¡¯re sleeping on sand for four days.¡±

    ¡°Unless you charm another horse,¡± Zafran said dryly.

    Karin rolled her eyes.

    Then Ysar paused. His brows drew together.

    ¡°You said the bandits back at the ridge called her Arch Magi, right?¡±

    Zafran gave a slow nod. ¡°They thought she was from the Academia.¡±

    Karin perked up. ¡°Which means¡­?¡±

    Ysar¡¯s grin was immediate. ¡°Which means no one¡¯s going to mess with an Arch Magi¡¯s escort.¡±

    Zafran leaned back. ¡°At the very least, it¡¯ll keep most trouble at a distance.¡±

    Karin raised her cup in mock toast. ¡°To giant fireballs¡ªscaring off enemies we haven¡¯t even met.¡±

    Elsha exhaled. ¡°That¡¯s one way to look at it.¡±

    Karin clinked her cup against the map. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    The inn returned to its steady hum of noise.

    <hr>

    Another day in Tavreth

    The sun had dipped low behind Tavreth¡¯s rooftops, painting the sky in gold and fading amber. A quiet courtyard behind the inn caught the last warmth of the day.

    Zafran stood near the wall, arms crossed, watching Ysar lazily spin his curved blade in one hand.

    ¡°Your left shoulder keeps dropping,¡± Zafran said.

    Ysar snorted. ¡°Good evening to you too.¡±

    ¡°Blade that loose? You¡¯ll get disarmed before you land a second strike.¡±

    Ysar flicked the blade up, catching it mid-spin. ¡°I was relaxed.¡±

    ¡°You were sloppy.¡±

    Zafran pushed off the wall, stepped into the sand.

    ¡°Stand up straight. Reset.¡±

    Ysar sighed but moved into stance, a little sluggish. Zafran circled once around him.

    ¡°You keep putting weight on your front foot. It makes your feints obvious.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I want them obvious,¡± Ysar muttered.

    Zafran nudged his ankle in with a boot. ¡°You¡¯re not that clever.¡±

    Ysar scowled but corrected.

    Zafran moved behind him, tapped his elbow. ¡°Raise it.¡±

    Ysar raised it.

    Then: ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for this lesson, you know.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Zafran replied. ¡°I gave it to make sure you won¡¯t die in next fight.¡±

    Ysar gave a weak shrug. ¡°Gods, I¡¯m injured.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the reason, and it¡¯s good that you¡¯re still breathing. That¡¯s enough.¡±

    He stepped back, arms crossed again.

    ¡°Listen,¡± Zafran said, quieter now. ¡°You¡¯ve got skill. Damn good skill. Better than I had at your age.¡±

    Ysar blinked at that.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Nope¡±

    He sign.

    ¡°Problem is that you keep trying to impress someone.¡±

    Ysar scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t impress anyone.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change. ¡°No. You try to impress yourself. That¡¯s the problem.¡±

    Ysar¡¯s grip on the blade tightened.

    Zafran kept going. ¡°You overextend. Show off. You take the harder move when the easy one would¡¯ve ended it.¡±

    ¡°Come on¡± Ysar muttered. ¡°Should¡¯ve made a girl crazy over me with those move.¡±

    Zafran let out a dry chuckle.

    Ysar looked away, jaw working.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be better than most,¡± Zafran said, softer now. ¡°But not if you keep trying to prove¡­¡±

    ¡°Even Elsha?¡±

    ¡°Years apart¡±

    ¡°I guess so¡±

    ¡±She listen, your arc is too wide, narrow it/¡±

    Ysar exhaled, settled back into stance. This time, smoother. Controlled.

    Zafran watched him move, just once, then nodded.

    ¡°Better.¡±

    Ysar glanced back. ¡°Still sloppy?¡±

    Zafran smirked. ¡°Always.¡±

    ¡°Keep going,¡± he said. ¡°And don¡¯t drop that elbow again.¡±

    Ysar stepped back, blade ready. ¡°Tch. You¡¯re the worst, you know that?¡±

    Zafran turned toward the wall again. ¡°You¡¯re not the first to say it.¡±

    And on the second-floor balcony overlooked the inn¡¯s courtyard, Karin¡¯s leaned on the railing, chin resting on her palm, looking below to where Zafran and Ysar moved across the hard-packed sand¡ªone instructing, the other resisting just enough to still be learning.

    ¡°They¡¯re still at it.¡±

    Elsha sat beside her, legs tucked beneath her, a clay cup of water in hand. ¡°He always pushes back,¡± she said, eyes steady on Ysar. ¡°But he listens.¡±

    ¡°Eventually,¡± Karin murmured with a smirk.

    They watched in silence for a moment. Zafran reached out¡ªadjusted Ysar¡¯s blade angle, tapped his shoulder. Ysar muttered something. Zafran ignored it and stepped back.

    Karin tilted her head. ¡°So¡­ you and Ysar both from the caravan?¡±

    Elsha nodded. ¡°Born into it. Raised in it. Same as him.¡±

    ¡°And Zafran?¡±

    Elsha¡¯s voice softened, just a little. ¡°He came when I was ten. Wandered in from somewhere. Didn¡¯t talk much. Then one day, he started helping train the younger blades.¡±

    ¡°And never stopped?¡±

    Elsha gave the smallest smile. ¡°Not once.¡±

    ¡°That explains a lot,¡± Karin said.

    Elsha turned. ¡°What?¡±

    Karin grinned. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    They sat for a moment longer.

    Then Karin nudged her shoulder lightly. ¡°Do you like him?¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the courtyard.

    Then: ¡°He¡¯s like a big brother to me.¡±

    Karin raised an eyebrow. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer the question.¡±

    ¡°I already did.¡±

    Karin snorted. ¡°You really didn¡¯t.¡±

    Elsha sipped her water and said nothing more.

    Below, Zafran pointed again. Ysar rolled his eyes, but adjusted.

    The training continued.

    And the sun kept sinking.

 Chapter 7: Hot Water

    <hr>

    The sun had passed its peak, and though the heat still clung to the dunes, the worst of it had begun to wane. A faint breeze stirred the sand, tugging at cloaks and trailing behind their steps like whispers of a fading storm.

    Zafran led them forward, his pace steady, eyes sweeping the horizon. The ¡°road¡± was nothing more than broken traces in the sand, a memory of past travelers.

    Ysar rode their lone horse, shifting in the saddle every few minutes like the idea of comfort was a personal insult.

    ¡°You keep fidgeting like that, you¡¯re gonna fall,¡± Karin called up, hands on her hips.

    Ysar gave her a flat look. ¡°I¡¯d love to walk, but unfortunately, I enjoy not bleeding out.¡±

    Elsha, walking beside Karin, exhaled through her nose. ¡°You¡¯re the worst patient.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m not a patient,¡± Ysar grumbled. ¡°I¡¯m a highly capable warrior who just happens to have a minor collection of heroic wounds.¡±

    Karin smirked. ¡°Oh, really?¡±

    Ysar nodded. ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    Karin gestured toward the saddle. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you prove it? Get off, hand over the reins, and walk like a real warrior.¡±

    Ysar sniffed. ¡°Are you now robbing a wounded peasant of his last possession?¡±

    Karin raised a brow. ¡°A moment ago you were a highly capable warrior.¡±

    ¡°I contain multitudes.¡±

    She sighed, dramatic and loud. ¡°Shameless.¡±

    Ysar leaned back with a grin. ¡°Strategic.¡±

    ¡°If I knock you off that horse, will you call that strategic too?¡±

    ¡°If I survive the fall, then yes.¡±

    Karin opened her mouth to retort but caught the faintest twitch at the corner of Elsha¡¯s lips¡ªjust enough to know she¡¯d been listening the whole time.

    She grinned wider. ¡°Elsha agrees. You¡¯re shameful.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that,¡± Elsha replied, voice calm.

    ¡°You could thank me later,¡± Karin shot back.

    Ysar groaned. ¡°I miss Tavreth already.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t say a word. But from the front of the line, his hand flicked once¡ªkeep pace.

    And so they walked on.

    <hr>

    The sun had begun its slow descent, casting everything in hues of amber and fire. Each step stirred loose sand, each breath tasted of dust.

    Karin had stopped making jokes hours ago.

    Even Ysar, still perched on their lone horse, had fallen into silence, occasionally wiping sweat from his brow and muttering curses under his breath.

    Elsha pressed on with quiet focus, matching Zafran¡¯s pace. Neither of them said much¡ªthere was nothing worth saying while the desert still burned around them.

    Then Zafran slowed.

    His eyes narrowed, gaze scanning the horizon.

    Karin looked up from where she¡¯d been dragging her feet. ¡°What? Please tell me it¡¯s not more sand.¡±

    Zafran raised a hand, motioning them to halt.

    Ysar squinted past him. ¡°Do you see something?¡±

    ¡°Shimmer,¡± Zafran said simply.

    Karin groaned. ¡°If that¡¯s another mirage¡ª¡±

    But then she saw it too.

    Beyond the rise¡ªlow trees. Palms, maybe. A glimmer. Water? Shade? It was still far, too far to be sure.

    But it was real.

    Elsha stepped up beside him. ¡°Oasis?¡±

    Zafran nodded once. ¡°Could be.¡±

    Karin¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Please be more than a could.¡±

    Ysar sat straighter. ¡°Even if it¡¯s just trees, I¡¯m ready to worship them.¡±

    Zafran glanced back at them. ¡°We¡¯ll make camp nearby. No rushing in. We approach slow.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Karin asked.

    Zafran¡¯s voice was calm. ¡°Because not every oasis is empty.¡±

    That sobered them.

    The group moved again¡ªthis time with purpose, but caution in their steps.

    As they crested the next dune, the oasis revealed itself in full.

    A cluster of tall palms encircled a shallow basin, water glinting in the waning sun. Low stone ruins hugged one side of the pool, half-buried and worn by time. No smoke. No people. No movement.

    Just wind and trees.

    And water.

    Real water.

    Karin almost laughed.

    But Zafran raised a hand again, silent.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    They waited. Still.

    Minutes passed.

    No sound.

    No threat.

    Only the rustle of wind through palm leaves.

    Zafran exhaled. ¡°We go.¡±

    And together, they made their slow descent toward the edge of the oasis.

    <hr>

    The spring was deeper than it first looked, fed by a slow trickle beneath the rocks, ringed by reeds and scattered ferns. Sunlight filtered through the sparse palms overhead, breaking the shade in golden patches. Birds chirped softly. For once, there was no wind.

    It was, simply, beautiful.

    Karin knelt at the edge, dipping her fingers into the water. Cool. Clean.

    ¡°Okay now, boys, can you get away from here and do your jobs? Make camp. Stand guard.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The ladies are getting their own time to bathe.¡±

    Elsha blinked. ¡°Now?¡±

    ¡°Yes! You smell like rotten fish already!¡±

    Karin stood, already loosening the sash at her waist. ¡°Now. You two!¡± she shouted over her shoulder. ¡°Please, eyes awayfrom this side of the spring!¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t reply. He¡¯d already posted himself at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, back turned. Ysar walked away, lazily waving for Zafran to follow him off, muttering something about being underpaid.

    Karin kicked off her boots, pulled off her coat, then her inner robe. One layer at a time, she peeled away the desert weight¡ªand with it, the restraint.

    Her body was pale against the sun-kissed sand, skin untouched by daylight beneath all those layers. Her figure was unmistakable now¡ªstatuesque, mature. Hips that curved with elegance. Breasts that needed no exaggeration¡ªand were real. The kind that made tailors whisper and enchanters sigh.

    She stretched without shame, arms rising high, red hair cascading like a flame down her back. Then she stepped into the spring with a sigh that melted into the wind.

    Elsha hesitated once she saw that figure.

    Then, quietly, she followed.

    Her movements were smaller. Less sure.

    Unlike Karin, Elsha¡¯s body bore the sun¡¯s mark¡ªgolden-brown skin, lean muscle lining her shoulders, arms, and thighs. She wasn¡¯t soft, but she wasn¡¯t hard either. Compact. Balanced. Trained. Her chest and body weren¡¯t as loud¡ªthe curves subtler. Where Karin seemed to draw attention just by existing, Elsha moved like someone used to vanishing into the crowd.

    She slowly stepped into the water, arms folding across her chest instinctively.

    Karin was already waist-deep, hair floating around her like a crimson veil.

    ¡°Mmm.¡± She leaned back. ¡°Worth it.¡±

    Elsha eased in slowly, drawing her knees close. ¡°You¡¯re loud.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m happy.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still loud.¡±

    They both sank into silence for a while, letting the water do its work¡ªcooling, cleansing, peeling off the desert one layer at a time.

    Then, Karin cracked an eye open. ¡°So. You¡¯ve seen mine.¡±

    Elsha blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    Karin tilted her head, smirking. ¡°You keep sneaking glances. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯d look too.¡±

    Elsha looked away immediately. ¡°You¡¯re imagining things.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on.¡± Karin sat up, water sliding down her collarbone. ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You¡¯re gorgeous.¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t answer.

    Karin¡¯s tone softened. ¡°Seriously, I think I just washed off a full week of sin.¡±

    They stayed there, drifting. Peaceful. Still.

    And then¡ª

    A sound.

    A faint rustle in the reeds.

    Karin¡¯s eyes snapped open. She turned just in time to catch a blur of gold.

    Something moved.

    Her body reacted before her brain did¡ªshe shrieked, lurching halfway out of the water, hands flying to cover herself.

    ¡°What the hell!?¡± Her voice was loud.

    Elsha sat up, startled but still mostly submerged. ¡°What!?¡±

    ¡°Something moved¡ªsomething with horns!¡±

    Before Elsha could respond, heavy footsteps crashed through the brush¡ª

    Zafran.

    Sword half-drawn, eyes sweeping, tense¡ª

    Until he saw her.

    Karin, just waist-deep in water, hair clinging to her flushed cheeks, onto her shoulders and laying over her more generous parts¡ªparts she was now trying to hide with her hands, eyes wide with shock and something far closer to murder.

    He froze.

    For a heartbeat, neither spoke.

    Then his gaze shifted¡ªjust slightly¡ªto the far side of the spring.

    There, standing dumbly in the reeds, was a gazelle.

    Karin hissed, ¡°I was screaming about that, not¡ªnot you!¡±

    Zafran said nothing.

    He stepped past the water¡¯s edge, knife in hand.

    One flick of the wrist. The blade flew.

    The gazelle dropped.

    Karin sputtered. ¡°That was unnecessary!¡±

    Elsha and Zafran spoke almost at the same time. ¡°You screamed.¡±

    ¡°I screamed because there was a creature! Not because I needed a rescue!¡±

    ¡°You said stand guard.¡±

    Karin¡¯s voice pitched higher. ¡°I meant in case of bandits! Or monsters! Not if a gazelle looked at me funny!¡±

    Zafran hefted the carcass over his shoulder, turned, and called out¡ª

    ¡°At least we have meat. Thanks to you.¡±

    Then, just like that, he walked off.

    Karin stared after him, still half-naked, half-wet, and fully incensed. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill him.¡±

    Elsha blinked. ¡°You screamed.¡±

    ¡°I panicked!¡±

    ¡°You stood up.¡±

    Karin sank back into the water with a groan, hiding her entire face under the surface.

    After a long pause, she surfaced again and muttered:

    ¡°¡­Next time I¡¯ll scream after I¡¯m fully dressed.¡±

    <hr>

    The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the desert basin as Zafran returned to camp with the gazelle slung over his shoulder. He didn¡¯t speak. Just walked to the fire pit, dropped into a crouch, and drew his knife. The rhythmic scrape of steel against hide filled the quiet air¡ªsmooth, practiced, clean.

    Ysar looked up from the half-hearted pile of kindling he¡¯d arranged. ¡°Wow, you actually got one?¡±

    Zafran said nothing. The blade slipped beneath the fur, peeling it away with quiet efficiency. His silence was answer enough.

    Not long after, Elsha and Karin stepped into the clearing.

    Elsha looked composed. Her hair was tied up, robes dry, expression calm as ever.

    Karin, by contrast, moved like someone trying very hard to pretend she wasn¡¯t mortified. Her face was flushed, her arms folded tightly over her chest, and her gaze darted anywhere that wasn¡¯t Zafran.

    Ysar blinked. ¡°Why¡¯s your face so red? Sunstroke?¡±

    Elsha, without missing a beat, said, ¡°The oasis water was a bit too hot.¡±

    Karin shot her a glare. ¡°You traitor.¡±

    Ysar¡¯s brows climbed. He glanced between them, then to Zafran.

    ¡°She bathed,¡± Zafran said flatly, not looking up, his hands still busy at work. ¡°And a gazelle nearly killed her.¡±

    Karin whipped around. ¡°That¡¯s not what happened!¡±

    Ysar¡¯s eyes widened. The realization clicked all at once¡ªand he grinned like a devil.

    ¡°Really? And you didn¡¯t invite me?¡±

    A small rock hit his shoulder.

    And a dagger thunked into the sand a hair¡¯s breadth from his cheek.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Karin and Elsha said in perfect unison.

    Karin slumped down by the fire with a huff, Elsha settling beside her with silent grace.

    ¡°But really,¡± Elsha added, tone dry, ¡°you shouldn¡¯t have stood up.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Karin threw up her hands. ¡°How was I supposed to know a gazelle would be lurking in the bushes like a creep?¡±

    ¡°You screamed,¡± Zafran said, still working.

    ¡°I screamed because something moved! Not because I needed a heroic rescue while half-naked!¡±

    Ysar held back a laugh. Barely. ¡°So you were half-naked.¡±

    Karin threw another pebble.

    It bounced off his boot.

    ¡°Alright, alright! Truce! I surrender to your modesty!¡±

    Zafran finished skinning the carcass and began carving thick cuts of meat. The scent of blood faded, overtaken by the warm, earthy aroma of roasting flesh. Fat sizzled as the meat hit the pan, filling the air with something that made even the sand feel bearable.

    For a while, they simply sat¡ªtired, quiet, and grateful for food.

    The fire crackled. The wind shifted, dry and soft. Desert dusk stretched across the horizon in long bands of violet and gold.

    Zafran wiped his blade clean and glanced out into the distance. ¡°Gazelle don¡¯t roam deep desert.¡±

    Elsha nodded, already unfolding the worn map in her lap. ¡°We¡¯re close to the ridge.¡±

    She pointed to the faint lines scrawled near the map¡¯s upper corner¡ªa shaded curl of elevation that separated the golden sands from something else entirely.

    ¡°Beyond that?¡± she said, tapping the edge. ¡°Frozen ground. The ruin sits just before the drop.¡±

    Ysar squinted at the map, then at the darkening horizon. ¡°Wait, so we go from this¡­¡±¡ªhe gestured at the blistering heat still radiating from the rocks¡ª¡°¡­to snow? Just like that?¡±

    ¡°Cold winds sweep down from the north,¡± Zafran said. ¡°The terrain turns fast. Mountains press the air down, trap the frost. The ruin sits where the two meet.¡±

    Karin leaned over Elsha¡¯s shoulder to get a better look. Her eyes flicked to the map, but carefully avoided the man beside her. ¡°So we¡¯re close.¡±

    Elsha nodded again. ¡°A day. Maybe a day and a half if we keep a steady pace.¡±

    Ysar leaned back, resting on his elbows. His expression was distant now, the joking set aside. ¡°Kinda feels like something¡¯s waiting there.¡±

    No one responded.

    The meat hissed softly over the fire. The smell of it mingled with the scent of dry grass, faint ash, and something colder¡ªsomething sharper¡ªcarried on the wind from beyond the ridge.

 Chapter 8: To Prove Herself

    The desert stretched wide around them, a quiet sea of gold and shadow. They had left after noon, once the sun dipped just enough for the heat to soften. Still, the sand clung to their boots and skin, and the air shimmered with dry warmth.

    Zafran led at a steady pace, silent and alert. Elsha kept stride beside him, scanning the terrain with sharp, calm eyes. Behind them, Karin and Ysar walked slower, occasionally exchanging quiet words lost to the wind.

    It was Elsha who saw it first.

    A flicker of light¡ªsomething unnatural. She slowed slightly. ¡°Zafran,¡± she said under her breath.

    He followed her gaze.

    Far ahead, something broke the rhythm of the dunes. Angular shapes. The glint of sun on worn stone.

    Not cliffs. Not dunes.

    Structures.

    As they walked, the shapes grew clearer¡ªtowers collapsed inward, skeletal arches swallowed by sand, remnants of a once-living place now reduced to bones. Beyond the ruins, the land lifted into a low ridge¡ªgray and jagged, etched by time and wind.

    Karin caught up with a squint. ¡°I see it now.¡±

    She pulled the map from her satchel, brushing it open. ¡°Temple of Aftree,¡± she murmured. ¡°It¡¯s just past that ridge.¡±

    Ysar tilted his head. ¡°That¡¯s not just a temple.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elsha said, her voice low. ¡°It was a whole religious community. A settlement.¡±

    ¡°Long dead,¡± Zafran added, eyes never leaving the horizon.

    They kept walking. The wind pressed against them as they neared the outskirts¡ªbroken gates, hollowed-out shrines, statues reduced to blank silhouettes. Scorched symbols clung to the crumbling stone, barely visible.

    No birds. No insects. No echoes.

    Just stillness.

    Karin folded the map and looked to Zafran. ¡°Let¡¯s camp before we go in. I don¡¯t want to rush this.¡±

    Zafran gave a quiet nod.

    They veered toward the remnants of a courtyard wall, its half-buried stones offering a bit of shelter. The light had softened to amber. The ruins stood silent as they arrived, casting long, bent shadows across the sand.

    <hr>

    The fire cracked low in the shelter of the broken courtyard wall, its glow pushing back the desert night in flickers. They had set their bedrolls in a loose circle, the old stone shielding them from the wind that whispered through the ruins.

    For a while, no one spoke.

    They ate in quiet¡ªdried bread, strips of smoked meat, and lukewarm water. The kind of meal that filled the stomach but gave no comfort.

    Then Ysar leaned back, arms crossed behind his head, eyes on the stars.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± he began, ¡°I heard in some old tradition¡­ if you see someone naked, you¡¯re supposed to marry them.¡±

    Karin choked on her water. ¡°I¡­, what?¡±

    Elsha turned sharply. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    Ysar grinned. ¡°No, no, I¡¯m serious! It was about honor or decency or whatever. Like, ¡®Whoops, you saw me, now we¡¯re stuck together forever.¡¯ Romantic, right?¡±

    Karin hurled a pebble at him. ¡°You¡¯re a walking mistake.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a denial,¡± Ysar said, dodging it with a smug look.

    But Zafran, quietly eating nearby, didn¡¯t even look up.

    His hands moved¡ªmechanically, folding a strip of dried meat, bringing it to his mouth¡ªbut his eyes were unfocused. The firelight flickered against his face, unmoving, as if he were staring into something far beyond the stone and sand.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Something no one else could see.

    Ysar squinted at him. ¡°Hello? Someone¡¯s there?¡±

    Elsha glanced sideways, frowning slightly.

    Then, after just a beat too long, Zafran blinked and said, ¡°You keep talking like that, I¡¯ll leave you in the ruins.¡±

    The timing was wrong. Off just enough to be noticed.

    Ysar raised an eyebrow. ¡°Alright, that was¡­ late. You good?¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer.

    Karin narrowed her eyes. ¡°He¡¯s brooding. Let him finish his dramatic monologue internally.¡±

    Elsha¡¯s brow stayed furrowed a little longer¡ªbut she didn¡¯t press.

    The conversation moved on, but something in the firelight felt quieter after that. Like a shadow had passed, just long enough to be felt.

    ¡°Anyway¡­ leaving me in the ruin and I¡¯d still find my way back. I¡¯m resourceful.¡±

    ¡°You got lost in cities,¡± Elsha muttered.

    ¡°I got distracted, not lost.¡±

    Karin exhaled, long and theatrical. ¡°This is the group I¡¯m stuck with. Brilliant.¡±

    ¡°But seriously,¡± Ysar said, shifting his gaze toward the ruins, ¡°this place is creepy. Feels like we¡¯re being watched by desert ghosts.¡±

    ¡°It used to be a community of Aftree¡¯s worshippers, right?¡± Elsha added.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t know they were so extreme,¡± Ysar said. ¡°Living off in the desert like this.¡±

    Zafran stood, brushing sand from his hands. ¡°Let¡¯s not exhaust ourselves on campfire talk. We don¡¯t know what¡¯s waiting in the ruins.¡±

    One by one, the others began preparing their bedrolls.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take first watch,¡± Karin said suddenly.

    Everyone blinked.

    Ysar raised a brow. ¡°Really? You?¡±

    She grabbed her scarf and started walking toward the darker edge of the ruins.

    ¡°Someone has to make sure you don¡¯t snore yourselves to death.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Mom.¡±

    But she didn¡¯t turn around. Just walked¡ªquiet, steady¡ªuntil the firelight no longer touched her.

    Elsha watched her go, then glanced at Zafran, tilt her head a little, enough to covey her message.

    Zafran let out a long sigh¡ªquiet, tired¡ªand stood.

    Without a word, he stood and followed Karin into the dark.

    Ysar looked at Elsha. ¡°You okay with that?¡±

    ¡°With what?¡±

    ¡°That.¡± He gestured toward the shadows. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ve known you my whole life.¡±

    ¡°This is about work.¡±

    ¡°Right, right. Professional.¡±

    ¡°Mind your own business,¡± she said flatly, and pulled the blanket over herself.

    Ysar smirked¡ªthen slowly drifted off to sleep.

    <hr>

    The desert was colder now, the fire behind them flickering low in the courtyard. The ruins stretched around them like the broken ribs of some ancient beast¡ªsilent, half-buried, and watching.

    Zafran found her sitting on a fallen column, arms wrapped around her legs, face tilted to the stars. Her hair caught what little moonlight there was, the red strands drifting softly in the breeze.

    He sat beside her without a word.

    For a moment, they just listened¡ªto the wind threading through stone, to the faint crackle of the fire far behind.

    Then Karin spoke, voice quieter than usual. ¡°You ever run so far toward something that you start wondering if you¡¯re chasing it¡­ or running from everything else?¡±

    Zafran glanced sideways. ¡°Excited?¡±

    She smiled¡ªsmall and tired. ¡°Terrified. And yeah¡­ excited.¡±

    A beat passed.

    Then she pulled something from her belt pouch¡ªa folded note, worn thin at the corners. She didn¡¯t open it, just held it in her lap.

    ¡°This mission¡­ it¡¯s official,¡± she said softly. ¡°Entrance exam. The last one they¡¯d even consider letting me take.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Academia?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°If I want to join¡­ I have to bring back the Flame Ash.¡±

    His voice was flat. ¡°That¡¯s not an entrance. That¡¯s a suicide pact. The ruin might be buried, cursed, overrun¡ªand they sent you alone? Just to qualify?¡±

    She laughed¡ªbut it cracked halfway through. ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°You knew this was a bad deal.¡±

    ¡°Of course I did.¡±

    ¡°Then why take it?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer right away. Just looked up at the stars again, shoulders rising and falling with a soft breath.

    ¡°Mage apprentices get taken in at ten. Sometimes twelve. They grow up in it. I¡¯m twenty-three. I¡¯ve applied six times. Six interviews. Six rejection letters. Always got the same line: ¡®You are not qualified.¡¯ No further reason.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re a Flame-Touched.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Maybe. Maybe it¡¯s because I¡¯m not noble. Or because I didn¡¯t have a master.¡± She looked down at the folded paper again. ¡°That¡¯s why I came to your caravan with just twenty gold coins.¡±

    There was a pause. Then a faint chuckle. ¡°Gods, I must¡¯ve looked so ridiculous.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s voice softened. ¡°Was it your dream? The Academia?¡±

    Karin nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But my mother always said magic could change the world. Fix things. Heal people. I thought¡­ maybe if I joined, it¡¯d make her proud. Even now.¡±

    He didn¡¯t say anything at first.

    Then: ¡°If you fail this mission¡­¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer.

    He turned to her. ¡°You don¡¯t have to prove anything. Not to them. Not to anyone.¡±

    She looked at him, startled.

    ¡°You¡¯re capable. Strong. That fireball back in the canyon said more than any scroll ever could.¡±

    She blinked. Then laughed under her breath. ¡°Careful, that almost sounded like a flirt.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t one.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re softer than you look.¡±

    Zafran smirked faintly. ¡°I¡¯ve never been that hard.¡±

    ¡°You are,¡± she said. ¡°Most of the time.¡±

    Zafran stood, brushing off his cloak. ¡°Get some sleep. You¡¯re not taking any watch tonight.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the client. And the one with the insane mission. The least we can do is make sure you don¡¯t collapse on the way there.¡±

    She smiled, a little crooked. ¡°Fine. But I expect full protection while I dream of fame and magical grandeur.¡±

    ¡°Consider it done.¡±

    Karin stretched out on the stone slab, still watching him with a sly smile. ¡°Alright then. Watch well, soldier. I expect to wake up safe and well-rested.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer. He just turned toward the dark.

    ¡°Night night,¡± she said softly, before walking back to the camp.

    <hr>

 Chapter 9: Hall of Flame

    <hr>

    The sun hadn¡¯t yet risen when they stood before the crumbling temple.

    It loomed at the heart of the settlement, half-buried in sand, its stone worn smooth by centuries of wind. What had once been grand¡ªpillars etched with flame motifs, a domed roof cracked but still intact¡ªnow stood quiet, swallowed by time.

    No one spoke.

    Zafran stepped forward first, brushing a hand across the stone frame of the entrance. Cold.

    Karin followed, her breath shallow. ¡°This is it.¡±

    Elsha knelt beside the threshold, fingertips tracing faint imprints in the sand. ¡°Tracks. Not fresh¡­ but someone¡¯s been here. Within the week.¡±

    Ysar leaned forward, squinting at the partial footprints. ¡°Bandits?¡±

    ¡°Could be.¡± Elsha didn¡¯t sound convinced.

    ¡°Be cautious,¡± Zafran said quietly.

    The doorway loomed wide and heavy, the stone above engraved with ancient script¡ªworn, indecipherable, but unmistakably Aftree¡¯s mark: a flame curled into the shape of a crown.

    The wind seemed to die at the threshold.

    They lit their lanterns¡ªno fire magic here. The risk of collapse, of igniting the wrong thing, was too great in forgotten places like this. The soft glow of oil and wick flickered across their faces, casting long shadows behind them.

    When they crossed the threshold, the air changed.

    It was cooler, denser. The scent of dust and old stone filled their lungs. The silence wasn¡¯t dead¡ªit listened. The ruin didn¡¯t creak or moan. It breathed¡ªa slow exhale, ancient and still.

    Karin paused at the doorway, her hand hovering against the frame, then cast one last glance at the pale horizon. No light had broken the sky yet.

    She stepped inside.

    The temple swallowed the world behind her.

    Inside was vast, silent. The hall stretched wide¡ªrows of massive columns holding up a fractured ceiling that still bore remnants of painted murals, gods and beasts locked in stylized combat, faded into ochre and soot.

    Statues of Aftree lined the space¡ªsome intact, most shattered. A man with hair like rising flame, four arms stretched outward. Two of them held axes, massive and chipped from age. Others were broken at the torso, only feet left on pedestals, rubble scattered like bones.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Ysar¡¯s voice broke the stillness. He glanced around, wide-eyed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say it¡¯s unimpressive. You don¡¯t see places like this every day.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never been to the Grand Temple of Laoh in Ocean Tide,¡± Karin said, adjusting her coat.

    ¡°They kicked me out just for standing too close,¡± Ysar muttered.

    The central path of the hall led straight to a sunken chamber¡ªa staircase carved into the stone floor, spiraling downward in a wide arc. A broken brazier sat at its mouth, long since cold.

    ¡°So¡­ they built this massive hall just to go underground?¡± Ysar asked, frowning.

    Elsha nudged him gently with her elbow, a silent reminder.

    ¡°Right. I¡¯ll shut up,¡± he muttered.

    Zafran stepped to the edge of the staircase, peering into the dark. ¡°It goes deep,¡± he murmured. The lantern light barely reached the curve of the steps before fading into black.

    He took the first step.

    The stone groaned faintly underfoot¡ªnot dangerously, but like something waking after a long rest.

    Karin followed, her lantern raised. The shadows danced across the walls, revealing ancient carvings¡ªscenes of offerings, battle, and a god rising from flame.

    Elsha came next, silent as the dark.

    Ysar hesitated at the top, then sighed and followed.

    The light from the surface narrowed behind them, swallowed by the dark.

    Step by step, they descended.

    And the silence deepened with every breath.

    <hr>

    The spiral descent seemed to stretch endlessly downward.

    Each step echoed against the stone, swallowed by a darkness too thick for their lanterns to pierce. The air was still¡ªstale, but not choking¡ªwith the faintest trace of ash and old incense. Only the soft scuff of boots accompanied them now. No one spoke.

    Karin kept close behind Zafran, her eyes drawn to the carvings that surfaced in the lantern¡¯s flicker¡ªmen and beasts, flame-born wars, gods battling the formless. The descent felt like walking into the belly of something ancient, forgotten, and alive.

    At last, the stairs ended in a narrow corridor¡ªlow, tight, carved deep into the earth beneath the temple. Even Karin had to duck. The stone here was darker, more compacted, as though pressed by centuries of weight and silence.

    Zafran raised his lantern.

    He stopped beside a wall sconce¡ªan unlit torch, wrapped in aged, enchanted cloth. Without a word, he brought the flame close.

    The torch caught instantly¡ªbut it didn¡¯t burn like ordinary fire.

    Karin let out a quiet breath. ¡°What¡­¡±

    The flame didn¡¯t rise¡ªit ran.

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    It darted sideways, like water chasing carved veins in the wall. The fire flowed¡ªalong grooves, up columns, across the ceiling¡ªawakening the forgotten patterns like blood returning to a limb.

    The entire corridor came alive.

    Amber light traced ancient murals¡ªbeasts rising from molten rock, horned silhouettes bound in gold, war unending. And at the center of it all: Aftree. Four-armed. Towering. His eyes twin furnaces staring through time.

    The warmth crept in¡ªnot hot, but comforting, like a blanket against the chill. The fire gave the ruin breath.

    Karin stepped forward, caught in the glow. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful¡­¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t speak right away. His eyes studied the living walls, the language of flame.

    ¡°Ancient magic,¡± he said at last. ¡°That¡¯s unexpected.¡±

    Elsha¡¯s hand brushed against the stone. Her voice was low. ¡°Beast.¡±

    They all turned.

    Claw marks.

    Raked deep into the wall, nearly polished by time.

    Ysar swallowed hard. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ reassuring.¡±

    The flames dimmed, shifting from gold to steady amber. The corridor settled into an eerie stillness¡ªalive, but watching.

    Zafran gave a nod. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    They pressed onward into the hall beyond, every step revealing more signs¡ªclaw marks, cracks from long-forgotten tremors, remnants of something else. Something that never truly left.

    <hr>

    Their steps echoed softly through the narrow hall, the enchanted flames casting warm light on stone murals that watched in silence. The air was still¡ªheavy with dust, old breath, and memory.

    The corridor narrowed, winding through ancient stone like the inside of a buried spine.

    Ysar walked near the back, his voice cutting lightly through the stillness. ¡°So, do you think they held rituals here? Or maybe¡ªlike¡ªsummoned things? I mean, it¡¯s Aftree¡¯s followers, right? No one in their right mind would¡ª¡±

    He stopped mid-sentence.

    Elsha had raised one hand. One finger.

    A signal.

    ¡°Wh¡­?¡± Ysar blinked.

    Karin spoke quietly. ¡°Elsha?¡±

    ¡°Quiet,¡± she murmured, barely above a whisper.

    Her eyes were ahead now, wide but focused. Her hand moved to the hilt of her blade.

    ¡°Do you hear that?¡± she asked, still and listening.

    The others froze.

    Long silence.

    Nothing.

    ¡°No,¡± Karin said, brows furrowed. ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything.¡±

    Zafran turned to Elsha, gaze sharp. He didn¡¯t question her¡ªhe watched.

    Elsha didn¡¯t move. Her voice came low. ¡°Something¡¯s breathing. Low. Heavy. It¡¯s¡­ growling.¡±

    Ysar chuckled uneasily. ¡°You sure it¡¯s not your stomach?¡±

    Elsha ignored him. Her fingers tightened on the hilt.

    Zafran stepped forward with slow precision. ¡°Where?¡±

    Elsha pointed with a nod¡ªtoward a bend deeper in the ruin.

    The air shifted again.

    Still no sound to the others, but Zafran trusted her.

    He drew his sword, slow and silent. ¡°Be prepared. Eyes open.¡±

    Ysar swallowed, fingers flexing near his blade. ¡°Okay¡­ now I¡¯m nervous.¡±

    The corridor opened into a chamber.

    Ceiling low. Walls marked by time and claw. Cracks split the stone like veins.

    Elsha tensed¡ªfrozen one step before the threshold.

    Then¡ª

    From the shadows, something exploded forward. A blur of muscle and fangs.

    Claws scraped stone.

    Elsha moved first. Her blade met its strike with a solid clang. ¡°Beast!¡±

    Then came more.

    From each corner of the room, four more emerged¡ªfangs bared, eyes wild with rage. They weren¡¯t mindless. They were focused.

    Five in total.

    Zafran lunged to intercept one, his sword flashing. He parried a claw swipe, metal clashing against scale with a sound like striking an anvil.

    ¡°It¡¯s armored!¡± he called.

    Another beast launched at Ysar, jaws wide.

    It missed¡ªslammed into the wall behind him, cracking stone.

    Ysar spun mid-step, slicing at its side, but his blade scraped harmlessly off its plating.

    ¡°They¡¯re like full armored knight!¡± he shouted, backing up quickly.

    Karin raised her hand¡ªbut hesitated.

    Too narrow. Too close. The heat would roast all of them.

    She cursed under her breath and shifted backward, trying to find line of sight. ¡°No angle,¡± she hissed. ¡°No fireball.¡±

    The beasts moved fast, circling.

    One slammed toward Elsha again¡ªshe ducked low and rolled, bringing her blade upward across its underside. A shallow gash. It howled.

    ¡°Below!¡± she shouted

    Another lunged at Zafran¡¯s side. He turned sharply, catching it with a knee and twisting into a low cut¡ªsparks flew as steel scraped the creature¡¯s neck.

    Karin glanced around the room. ¡°This is bad.¡±

    Ysar backed toward her, panting. ¡°We¡¯re being surrounded.¡±

    The beasts closed in again¡ªrelentless.

    <hr>

    The beasts were nothing like ordinary animals.

    Their hides were black, sheathed in onyx-scaled armor that shimmered faintly in the flickering light¡ªlike volcanic glass fused to muscle. Their claws were curved like sickles, their fangs too long for a natural jaw. Power coiled in their limbs, but they moved with a strange edge¡ªlean, gaunt. Starved.

    And they surged.

    Zafran didn¡¯t leave Karin¡¯s side.

    She had her hand raised, prana curling in her palm¡ªbut her eyes kept shifting, scanning. The chamber was wrong. The walls were too close, the ceiling too low. A proper fire spell could cook them all alive.

    ¡°Karin!¡± Zafran barked. ¡°Focus. No fireballs. Think!¡±

    ¡°I am thinking!¡± she shot back, retreating to the wall. ¡°And hating every second of it!¡±

    One of the beasts lunged at her blind side.

    Zafran turned fast¡ªhis sword slammed into its ribs with a clang that rang out like struck iron. The creature reeled, staggering back.

    But he couldn¡¯t follow through.

    There were two of them.

    If he left Karin for even a second, the other would take her down.

    He was locked in place¡ªshield and sword both, holding the line alone.

    Across the room, Elsha was already moving.

    Her twin blades flashed in a deadly rhythm¡ªone high, one low, slashing at the gaps between armor. She spun beneath a claw and raked her left blade across the beast¡¯s lower flank.

    ¡°Lower ribs!¡± she called. ¡°Gap between the scales!¡±

    ¡°I see it!¡± Ysar shouted, flanking.

    He darted in from the side, ducking under a wild swipe. His movement wasn¡¯t flawless¡ªhe still favored his recovering shoulder¡ªbut he pivoted into a sliding roll, kicking up dust as he drove his blade deep into the soft spot Elsha had exposed.

    The beast convulsed.

    Black blood hissed onto the stone.

    It collapsed, twitching, breath gone.

    ¡°One down!¡± Ysar grinned, panting.

    But another was already on him.

    It lunged¡ªclaws outstretched.

    Ysar twisted¡ª

    Too slow.

    The claw barely missed his injured shoulder but caught his side, sending him sprawling. He hit the ground hard and rolled through dirt and grit, gritting his teeth.

    Elsha turned in a blink¡ªher blade caught the beast¡¯s claw mid-swing, deflecting it off course. Sparks flew.

    She grabbed Ysar by the back of his collar, yanking him upright. ¡°You good?¡±

    ¡°Totally meant to do that,¡± he groaned.

    ¡°Try not to next time.¡±

    They stood back-to-back now, blades raised, breath quick and sharp.

    Across the chamber, Zafran ducked low, slashing into a beast¡¯s belly. The blade bit deep¡ªbut not enough. He couldn¡¯t commit to the finish, couldn¡¯t overextend.

    Karin was still behind him.

    One wrong step, and she was dead.

    Karin¡¯s back was pressed to the wall, breath quick and shallow. She couldn¡¯t cast wide. Couldn¡¯t burn. Not here.

    But¡ª

    Her eyes narrowed. She whispered something low¡ªnot a chant, just thought turned into motion.

    Snap.

    A thread of fire surged from her fingertips¡ªthin, fast, controlled.

    It struck the beast square in the side of the face. Not a blaze, not even a burn¡ªjust a sharp, searing flash.

    The creature recoiled with a shriek, blinded, snarling.

    Zafran didn¡¯t need more than that.

    He stepped in¡ªone clean stroke, straight through the gap beneath its jaw.

    The beast fell without a sound.

    He didn¡¯t look back. ¡°That¡¯s more like it.¡±

    Karin, breathless but steady, allowed herself the faintest smirk. ¡°Guess I¡¯m learning.¡±

    On the other side, Ysar slashed at another beast¡¯s leg, cutting through its tendon. It collapsed with a shriek.

    Elsha didn¡¯t hesitate.

    She drove both blades down¡ªone through its eye, one through its throat.

    It twitched once. Then nothing.

    They turned¡ªready.

    Only two beasts remained.

    They didn¡¯t charge.

    They backed slowly toward the far side of the chamber, slipping into the shadows beyond a crumbling stone arch.

    Elsha raised her blades. ¡°They¡¯re retreating?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Ysar said, his voice low, eyes narrowing. ¡°They¡¯re not retreating.¡±

    The beasts stood aside¡ª

    Making way.

    And then it came.

    A roar¡ªdeep, thunderous, intelligent.

    ¡°Humanssssss¡­ THIEVESSSSSS!¡±

    The stone trembled.

    Something massive stirred beyond the dark.

    Something that could speak.

    And it was coming.

    <hr>

 Chapter 10: Absence

    ¡°Humanssssss¡­ Thievessss¡­¡±

    The voice echoed through the dark chamber¡ªdeep, guttural, layered with a hissing snarl. But it wasn¡¯t just a sound. It was weight. It carried through the dust-thick air like a curse.

    From the far shadows, a figure emerged¡ªtaller than any of the beasts before. Nearly three men high, walking upright. Its limbs were grotesquely long, arms reaching past its knees. Massive claws hung like weapons, curved and thick, made not for hunting, but war.

    Its hide gleamed like obsidian¡ªlayered in plated scales that shimmered faintly red beneath the chamber¡¯s magical fire. Eyes burned amber. Its face was distorted, twisted with jagged fangs and warped bone.

    Monstrous. But it spoke.

    ¡°Human. Thieves. Aftree¡¯s Ash¡­¡±

    ¡°That,¡± Ysar muttered, backing a half step, ¡°actually sounds like trouble.¡±

    ¡°Be careful,¡± Zafran said, blade already halfway drawn.

    And then it charged.

    A blur of black muscle. The stone floor shook with every step. Elsha barely had time to raise her twin blades before it was on her.

    She caught its first strike¡ªsteel clashing with claw¡ªbut the force was monstrous. The impact launched her off her feet, slamming her into a column with a crack of stone.

    ¡°Elsha!¡± Ysar shouted, knives flashing from his belt. He leapt forward, tossing blades mid-run. They hit the beast¡ªbut bounced off its armor-like hide.

    Nothing.

    He ducked the counter-claw, slashed with his blade¡ªbut it scraped uselessly against the beast¡¯s scales.

    ¡°Damn it¡ª!¡±

    Zafran was there, intercepting the next blow with a wide parry. Sparks flew. The pressure of the impact forced his feet back many steps.

    ¡°Get her out!¡± he barked.

    Ysar didn¡¯t hesitate. He dashed in, grabbed Elsha, and dragged her from the beast¡¯s reach. She was conscious¡ªhurt, but rising fast.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡ªokay,¡± she muttered, shaking her head clear. ¡°Just¡­ need a second.¡±

    Zafran kept the monster busy, sword in constant motion. But he couldn¡¯t land a clean hit. It was fast¡ªtoo fast for its size¡ªand worse, intelligent in its anger.

    Karin raised her hand, fingers trembling. But the chamber was too narrow, the air too heavy. Fireballs would be suicide.

    No room. No airflow.

    She shifted her grip, changed her stance.

    ¡°Focus¡± She murmured to herself.

    A spear of fire steamed from her palm¡ªthin, glowing, shaped by control and desperation. It hissed forward, straight into the beast¡¯s eye.

    The hit didn¡¯t kill¡ªbut it made it scream.

    And it turned.

    Not toward Zafran.

    It charged her.

    The whole beast threw itself forward, abandoning everything else. Zafran¡¯s sword slashed at its flank, but it didn¡¯t stop. Didn¡¯t slow.

    Straight at Karin.

    Karin froze¡ªthen forced herself to hold steady. But her feet betrayed her, slipping half a step.

    The roar filled the room.

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    And Zafran moved.

    His boots struck the ground¡ªand something shimmered faintly beneath. In the next instant, he vanished forward, leaping high, impossibly fast.

    The air cracked as he soared¡ªsword glowing faintly, limbs taut with power. He twisted mid-air, above the beast¡¯s charge¡ª

    And came down like thunder.

    His sword slammed into the back of it.

    CRACK!

    The monster crashed to the floor, its momentum broken, claw swiping inches from Karin before slumping.

    His sword break, also an armored scale on the beast too.

    Zafran landed in front of her, pushing her gently behind him.

    ¡°Now!¡± he roared.

    Ysar, already moving, lunged from the side. He leapt onto the beast¡¯s back, blade driving into the exposed muscle left by Zafran¡¯s strike.

    But it wasn¡¯t deep enough.

    ¡°Too shallow!¡± Ysar growled, pulling back.

    The beast shrieked and twisted, flinging him off.

    It turned¡ªswiped.

    Ysar dodged the first claw, but the second came faster. His feet tangled, slipping¡ª

    And Elsha was there, blades raised.

    She caught the blow, steel-on-claw again, sparks flying.

    Both of them were launched back from the impact¡ªrolling through the dust, coughing.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Ysar muttered, groaning.

    ¡°Pay me later,¡± Elsha said, wincing but standing.

    The beast roared again¡ªbut staggered. The fire spear had left a burn. Zafran¡¯s strike had peeled back the armor.

    And Karin, still behind him, stepped forward.

    Not running.

    Channeling.

    Another spear of fire bloomed¡ªlonger this time, hotter, honed to a razor¡¯s edge by sheer will. It pulsed in her hand like a living thing, vibrating with restrained fury.

    She whispered nothing.

    She released it.

    The lance of flame streaked through the air, driving into the exposed wound Ysar had failed to reach.

    It hit deep.

    The beast let out a howl that shook the walls. It thrashed, flailing, but the fire didn¡¯t vanish¡ªit clung, searing into flesh and scale alike. Steam erupted in violent bursts, filling the chamber with a sharp hiss.

    Karin didn¡¯t stop.

    She pressed forward, forcing more power into the flame. Her hands trembled, her teeth clenched. The spear pulsed brighter, wider¡ªburning with too much heat, too much hunger.

    The creature ballooned with the force, twitching in spasms.

    ¡°Karin¡ªenough!¡± Zafran barked, grabbing her wrist before the blaze consumed more than just the beast. ¡°You¡¯ll bring down the whole chamber!¡±

    She gasped¡ªsnapping out of it¡ªnearly stumbling from the sudden drop in pressure.

    But it was done.

    The beast shuddered.

    Staggered.

    And then fell.

    Smoke drifted from its body. The chamber fell still.

    ¡°Great job,¡± he said to her, looking as she blinked with excitement and relief alike.

    ¡°¡­We did it,¡± Ysar said, blinking.

    Karin leaned back against the wall, exhausted.

    Zafran stood, sword broken in his hand, face unreadable.

    He looked down at the shattered blade, then exhaled softly.

    ¡°Should¡¯ve brought the other one,¡± he muttered, almost to himself.

    And Elsha¡ª

    Elsha glanced at his feet.

    Just for a second, she had seen it¡ªthe glow. The strange energy around his boots when he leapt. The aura on his sword.

    Magic.

    ¡°Augmented magic¡± She whispered to herself.

    But kept it to herself.

    <hr>

    The smoke still lingered, curling along the chamber floor like fading breath. No one spoke for a long while.

    Then¡ªquiet footsteps.

    Zafran stepped forward first, his broken sword lowered to his side. The others followed, slow and cautious, their movements heavy from exertion.

    The chamber was vast, carved from black stone, the edges glowing faintly with the residual firelight still burning in the sconces. Pillars lined the path ahead¡ªworn, cracked, some broken halfway down¡ªbut still standing like solemn witnesses.

    At the far end, raised on a low dais, stood a pedestal.

    Karin¡¯s heart quickened.

    She moved faster, despite the ache in her limbs. Her boots echoed against the stone. Her eyes locked on the pedestal as they approached.

    It was ornate¡ªshaped from smooth obsidian, rimmed in gold.

    But empty.

    No ash. No urn. Not even a trace of soot.

    Just silence.

    Karin stopped, staring.

    Ysar reached her side. ¡°It¡¯s¡­. empty?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s never been here from the start.¡± Her voice was low. Dry.

    Zafran looked around, scanning the dust, the floor, the stone. ¡°Or¡­ someone else took it before us.¡±

    Elsha ran a gloved hand along the edge of the pedestal. ¡°Yes¡­. the dust¡¯s wipe away here and there.¡±

    Karin said nothing. Her jaw clenched.

    Her fists tightened.

    Three weeks across the desert. The trial. The blood. The fire.

    For nothing.

    No one dared speak.

    Only the wind¡ªlow and hollow¡ªmoving through the old vent shafts like a ghost.

    Zafran stepped away from the pedestal. ¡°We need to leave,¡± He tells her softly.

    Karin just stood there, stared at the pedestal.

    No flicker of flame. No ash. No trace.

    Just emptiness.

    She didn¡¯t move. Not for a long while.

    Behind her, the others waited¡ªsilent. Even Ysar, usually the first to fill a void, said nothing. The air was too still for words. Too heavy.

    Zafran stood a few steps away, watching her¡ªnot pressing, not asking.

    Finally, she turned.

    No sigh. No comment. No visible emotion. Her eyes passed over the others, unreadable.

    Then she walked.

    Past the pedestal. Past the shattered pillars. Past Zafran.

    Elsha followed without a word, boots light on the stone.

    Ysar glanced once at the empty stand, then down at the floor, lips pressed tight. He fell into step beside Elsha.

    Zafran waited until they were ahead¡ªthen gave the chamber one last look.

    His eyes lingered on the empty place where the Flame Ash should have been.

    And then he followed, the broken sword still in his hand.

    Behind them, the firelight dimmed¡ªits glow no longer warm, but cold.

    The ruins held no answers.

    Only absence.

 Chapter 11: Ashes Behind

    The desert wind greeted them first.

    Not hot, but dry¡ªbrushing past as they stepped out from the mouth of the ruins into the open. The sky was a deepening gold, the sun dipping low on the horizon, throwing long shadows across the dunes. No clouds. Just light. Endless, fading light.

    No one spoke at first.

    They moved down the narrow ridge path, boots crunching on stone and sand. The broken temple loomed behind them, half-buried in time, its jagged spires still catching the fire-tinged sky.

    Karin walked in silence, eyes forward, her face unreadable.

    Ysar was the first to break the quiet. ¡°That place sucked.¡±

    Elsha gave him a tired glance. ¡°Very profound.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying. First time I¡¯ve fought monsters wearing armor harder than castle gates.¡± He paused, then added with a faint grin, ¡°Also, got slammed into a wall. Twice.¡±

    Elsha sighed but didn¡¯t argue. ¡°You¡¯re lucky that¡¯s all.¡±

    Zafran, walking at the front, said nothing.

    The group made their way along the slope until it flattened again into open sand. Their pace slowed, the weariness in their steps more obvious now. The ruins had taken more than effort¡ªthey had taken expectation.

    A long silence stretched out again.

    Then Elsha pulled out a worn leather notebook from her belt. She flicked it open, scanning pages and notes drawn in tight script.

    ¡°Based on how long we¡¯ve been out¡­¡± she murmured, ¡°the Azure Wind should be heading toward the Ocean Tide lowlands by now.¡±

    Zafran nodded. ¡°How long to reach them?¡±

    ¡°Three weeks on foot.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll stop at Windstail¡ªmaybe get more horses for the carriage,¡± Zafran said. He still had enough coin for one or two more mounts.

    Karin didn¡¯t look up. She just kept walking.

    Ysar glanced toward her, hesitating. But he didn¡¯t say anything. Trying to lighten her mood might only make things worse.

    ¡°So¡­ tonight, we rest nearby,¡± Zafran said.

    ¡°Nearby? We were just ambushed by monsters, and you think it¡¯s a good idea to linger around?¡± Ysar asked.

    ¡°Not here,¡± Zafran replied. ¡°We move out¡ªto the outer edge of the settlement.¡±

    ¡°They likely don¡¯t roam far from the temple,¡± Elsha added.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go,¡± Zafran said. And again, they walked.

    The sky shifted¡ªfrom gold to amber, from amber to deep indigo. Stars blinked into place, one by one. The first chill of night rolled in.

    <hr>

    They made camp beyond the broken settlement, where the dunes dipped into a shallow basin of soft sand and scattered stone. No claw marks. No movement. Only the hush of desert wind.

    Zafran picked the spot carefully¡ªelevated enough to see, shielded enough to sleep.

    No fire tonight.

    They moved without words, heavy with fatigue. Every motion deliberate. The kind of tired that weighed beyond muscle.

    They ate in silence¡ªdried meat, flatbread, water from the last oasis. No one complained.

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    Karin said nothing. Elsha sat a few paces from her, eyes lost in the dark horizon. Ysar half-dozed against a stone, legs stretched, gaze flicking open now and then.

    Only Zafran stayed upright, posted just ahead of the others, sword across his knees¡ªwhat was left of it. The blade was snapped clean near the hilt. Jagged. Dull. Caught in the starlight like a splinter of regret.

    None of them slept quickly.

    They would rest here until the next afternoon¡ªnot because it was safe, but because they had nothing left to give tonight.

    <hr>

    The bedrolls formed a loose arc beneath the curve of broken stone. Elsha leaned back, pulling her cloak tighter. Ysar was already half asleep.

    Zafran lay down without a word, staring up at the stars.

    But from the corner of his eye, he saw her¡ªKarin¡ªstill awake, curled near the ledge, arms folded beneath her head, back turned to them all.

    She didn¡¯t move. Not even to blink.

    Time passed in stillness.

    Then Zafran rose quietly.

    His boots whispered across the sand. No one stirred. Or maybe they just pretended not to.

    He walked a short distance, then sat on a flat stone, gazing up at the stars.

    A minute later, soft footsteps behind him.

    Karin.

    She didn¡¯t ask. She just sat beside him, arms around her knees.

    They sat in silence, shoulders inches apart.

    Then Zafran spoke, his voice low. ¡°Can¡¯t sleep?¡±

    She let out a small exhale¡ªhalf-laugh, half-sigh. ¡°Uh-huh.¡±

    He didn¡¯t push further.

    The wind whispered.

    Then she said, ¡°It really sucks.¡±

    Zafran glanced at her.

    She shook her head slowly. ¡°They finally gave me a chance to prove myself¡­ and I still failed.¡±

    He didn¡¯t interrupt.

    Her voice was quiet¡ªworn thin. ¡°I know it sounds stupid. But it felt like everything was leading to this.¡±

    ¡°You were set up to fail,¡± Zafran said.

    She gave no reply. But the silence between them was enough.

    ¡°It was right there,¡± she muttered. ¡°Just¡­ taken before we came.¡±

    Zafran nodded slowly. ¡°Even if you brought it back, they¡¯d find a way to discredit you. Take it. Deny you.¡±

    Karin closed her eyes. ¡°I just wanted them to see I¡¯m capable. That I¡¯m not just some tag-along Flame-touched.¡±

    ¡°You are,¡± he said. ¡°Capable.¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°You¡¯re not weak.¡±

    ¡°¡­You weren¡¯t there when they turned me away. Again and again. Even after everything I trained for. Everything I proved.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough,¡± he said. ¡°You could match half the third-tier mages I¡¯ve met. Maybe more.¡±

    That earned a glance from her. ¡°You¡¯ve met third-tier mages?¡±

    Zafran gave a tired smile. ¡°I¡¯ve met worse.¡±

    A longer pause.

    Then he added, ¡°Believe me¡­ you don¡¯t want to be part of that circle. Noble mages, scheming behind robes and old names. Spells they never use. Power they never earn. It¡¯s not magic¡ªit¡¯s politics.¡±

    She looked at him sideways. ¡°You talk like you know them.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer.

    He only looked away.

    Karin blinked at that¡ªhalf realization, half curiosity¡ªbut didn¡¯t press.

    The stars hung quiet above them.

    Then Zafran spoke again, softer. ¡°Don¡¯t let them define your worth.¡±

    Karin exhaled. The tension in her shoulders slowly eased¡ªnot vanished, but lessened.

    ¡°¡­I¡¯ll try,¡± she murmured.

    Zafran didn¡¯t smile. But he stayed. Quiet, beside her.

    And for the first time in days, she didn¡¯t feel entirely alone.

    <hr>

    The dunes stretched on, but they no longer loomed.

    Each day passed with fewer words, lighter packs, and heavier thoughts.

    Time blurred¡ªsunrises, sunsets, endless golden sands becoming paler each morning. The sky shifted from harsh white to softer blue. The heat, though still present, lost its bite.

    And then¡ª

    Grass.

    Not much at first. Tufts between stones. Then more¡ªclusters of green clinging to the roadside. Wind carried the scent of soil, not dust. A lone tree, then a second, each a promise.

    They were leaving the desert.

    By the time Windstail rose on the horizon, a small hill-town of worn stone and wooden rooftops, the sand was behind them. The road was dirt again. Wagon tracks lined it. And at their feet, wildflowers bloomed, sparse but vivid.

    Karin didn¡¯t say anything¡ªbut she slowed, just a little, taking it in.

    <hr>

    Windstail was quiet.

    A merchant¡¯s hub in name only¡ªmost traders passed through without stopping. But it had what mattered: water, stables, and shade.

    Their old carriage waited where they¡¯d left it, still covered, still intact¡ªkept safe under the eye of the local stablemaster. But with only one remaining horse, it wasn¡¯t going anywhere.

    Zafran clicked his tongue. ¡°One horse won¡¯t take us far.¡±

    ¡°I can walk,¡± Karin offered, flatly.

    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± he replied, already striding toward the stablemaster without pause.

    <hr>

    By late afternoon, Zafran returned with two more horses¡ªdesert stock, sturdy and weather-worn. Not beautiful, but strong enough to pull.

    It had cost nearly all his remaining coin.

    Elsha inspected the harnesses as he worked. ¡°Three will do. Not fast¡ªbut steady.¡±

    ¡°You sure are rich, you know that?¡± Ysar muttered, climbing aboard and grabbing the reins. ¡°Better than walking, though.¡±

    Karin stepped into the carriage and sat beside Zafran, her movements calmer now. Her eyes drifted to the green pastures beyond the town, and then further¡ªto the hazy ridgeline where the road curved east.

    Elsha took the seat in front, beside Ysar, already checking the map again.

    The wheels creaked as they began to roll forward.

    Behind them, Windstail faded into dust and distance.

    Ahead, the road stretched¡ªtoward Ocean Tide.

    And beyond that¡ª

    The Azure Wind Caravan.

 Chapter 12: Back Home

    <hr>

    The wheels creaked as the carriage rolled forward, pulled now by three sturdy horses over the packed dirt path. The wind carried the scent of grass¡ªsun-warmed and dry¡ªwith only a faint memory of sand left behind them.

    Windstail faded into the distance, its squat stone buildings blurring into the gentle rise of rolling hills.

    They were heading west¡ªand just a little south.

    The desert was gone. The dunes had given way to patches of grass and stubborn wildflowers. A few scattered trees stood like lone sentries, breaking the horizon in quiet silhouette. The air felt lighter now. Cooler. Softer.

    Inside the carriage, no one spoke at first.

    Zafran held the reins, gaze fixed ahead. He didn¡¯t speak, but every so often, his grip would shift¡ªtighten¡ªthen ease again. His eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, following some thought he didn¡¯t want to admit he was chasing.

    Beside him, Karin sat with arms folded, cloak draped loosely around her shoulders. She wasn¡¯t brooding anymore¡ªjust quiet. Watching the landscape change. Letting the silence pass without needing to fill it.

    Behind them, Elsha thumbed through her map journal, murmuring softly as she traced routes and margins. Ysar leaned against the carriage frame, one boot propped up, whistling an aimless tune.

    ¡°You think they¡¯ll have hot food when we get there?¡± Ysar asked eventually.

    Elsha didn¡¯t glance up. ¡°Depends on your ability to keep your mouth shut long enough to eat it.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. I love soup,¡± he muttered, settling deeper into his seat.

    Karin cracked a small smile.

    Zafran¡¯s eyes flicked her way¡ªjust for a breath¡ªthen turned back to the road.

    Elsha tapped her pencil against the edge of the map. ¡°If the caravan kept pace, they should already be nearing Ocean Tide.¡±

    Zafran gave a short nod. ¡°We¡¯ll join them before they move on.¡±

    ¡°About two weeks,¡± Elsha confirmed.

    Ysar groaned and threw his head back. ¡°I thought ¡®adventure¡¯ would involve less sitting.¡±

    ¡°Try walking instead,¡± Karin offered.

    ¡°I would,¡± he said, ¡°but I¡¯ve grown fond of this new me¡ªlazy, well-traveled, and slightly sunburnt.¡±

    A soft laugh stirred between them¡ªnot long, not loud, but warm. It passed like the breeze.

    Zafran didn¡¯t join in.

    His eyes wandered toward a distant line of crooked trees. For a heartbeat, they softened. He blinked¡ªand the look was gone.

    The carriage rolled on.

    <hr>

    Time passed¡ªnot quickly, not slowly. Just steadily.

    The wheels clattered on, creaking over dirt and stone. Days blurred together, marked not by landmarks but by the rhythm of camp and travel. Mornings began with the rustle of blankets, the scrape of boots, and quiet stretches of yawns and muted curses. Evenings ended with small fires, rough meals, and stars scattered like dust overhead.

    They didn¡¯t stop anywhere. Just the road. Just each other.

    The group grew quieter¡ªbut not in a cold way. More like an unspoken understanding had settled between them. Fewer words. Fewer walls. The silence felt¡­ earned.

    <hr>

    One evening, after supper, Karin knelt near the dying fire, stick in hand and dirt as her canvas.

    ¡°Elsha,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°Come here. This one you¡¯ll get.¡±

    She drew a circle with branching symbols¡ªplanar connections, elemental relations. The basics of planar control. In other words, magic.

    Ysar raised a hand, still lounging by a rock. ¡°I would like to get it too.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d like to sleep,¡± Elsha murmured, settling beside Karin with a faint smile.

    Karin began explaining each symbol, one by one¡ªhow elemental forces connected to one¡¯s planar energy, and how it stretched from within into the world around them.

    ¡°I used to do this when I was little,¡± Elsha said, raising a finger. After a moment¡¯s focus, a small flame bloomed at her fingertip¡ªsubtle, wavering.

    ¡°It¡¯s not so useful when you fight with blades. Loses focus,¡± she said, letting the flame flicker out.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why I never bothered,¡± Ysar added.

    ¡°You¡¯re just too dumb.¡±

    Karin laughed and continued, making her gestures more complex. Elsha followed, brow furrowed. A shimmer¡ªthis time not just flame, but a flick of wind mingled in it. Her eyes widened slightly.

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    ¡°Wind and fire¡­ together?¡±

    They both turned when Ysar grunted. His palm hovered in the same shape, brows tight in concentration.

    Nothing.

    ¡°Maybe mine¡¯s just invisible,¡± he said. ¡°Ultra-elite level.¡±

    Karin rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s there. Somewhere. Like a buried pebble.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a buried gem,¡± he replied, stretching back with a grin. ¡°Just waiting to be found.¡±

    <hr>

    The next day, the carriage dipped into a muddy gully. Rain had passed through recently¡ªenough to turn the dirt to sludge. One wheel sank with a squelch, jarring the whole carriage to a stop.

    Zafran was off it in seconds.

    ¡°Elsha, take the front. Ysar¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pushing, I¡¯m pushing,¡± Ysar groaned, already stumbling into the muck. ¡°Every journey has to end with mud. It¡¯s a rule.¡±

    Karin crouched beside the wheel, brow furrowed. ¡°If we heat the mud here, just around the axle¡ªit should loosen the pressure.¡±

    She channeled a narrow pulse of heat into the soil. Steam rose in soft curls.

    Zafran and Ysar heaved.

    ¡°One¡ªtwo¡ª¡±

    The wheel snapped free with a groan, sending Ysar tumbling into the muck like a dropped sack.

    ¡°I hate mud!¡± he yelled.

    The others laughed¡ªKarin even offered a hand.

    They got back on the road. No cheering. Just nods. Quiet rhythm. Familiar, even in the dirt.

    <hr>

    That night, the campfire burned low.

    Karin sat at its edge, notebook in her lap, tracing slow lines. Elsha sharpened her blades. Ysar poked the coals, unusually quiet.

    Zafran sat apart. His eyes weren¡¯t on the fire. Or them.

    His hand rested on his new blade¡ªplain, sturdy. His gaze fixed on nothing in particular. On somewhere far.

    Not distant. Just¡­ elsewhere.

    Elsha noticed.

    So did Karin.

    Ysar did too¡ªbut he covered it with a smirk. ¡°Thinking about dinner?¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer.

    They all exchanged glances.

    Ysar grinned wider. ¡°Or maybe¡­ the girl in white?¡±

    Zafran blinked¡ªsnapped out of it.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± He stood abruptly. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you set up your bedrolls yet?¡±

    He marched off, grumbling as he dealt with his own pack.

    Karin stifled a laugh. Ysar smirked like a child who¡¯d won.

    <hr>

    The sun had begun its slow descent when the topic turned to Fyonar.

    Karin leaned against the window frame in the back of the carriage, arms crossed, eyes on the moving hills. Ysar sat across from her, one leg propped up, lazily tossing a pebble between his hands.

    ¡°So,¡± he started, ¡°what¡¯s it called again? The glowing thing in a glass?¡±

    ¡°Light bulb,¡± Karin answered.

    ¡°Right. That heretical magic from Fyonar.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°They call it technology.¡±

    ¡°Same thing. Glows. Flickers. Breaks your magic. Definitely cursed.¡±

    Karin smirked. ¡°You¡¯ve never seen one?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Never been to Fyonar.¡±

    ¡°Really? You guys travel everywhere.¡±

    Up front, Zafran said nothing, but Elsha turned slightly. ¡°Azure Wind avoids Fyonar. Too many regulations. Last time we camped near their capital, they banned us.¡±

    Karin raised a brow. ¡°Why?¡±

    Elsha exhaled. ¡°Because someone¡¯s oxen wandered off and trampled their rail lines. Stopped an entire freight train for three days.¡±

    ¡°I told you they wanted to race!¡± Ysar threw up his hands. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect them to win!¡±

    Karin burst out laughing. Even Zafran¡¯s shoulders twitched slightly¡ªmaybe a suppressed smile.

    Shaking her head, Karin leaned back. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not even sure light bulbs are planar anymore. They said they work without magic at all.¡±

    ¡°But they mess with magic, don¡¯t they?¡± Ysar asked. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say spellcasting goes wild around them?¡±

    ¡°It does. Makes planar energy unstable.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°It¡¯s why most cities ban it. Except Fyonar, obviously.¡±

    ¡°That sounds worse than fireballs.¡±

    ¡°Ask their engineers,¡± she muttered. ¡°They¡¯ll swear it¡¯s the future.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass. I like my magic unpredictable, not broken.¡±

    ¡°Same thing,¡± Elsha called from the front.

    The road creaked on beneath the wheels, the laughter fading into a shared quiet. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the road as they rode west.

    <hr>

    The road crested one final ridge.

    And there it was.

    Ocean Tide.

    The first thing they noticed was the air¡ªsalt-tanged and fresh, sweeping inland with a bracing coolness. It was a wind born of the sea, filled with whispers of distant voyages and endless horizons.

    The sun had begun its slow descent, casting the western sky into a cascade of molten gold and burning amber. Light spilled generously over the city¡¯s rooftops¡ªterraced domes and delicate towers shimmering like polished bronze beneath the dying day.

    Below, the vast harbor stretched wide, its waters a tapestry of reflected fire. Countless ships rocked gently at their moorings, their masts a dense forest of bare branches. Gulls circled lazily above, their distant cries blending with the rhythmic lap of waves against wooden piers.

    From this vantage, Ocean Tide sprawled grandly¡ªlayered districts spilling downward to the waterfront, threaded by graceful canals that shimmered in evening hues. Lanterns began to glow along stone bridges, casting delicate arcs of warmth across tranquil waters. Distant bells rang melodiously, signaling the day¡¯s gentle farewell.

    Yet it wasn¡¯t only ships that connected Ocean Tide to the world.

    To the north of the bustling port, railway tracks cut through the landscape¡ªpolished steel ribbons reflecting the fading sun. A steam engine, freshly arrived, puffed wisps of pale vapor skyward as it halted at the grand station. Workers bustled along the platform, unloading cargo destined to travel inland, dispersing the wealth of distant shores across the continent.

    But nearer still, just east of the city gates and nestled along the coast road, lay something even more welcoming¡ª

    The Azure Wind Caravan.

    Its presence was unmistakable: rows of vibrant canvas tents blooming upon the open plain, clustered like petals cast upon the earth by a playful wind. Their banners fluttered proudly¡ªdeep azure and pristine white, each bearing the crest of a swirling gust of air, embroidered elegantly in silver thread.

    Wagons formed a graceful crescent around the camp¡¯s perimeter, enclosing cookfires whose smoke drifted lazily upward, mingling with aromas of rich spices and roasting meat. Lanterns were just now ignited, their gentle glow painting the caravan in golden light.

    Sounds reached their ears next¡ªthe bright laughter of familiar voices, the faint melodies of a lute, and distant cheers as the evening¡¯s entertainment began. Even from afar, the caravan exuded warmth and welcome, promising comfort and camaraderie after a long journey.

    Karin stood, gripping the carriage frame, her expression softened by quiet relief.

    ¡°At last,¡± she whispered, her voice nearly carried away by the breeze.

    Ysar let out a low whistle, leaning forward, eyes wide. ¡°I¡¯d almost forgotten how grand it was.¡±

    Elsha smiled gently, a rare relaxation crossing her face as she pointed toward the inviting glow of the camp. ¡°We¡¯ll reach them by nightfall.¡±

    Zafran remained silent. His gaze lingered¡ªdrawn not by the caravan, nor even by the mesmerizing ocean beyond. Instead, his eyes rested briefly upon the golden city itself, shadowed by thoughts he didn¡¯t speak aloud.

    A breath passed.

    Then, with a gentle flick of the reins, he urged the horses onward. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The carriage rolled gently downhill, toward waiting firelight, familiar faces, and the promise of rest beneath a star-filled sky.

 Chapter 13: Ashes and Doors

    <hr>

    The sea breeze tugged gently at the edges of her cloak.

    Karin stood at the edge of the Azure Wind camp, where canvas met open field and the land sloped downward toward Ocean Tide. The city gleamed beneath the afternoon sun¡ªrooftops gilded in gold and bronze, sails dancing in the harbor, the faint hiss of a distant train.

    Her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel.

    She hadn¡¯t spoken to anyone since they arrived. The walk from the carriage had been quiet¡ªtoo quiet. And there was nothing to say.

    The scent of food drifted from the cookfires. Laughter stirred in the distance.

    But none of it reached her.

    This was the edge¡ªof the camp, of the road, of whatever came next.

    Footsteps behind her.

    She didn¡¯t turn.

    Zafran stopped a few paces away, gaze following hers to the far-off spires of the city.

    ¡°Going in already?¡± he said.

    Karin nodded once. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Then, a pause¡ªbefore she gave a small chuckle.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back for the rest of your payment later. Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯m not planning to run.¡±

    He shook his head with a faint smile. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t get far, if you did.¡±

    A pause. He shifted his weight slightly, boots scraping dry grass.

    ¡°¡­Do you want someone to go with you?¡±

    The words almost made it out.

    But he didn¡¯t say them.

    Instead, he just said, ¡°Be careful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a child.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    She looked down at the dirt, then back up¡ªtoward the city, glowing beneath the waning sun.

    Zafran didn¡¯t reply.

    She breathed in. ¡°I¡¯m going to see this through.¡±

    He gave a slow nod.

    Then she turned and walked¡ªno more words needed¡ªtoward the city gates, toward the Academia.

    He watched her go.

    And when she disappeared from view, he remained there a moment longer, eyes still on the skyline.

    The wind picked up.

    Then he turned, and walked the other way¡ªback into the tents of Azure Wind.

    <hr>

    The city gates loomed tall¡ªgilded with brass and crowned with sharp stone archwork that caught the late light like a blade. Karin passed beneath them, and the full scope of Ocean Tide unfolded before her.

    The air smelled of salt and spice.

    Streets swept wide, paved in pale stone, curving through districts marked by banners, gardens, and towers that reached like fingers toward the sun. Horses clattered past. Merchants called beneath canopies of deep red and green. A train whistle cried in the distance, trailing smoke along its silver track, just visible beyond the eastern wall.

    And here and there¡ªperched atop posts or suspended from ornate brass holders¡ªglowed the strange new orbs of light.

    Electric. Artificial.

    Few. Flickering. But real.

    Fyonar¡¯s touch was spreading.

    She kept walking.

    Past the market rings. Past the old outer courts. Through Ocean Tide¡¯s mage district, where the buildings grew stranger¡ªarched roofs and floating glass, sigils carved into the flagstones underfoot. Magic hung thick in the air, like scent or heat¡ªsubtle, but unmistakable.

    And then she saw it.

    The Academia.

    Not merely a tower, but a fortress of knowledge.

    Its walls were white stone¡ªpolished smooth, and reinforced with lines of golden weave that shimmered faintly in the light. Gates of darkwood and steel stood guarded, and above them rose the main spire¡ªtall, sharp, wrapped in spiraling metal veins, like a root reaching back to the heavens.

    Around its base stretched a manicured garden: spirals of trimmed hedges, reflective pools, trees that swayed without wind. A grove that curved like a quiet breath in the chaos of the city.

    She stepped through the outer arch and into that stillness.

    Her boots made no sound on the enchanted walkways.

    Eyes turned as she passed. Robed figures. Younger apprentices. Scholars in slow conversation.

    Their gazes lingered. Some whispered.

    ¡°That¡¯s her.¡±

    ¡°The Flame-touched.¡±

    ¡°Still can¡¯t use anything but fire?¡±

    ¡°What a waste¡­¡±

    Karin didn¡¯t flinch.

    She kept walking. Eyes forward. Shoulders square. Not a glance to either side.

    She reached the central gate.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    A single guard stood there¡ªrobed not in battle garb, but in deep Academia blues, etched with silver lines of office. He was younger than she expected¡ªmid-twenties perhaps¡ªbut his expression was hollow with authority.

    ¡°I¡¯m Ka¡ª¡± she began.

    ¡°I know who you are,¡± he cut in, lips curling faintly. ¡°Back to report your failure?¡±

    Her jaw tightened, but she didn¡¯t answer.

    He raised one hand, fingers sketching a quick sigil in the air. A ripple shimmered outward¡ªan enchantment that connected instantly to the upper floors.

    After a moment, he spoke aloud to no one in sight. ¡°Karin of the Flame Path. Reporting per outer-circle summons.¡±

    A beat passed.

    Then, a soft glow spread from the stonework beneath her feet.

    ¡°She¡¯s expected,¡± a voice echoed faintly in reply. ¡°Send her up.¡±

    The gate opened slowly¡ªno creak, no sound, just silent motion on unseen hinges.

    The gatekeeper stepped aside, giving her a slow once-over. ¡°Good luck in there.¡±

    Karin didn¡¯t respond.

    She stepped into the tower.

    Silence enveloped her. The halls curved upward in spirals of marble and glass. Enchanted lifts hovered in still air. She entered one¡ªand it rose with a hum, slow and steady.

    At the top, an attendant waited.

    ¡°The council is ready for you.¡±

    Karin nodded once.

    And stepped forward, toward the judgment awaiting her.

    <hr>

    The chamber hummed faintly as the doors sealed shut behind her.

    Karin stepped into the round¡ªlightless but for the glowing veins of magic that traced through the marble floor and the thrones above. The council sat in silence, robed in cold majesty.

    Six thrones in a circle bore the symbols of the elements: Order, Chaos, Flame, Geo, Water, Wind.

    And at the center, on a raised pedestal of silverstone and arcane runes, sat Vaelion, the Supreme Arch Magi¡ªArcane, the balance of all things.

    She bowed¡ªbarely.

    And waited.

    The Arch Magi of Flame, a man of hard eyes and a beard like braided fire, spoke first. ¡°The Flame Ash?¡±

    ¡°Gone,¡± Karin said evenly. ¡°Taken before I arrived.¡±

    No one asked how she knew. No one questioned her proof.

    They didn¡¯t need to.

    Already, the whispering began¡ªnot aloud, but mental threads weaving silently among the Arch Magi. Eyes flicked. Judgments passed without words.

    ¡°Then the task was a failure,¡± said the Arch Magi of Water.

    Karin didn¡¯t move. ¡°I reached the altar. I fought through the ruins. The war beasts were already roused. There was nothing left to retrieve.¡±

    The Arch Magi of Order inclined his head. ¡°Which is another way to say: you failed.¡±

    She stared at him.

    Then stepped forward.

    ¡°You knew this would happen.¡±

    ¡°You accepted the trial,¡± said Order. ¡°A retrieval mission. You retrieved nothing.¡±

    ¡°You sent me alone,¡± she said, her voice sharpening. ¡°Into a ruin full of monsters, with no timeframe, no guidance, and no support. And now, because someone got there first¡ª¡±

    ¡°You failed,¡± said the Arch Magi of Wind, flat and final.

    Something inside her burned¡ªnot yet magic, but close.

    ¡°You never gave me a fair chance.¡±

    The Arch Magi of Chaos offered a thin smile. ¡°Now you want fairness?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± she snapped. ¡°You let other students in without trials¡ª¡±

    ¡°We test everyone,¡± said Order.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Her laugh was bitter. ¡°You test if their families can afford donations? Or if they come from the right noble line?¡±

    ¡°Be careful, Flame-touched,¡± said the Arch Magi of Geo.

    ¡°Or what?¡± Her eyes flared.

    The air tensed.

    The Arch Magi leaned forward¡ªmost of them still calm, but watching her now.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t reject me because I failed,¡± Karin said. ¡°You rejected me because I scare you.¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± growled the Arch Magi of Flame, standing. ¡°You are unstable. You burn without discipline. You cannot channel wind. Nor water. Nor stone. You are no mage¡ªonly a spark waiting to become a wildfire.¡±

    ¡°And you?¡± she hissed. ¡°Afraid your fire would look cold next to mine, Arch Magi?¡±

    The room shifted.

    Heat coiled between them. His brow darkened.

    ¡°Watch your mouth.¡±

    The space between them shimmered.

    His power flared¡ªnot golden, but deep red, rimmed with black. A flame touched by chaos¡ªrare, dangerous, only wielded by the most adept.

    Karin didn¡¯t back down.

    Her fingers twitched. A flame bloomed in her palm¡ªsmaller, tighter, whiter-hot than his.

    Not a fire of chaos, but pure force and control.

    The Arch Magi of Flame took a step forward, jaw clenched, power simmering.

    And then¡ª

    ¡°Enough,¡± said Vaelion.

    The voice was calm. Soft. But it cut through the heat like a blade.

    Both flames vanished.

    The Arch Magi of Flame sat again, slowly, fury in his eyes.

    Karin exhaled¡ªshaky, but still standing.

    She looked up at Vaelion¡ªthe one who had spoken least.

    ¡°Just say it,¡± she said.

    His gaze was steady. ¡°You are not accepted.¡±

    A silence followed¡ªthick, final.

    Then he added, as if sealing a gate:

    ¡°May you find a better place you belong.¡±

    Karin didn¡¯t tremble.

    Didn¡¯t cry.

    She turned, cloak whispering behind her, and walked out.

    No bow.

    No word.

    The chamber¡¯s doors closed behind her.

    None of them called her back.

    <hr>

    The tower doors closed behind her with a whisper of finality.

    Karin stepped into the sunlit courtyard, the noise of the city distant again¡ªlike it belonged to another world. Her stride was steady, her hands curled at her sides. She didn¡¯t look back.

    At the outer gate, someone leaned against the stone wall, arms folded, wide-brimmed hat tilted low.

    Kivas.

    He gave her a quick once-over, then pushed off the wall. ¡°Figured you¡¯d be coming out like that.¡±

    She didn¡¯t reply.

    He nodded to himself. ¡°Zaf told me you might need a place to land.¡±

    Her brow twitched, but she said nothing.

    He continued, as casual as ever, ¡°Now, I¡¯m not saying I run a charity¡ªbecause I don¡¯t. But as fate would have it, I just remembered you owe me about three hundred more gold.¡±

    Karin blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°For the carriage you helped ruin. The horses we had to replace. The travel expenses Zaf covered with caravan funds. And that incident with the spice crates that mysteriously caught fire near you.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªthe last one wasn¡¯t¡ª¡± she stopped, then sighed. ¡°Fine. How do I pay?¡±

    Kivas smiled. ¡°Simple. You work.¡±

    He tilted his head toward the open road. ¡°Caravan¡¯s always got something¡ªhauling, guarding, cataloging¡­ or maybe even opening a stall. We¡¯ve got a space if you want it.¡±

    She hesitated¡ªjust for a breath.

    Then nodded. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll work.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He turned on his heel, already walking. ¡°You start tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°At what?¡±

    ¡°Lifting crates.¡±

    ¡°Thought I was special.¡±

    He grinned without turning around. ¡°You are. And also lifting the crates.¡±

    <hr>

    The next morning came with the scent of bread and horsehair.

    Karin stood by the supply wagon, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair tied back in a hasty knot. A crate hovered uncertainly in her arms¡ªheavier than it looked, but manageable.

    ¡°Left side of the tent,¡± Elsha called out. ¡°No, not that one¡ªthe one next to it.¡±

    Karin adjusted course, muttering under her breath, and dropped the crate with a dull thud. A puff of flour burst from the seams.

    ¡°Better,¡± Elsha said, walking over with arms crossed. ¡°That¡¯s three. Only fifty-seven more.¡±

    Karin let out a breath and hoisted another crate into the stack. ¡°Do you intentionally assign me to the heaviest ones because I¡¯m the apple of Zafran¡¯s eye?¡±

    Elsha, arms crossed, leaned against the post nearby. ¡°Why not both?¡±

    Karin blinked¡ªthen grinned. ¡°Oh, that hurt.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll live.¡±

    She dusted her hands off, looking up with a sly smile. ¡°I mean, isn¡¯t it hurt¡ªfor you? If he¡¯s that good to every girl?¡±

    Elsha¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Lift the crate.¡±

    Karin scoffed, but didn¡¯t hide the small smile that tugged at her lips. ¡°Thanks for the answer.¡±

    They moved to the next crate.

    Around them, the caravan came to life¡ªtent poles clacking, wheels creaking, the hum of people settling into their daily rhythm. Somewhere behind them, Ysar shouted about a pot not being technically broken if it still held water.

    Karin wiped her brow with the edge of her sleeve.

    The work wasn¡¯t easy. It wasn¡¯t what she trained for.

    But it felt¡­ real.

    Elsha glanced sideways. ¡°You¡¯re doing alright.¡±

    Karin exhaled. ¡°Just don¡¯t let Kivas put me on spice-crate duty again.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, that one¡¯s personal. He made a list.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll burn the list.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll burn the whole wagon if we¡¯re not careful.¡±

    Karin gave her a sideways grin, and for a moment, it felt less like survival and more like a beginning.

    No flames. No trials. Just sun-warmed canvas, tired feet, and the quiet rhythm of life that didn¡¯t ask her to be anything else.

    Not a prodigy.

    Not a failure.

    Just¡­ her.

    And for now, that was enough.

    At the far end of the supply row, Zafran moved among the tents¡ªsilent, measured, his eyes scanning crates, ropes, and camp layouts with habitual precision. A quiet nod to one worker. A small adjustment to the weight on a wagon axle.

    Then his gaze drifted.

    For a breath, he paused¡ªwatching Karin and Elsha at the crates. She laughed at something Elsha muttered, brushing her sleeve against her cheek, a small dust mark on her jaw she hadn¡¯t noticed.

    Zafran didn¡¯t smile.

    But he stood there a moment longer.

    Then turned away, continuing his quiet circuit through the caravan.

    The sun climbed higher. The day moved on.

    <hr>

 Chapter 14: Shadows Beneath the Sun.

    <hr>

    Morning rolled in with salt on the breeze.

    Beyond the last rows of Azure Wind¡¯s tents, the southern sun crept over the dunes, gilding the canvas rooftops and turning the merchant flags into colored fire. The camp, no longer just a stop along the road, had bloomed into a living marketplace.

    Ocean Tide¡¯s people had come.

    They arrived in groups¡ªon foot, in wagons, atop finely bred horses. Nobles draped in embroidered cloaks mingled with traveling mages and wide-eyed townsfolk. They came for spice and metal, for maps and rumors, for stories of monsters and songs from distant shores.

    And the Azure Wind Caravan gave them what they came for.

    The market was a clash of cultures¡ªcinnamon from the Eastern Reaches, tapestries woven in the cliffs of Seradel, smoke-bottled dreams sold by a one-eyed woman in black, artifacts carved from beastbone, and music boxes that sang in forgotten tongues.

    Aromas twisted through the air¡ªgrilled root-meats, sizzling oil, fermented plum drinks. Kivas strode between stalls like a general, barking prices and pinching coin pouches like they owed him blood.

    Ysar leaned over a fruit cart from a local trader, arguing about whether a ¡°goldberry¡± was worth its name.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t even gold. This is like¡­ bronze at best. Look, your berry¡¯s oxidizing¡ª¡±

    The man sighed. Loudly.

    Karin, meanwhile, stood beside Elsha near a rack of flame-infused pendants¡ªher job was to not set anything on fire. She¡¯d nearly failed twice already.

    A noble girl in soft blue lace pointed to one. ¡°Is this real fire?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Karin replied.

    ¡°Will it hurt if I touch it?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    The girl touched it.

    Karin watched her yelp and fall backward into her escort¡¯s arms. ¡°Told you.¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t smile. But she came close.

    Kivas passed by just then, arms full of scrolls, voice booming. ¡°Someone tell Ysar if he used caravan coin to buy himself fruit, I¡¯m putting him on stall duty all week.¡±

    ¡°I heard that!¡± Ysar called.

    ¡°You were meant to.¡±

    It was chaos. Organized, glorious chaos.

    ¡ª

    At the edge of the market, Zafran stood by a lantern-post hung with silver chimes. His cloak fluttered gently in the breeze, sword at his waist. This was his post¡ªsilent, watchful. He¡¯d once tried helping as a vendor, but Kivas removed him after too many customers complained about his pricing.

    He was a swordsman, not a merchant. He trained the young warriors, patrolled the perimeter. And now, he watched.

    His eyes drifted lazily across the crowd¡ª

    Then stopped.

    A man stood across the bustle. Not in armor. Not in robes. But something in the way he held himself¡ªstraight-backed, still, a quiet tension to his frame¡ªbetrayed the truth.

    Zafran¡¯s eyes widened.

    The man turned, just slightly. Their eyes met.

    Zafran turned immediately, walking away into the crowd.

    Behind him, the man froze for a heartbeat¡ªthen moved.

    ¡°Zaf!¡±

    A shout, carried over the stalls.

    And he followed.

    <hr>

    Zafran didn¡¯t walk fast¡ªbut every step was deliberate.

    Through the market¡¯s din, past colorful cloth and spice-laden air, he moved like someone trying not to be seen, though his cloak was plain and his sword dulled. He hadn¡¯t expected the voice.

    ¡°Zafran!¡±

    He stopped.

    Turned¡ªslowly.

    The man stood a few paces back.

    No armor. No crest. Just a brown traveler¡¯s cloak and that familiar sharpness in his stance¡ªrigid, composed, too precise for a common man. The sword at his hip was regulation-length, worn smooth at the grip. But the decoration on it was clear¡ªhe held a position of high esteem.

    Zafran exhaled through his nose. ¡°Ealden. Didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡±

    ¡°Neither did I,¡± the man¡ªEalden¡ªsaid. He studied him quietly. ¡°You¡¯ve changed.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°You¡¯re with Azure Wind, then?¡±

    ¡°For a long time.¡±

    Ealden gave a shallow nod. ¡°I figured.¡±

    Silence stretched between them. The noise of the bazaar rolled on¡ªmuffled, distant.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be near the city,¡± Ealden said eventually, voice low. ¡°It¡¯s still¡­ not safe.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t set foot inside,¡± Zafran replied, almost automatic. ¡°No law broken.¡±

    Ealden nodded again. ¡°Still. You know how delicate things are.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s jaw shifted, but he didn¡¯t reply.

    Ealden¡¯s voice softened. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alright.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly.

    More silence.

    Then Ealden added, ¡°She still asks about you.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s gaze flicked upward, wary.

    ¡°The princess,¡± Ealden clarified. ¡°She never forgot.¡±

    Zafran said nothing.

    ¡°I won¡¯t say more if you don¡¯t want me to,¡± Ealden said gently.

    Zafran¡¯s tone stayed cool. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask.¡±

    Ealden took a slow breath. ¡°Still¡­ it¡¯s good to see you.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer. Not yes. Not no.

    Ealden stepped back¡ªjust a little¡ªgiving space.

    Then turned.

    And walked away.

    Zafran stood still a moment longer.

    Across the plaza, half-hidden behind a display of colored silks, Karin had seen the exchange.

    She couldn¡¯t hear them. But something in Zafran¡¯s posture held her gaze¡ª

    Like a weight that never left.

    <hr>

    The rhythm of hoofbeats cut through the low hum of twilight.

    Deliberate. Regal. Echoing.

    From the east road, riders emerged¡ªnot dusty travelers, but knights of Ocean Tide, clad in ceremonial armor that caught the dying light like burnished silver. Every movement was deliberate, silent save for the soft clink of reins and boots. Their tabards bore the sigil of the royal line¡ªsea-stag over sun-disc.

    At their head rode a woman.

    Not armored like the others, but commanding all the same.

    She wore riding leathers laced with ocean-blue silk, trimmed in platinum thread. Her posture was perfect¡ªnot stiff, but balanced like a blade resting at peace. A silver circlet nestled in her midnight hair, catching what little sunlight remained.

    And her eyes¡ª

    Clear as sea-glass. Deep as storm-tide.

    They swept the camp in one slow, discerning glance.

    It was not arrogance.

    It was weight.

    Presence.

    The kind that shifted the air.

    No words were spoken.

    Yet the camp fell silent.

    Princess Seren, the heir to Ocean tide royal family.

    Stall keepers stopped mid-call. Musicians let their notes trail off. Even the children paused in their play.

    One by one, they bowed.

    Kivas moved first, lowering his head with the respect of a seasoned leader¡ªpragmatic, measured, but unmistakably deferent. ¡°We weren¡¯t told to expect Ocean Tide tonight.¡±

    Ealden dismounted, helm tucked beneath one arm. ¡°We¡¯re not here on royal command.¡±

    He glanced toward Zafran.

    The Princess didn¡¯t speak. She didn¡¯t need to.

    Her gaze locked with Zafran¡¯s¡ªand held.

    He didn¡¯t bow.

    Didn¡¯t flinch.

    But something in his eyes darkened. A distant tide rising.

    ¡°We¡¯re looking for Zafran,¡± Ealden said simply.

    Kivas cleared his throat. ¡°He¡¯s right here.¡±

    Zafran exhaled through his nose. ¡°Of course I am.¡±

    ¡°Is there somewhere we can speak privately?¡± the Princess asked, her voice quiet¡ªbut it carried like water over stone.

    Smooth.

    Measured.

    And cold at the edges.

    Kivas nodded once, clearing his throat again. ¡°Leader¡¯s tent, near the center. No one¡¯s using it tonight.¡±

    She gave a small nod in return, nothing more.

    Kivas turned to Zafran. ¡°Lead the way?¡±

    Zafran said nothing.

    But he moved.

    Slowly. Precisely. Each step like crossing some unspoken threshold.

    Ealden and the Princess followed. The knights remained behind, forming no wall, only a respectful boundary.

    As the three walked, the camp parted for them.

    And then closed again, like a breath being held.

    ¡ª

    From across the rows of carts, Karin watched.

    She hadn¡¯t moved in some time.

    The lanternlight caught the edge of her cheek, but her eyes never left the trio¡¯s backs.

    The tent flap opened.

    Zafran stepped inside.

    Then the Princess.

    Then Ealden.

    The canvas closed behind them¡ªsoft, final.

    The silence didn¡¯t break.

    Not right away.

    Karin let out a slow, shallow breath.

    ¡°¡­Well,¡± she muttered, ¡°there goes that plan.¡±

    Beside her, Elsha¡¯s arms moved a little too quickly as she folded the last cloth.

    Neither of them spoke again.

    But the air between them was no longer still.

    <hr>

    The tent felt smaller somehow, the canvas drawing tighter with each heartbeat. Golden dusk filtered softly, casting elongated shadows and catching dust motes drifting lazily in the air. Outside, the muffled noises of the market felt impossibly distant.

    Zafran stood by the cot, his arms crossed, sword unbelted and deliberately out of reach. It wasn¡¯t that he feared using it¡ªrather, he wanted nothing here to speak of conflict. He¡¯d left those days behind, or so he¡¯d hoped.

    The tent flap stirred quietly.

    Princess Seren stepped in first, her entrance quiet but unmistakably regal. Behind her, Ealden lingered by the entrance, deliberately distant. Seren¡¯s riding leathers whispered with her movements; she seemed too calm for someone who¡¯d come bearing secrets.

    She offered a gentle smile. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, Zafran.¡±

    He kept his gaze fixed, unreadable. ¡°Ten years, give or take.¡±

    She hesitated a moment, fingertips tracing absent patterns against her gloves. ¡°You¡¯ve changed.¡±

    ¡°We all have,¡± he said quietly.

    Her eyes softened. ¡°I didn¡¯t come lightly. But I need your help.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s mouth curled slightly, humorlessly. ¡°I¡¯d imagine the royal guard would serve you better.¡±

    ¡°Not for this.¡± Seren paused, carefully choosing her words. ¡°I need someone who doesn¡¯t carry my family¡¯s banner. Someone¡­ overlooked.¡±

    ¡°Convenient,¡± he murmured, the edge of bitterness unmistakable. ¡°Ten years in exile, and now my usefulness has suddenly resurfaced?¡±

    Ealden stirred slightly but said nothing.

    Seren drew a measured breath. ¡°I came here because it¡¯s about Balin.¡±

    Zafran froze at the name. For a heartbeat, the world inside the tent halted. A decade of silence wrapped itself around the single word¡ªhis father¡¯s name.

    He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Explain.¡±

    The princess met his gaze directly, her voice steady, careful. ¡°Your father never betrayed Ocean Tide. He saved me.¡±

    Zafran remained silent, waiting.

    ¡°Ten years ago,¡± she began softly, ¡°you know we traveled to Fyonar for peace negotiations. My father, the king, wanted peace. Fyonar¡­ we believed they did, too. That night, assassins attacked our chambers. My guards fell quickly¡ªalmost too easily.¡±

    She hesitated, then continued quietly, ¡°Balin was the last to stand, guarding my door. When I awoke, he was already wounded. He fought them off long enough for me to escape, but it was too late for him. He knew it, too.¡±

    Her voice wavered only slightly. ¡°Fyonar claimed he betrayed us. Their knights showed ¡®proof¡¯¡ªconvenient letters, seals. Your father said nothing to refute them. He insisted we accept the lie.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s voice hardened. ¡°Why?¡±

    Ealden finally spoke, voice low and careful. ¡°Because the truth would¡¯ve meant war. The king was already furious, suspicious. Balin feared the revelation that Fyonar had betrayed us would lead Ocean Tide back into a conflict it couldn¡¯t win.¡±

    ¡°So my father died branded a traitor,¡± Zafran murmured, bitterness simmering beneath calm words. ¡°To keep the peace?¡±

    Ealden met his eyes squarely. ¡°He chose peace over honor. And yes, it was my blade¡ªbut at his command.¡±

    Zafran said nothing. His eyes closed briefly, tension visible at his temples.

    Seren gently continued, ¡°I¡¯ve spent years quietly gathering evidence, hoping to someday clear his name without igniting war. Recently, I uncovered a possible lead: a faction in Fyonar who orchestrated that attack. They¡¯re still active, pulling strings in shadows. I need someone discreet. Someone I trust.¡±

    He exhaled slowly. ¡°Why me?¡±

    ¡°Because you deserve the truth more than anyone,¡± she said simply. ¡°But also because you know what it means to be forgotten. You won¡¯t be seen coming.¡±

    He shifted slightly, still guarded. ¡°You¡¯re asking me to walk back into the fire.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m asking you,¡± Seren said carefully, ¡°to help me prove your father¡¯s honor. Not for my sake, nor even for Ocean Tide¡ªbut because it¡¯s the truth. And perhaps because the people who framed him are still out there, waiting.¡±

    The tent filled with silence once more.

    Finally, Zafran spoke, his voice soft. ¡°If I do this¡­ it¡¯s not for Ocean Tide.¡±

    Seren nodded slowly. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect it to be.¡±

    He looked away for a long moment, as if weighing the decade of exile against the truth he¡¯d just learned.

    ¡°Very well,¡± he murmured. ¡°Send me what you have.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡±

    Seren stepped back, pausing once more at the entrance. ¡°Thank you, Zafran.¡±

    He didn¡¯t respond¡ªbut he didn¡¯t need to.

    Ealden met Zafran¡¯s eyes briefly, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them. Then, following Seren, he slipped out quietly into the darkening night.

    Zafran stood there alone, feeling the weight of the world resettle itself once again.

    But this time, at least, it felt different.

 Chapter 15: â€œAnd so We Leave Againâ€

    <hr>

    Kivas sat with his arms folded across his chest, legs stretched out, back leaned against the wagon¡¯s shadow. A half-eaten fruit dangled from one hand, forgotten.

    Across from him, Zafran stood beside a crate, morning light catching on the rolled map in his hand¡ªalready folded, already decided.

    ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± Kivas muttered. ¡°Ten years of silence, and the first thing that girl does when she finds you is toss another kingdom¡¯s conspiracy into your lap?¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t look up. ¡°It¡¯s not just a conspiracy.¡±

    ¡°No?¡± Kivas scoffed. ¡°Assassins, forged evidence, political cleanup, shadow groups in Fyonar. Sure sounds like one.¡±

    ¡°She says it¡¯s connected to my father¡¯s death.¡±

    Kivas narrowed his eyes. ¡°And you believe her?¡±

    ¡°I believe she¡¯s trying.¡±

    Kivas exhaled. ¡°Zaf¡­ you just got back from a suicide mission, went after a child¡¯s legend in the damn desert¡ªnow what? Off to Fyonar, digging into some noble mess that¡¯s been buried for a decade?¡±

    Zafran was quiet for a long moment. Then, simply: ¡°Yes.¡±

    Kivas stared. ¡°You¡¯ve lost your mind.¡±

    ¡°If I have one,¡± Zafran said softly. ¡°But I wanted this. To know the truth. To settle it right.¡±

    Kivas exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. ¡°Bringing anyone with you?¡±

    Zafran nodded. ¡°I plan to go alone.¡±

    Kivas chewed on that. Then asked, ¡°And if you don¡¯t come back?¡±

    Zafran looked at him. ¡°Then maybe Fyonar is more lovely to live in than we think.¡±

    Kivas scoffed.

    For a long time, neither of them spoke.

    Finally, Kivas sat up straighter. ¡°When are you leaving?¡±

    ¡°Soon. A few days. I¡¯ll travel light.¡±

    ¡°Just take the train. What more do you need?¡±

    ¡°Just your silence.¡±

    Kivas grunted. ¡°You¡¯ll get it. But for the record, this is a terrible idea.¡±

    Zafran allowed himself the ghost of a smile. ¡°That¡¯s how we¡¯ve always been.¡±

    Kivas stood. ¡°When you come back, I¡¯ll put you on crate-lifting duty until you groan.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you don¡¯t want me back,¡± Zafran said with a dry laugh.

    ¡°Stubborn fool,¡± Kivas muttered, brushing dust from his coat. Then he paused, voice low. ¡°Zaf¡­ be careful. You walk too far into the dark, you might not like what¡¯s waiting on the other side.¡±

    Zafran nodded. ¡°I know.¡±

    Kivas didn¡¯t press further. He just clapped him on the shoulder once and walked away¡ªgrumbling, but slower than usual.

    Zafran turned back to the map and began gathering his things, unaware that from a little ways off, beneath the shadow of a supply tent, Karin watched him silently.

    Eyes narrowed.

    Not saying a word.

    Yet.

    <hr>

    Zafran tied the last strap on his satchel, double-checked the rolled maps, and set them down by the crate. Quiet preparation. Steady hands.

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    ¡°You¡¯re going somewhere.¡±

    The voice behind him was far too casual.

    He didn¡¯t turn. ¡°I¡¯m always going somewhere.¡±

    Karin stepped around the crate, arms crossed. Her expression unreadable, though her eyes held that sharp, cornered glint¡ªtoo curious to ignore.

    ¡°So,¡± she said, drawing the word out, ¡°you¡¯re packing quietly like someone sneaking off.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer.

    She gave a small laugh. ¡°Let me guess. A noble princess visits your tent under moonlight, and now you¡¯re off on a secret mission with a brooding look and a satchel full of regrets?¡±

    Still nothing.

    She leaned in slightly, peering at the map he¡¯d half-covered. ¡°Fyonar? Is this a supply run? Doesn¡¯t feel like one¡ªyou don¡¯t usually sneak around for those.¡±

    Zafran sighed. ¡°It¡¯s nothing you need to worry about.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the worst way to stop someone from worrying.¡±

    She leaned against the crate, arms still folded. ¡°So¡­ are you chasing after her? What did the princess want?¡±

    Zafran finally looked at her. ¡°It¡¯s not important.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure. Royal visitors showing up unannounced just means it¡¯s probably about tea and cakes.¡±

    A flicker in his eyes¡ªbut only for a second.

    She caught it.

    ¡°Fyonar, then,¡± she said softly. ¡°Another road trip?¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer.

    She pushed off the crate with a mock sigh. ¡°Well, it does smell like danger. Definitely not my kind of vacation. I¡¯ve just started enjoying mornings without sand in my teeth.¡±

    Still nothing.

    ¡°I mean, really,¡± she added, walking away a few steps, ¡°why would I ever want to go with you again? Just to be dragged into another disaster, nearly die in some forgotten ruin, or fight off another beast?¡±

    Silence.

    She turned back, grinning over her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t follow.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°But Elsha might.¡±

    Zafran raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°And if she goes¡­ well, Ysar¡¯s probably already packing snacks.¡±

    With a playful salute, she turned and walked off, humming to herself.

    Zafran watched her go.

    He didn¡¯t say a word.

    But he had a feeling¡ª

    He wouldn¡¯t be going alone.

    Not really.

    <hr>

    The morning of departure was still and pale, the sky wrapped in soft gray before sunrise broke through. Zafran tightened the last strap of his pack, the familiar weight settling on his shoulders like armor.

    The past few days had been quiet.

    Too quiet.

    Not a single interruption. No Karin prodding him again, no Ysar¡¯s usual antics, no passing glance from Elsha.

    Not even a comment from Kivas.

    That silence had been the loudest part.

    Zafran stepped out from the line of tents and followed the path toward the camp¡¯s outer edge, where the gravel thinned and the road curved westward, to where the train station is.

    Then he stopped.

    Three figures stood at the bend.

    Elsha, arms folded, her posture already carrying the fatigue of another journey.

    Ysar, perched on a crate beside the road, chewing on dried fruit and grinning like he hadn¡¯t waited long at all.

    And Karin, who met his gaze with a calm, knowing look¡ªand her satchel already strapped to her back.

    Behind them stood Kivas, leaning against a post with his arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

    Zafran let out a breath. ¡°I had a hunch it¡¯d come to this.¡±

    Kivas pushed off the post. ¡°They insisted,¡± he said. ¡°Said you¡¯d probably die at the train station without them.¡±

    ¡°You told them,¡± Zafran muttered.

    ¡°I told them enough,¡± Kivas shrugged. ¡°And, well¡­ the rest, they figured out on their own.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been planning this,¡± Zafran said, looking at Karin.

    She shrugged. ¡°Maybe.¡±

    ¡°You all know where I¡¯m going.¡±

    Elsha stepped forward. ¡°We do.¡±

    ¡°And you still want to come.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re already packed,¡± Ysar said, hopping off the crate. ¡°Besides, someone has to keep you from brooding your way into a political disaster.¡±

    Karin walked past Zafran without waiting for a cue. ¡°You didn¡¯t really think you were going alone again, did you?¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°You could¡¯ve just asked,¡± she added.

    Zafran looked to Kivas one last time.

    The caravan master tilted his head. ¡°You¡¯ll do what you want, Zaf. Just don¡¯t get yourself killed. Or her.¡± He nodded toward Karin.

    ¡°Or her.¡± Another nod at Elsha.

    ¡°Or especially him.¡± He jabbed a thumb at Ysar, who raised both arms defensively. ¡°Hey!¡±

    Zafran gave a faint smile. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±

    Kivas clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯d better.¡±

    With nothing more to say, Zafran turned toward the road again.

    Karin fell in beside him, Elsha just behind, and Ysar brought up the rear, still chewing.

    Four sets of footsteps start moving.

    As they walked, Zafran glanced sideways at each of them.

    Karin, half-grinning, eyes alert as ever. Elsha, calm and calculating, always aware of the terrain even when they were just on an imperial road. And Ysar¡ªwalking backward now, arms out like wings, whistling an off-key tune he probably made up on the spot.

    It was strange, he thought. Not long ago, he''d always doing things alone, with only his sword and a silence no one dared touch. Now, he wasn¡¯t sure which weighed more¡ªthe pack on his shoulders, or the presence of people he couldn¡¯t seem to push away.

    ¡°We lasted what, ten days without a mission?¡± Elsha murmured.

    ¡°eight,¡± Karin corrected. ¡°Nine, if you count the half-day of unpacking.¡±

    ¡°Definitely a record,¡± Ysar chimed in.

    ¡°This is better than sand,¡± Karin said.

    Zafran raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°No dunes. No beasts. No hallucinations. I¡¯ll take a gravel road any day.¡±

    ¡°For now,¡± Ysar said cheerfully. ¡°I bet we¡¯ll be knee-deep in something stupid by sundown.¡±

    They followed the western road as the morning mist lifted, their shadows stretching long across the stones.

    Not the same road.

    But somehow, it felt familiar.

    And far ahead, beyond the rail lines and the border hills, Fyonar waited.

    <hr>

 Chapter 16: What We Carry

    <hr>

    Continental Steam Line.

    What began as a Fyonar invention had, through profit and grudging cooperation, become a neutral network of smoke and steel stretching across half the known world.

    Zafran led the way, boots crunching on gravel. The scent of oil and burning coal stung the air, cutting through the morning chill. Ahead, the engine hissed¡ªmassive and dark, with golden rivets tracing its body like veins. Steam rolled from its undercarriage, blanketing the station platform in lazy clouds.

    Ysar whistled low. ¡°So that¡¯s the thing that explodes if you look at it wrong.¡±

    Elsha gave him a glance. ¡°It doesn¡¯t explode. It runs on pressure, not rage.¡±

    ¡°But still,¡± he said, eyeing the iron beast. ¡°Looks like something a god sneezed out.¡±

    Karin stepped ahead of them both, already walking in pace with Zafran. ¡°It¡¯s one of the early models. They¡¯ve updated the boiler valve systems since last year. Safer now. Not that you¡¯d know the difference.¡±

    ¡°I know enough to stay outside of exploding buildings,¡± Ysar muttered.

    Zafran didn¡¯t laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

    The station wasn¡¯t inside the city proper¡ªno kingdom would let another build a rail station in their capital. This one sat miles outside the western gate, walled off from the city and flanked by guard towers manned by Ocean Tide sentries. Nothing military, just¡­ watchful.

    They reached the checkpoint near the platform. No questioning¡ªjust a brief glance at travel permits and a stamp from Azure Wind¡¯s ledger. Ealden had made sure everything was handled in advance.

    A low rumble passed through the platform as the engine released another hiss of breath.

    The train itself was long, its cars paneled in dark wood and brass. Two compartments marked for cargo, another three for passengers. The frontmost was labeled in embossed script: For Continental Transit ¨C Ocean Route to Fyonar.

    Elsha looked up from her map, eyes narrowing. ¡°Two and a half days?¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re lucky,¡± Karin said. ¡°The central mountain pass sometimes gets slowed by weather. But it¡¯s better than walking three weeks.¡±

    Zafran moved without much ceremony, placing his satchel by the door of the third car. ¡°We board in ten.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Ysar said, peering around the side of the car. ¡°Where are the cannons?¡±

    ¡°There are no cannons,¡± Elsha said flatly.

    ¡°Then what do we do if bandits jump the train?¡±

    ¡°We jump them back,¡± Karin answered, climbing aboard.

    <hr>

    They boarded through the second passenger car¡ªstandard seating.

    Here, the walls were iron-lined, dark wood barely softening the industrial feel. The air carried the scent of coal and polish, and rows of fixed seats lined either side of the aisle, backs stiff, cushions thin. Most were designed to recline with a stubborn click¡ªbarely enough for sleep. Folded trays. Lantern hooks. Utilitarian.

    Karin glanced around, eyes narrowing. ¡°I thought you said we had a room.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer. He just kept walking.

    They passed through a narrow corridor¡ªrattling with every motion of the train¡ªuntil they reached a sealed brass-plated door. A conductor stood beside it, bowing slightly before unlocking it with a copper key.

    The door opened.

    And the contrast struck them like a shift in worlds.

    Warm, polished darkwood paneled the walls, inlaid with curling patterns of gold leaf. Delicate etching adorned the corners, while ceiling lanterns cast a soft amber glow through frosted glass. Heavy curtains framed the windows¡ªreal fabric, not the stiff canvas of the other cars.

    At the center stood a broad, foldable table of carved walnut. Bench seats wrapped around it, thickly padded in deep velvet. Above them, the sleeping bunks were folded into the walls¡ªtwo on each side, crafted of solid timber and brass, built to disappear when not needed. A rack of glass-bottled drinks stood neatly locked behind a cabinet pane. A service bell gleamed near the door.

    Even the floor was carpeted.

    Karin paused at the threshold, hand resting on the doorframe. She said nothing¡ªbut the slight lift of her brow betrayed it. She¡¯d ridden trains before. Just never like this.

    ¡°¡­Alright,¡± she muttered. ¡°I get it.¡±

    Ysar stepped in first, arms wide. ¡°By the gods, this is real travel.¡±

    Elsha followed, composed, but her eyes moved like she was mapping the space. She brushed a finger across the brass latch of the nearest bunk, testing it with a soft click. ¡°Everything¡¯s reinforced. This isn¡¯t just fancy¡ªit¡¯s engineered.¡±

    Zafran entered last, placing his satchel by the window and leaning his sword gently against the wall. He said nothing¡ªjust took a long, even breath and sank into the corner seat.

    Karin dropped beside him without a word, settling like it was already hers.

    ¡°No reaction? No comment?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Sat in these kinds of seats often, when I was young,¡± he said.

    Karin raised a brow. ¡°Of course. Man of noble background.¡±

    ¡°Once.¡±

    The train gave a soft lurch. Ocean Tide drifted past the window¡ªstone fading to farmland, farmland to wild plain.

    Ysar flopped onto the seat across from them. ¡°Feels like I should be drinking wine.¡±

    Elsha sat beside him. ¡°They¡¯ll charge you for it.¡±

    The wheels found rhythm. The world began to roll.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Karin folded her arms onto the table and dropped her head onto them. ¡°Wake me if we¡¯re attacked by bandits on mechanical ostriches.¡±

    ¡°¡­Wait. Is that real?¡± Ysar asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t,¡± Elsha sighed, disappointed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever stop to think first?¡±

    ¡°Wake me anyway,¡± Karin murmured, pulling her hood down over her eyes.

    ¡°You just sat down seconds ago,¡± Ysar said.

    ¡°I travel light.¡±

    Then, as she shifted to make herself comfortable: ¡°If someone breaks in, shout something heroic.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°YSAR, NOOO!¡± she slurred, halfway to sleep.

    Zafran¡¯s mouth twitched.

    Elsha opened her journal.

    And for a while, the cabin filled only with the steady, comforting rhythm of travel.

    Outside, green hills stretched toward the horizon. Beyond them, the mountains waited.

    But in here¡ªfor now¡ªthere was peace.

    <hr>

    The train groaned and lurched back into motion, its massive wheels scraping against rusted rails with a noise that sounded like a yawn. Ysar didn¡¯t even glance at the window. Whatever town they¡¯d just passed through¡ªits name, its people, its handful of crooked lanterns swaying on the platform¡ªwas already gone from his memory.

    ¡°The fourth one today,¡± he muttered, slumping back into his seat. ¡°Or the fifth? I don¡¯t even know what we¡¯re next to anymore. A village? A town? A barn with dreams?¡±

    Karin raised an eyebrow. ¡°You sure you¡¯re not being dramatic?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m dying,¡± Ysar said, eyes closed. ¡°Of compression. My legs haven¡¯t moved in hours.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been pacing every hallway on this train,¡± Elsha pointed out without looking up. She was peeling a boiled potato calmly, like this wasn¡¯t the fifth time she¡¯d heard the same complaint.

    ¡°And yet,¡± Ysar gestured to his chest, ¡°I suffer.¡±

    Their dinner had been brought in half an hour ago¡ªnothing fancy this time. Just warm stew, some stale bread, and a jar of pickled cabbage that none of them had volunteered to open yet.

    Zafran sat at the end of the table, arms crossed, gaze half-lost through the window. He hadn¡¯t said a word since the train moved again.

    Karin scooped some of the stew, blew on it, and offered a theatrical sigh. ¡°So tragic, Ysar. Truly. A warrior brought low by mild inconvenience.¡±

    ¡°Not mild,¡± he groaned. ¡°I was made to slay beasts, not sit in luxury boxes staring at identical fields and sleeping cows.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you can challenge the cabbage to a duel,¡± she said, nudging the untouched jar toward him.

    Elsha finally cracked a smile, then quickly hid it behind her cup.

    The warmth in the cabin wasn¡¯t just from the small metal stove bolted into the wall. Despite the boredom, the tight space had a strange comfort to it. They¡¯d fallen into a rhythm¡ªbanter, silence, food, the rattle of the train.

    Karin leaned back on her hands, looking around at them with a half-lidded gaze. ¡°You know, we¡¯ve been on this thing for two days now¡­ and we haven¡¯t talked about it.¡±

    ¡°Talked about what?¡± Ysar asked, still half-melting into the wall.

    She looked over at Zafran. ¡°What exactly are we going to Fyonar for?¡±

    That earned a blink from Zafran,

    ¡°Princess Seren said there was a man.¡± he said, voice low but clear. ¡°Her informant.¡±

    Karin straightened up. ¡°Right. The one who sent that letter?¡±

    Zafran gave a short nod. ¡°Said he found something¡ªa thread connecting several nobles. Something deep enough to suggest there¡¯s a single hand behind most of Fyonar¡¯s politics. Then he stopped writing.¡±

    ¡°Just like that?¡± Ysar asked, frowning. ¡°He went dark?¡±

    ¡°A month ago,¡± Zafran said. ¡°No sign since. No new letters. No one could find him.¡±

    Karin exhaled. ¡°Sounds like a trap.¡±

    ¡°Or maybe he found something bigger than he expected.¡± Elsha said.

    There was a pause. Even Ysar stayed quiet for a beat too long.

    Then Karin lifted her spoon again. ¡°Well, at least we¡¯re heading somewhere that isn¡¯t a cow pasture.¡±

    Ysar raised his cup. ¡°To mystery informants and slightly better stew.¡±

    They all chuckled. Even Zafran.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure about the stew part¡±

    The train rocked gently beneath them, the outside world reduced to moonlit blur beyond the windows. In this small cabin, laughter echoed softly, untouched by the looming unknown.

    <hr>

    The station lights had long disappeared into the night behind them. Only the steady rhythm of wheels on rails remained¡ªa low, metallic heartbeat rolling through the dark.

    The cabin had grown quiet. Four bunks, warm and worn, creaked faintly as bodies settled into them. A small lantern by the wall dimmed itself automatically, humming down to a whisper.

    Zafran didn¡¯t lie down. He sat for a while near the door, eyes half-lidded, posture still as the landscape crawled past the window. Then, without a word, he stood and slipped outside.

    The narrow balcony at the rear of the car was barely wide enough for two people. Iron railings wrapped around the space, cold to the touch, and the wind tugged lightly at his coat as the train sliced through the open field.

    Above him, the stars stretched wide and cloudless.

    He didn¡¯t look for constellations. He simply stood there, letting the silence fold around him.

    The door creaked behind him. A pause. Then footsteps.

    Karin stepped out barefoot, draped in her blanket, hair tousled, cheeks still flushed from lying down. She leaned against the opposite rail and said nothing at first.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were the stargazing type,¡± she said eventually¡ªnot teasing, just curious.

    Zafran didn¡¯t move. ¡°I¡¯m not. Just¡­ easier to think out here.¡±

    Karin nodded. ¡°Or not think.¡±

    He gave the smallest sound of agreement.

    They stood like that for a while. The wind pressed at their clothes. The train carried them forward through the blackness, its destination certain¡ªeven if theirs wasn¡¯t.

    Karin pulled the blanket tighter, her eyes drifting upward. ¡°I used to think the stars meant something,¡± she murmured.

    Zafran glanced at her.

    ¡°Back in White-Manour¡ªsmall village, vineyards and smoke¡ªmy mother used to say the stars would guide me to the Academia. ¡®Keep looking up, and one day, they¡¯ll let you in.¡¯ Every night.¡±

    She exhaled slowly. ¡°She died when I was twelve. After that, I told myself I¡¯d get in just once¡ªfor her. Just once. And then maybe I¡¯d leave.¡± She gave a small, joyless smile. ¡°I didn¡¯t even get the once.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s voice came low, steady. ¡°You still carry her with you.¡±

    Karin nodded. ¡°Yeah. But not the way she wanted. She was kind. Patient. She could control tertiary elements¡ªair, water, even ice when the weather was right. I just got¡­ fire.¡±

    ¡°And they feared you for it.¡±

    ¡°Or pitied me.¡± She snorted. ¡°Take your pick.¡±

    They were quiet for a long moment. Then Karin shifted, leaning on the rail, glancing over.

    ¡°Now that I¡¯ve told you mine¡ªwhat about yours?¡±

    Zafran looked up at the sky.

    ¡°I was supposed to be knighted,¡± he said. ¡°Two weeks before the ceremony. Armor fitted, oaths memorized. Then my father¡ªBalin¡ªwas accused. You know the story: treason, assassination attempt on the princess. He died for it.¡±

    ¡°And you were banished.¡±

    ¡°Threw me out before I could even take his sword.¡±

    Karin tilted her head. ¡°What did you do after?¡±

    ¡°Wandered,¡± he said. ¡°Worked where I could. Slept wherever they¡¯d let me.¡±

    She didn¡¯t reply.

    ¡°One day, I ran into a merchant caravan¡ªabout to be hit by bandits. I stepped in. Instinct. Didn¡¯t know they were under Azure Wind protection. Kivas was there. Watched the whole thing.¡±

    He paused. ¡°He said, ¡®If you want coin, you can work. If you want purpose, follow me.¡¯ That was it.¡±

    Karin smiled faintly. ¡°Classic Kivas.¡±

    ¡°He made me train the young ones. Guess he figured a broken thing can still shape others.¡±

    She looked at him, softened. ¡°We¡¯re quite alike, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Zafran¡¯s brow lifted slightly.

    ¡°Broken,¡± she said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you are.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you are either.¡±

    A brief, dry chuckle passed between them.

    They stood there a while longer. No more words exchanged. The wind moved past them like breath. And far ahead, the engine pulled them toward something neither of them could name just yet.

    <hr>

    Back in the cabin, the train rocked gently. Shadows moved across the ceiling with each passing mile.

    Ysar lay flat on his back in his bunk, arms behind his head, staring upward.

    ¡°Elsha,¡± he whispered.

    Above him, she didn¡¯t respond right away. Then, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You alright about that?¡±

    A pause. Her voice was even. ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°They seem close,¡± Ysar said, like he was commenting on the weather.

    ¡°They¡¯re comrades.¡±

    ¡°Mhm. Alright. Comrades that talk under the stars after midnight.¡± He shifted. ¡°Just asking.¡±

    Elsha didn¡¯t answer.

    Ysar grinned faintly in the dark. ¡°Kept you up though.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m awake because you¡¯re talking again.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s probably it.¡±

    Elsha turned toward the wall, away from him. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it did.¡±

    Silence followed.

    But something in her chest felt unfamiliar. Not jealousy¡ªshe wasn¡¯t the type. And Zafran wasn¡¯t the type to be taken. But something had shifted. That much she could feel.

    The way he spoke lately. The way he stood a little closer to Karin than he used to stand near anyone. The way he¡¯d begun to explain himself.

    She didn¡¯t like emotions she couldn¡¯t categorize.

    And now, she didn¡¯t know where to file this.

    Outside, the stars turned slowly above the moving train.

    And somewhere far ahead, Fyonar waited.

    <hr>

 Chapter 17: Room Left Empty

    <hr>

    The train hissed sharply as it pulled into East Fyonar Station, brakes squealing against the rails beneath a canopy of smoke-stained glass and blackened steel. The platform beyond was flooded with people¡ªscholars in layered robes, merchants with sealed crates, soldiers moving in ordered clusters, and tired travelers waiting for connecting routes.

    Steam poured from the undercarriages in curling waves, while above them, white bulbs buzzed in long rows¡ªunblinking, unnatural light casting a sterile glow over the crowd. It was loud, but not alive. Every sound felt dulled, controlled. Every person moved like they had somewhere specific to be¡ªand no intention of speaking to strangers.

    Karin was the first to stand. She stretched, rolled her shoulders, and glanced toward the window.

    ¡°East Fyonar,¡± she said. ¡°Still humming.¡±

    Elsha followed her with a glance.

    ¡°It¡¯s busier than I expected.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the central switch for half the continent,¡± Karin said, stepping into the aisle. ¡°All roads cross here¡ªeven the quiet ones.¡±

    Ysar blinked at the crowd outside.

    ¡°I thought this place was supposed to be strict. Looks more like a market.¡±

    ¡°It is strict,¡± Karin said. ¡°It just lets you line up before it tells you to shut up.¡±

    They stepped off the train into a wave of motion¡ªboots tapping, wheels rolling, porters shouting over steam. People weaved past them, brushing shoulders without ever making eye contact. The air was sharp with iron and oil, thick with movement but thin on welcome.

    Just past the platform, a sign hung overhead in polished brass:

    <blockquote>

    EAST FYONAR STATION ¡ª CENTRAL CONTINENTAL GATEWAY

    </blockquote>

    Beneath it, two men in gray uniforms waved travelers toward a side desk: station officers. A row of small signs beneath their booth read:

    <blockquote>

    ¡°Present Ticket Stub.¡±

    </blockquote>

    <blockquote>

    ¡°State Purpose of Visit.¡±

    </blockquote>

    <blockquote>

    ¡°No Spell Casting Within City Limits.¡±

    </blockquote>

    The line moved fast. No questions, no delays¡ªjust a stamp, a glance, and a wave through.

    Zafran handed his stub over first.

    ¡°Purpose?¡± the officer asked without looking up.

    ¡°Research,¡± Zafran said.

    Stamp. ¡°Next.¡±

    Karin: ¡°Study assistant.¡±

    Stamp.

    Ysar stepped forward with his usual grin.

    ¡°Guard work. Mostly informal. Light guarding.¡±

    The officer paused. Looked up.

    Ysar smiled wider.

    ¡°Very safe guarding.¡±

    Stamp. ¡°Next.¡±

    Elsha passed hers over.

    ¡°Same as him. Minus the drama.¡±

    Stamp.

    The officer didn¡¯t bother with goodbyes.

    They walked on.

    ¡°I forgot how warm this place isn¡¯t,¡± Karin muttered.

    Ysar glanced back at the booth.

    ¡°No magic, no welcome, no questions asked. I think I miss Ocean Tide already.¡±

    ¡°Keep your mouth downwind,¡± Elsha murmured. ¡°They banned Azure Wind the last time you spoke.¡±

    Ysar shook his head. ¡°It was unintentional! Accident!¡±

    Elsha nodded.

    ¡°Someone wanted to see if they could race the train. Bust the rail. Delay half a continent.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t derail anything¡ª¡± Ysar began.

    ¡°They panicked and dragged a vegetable cart onto the track,¡± Elsha said flatly.

    ¡°They were startled.¡±

    ¡°They were guilty.¡±

    ¡°This is going to be my favorite story,¡± Karin added.

    They approached the final booth, where luggage was being returned by name. An attendant with a clipboard called them forward.

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    ¡°Weapons for a group of four¡ªOcean Tide departure, Azure Wind signature?¡±

    Zafran stepped up.

    ¡°That¡¯s us.¡±

    The man raised a brow but said nothing, unlocking a chest behind him. Wrapped weapons¡ªbundled in safety cloth and sealed with wax tags¡ªwere placed on the counter one by one.

    Zafran took his sword with a silent nod. Elsha checked hers with precision. Ysar gave his blade a casual twirl¡ªuntil Elsha slapped his shoulder.

    They exited into the open street beyond the station.

    Electric bulbs hung from metal posts, stretched like a web across the city¡¯s skeleton. The buildings were even¡ªpale stone and slate, their windows narrow and reinforced. Carts clattered down clean roads¡ªdrawn by horses or slow, belt-driven gears powered by compressed valves and clumsy crankshafts. The entire town ticked like a watch. No dust. No music. No color outside of the flags hung from the tallest towers¡ªFyonar¡¯s crest in dark violet and silver, waving like a warning.

    They stood there a moment.

    ¡°This place still feels like it was built to impress someone,¡± Ysar muttered.

    Zafran looked down the street.

    ¡°I think we find a cart to the capital.¡±

    And so they started walking¡ªpast the humming lamps and silent streets, toward the place where the real work would begin.

    <hr>

    The cart creaked as it rolled along the main road, drawn by a pair of sturdy horses and driven by a man who hadn¡¯t spoken a word since departure. The bench seats groaned under the shifting weight of the four passengers, and the wind filtered through the open sides, brushing against cloaks and hair.

    They had left the station far behind. The chaos of East Fyonar faded quickly into the distance¡ªreplaced now by a different kind of silence.

    Fields lined the road, quiet and familiar at first¡ªstone fences, red-tiled rooftops, olive trees in neat rows. But then the scenery began to change.

    Thin black cables ran along the roadside, strung from tall wooden posts, their ends bound in iron loops. They dipped and swayed between pylons like strands of webbing¡ªconstant, unbroken. Some vanished into the ground. Others stretched toward buildings where metal rods jutted out from brick walls like skeletal limbs.

    Elsha frowned. ¡°Are those¡­ wires?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Karin said, almost offhandedly. ¡°Power lines.¡±

    Ysar squinted at one as they passed under it. ¡°Never seen so many wires like this.¡±

    They passed a town¡ªnot large, but recently built. Its rooftops were lower, simpler, its walls newly mortared. Yet every house had one thing in common: a single bulb fixture above the door, housed in iron lattice. Even in the daylight, some of them glowed faintly, as if they¡¯d forgotten how to turn off.

    ¡°Feels like someone¡¯s trying to tame lightning,¡± Elsha said.

    ¡°Someone already did,¡± Karin replied. ¡°Now they¡¯re just spreading it.¡±

    Ysar leaned out of the cart, eyes scanning the endless skein of wires that grew thicker the farther they went. ¡°I thought only the capital had this stuff.¡±

    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Karin said.

    The road grew smoother as they climbed. Paved stone gave way to cleaner brickwork¡ªinterlocked patterns that stretched straight toward the hills ahead. Far off, perched along the horizon, stood the capital.

    Fyonar.

    It rose from the valley floor like a crown of stone and metal. The outer walls were still the old kingdom¡ªtall, timeworn, lined with defensive towers. But within them, new spires rose: buildings of reinforced brick, crossed with girders, rooftops wired like webs. Cranes stood frozen above half-built frameworks. A network of pylons circled the city perimeter, feeding strands of cable inward like veins.

    Above all, the light. Even in daylight, bulbs glimmered from rooftops and road signs, blinking slowly¡ªpale fire born not from flame, but something else entirely.

    The others stared. No one spoke.

    ¡°It¡¯s like watching stone grow iron,¡± Elsha said, voice low.

    And none of them could quite tell whether the city looked alive¡ªor wired into something that only pretended to be.

    The cart continued forward. Not too long before they¡¯d reach Fyonar,

    and already, the air felt heavier.

    <hr>

    The capital greeted them not with fanfare, but with order.

    Stone towers loomed over clean roads, their old bones wrapped in newer layers of iron. Lamps hung from arching steel posts, blinking with artificial rhythm. The outer wall had been high and worn¡ªguarded, but passable with Seren¡¯s writ. Inside, the city felt tighter, sharper, as if it had learned to move without excess.

    The cart had left them near the central square, and from there, they walked.

    Fyonar¡¯s streets were wide where they needed to be, but walled in by symmetry. The storefronts were modest¡ªold stone patched with newer construction, metal reinforcements, latticework bulbs above doorframes, and copper gutters gleaming under sunwashed tile. The city had grown by layering over itself, and not everything beneath had agreed with the change.

    Ysar walked at the edge of the group, glancing up at the cables strung overhead. ¡°Feels like the wires are watching.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t blink, at least,¡± Karin said, hands tucked in her coat. ¡°That¡¯s how you know it¡¯s still a city.¡±

    Elsha moved quietly, eyes tracking the symbols above the buildings¡ªnoble crests, city banners, and increasingly, guild logos shaped like gears, scales, and bolts of light.

    Zafran slowed at a three-way split, unfolding a parchment¡ªSeren¡¯s map, smudged with travel, annotated in her neat hand.

    ¡°This way.¡±

    They turned off the main street.

    Here, the lamps thinned. The buildings leaned closer. Shutters were drawn, and balconies sagged on rusted supports. The alley sloped gently downward between walls of aging brick.

    Karin recognized the style¡ªpre-uprising Fyonar, before the nobles rewrote the zoning.

    They stopped in front of a narrow staircase beside a shuttered bookbindery. No signage. A single, unlit bulb hung over the frame.

    ¡°This is it?¡± Ysar asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Zafran nodded once. ¡°According to the map.¡±

    He stepped up first, the others following close. The door wasn¡¯t locked. It creaked open into a narrow room that smelled faintly of paper, ink, and dust.

    The flat was small¡ªslanted ceiling, narrow walls, a desk, a shelf, one wooden chair. One window. A cup still sat on the table, stained from a drink long dried. No signs of struggle. But no signs of life, either.

    Karin moved in slowly, brushing her fingers across the desk. ¡°Someone cleared it. But not thoroughly. There wasn¡¯t time.¡±

    Elsha knelt near the shelf, checking behind it, beneath it, around it. ¡°No ledgers. No files. Not even a name.¡±

    Zafran eased the window open. ¡°Not forced.¡±

    ¡°They left willingly,¡± Elsha said.

    ¡°Or were told to.¡±

    Ysar tapped one of the floorboards with his boot. ¡°They really didn¡¯t leave us much.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Someone¡¯s coming.¡±

    Elsha was already near the door. ¡°Steps. Light. Trained.¡±

    Two shadows passed the stair window.

    Then the door opened.

    Two masked figures stepped in¡ªlight-footed, lightly armored, moving like they expected the room to be empty.

    They froze.

    Not at the sight of Zafran exactly¡ªjust the fact that anyone was here at all.

    A beat. Then hands went to hilts.

    Too slow.

    Elsha was already in motion.

    She stepped forward and caught the nearest one just as his fingers found the hilt. With a sharp twist, she forced his arm upward, broke the draw, and pivoted¡ªdrove her elbow into his ribs, then swept his leg from beneath him. He collapsed without a sound.

    The second man turned toward her, but Ysar met him head-on.

    No flourish¡ªjust a clean step inside his guard, a strike across the neck, and a leg sweep that slammed him to the floor.

    Silence.

    No one else had moved.

    Zafran remained still¡ªwatching, weighing.

    Karin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Well then.¡±

    Zafran gave a quiet nod. ¡°Seems we¡¯re not in this alone.¡±

    He stepped forward and crouched beside one of the unconscious bodies. ¡°Fyonar blackline assassins.¡±

    ¡°Comforting,¡± Ysar muttered.

    The room felt colder now. The dust on the shelves had no story to tell. No ledgers. No names. Just silence¡ªand two bodies on the floor who knew as little as they did.

    <hr>

 Chapter 18: No Crown Without Chains

    <hr>

    The room had gone still again.

    The two men lay unconscious on the floor¡ªsilent.

    Zafran crouched beside one of them, studying the man¡¯s frame, his gear, the way his fingers curled inward even in unconsciousness.

    ¡°These are ghosts of the nobles. Assassination job¡ªno trace,¡± he said, picking up the dagger in the man¡¯s hand.

    Karin crossed her arms. ¡°Wonderful. So we knocked out a pair of ghosts.¡±

    ¡°Would that be a problem for us?¡± Ysar asked.

    ¡°Yes. We messed with the nobles,¡± Zafran answered.

    ¡°Great. Not a day in the city, and we¡¯ve already stepped on its tail.¡±

    Elsha moved to the window. Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Movement outside.¡±

    Zafran stood quickly.

    Too late.

    There was a knock at the door. Not hurried. Not violent. Just firm. Then a second. The latch turned, and the door creaked open.

    Five officers stepped in¡ªuniformed in dark gray, coats marked with the silver crest of Fyonar¡¯s civil branch. No one drew a weapon.

    The man in front scanned the room, then glanced down at the bodies.

    His voice was dry, official. ¡°This residence is under city investigation. You are all hereby detained for disturbance and unauthorized combat within city bounds.¡±

    Karin opened her mouth, but Zafran raised a hand. ¡°Comply.¡±

    Elsha stepped forward. ¡°They came at us first. No weapons were drawn until they¡ª¡±

    ¡°You may present your defense at the hearing,¡± the officer said, unmoved. ¡°You¡¯ll be held pending inspection and clearance. There are no formal charges yet.¡±

    Ysar sighed. ¡°That¡¯s never a good sentence.¡±

    Two more officers entered behind them¡ªnot hostile, just precise. They moved around the group, not to bind them¡ªjust to guide.

    Zafran exhaled slowly, giving the others a sign to follow.

    And so, without another word, they let themselves be taken.

    ¡°This is a bad idea,¡± Karin whispered, walking beside him.

    ¡°No. This is better. At least we¡¯re under the officials¡ªnot dealt with by the nobles.¡±

    Out the narrow flat, down the crooked stair, and into a city that had already begun to look different.

    They passed no crowds¡ªjust the quiet tension of a city that didn¡¯t blink. Lanterns watched from steel posts. Wires overhead hummed faintly, indifferent.

    At the holding station, they were led down a clean corridor lined with evenly spaced doors of iron-braced wood. No shouting. No threats. Only the methodical ticking of keys and boots.

    They were shown into a cell. Not dungeon-dark¡ªjust cold. Bare stone walls. Stone benches. Nothing else.

    The door clicked shut behind Karin last.

    She leaned against the wall, arms folded, and looked at no one in particular.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope someone up there has a reason to want us walking out.¡±

    <hr>

    Time passed like fog in the cell¡ªuncounted, heavy.

    Karin had paced a few times, circled the stone bench, muttered to herself, then sat again with a loud sigh. Ysar lay stretched along the wall, one arm draped over his eyes like he might fall asleep. Elsha hadn¡¯t moved. And Zafran¡ªZafran hadn¡¯t even blinked, as far as anyone could tell.

    The door finally opened. But it wasn¡¯t a guard.

    A tall man stepped in, dressed in the dark coat of the city watch. His silver insignia was polished clean. No armor, no helmet. Just calm authority.

    He flipped open a small leather ledger as he entered, eyes scanning the room behind half-moon spectacles.

    ¡°You four,¡± he said. ¡°Where are you from?¡±

    Zafran leaned forward slightly. ¡°Aren¡¯t officers obliged to give their name first?¡±

    The man didn¡¯t look up, but one brow rose.

    ¡°Veylan. Head Captain of Fyonar¡¯s city watch.¡±

    ¡°Head Captain?¡± Zafran added, measured. ¡°Investigating this in person?¡±

    Still no reply.

    Veylan turned a page. ¡°Who threw the first blow?¡±

    Karin raised a brow. ¡°That¡¯s your first question?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the one on paper.¡±

    ¡°They drew first,¡± Zafran said.

    ¡°Did either of the two identify themselves?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t speak,¡± Elsha answered. ¡°No insignia. No warning.¡±

    ¡°You know,¡± Veylan said, ¡°fighting within city bounds without clearance is arrestable.¡±

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    Ysar let out a breath. ¡°Yeah, we noticed.¡±

    Veylan¡¯s eyes flicked to him¡ªsharp, but not unkind. Then he shut the ledger and stepped closer.

    ¡°You know why I had to come to this case myself?¡±

    He didn¡¯t wait for an answer.

    ¡°Those two? Nobles¡¯ dogs. Quiet ones. You stepped on the wrong tail.¡±

    Ysar glanced between them. ¡°Which means¡­?¡±

    ¡°Which means,¡± Veylan said evenly, ¡°you¡¯re in trouble¡ªwhether you meant it or not. And when those dogs wake up and realize who kicked them, the people behind them won¡¯t be quiet.¡±

    He let the words settle, then asked, tone firmer, ¡°What were you doing there? That place?¡±

    Ysar opened his mouth, but Elsha nudged him lightly.

    Zafran then speak.

    ¡°We were looking for someone.¡±

    Karin¡¯s eyes widened, turning toward him. ¡°Zafran¡­¡±

    He didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°You might know where he is.¡±

    Veylan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Interesting. And those two were looking for the same man?¡±

    No answer.

    Veylan studied them for a moment longer¡ªthen stepped back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what game you¡¯ve walked into. And I don¡¯t want to. But I¡¯ll say this¡ªI¡¯ve seen the kind of people the nobles keep in their pocket. Power-hungry, paranoid, willing to burn half the kingdom to keep the other half blind.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°And whatever it is you¡¯re caught in¡­ you don¡¯t seem like them.¡±

    A knock interrupted the quiet.

    The door opened just slightly, and a younger officer leaned in.

    ¡°Chief¡ªThe Prince is here.¡±

    Veylan¡¯s jaw shifted slightly. He closed the ledger with a snap.

    ¡°Of course he is.¡±

    <hr>

    The silence didn¡¯t last long after Veylan left.

    Another set of footsteps followed¡ªsofter, slower, deliberate. There was no clatter of armor, no barked command. Just calm leather against stone, like someone who knew exactly how much noise to make.

    The cell door opened with a soft creak.

    He stepped inside alone.

    No escorts. No announcement. No crown. Just a man in a charcoal-gray coat, high-collared and finely made, but with no crest, no ornament. His boots were clean. His hands, gloved in thin black leather, were folded behind him.

    He looked young¡ªperhaps too young¡ªbut carried himself with the kind of stillness only power could teach.

    Zafran stood as soon as he entered. Karin followed, more from instinct than formality. Elsha rose a second later. Ysar stayed seated, arms crossed, but watching closely.

    The man nodded to them, just once. Courteous. Not apologetic.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you were left waiting,¡± he said. His voice was smooth, but quiet¡ªlike someone used to speaking in rooms that were always listening.

    He looked around the cell¡ªnoticing everything, but commenting on nothing.

    ¡°Forgive the lack of introduction. I should have spoken sooner.¡±

    He bowed his head slightly. ¡°Lucian. King, by the council¡¯s favor.¡±

    There was a pause.

    ¡°Not everyone agrees on the title.¡±

    A long beat, Ysar stood up quickly.

    ¡°A¡­ king?¡±

    ¡°Only when they allowed me to be¡±

    None of them replied. But something in the air shifted.

    ¡°I¡¯m told,¡± Lucian continued, ¡°that you were found beside two unconscious men.¡±

    He glanced between them¡ªnot accusatory, not testing. Just confirming.

    ¡°And those men were actually, send by Lord Rufinus. Which makes this situation¡­ fragile.¡±

    Karin narrowed her eyes. ¡°We didn¡¯t know who they were.¡±

    ¡°I believe you,¡± Lucian said calmly. ¡°And from the reports, it seems you were defending yourselves.¡±

    He took a single step closer¡ªnot looming, just closing the space.

    ¡°But you should understand what that means, here. Self-defense may absolve you by law. But the law does not always outrank influence. Especially not his.¡±

    Ysar gave a short, breathy laugh. ¡°So we¡¯re unlucky.¡±

    Lucian didn¡¯t smile, but there was something almost sympathetic in his expression. ¡°Unlucky, yes.¡±

    He paused again, gaze steady but not cold.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be released.¡±

    Zafran gave the smallest nod. ¡°Just like that?¡±

    Lucian met his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not guilty. I came only to ensure that fact remained intact¡ªbefore others made it¡­ more complicated.¡±

    Karin shifted, folding her arms. ¡°Why bother?¡±

    Lucian glanced toward the door, then back at her. His reply came gently.

    ¡°When the right thing is within your reach, won¡¯t you do it?¡±

    For a moment, none of them spoke.

    Then Lucian turned, resting one hand lightly on the edge of the open door.

    ¡°One last thing,¡± he said. ¡°The train from the eastern town departs in three hours. If I were in your position¡­ I wouldn¡¯t miss it.¡±

    He knocked once on the frame.

    Two guards appeared, silent as ghosts.

    Lucian stepped out without another word.

    And the cell door opened.

    <hr>

    The cell door opened with a slow groan.

    No words. No weapons. Just two officers standing outside, heads slightly bowed, waiting.

    Karin stepped out first, cautiously. Zafran followed, then Elsha and Ysar.

    The hallway was quiet¡ªeerily so. No other prisoners. No shouting. Just the steady sound of boots on polished stone, and the faint echo of distant wind against the tall outer walls.

    No one spoke.

    They were led back the way they¡¯d come, through corridors that felt longer than before. The guards didn¡¯t look at them, didn¡¯t offer explanation. But there was no aggression in their steps¡ªonly precision.

    At the front gate, they were handed back their weapons. Cleaned. Sheathed. Even the scabbards had been wiped down.

    ¡°This feels wrong,¡± Ysar muttered, strapping his blade to his back. ¡°Wrong and very expensive.¡±

    ¡°Quiet,¡± Elsha murmured.

    Outside, a single black carriage waited¡ªunmarked, polished, with brass fittings dulled to avoid shine. A driver sat ready, reins in hand. The horses were still, already facing east.

    The officer behind them spoke¡ªlow, formal.

    ¡°His Majesty arranged for your transport to the eastern station. The train departs within three hours.¡±

    Zafran nodded once and they climbed in.

    No escort. No fanfare. The door shut quietly behind them, and the carriage began to move.

    <hr>

    The carriage moved smoothly now, turning away from the dense quarters and toward broader avenues. Lamplight flickered through the windows as they passed shuttered shops and wire-strung posts. Fyonar was quiet again¡ªindifferent to their exit.

    After a few minutes, Ysar leaned his head back against the frame and sighed. ¡°We arrived this morning. Got jailed before lunch. And now we¡¯re riding back to the station like nothing happened.¡±

    ¡°At least you managed to cause some trouble,¡± Elsha said. ¡°So yes.¡±

    ¡°Still better than the last time,¡± Karin added. ¡°At least no one threw cabbage.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t my fault,¡± Ysar muttered.

    Karin looked out the window, arms crossed. ¡°We should count ourselves lucky. That wasn¡¯t just a scuffle¡ªwe stepped on something deep.¡±

    Elsha glanced her way. ¡°You think the king¡ªLucian¡ªreally went against that noble for us?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he played that move lightly,¡± Karin said. ¡°He didn¡¯t have to show up. But he did. That means something.¡±

    Zafran remained quiet.

    Ysar tilted his head. ¡°Still thinking?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if we should trust him,¡± Zafran said at last. ¡°Everything feels¡­ too clean.¡±

    Karin tilted her head. ¡°He helped us. That counts for something, clean or not.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s gaze dropped. ¡°Maybe. Or maybe this was just the easiest way to keep us out of sight.¡±

    Elsha leaned back slightly. ¡°Does it matter? Either way, we¡¯re out.¡±

    The carriage turned again, slipping into a narrower lane. The buildings pressed closer, stone and shadow shouldering in from either side. The wheels clicked louder on the cobbled turn.

    ¡°So where¡¯s this train even going?¡± Ysar asked.

    Karin looked at Elsha.

    She reached into her coat and pulled out a folded paper. ¡°East Jadinthar.¡±

    Ysar raised a brow. ¡°Seriously? That far?¡±

    Elsha murmured, ¡°Why Jadinthar?¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just the first outbound train,¡± Karin said. ¡°Any direction works, as long as it¡¯s away from here.¡±

    She glanced toward Zafran again. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    He didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°You¡¯re always like this after a narrow escape,¡± she added, softer now. ¡°Suspicious. Brooding.¡±

    He looked out the window. ¡°I just don¡¯t believe in easy exits.¡±

    ¡°This wasn¡¯t easy,¡± Karin said.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seems normal.¡±

    ¡°Define normal for me once.¡±

    Zafran let out a breath, barely a smirk. ¡°Good point.¡±

    The carriage slowed.

    Outside, the familiar sprawl of the eastern station came into view¡ªcrowded, pulsing with motion, just as they¡¯d left it.

    But something in the air had shifted.

    The train still waited on the far line, smoke curling up from its iron mouth, as if nothing had happened.

    Karin leaned forward slightly, watching the platform draw near.

    ¡°So,¡± she said quietly, ¡°into the forest.¡±

    <hr>

 Chapter 19: Interruptions

    The train hummed gently beneath them, the rhythm of wheels on steel like a lullaby stretched thin. It was the kind of motion that slipped past the skin, settling into bones and breath, until one almost forgot they were moving at all.

    They were two days out from Fyonar.

    The hours had grown soft and repetitive¡ªwood-paneled walls, quiet hallways, the clink of utensils during meal stops, and the low, ever-present drone of the engine. Meals came and went, sunrises slipped into muted gray skies. Beyond the windows, the land blurred in streaks of pine and stone and misted undergrowth, wild and quiet.

    In one of the smaller dining compartments, they sat around a table: two benches facing each other, padded but worn. On one side, Karin and Zafran. Opposite them, Ysar and Elsha.

    ¡°I¡¯m already bored,¡± Karin said, curled sideways on her bench, her boots nudging Zafran¡¯s shin. ¡°Four more days of this? We only got off once, and even then it was just for air and stale bread. I miss the luxury car.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re starting to sound like Ysar,¡± Zafran murmured, not looking up.

    ¡°That¡¯s a compliment,¡± Ysar said from across the table, lazily tapping a spoon on his cup.

    ¡°No thanks,¡± Karin muttered, rolling her head against the wooden paneling behind her.

    Elsha sat upright near the window, her teacup cupped between her hands, warmth curling upward in faint steam. Outside, the western forest loomed¡ªdense trees knotted with moss and silver bark, gliding past like a dream half-remembered.

    ¡°We should talk about Jadinthar,¡± she said. ¡°We can¡¯t go in unprepared.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Ysar replied. ¡°Let¡¯s plan. Just like Fyonar. That went great.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not walking into another city of nobles,¡± Karin said, stretching.

    ¡°I say we stop planning and start praying instead,¡± Ysar said, raising his eyes to the ceiling as if already trying.

    ¡°Like that time in Fyonar?¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t praying. That was negotiating.¡±

    A small laugh escaped Elsha¡¯s lips.

    ¡°Jadinthar¡¯s worse,¡± she said. ¡°They don¡¯t like outsiders.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t like anything,¡± Karin muttered. ¡°Except old robes and ancient rules.¡±

    ¡°Trait of all mages,¡± Ysar teased. ¡°You included.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re at the top of my hate list,¡± Karin said, without heat.

    Zafran let out a low chuckle¡ªjust enough for the others to notice, not enough to invite comment.

    The train swayed gently as it began to slow. A subtle shift in rhythm¡ªa different hum beneath their feet.

    Karin straightened. ¡°Another stop?¡±

    ¡°Third one today,¡± Ysar said, peering out the window. ¡°Looks smaller than the last.¡±

    Mist clung low across the tracks. The platform was barely more than stone and shadow¡ªone lantern flickered under a crooked roof. The buildings nearby looked half-abandoned, their shutters tight, their doors sun-bleached and leaning. A rusted bench and two iron poles marked the station.

    A few passengers boarded¡ªhooded, quiet, dust-caked from travel. The kind of people who disappeared into corners of the world without asking questions.

    Then came another figure.

    She stepped onto the train like she belonged to it.

    White cloak. Straight black hair. Pale skin. Her boots tapped lightly on the floor as she moved with purpose, her steps neither hurried nor hesitant. The cloak trailed softly behind her, catching the lamplight with each silent motion.

    Zafran¡¯s spine shifted. Just slightly.

    Karin noticed. Her eyes tracked his, then followed the hallway.

    A slow smirk spread across her lips.

    ¡°Well, well,¡± she said, her tone sweet with just enough sting. ¡°Look who¡¯s haunting the rails.¡±

    Ysar twisted around. ¡°Wait¡ªis that¡­?¡±

    ¡°The woman from Tavreth,¡± Elsha confirmed, not bothering to turn. Her voice was calm, as always.

    ¡°Ohhh,¡± Ysar said, voice rising. ¡°The wine-table girl.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Come on, Zafran,¡± Karin nudged. ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want to go say hi?¡±

    ¡°Being told to mind your own business once was enough,¡± Ysar added with a grin.

    Zafran sighed. ¡°You two¡­¡±

    ¡°Still haven¡¯t asked her name, huh?¡± Ysar said. ¡°At this rate, we¡¯ll reach Jadinthar and you¡¯ll still be wondering.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s coming this way,¡± Karin whispered, hand cupped near her mouth in mock suspense.

    They all looked.

    She passed their compartment.

    No glance. No shift in pace. Her eyes remained forward, her steps weightless. She moved like a wisp of wind cutting through still air. Just presence¡ªand then she was gone.

    The teasing faded.

    Silence slid in behind her like a tide. Even the rhythm of the train felt quieter.

    It was as though someone had opened a window that none of them could see¡ªand let in a stillness that didn¡¯t belong.

    Karin leaned back slowly, her expression more thoughtful now. ¡°She didn¡¯t even look at you.¡±

    ¡°Brutal,¡± Ysar murmured, less amused.

    Zafran¡¯s fingers rested against the window ledge, unmoving. His eyes lingered on the corridor long after she vanished.

    The mist outside thickened, ghosting the trees. Branches scraped past in a blur of grays and black.

    Elsha finally broke the quiet. ¡°Still think they¡¯ll love you in Jadinthar?¡± she asked Ysar.

    He blinked, caught off guard by the shift. ¡°I¡¯m reconsidering,¡± he muttered.

    Karin folded her arms. ¡°I just hope we get there without another royal arrest.¡±

    No one responded.

    The train moved on.

    And behind them, silence lingered where her presence had passed.

    Then came the jolt.

    A grinding lurch shuddered through the car¡ªteacups rattled, boots scraped the floor, Karin nearly slipped from her seat.

    A heartbeat later, it hit.

    Not thunder. Not brakes.

    An explosion.

    Somewhere ahead.

    <hr>

    ¡°What was that sound!?¡± Karin snapped upright, already halfway to her feet.

    The jolt came again¡ªharder this time, dragging the whole train into a slow, grinding lean. A screech tore through the air, metal shrieking against metal. The lights above them flickered, then steadied.

    Cups rattled. Elsha grabbed the edge of the table. ¡°That wasn¡¯t just brakes¡ª¡±

    Then came the impact.

    Not in their car¡ªbut forward. A deep, shuddering crunch, followed by the unmistakable crack of something snapping. The floor tilted slightly. Then hissed.

    Steam burst past the windows.

    Passengers screamed.

    Someone in the next compartment shouted, ¡°It¡¯s off the rail!¡±

    The train groaned, its weight shifting again¡ªand then stillness. But not the peaceful kind.

    Outside the window, black smoke billowed from somewhere ahead. Trees blurred by, then stopped altogether. The forest returned, unmoving and still.

    Zafran was already up.

    Karin turned sharply. ¡°What just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Front car,¡± Zafran muttered, eyes scanning the smoke. ¡°Engine¡¯s hit.¡±

    Ysar stood unsteadily. ¡°So¡­ we stop here now?¡±

    But no one laughed.

    A second burst shook the car¡ªless violent, but enough to bring more screams. Somewhere down the train, someone yanked a door open and jumped.

    Shouts now¡ªguards, passengers, chaos. The corridor filled with voices and motion.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Karin grabbed her coat. ¡°What do we do?¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t answer yet. His gaze had fixed on the hallway¡ªon a pale flash of motion ahead.

    A white cloak.

    Moving calmly. Toward the front.

    Zafran stepped into the aisle, pushing through the passengers.

    Karin blinked. ¡°Zaf? Where are you¡ª¡±

    He didn¡¯t turn.

    ¡°Zafran!¡±

    Still nothing. Just the silhouette of his back disappearing into smoke and motion.

    Karin hesitated.

    Behind her, more passengers scrambled to grab their things. Someone kicked open a side hatch. Ysar was shouting something¡ªElsha pulled him back from the window.

    The train began to lean again, groaning like something wounded.

    Karin¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    And then she followed.

    <hr>

    The air thickened as Karin moved down the corridor¡ªsmoke, dust, something acrid threading into her lungs. The world blurred with movement: passengers shouting, pushing past her, some dragging bags, others holding children, most with panic scrawled across their faces.

    She pushed forward anyway.

    The train had leaned at an angle now¡ªslightly, but enough to make the footing uneven. Her boots slipped once on the metal grating between cars. She caught the handrail, steadied herself.

    Ahead, Zafran was already gone.

    She glimpsed only the swing of a door closing, its glass darkened by soot.

    ¡°Idiot,¡± she muttered, breath tight. ¡°What are you doing¡­¡±

    Elsha and Ysar were behind her somewhere, but she didn¡¯t wait.

    The closer she got to the front, the louder it grew¡ªnot just the creak of metal or the hiss of broken steam valves, but shouting¡ªdisorganized, half-lost in the clatter of feet.

    And beneath it all¡­ silence. A strange, unnerving silence in the air ahead, like something had swallowed the noise whole.

    Karin¡¯s boots hit the dirt unevenly as she leapt down from the tilted car, her landing softened only by ash and loose gravel. Smoke curled low around her ankles. Heat radiated from the engine wreck, a thick, suffocating wave pressing in against her coat.

    She squinted through the haze.

    Zafran stood ahead, still as stone.

    He hadn¡¯t gone far¡ªjust past the broken rail, at the edge of where the trees bent back from the impact. His shoulders were square, arms loose by his side, but something about his stillness felt too sharp. Like he was bracing.

    Karin jogged up behind him. ¡°Zafran!¡±

    No answer.

    She stepped beside him¡ªand froze.

    Just beyond the clearing, where the wreck had carved its violent path into the woods, the bodies lay.

    Half a dozen men¡ªno, more¡ªscattered in the brush. Some burned black, others cleaved open, bones and armor cracked clean. One had been hurled into a tree with such force the bark had split.

    And standing among them¡ª

    The woman in white.

    But not walking now.

    Moving.

    A blur of motion that barely made sound, only impact. Her cloak dragged red where it passed. Her sword¡ªthin, straight¡ªwas already wet. She moved like wind through wheat, each strike deliberate, final.

    One man lunged from behind a tree.

    She spun low, swept his leg from under him with a flash of ice¡ªreal ice, piercing from the ground like a sudden breath of winter. It snapped through his thigh with a sound too clean.

    He screamed. She silenced it with one step and a precise thrust.

    Karin¡¯s breath caught.

    ¡°She¡­¡± Her voice died in her throat.

    She couldn¡¯t look away.

    There was no anger in the woman¡¯s face. No fury. No hesitation.

    She wasn¡¯t fighting. She was executing.

    No glance at the wrecked train. No concern for the passengers still stumbling away.

    No care that innocent lives had nearly been caught in the blast.

    And she didn¡¯t care who else stood too close.

    Karin¡¯s breath hitched.

    ¡°She¡¯s the one who¡ª¡± she whispered, voice frayed.

    Zafran¡¯s voice was low, steady. ¡°No. They set the bomb.¡±

    He gestured with his chin.

    The corpses strewn across the clearing¡ªsome still smoldering¡ªwore no markings, no uniforms. But now, through the settling smoke, Karin saw them for what they were. Assassins. Saboteurs. Well-armed. Too many.

    More were emerging from the trees¡ªat least a dozen more still standing. Some regrouping. Some retreating.

    Some readying for a second charge.

    The woman didn¡¯t stop.

    Zafran¡¯s jaw tightened.

    ¡°She¡¯s outnumbered,¡± Karin said.

    ¡°She knows,¡± he replied.

    Then, finally, he moved.

    <hr>

    Zafran moved like a ghost between the wreckage¡ªsilent, fast, precise.

    Ahead of him, she was already in motion.

    The woman in white carved through the trees like a falling star. Her sword danced in cold arcs, slicing men apart with terrifying ease. One ambusher screamed as an icicle erupted through his chest, another fell limp as her heel crushed his ribs before her sword ended the motion.

    He reached her just as a third attacker lunged from the flank.

    Zafran¡¯s sword cut in¡ªdeflecting, disarming, dropping the man with swift precision. He stepped between the crumpled body and a bleeding merchant behind him.

    Still, she didn¡¯t stop. Or speak.

    Another came at her from the left¡ªshe pivoted, sword rising like a tide. Her edge cleaved up through his chest. The spray of frost and blood hadn¡¯t settled before she turned again, driving her sword into the next without pause.

    But with every stroke, frost scattered. Pillars of ice burst outward, uncaring of direction¡ªlashing toward the trees, the dirt, and anything near.

    Zafran¡¯s jaw clenched.

    ¡°Wait¡ªstop! There are civilians!¡±

    She didn¡¯t.

    Another cut¡ªwide and brutal¡ªsent shards sweeping toward a group of crawling passengers. One man cried out, leg instantly frozen over a half-healed burn.

    Zafran moved in.

    His sword intercepted hers¡ªsteel crashing against steel with a sharp, shuddering crack. He forced her back just enough to shield the civilians behind.

    Her eyes met his.

    It¡¯s a teal colored eyes, deep, and cold.

    Still calm. Still cold.

    ¡°Get out of my way,¡± she said.

    ¡°Not if you¡¯re going to kill everyone around you.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re in the way.¡±

    ¡°Then go around them.¡±

    She moved.

    Her knee darted up¡ªsharp, precise. He blocked, staggered back, caught her next strike just in time. Her sword crashed down, and he pushed against it, sliding through the ash, barely holding.

    She pressed.

    Her style was light, quick, constantly shifting. Frost bloomed at her heels, controlling the terrain, bending movement in her favor.

    Zafran twisted, parried low¡ªshe was already behind him.

    He turned, blocked just in time, his sword ringing with the force.

    She didn¡¯t speak. She circled¡ªmeasured.

    Every strike tested something. His speed. His guard. His balance.

    He countered. Barely.

    She swept his leg with a rush of ice¡ªhe jumped, caught the edge of a rail, recovered. She followed, sword flashing upward. He blocked, but her edge nicked his coat¡ªcloser than before.

    He grunted, grounded himself, met her again.

    She drove forward. He turned the sword, caught her strike mid-air, locked for half a second¡ªthen need to quickly jumped off because of the icicle coming afterwards.

    He held ground by sheer control. No openings. No wild swings.

    But the pressure was building.

    More bodies dropped nearby¡ªsome by her hand, some by his. Still, they circled one another in the smoke and ruin¡ªan orbit growing tighter.

    Zafran¡¯s breathing was harder now. Her face¡ªunchanged. She wasn¡¯t winded. Not even annoyed.

    He parried another high sweep, followed with a sharp thrust¡ªbut she vanished to the side, low sweep forcing him to retreat.

    The tempo was hers.

    <hr>

    Zafran¡¯s breathing quickened, boots scuffing against scorched soil as he turned, sword raised. She was already coming at him again.

    Every strike she made was faster, sharper, cleaner¡ªtoo clean. Her footwork barely left a mark in the ash. Her sword carved through the air like it had no weight.

    He blocked. Barely.

    Her blade screeched against his, cold trailing in its wake. She pivoted low, swept at his ankles. He jumped¡ªjust in time. Her follow-up came from above. He raised his sword to meet it, the force of her swing numbing his shoulder.

    He held the guard. Barely.

    Still, she didn¡¯t speak. Still, she didn¡¯t stop.

    Another strike¡ªfeint high, cut low. He twisted, missed the first edge, caught the second. She flicked her wrist and the impact rolled through his guard, nearly unbalancing him.

    But he didn¡¯t fall.

    He never quite did.

    Her eyes narrowed.

    She advanced again¡ªtesting with tighter angles now, not just power or speed but spacing. Timing.

    He blocked another cut. Then another. But each one took more from him. The steam and ice around them blurred their outlines, their blades clashing in flashes of silver and white.

    And yet¡ª

    Each time she should have landed a blow, he was gone. Just a breath late. Just a toe-length out of reach.

    Her gaze flicked to his shoulders, his footwork, his center of gravity.

    He was holding back.

    She stopped mid-attack, drew back a step, sword low.

    ¡°You¡¯re holding back, why?¡± she said, voice flat.

    Zafran didn¡¯t respond.

    She adjusted her grip. Her posture shifted¡ªweight forward, stance tight.

    Then she came at him again.

    Faster.

    He met her¡ªbut the parry shook him, forced him back.

    She pressed, ice trailing behind her as her sword slashed in a blur.

    Zafran ducked one strike, leaned under the next. A frost-coated arc missed his cheek by an inch. Her sword came again¡ªhe caught it mid-swing, slid his edge along hers in a rare offensive move that almost surprised her.

    She stepped back.

    Her mouth didn¡¯t move, but her eyes said it.

    She was going to end this.

    And then¡ª

    Flame.

    A streak of fire roared between them, searing the ground, melting frost to steam in an instant.

    The battlefield hissed, and for the first time, both of them stopped moving.

    Karin stood beyond the smoke, one hand raised, the other clenched. Her expression unreadable¡ªbut her fire still burned on the rail between them.

    ¡°Enough!¡± she shouted, voice sharp, cutting the moment clean in half.

    <hr>

    The fire hissed, carving steam through the air. For a second, the battlefield held its breath.

    She stood still on the other side of the flame, her sword at her side. The frost along her boots began to melt.

    She blinked once, slowly.

    Her eyes flicked toward Karin.

    Not angry. Not wild.

    Just sharp.

    Surprised, maybe.

    At the strength of the fire. At the heat.

    At the fact someone dared interrupt her.

    Karin¡¯s stance was unsteady, but her hand didn¡¯t lower.

    She took one step forward¡ªand the flame flared again.

    Karin threw another stream of fire, this one wider, brighter, fed by panic. It seared across the wreckage¡ªbut the woman in white was already moving.

    She slipped through the flame like a ghost, weaving through the heat as if it barely touched her cloak.

    A flicker. A blur.

    And then she was in front of Karin.

    Steel lifted.

    Her sword came down¡ªswift, silent, final.

    Clang.

    Zafran caught it.

    Steel clashed, teeth clenched, weight met weight.

    He held his ground, Karin just behind him¡ªfrozen in place.

    ¡°Stop,¡± he said.

    She eyes met his. They were as calm as before¡ªbut something else flickered now. Recognition. Frustration. Calculation.

    She pressed the sword harder against his.

    Then, his sword glow, subtle, but can¡¯t be a mistake.

    Just a second after, his swing send her steps backwards, powerful, surely, but holding back still.

    She staggered back, interrupted.

    Her eyes fell to his sword. The glow was gone already.

    Then to her hand.

    Trembled.

    Her lips pressed into a line. But not from anger.

    From thought.

    ¡°You love poking into other people¡¯s problems,¡± she said.

    ¡°She¡¯s not your enemy.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s in the way.¡±

    ¡°So was I.¡±

    A pause.

    The wreckage around them crackled softly. The last embers of battle died in the wind.

    Then¡ªfinally¡ªShe stepped back.

    Just enough to lower her sword.

    Elsha and Ysar arrived, breathless. Too late. But wide-eyed.

    They came to a sudden stop behind Karin, just as the smoke thinned.

    ¡°What in the gods¡ª¡± Ysar began.

    The shattered wreck of the front cars lay crumpled in the clearing, metal twisted like torn bark. Bodies were strewn between scorched trees and broken beams. Some burned, some frozen, some torn apart cleanly by sword or shrapnel. The ground was littered with shattered weapons, bits of ice, and seared remnants of cloaks and boots. A few of the dead still steamed where frost met heat.

    Ysar¡¯s mouth opened, but no words came.

    Elsha¡¯s eyes swept the battlefield, then locked on the woman in white.

    She hadn¡¯t moved.

    Karin stood still, just behind Zafran, silent.

    And Zafran slowly lowered his sword¡ªbut didn¡¯t sheath it.

    His voice was steady. ¡°Who were they?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked again, softer now.

    She looked at him once.

    Then turned to the nearest body, nudged it with her foot, and bent slightly¡ªher sword hooking something small from the torn fabric of a tunic.

    With a flick of her sword, she sent it through the air.

    Zafran caught it.

    A pin. Bronze, worn with scratches, but the emblem unmistakable:

    A crimson glove, curled tight.

    Karin stepped forward, her voice low. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Crimson Hand.¡±

    Zafran stared at the pin in his palm, brows drawn. The crimson glove glinted faintly under the fading light.

    Elsha stepped in beside him, her eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that symbol before.¡±

    Everyone turned to her.

    ¡°In the apartment¡ªwhere we were arrested. There was a carving under the shelf. I didn¡¯t think much of it, but now¡­¡± Her voice trailed.

    Karin looked sharply at her. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    Elsha nodded. ¡°Same curve. Same clenched fingers.¡±

    Zafran¡¯s voice came quietly. ¡°So it¡¯s all connected. The informant. The ambush. The arrest.¡±

    The woman said nothing. Her back had already turned, half-fading into the haze of the battlefield.

    Zafran called out, ¡°If we¡¯re after the same thing¡ªshould we go together?¡±

    Karin blinked. ¡°Wait, seriously?¡±

    The woman didn¡¯t stop. ¡°You don¡¯t even know where I¡¯m going,¡± she said over her shoulder.

    ¡°Maybe not,¡± Zafran said. ¡°But I¡¯m willing to bet we¡¯ll end up in the same place.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Do whatever you want,¡± she muttered¡ªand started walking.

    Then, just as she reached the trees, she turned slightly, just enough for her voice to carry.

    ¡°Isolde,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve asked me twice.¡±

    And then she walked on¡ªvanishing into the broken woods without looking back.

    Ysar and Karin stood still, glancing at each other, then at Zafran.

    ¡°¡­Are we just letting that happen?¡± Ysar asked.

    Karin opened her mouth, then closed it.

    Then, with a sigh, she took the first step forward.

    One by one, they followed.

 Chapter 20: One More Time

    <hr>

    The forest was quieter here.

    Not silent¡ªjust quieter in a way that crept beneath the skin. No birdsong. No rustling wind. Just the soft crush of boots on damp soil and the occasional snap of twigs underfoot.

    They had been walking for hours.

    Branches closed above, filtering the sunlight into fractured beams that drifted like ghost-lanterns between the trees. The ground was uneven, sloping and root-twisted, and their pace had long settled into something mechanical¡ªfoot after foot, breath after breath.

    Isolde led them, as she had since morning. Always just ahead, never looking back. She didn¡¯t speak. Didn¡¯t ask if they were keeping up. But she didn¡¯t outpace them either. Somehow, they always found her silhouette again between the trees.

    Karin glanced at Zafran. ¡°Feels like we¡¯ve circled this hill three times.¡±

    Ysar snorted. ¡°We have circled this hill three times.¡±

    Elsha walked just behind them, her voice even. ¡°No, they just look alike.¡±

    Karin muttered. ¡°We¡¯re not even sure she¡¯s leading us anywhere.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have anywhere else to go,¡± Zafran said.

    Ysar shifted the pack on his shoulder. ¡°I just wish she¡¯d say something. Maybe a nice ¡®keep moving, we¡¯re nearly there¡¯ or ¡®oh look, an ambush ahead.¡¯ Anything.¡±

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem like the type,¡± Elsha said.

    ¡°No, really?¡± Ysar muttered.

    They fell into silence again.

    The path narrowed. Roots tangled under their boots. A thin stream cut across the trail, shallow and quick, glinting in the slanted light. Isolde stepped across without pause. The others followed¡ªless graceful, more tired.

    ¡°Tell me again,¡± Karin said suddenly, not looking up, ¡°Why this isn¡¯t a mistake?¡±

    Zafran¡¯s gaze lingered on Isolde¡¯s back. ¡°Because we¡¯re still moving.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°It¡¯s not.¡±

    They walked.

    No destination. No map. Only that steady figure in white, threading ahead through the wild.

    And behind her, four people¡ªfollowing the only shadow that hadn¡¯t tried to kill them yet.

    <hr>

    They walked until the light began to break and spill sideways, long and golden between the trees. By the time the sun dipped behind the canopy, even Isolde began to slow.

    Her steps faltered¡ªnot with exhaustion, but with decision.

    Zafran noticed first. He stepped closer, watching her scan the thicket ahead.

    ¡°I¡¯m resting here tonight,¡± she said, not bothering to turn.

    Her voice, as always, was level¡ªno fatigue, no request. Just fact.

    Zafran nodded once and returned to the others, raising a hand. ¡°We¡¯ll make camp here.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t think she needed rest,¡± Ysar muttered, already stooping to gather firewood. ¡°Figured she¡¯d just keep walking into the next world.¡±

    Karin sat down heavily on a root and stretched her boots off.

    Elsha was quiet, helping set the tent without comment.

    Isolde, as expected, did not join them.

    She stayed near the edge of the trees¡ªleaning against the trunk of a wide old oak, half-shadowed, half-lit by moonlight. Her white cloak didn¡¯t catch dirt. Her boots looked as untouched as they had that morning. She sat like a statue carved by wind, not time.

    When the fire was crackling and a few skewers roasted gently above it, Zafran stood, picked up a spare, and quietly turned toward the edge of the clearing.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Ysar asked, squinting at the skewer in Zafran¡¯s hand. ¡°Ghosts don¡¯t eat mortal food, you know.¡±

    ¡°You should¡¯ve brought flowers,¡± he added. ¡°Or a candle.¡±

    Zafran gave no reply¡ªjust kept walking.

    ¡°Or a formal apology,¡± Karin said. ¡°For surviving her ice.¡±

    Elsha gave the faintest sigh, adjusting the pot near the fire. ¡°Quiet. He¡¯s already committed.¡±

    ¡°My bad.¡± Karin said, biting at her skewer.

    They all watched¡ªjust a little¡ªas Zafran¡¯s figure slipped from firelight into the edge of trees.

    She didn¡¯t look up until his shadow crossed hers.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t eat.¡±

    Her reply came with a small shift of posture. She reached into one of her inner pockets and pulled out a folded piece of travel bread¡ªdry, plain, gray around the edges.

    ¡°This is enough.¡±

    Zafran lowered the skewer slightly. ¡°At least take something warm. It won¡¯t kill you.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s not a guarantee I usually trust.¡±

    Still, after a beat, she reached out and took the stick.

    ¡°Don¡¯t expect a thank you.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t,¡± he said, turning.

    ¡°Why did you hold back?¡± she asked, before he could leave.

    Zafran paused. His back was still to her. ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°In the fight. You used magic. Briefly. Just enough to stop me.¡±

    Silence stretched between them.

    She bit off a piece of the meat, chewing without interest.

    ¡°You¡¯re from Ocean Tide, right? That technique¡ªAuxiliary Magic. I¡¯ve seen it before, and I know what it looks like when someone doesn¡¯t use all of it.¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer.

    She looked up. ¡°So why?¡±

    He finally turned halfway toward her. ¡°The same question goes to you.¡±

    She blinked, just once. ¡°Because if I hadn¡¯t, you¡¯d be dead.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡±

    A pause.

    The fire back at the camp crackled faintly.

    She took another bite and said, almost thoughtfully, ¡°That red-haired mage. She¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not. We¡¯re not¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªLovers. Right.¡± Her voice cut cleanly, but not with sarcasm. Just tired certainty. ¡°Not my business. But if she keeps moving the way she does, she won¡¯t last long. You should stop following me if you want her to live.¡±

    Zafran looked at the ground for a moment. Then at her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure she does.¡±

    Isolde¡¯s response came fast. ¡°Can you?¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer.

    His eyes drifted to the trees behind her, the stars through the leaves. Something unreadable passed across his face. Then he said, quietly, ¡°You¡¯re more talkative than I thought.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re stupid than I thought.¡± she replies, slowly turn back to her position.

    Zafran gave a small sigh and turned away, footsteps soft on the forest floor.

    She didn¡¯t watch him go.

    Just shifted her weight slightly, head resting against the tree, eyes half-closed. No one could tell if she drifted into sleep.

    Or if she simply waited for dawn.

    Back by the fire, Karin gaze at them from afar, then back to the flame, full of thought.

    She could still see it¡ªIsolde¡¯s sword rising, her own fire collapsing. That last breath before steel would¡¯ve met skin.

    If Zafran had not stepped in, shielded her.

    And she¡¯d done nothing but burn wild.

    <hr>

    The fire had died down to a quiet glow. The camp lay hushed¡ªonly the sound of night insects and shifting leaves whispered through the clearing.

    Everyone had turned in.

    Everyone but Karin.

    She sat alone, away from the tents and fading embers, her boots off, coat folded neatly beside her. Bare hands hovered over the earth, pale in the silver wash of moonlight.

    She lit a flame.

    It rose instantly. Bright. Fierce. Untamed.

    And wrong.

    Karin frowned and narrowed her fingers around it, trying to twist it tighter, sharper¡ªtrying to force it into something smaller, more useful. The flame twitched in protest, then snapped sideways and vanished, like a thread yanked taut and cut too short.

    She hissed under her breath. ¡°Stupid.¡±

    She tried again, slower this time. A spiral. A controlled ribbon. Halfway through, it flared¡ªtoo hot, too fast¡ªand scorched the hem of her sleeve. She slapped it out with a grunt.

    The problem wasn¡¯t power.

    She had more power than any flame-wielder she¡¯d ever met.

    But when it counted¡ªwhen steel sliced the air and fear closed in¡ªher fire scattered. Loud, wild, brilliant¡­ useless.

    She clenched her fists.

    A footstep.

    Karin turned quickly.

    Zafran.

    He stood with arms folded, watching her quietly. Not judging. Just¡­ there.

    She groaned. ¡°How long were you standing there?¡±

    ¡°Long enough.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to tell me I¡¯m doing it wrong, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°You are.¡±

    She gave a dry laugh. ¡°Of course.¡±

    He stepped closer, crouched beside her in the grass, eyes flicking to the scorch marks on her coat.

    ¡°You¡¯re forcing it. Trying to shrink it. Fire doesn¡¯t work like that.¡±

    ¡°You said I needed control.¡±

    ¡°Yes. But not suppression.¡±

    He pointed toward the dying campfire. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of control as holding it back. But fire isn¡¯t like that. It burns forward. Surges.¡±

    She gave a flat stare. ¡°So what, I¡¯m supposed to just let it run wild and hope for the best?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said calmly. ¡°You guide it. Not choke it.¡±

    She watched him for a moment¡ªsearching for the catch in his words, but found none.

    Karin hesitated. Then let the fire curl back into her palm¡ªslower, gentler this time. She didn¡¯t force it to spiral. Just let it breathe.

    ¡°It¡¯s like asking a storm to behave,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°Not quite. You¡¯re the storm.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°That¡¯s not helpful.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t smile, but there was a quiet note of amusement in his voice. ¡°Try something with me.¡±

    She tensed. ¡°That tone never ends well.¡±

    He reached out¡ªnot suddenly, just steady¡ªand guided her hand to the side.

    ¡°Point your palm that way. Open ground. Fire a small burst. Not to burn. Just to push.¡±

    Karin narrowed her eyes. ¡°You want me to launch myself with flame?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡±

    ¡°You nearly died last time,¡± he said. ¡°This might keep you alive.¡±

    She inhaled, braced her stance, and ignited a pulse of fire.

    It blasted out¡ªtoo much.

    She stumbled, lost her balance, and hit the ground hard with a yelp. Dust rose around her.

    Zafran didn¡¯t laugh. He stepped over and offered his hand. ¡°I said small burst.¡±

    She took it, grumbling. ¡°You could¡¯ve said ¡®gentle¡¯ instead of ¡®push¡¯.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never been gentle with fire. Why start now?¡±

    She raised an eyebrow at him.

    He only nodded toward the same patch of ground. ¡°Again.¡±

    This time, she focused. Both hands, lower angle, smaller ignition.

    The fire hissed¡ªand her body slid across the clearing in a short, sharp burst. She caught herself with a wide step, blinking.

    ¡°Well,¡± she said. ¡°That was¡­¡±

    ¡°Motion,¡± Zafran said. ¡°Real motion. Not just force.¡±

    She tried again. Misjudged the angle. Ended up spinning and rolling with a grunt.

    Again¡ªtoo far. Hit a root, skidded hard, her coat catching another scorch.

    Her breathing picked up¡ªnot from exertion, but from trying to measure it all.

    Karin sat back on her heels, fingers raw, hair half-loosened around her neck. ¡°It¡¯s like the power comes out faster than I can think.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re trying to calculate.¡±

    ¡°I should calculate.¡±

    ¡°No. You should feel it.¡±

    He crouched again, more serious now. ¡°Anyway¡ªhow far do you want to go? How fast? What angle? Set the intention. The flame only obeys what you¡¯re ready for.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°That sounds like calculation.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but do it with your instinct, not your brain.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ abstract.¡±

    ¡°Just try.¡±

    Karin gave a long exhale. ¡°I almost forgot that you were once an Ocean Tide Royal Knight.¡±

    Zafran didn¡¯t reply.

    ¡°Auxiliary magic, right? You trained with all that¡ªand you almost never use it.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten it.¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you use it?¡±

    ¡°Because sometimes the sword is enough.¡±

    Her eyes flicked down to her fingers, red with heat. ¡°Is it?¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer.

    She looked at him longer this time. The image of Isolde¡¯s sword slashing down on her still burned behind her eyes.

    Long enough, both of them kept the silence.

    ¡°Anyway, thanks,¡± she finally said. ¡°This feels different. Real. Not like those stupid theory books.¡±

    ¡°Academia books? Don¡¯t follow them. Full of bullshit.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°You really hate them that much, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±

    A laugh. Quiet. Real.

    After that, Karin stood slowly, brushing her palms clean. ¡°Zafran.¡±

    She called his name before a long pause¡­

    ¡°One more time.¡±

    And her palm lit again.

    <hr>