"Let's go out for a walk," Tiana offered, her voice gentle.

  Cale looked up at her, his eyes red and gssy from tears not yet dry. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then he gave a slow, silent nod.

  He stood—hesitant at first—and Tiana wrapped her arm around his. Without another word, they stepped out of their room and descended the creaking stairs. The common room buzzed with the hum of ughter and clinking mugs, but neither of them paid it much attention.

  Outside, the sun had already set, leaving the streets awash in the soft glow of nterns hanging from rusted hooks and crooked posts. Shadows flickered along the cobblestones, casting dancing silhouettes that seemed to watch as they walked.

  The evening air was thick with the scent of smoke, roasting meat, sweat, and something less pleasant—perhaps the nearby tanner’s shop or a poorly drained alley. Cale wrinkled his nose slightly but said nothing.

  They moved through the crowded streets of the city, surrounded by a constant tide of people. A group of men staggered out of a nearby tavern, slurring half-sung verses of a song Cale didn’t recognize. The scent of alcohol clung to them like oil, sharp and sour.

  Further down the road, a circle of townsfolk had gathered around a street performer pying a worn lute. The man’s fingers danced over the strings as he sang, voice rich with emotion. Copper coins clinked against the stones as they were tossed toward his feet. Cale paused for a second, watching the man with tired eyes.

  To their left, a procession of hooded figures passed slowly, wearing dark robes and moving in eerie unison. Their eyes were hidden beneath shadowed hoods.

  Cale shivered.

  They moved on.

  Children dashed between legs, chasing each other with wooden swords, their ughter echoing down the narrow alleys. Market stalls—long since closed—stood like empty sentinels beneath awnings of faded cloth.

  Tiana said nothing as they walked, allowing the rhythm of the city to carry them forward.

  Eventually, they reached a small stone bridge that arched over a canal. They paused there, leaning against the edge as water shimmered below, catching the light of the nterns. Above them, the sky had cleared. Stars winked into view one by one, and a silver half-moon cast its glow over the rooftops.

  Cale tilted his head back to look.

  "This is the first time I’ve visited a city," he said softly. "There are so many people living here. It feels... unreal."

  Tiana looked at him, her expression gentle. She reached for his hand and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze.

  They crossed the bridge and took a narrow road that curved between stone buildings. The city quieted as they walked, the bustle fading behind them.

  Finally, they arrived at their destination—a modest building nestled between taller shops. Hanging above the door was a wooden pque bearing the symbol of a broken pike, painted in faded gold. The shutters were painted red, drawn closed against the night. A faint hum of voices and music leaked through the cracks.

  Cale stared at the sign for a long moment.

  This was it.

  The Broken Pike.

  Lui was waiting inside.

  They stepped inside.

  The tavern was warm and dimly lit, the scent of pipe smoke and roasted pork hanging heavy in the air. The wooden floor was worn smooth by countless boots, and the walls were lined with shields, broken bdes, and faded banners—trophies of battles long forgotten. A rge hearth crackled near the back, casting flickering light over the patrons who filled the tables, ughing, drinking, and occasionally shouting over one another.

  Cale scanned the room until his gaze nded on Lui and Bor, seated at a table to the far right, tucked against the wall. Several empty mugs cluttered the tabletop. Lui’s face was flushed red, his posture slouched as he stared at the grain of the wood. Bor sat beside him, a mug of ale in one hand, unmoving, eyes locked on the swirling amber inside as if it held the answer to something long lost.

  Cale and Tiana walked toward them. As they approached, Lui and Bor looked up and straightened slightly, bowing their heads respectfully to Tiana.

  A serving woman arrived at their side, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anything to drink?"

  Tiana answered for them. "A mug of ale for everyone at the table."

  The woman nodded and quickly disappeared into the bustle.

  They sat.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Just the ambient hum of the tavern filled the silence.

  "How are you guys?" Cale asked, his voice soft.

  Bor was the first to respond. He didn’t lift his gaze from his mug.

  "Alive. For now," he muttered, his tone low and hard. There was a bitterness in his voice—not aimed at anyone in particur, just the residue of something too heavy to speak aloud.

  Lui looked up. His eyes were red too, though not from drink alone.

  "We spent the day drinking," he said slowly.

  Bor grunted and finally looked up. "We sit here and drink like fools, when we should be out there making them pay for what they did."

  Cale’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what to say.

  He looked at Tiana. Her expression remained neutral, calm, even as she observed the grief in Bor’s eyes.

  Lui ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. "There’s a pit in my stomach. Like I should’ve done something. Like maybe if we hadn’t gone to the city..."

  "You’d be dead too," Tiana said gently but firmly.

  Lui nodded slowly, exhaling through his nose. "I know. Doesn’t stop the guilt."

  Cale looked between them, the weight of their words folding into his own. They all carried different pieces of the same grief. Shared, but isoting.

  And yet, here they were.

  Still breathing.

  Still moving forward.

  The serving woman returned with practiced ease, pcing a mug of ale in front of each of them. The mugs were old and chipped, but the foam at the rim was fresh, golden and inviting. The smell of malt and woodsmoke filled the space between them.

  Lui reached for his mug first, his fingers curling around it with slow deliberation. He stared into the drink for a moment, as if searching for something beneath the surface, then raised it slowly.

  "My sister, Tere... she would have hated seeing me like this," he said with a weak chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "She was loud. Stubborn. The type of girl who could outshoot me with a bow and make me ugh while doing it. Once, she and I—and Bor too—we went hunting in the woods and ended up chasing a stag for nearly half a day. We came back empty-handed, soaked in mud, and she still cimed it was her best day ever."

  Bor cracked the faintest of smiles.

  "We’re brothers," Luisaid. "Different mothers, sure, but same father. Jason made sure we grew up side by side."

  Cale’s heart clenched at the name.

  Jason.

  He remembered the respectful old man who had welcomed them to the hamlet. Full of life. Sharp eyes and a warm smile that held no judgment. Cale could see it now—pieces of Jason that lived on in his sons. Lui’s piercing gaze. Bor’s towering presence.

  Lui’s voice trembled as he raised his mug a little higher.

  "May they rest in peace."

  Then, without ceremony, he tipped the mug back and drank it all in a single breath. His hand trembled slightly as he lowered the empty cup, and tears welled at the edges of his eyes.

  Bor’s fingers clenched on the table, his knuckles white. But he said nothing.

  Tiana reached for her own mug and lifted it gently.

  "May they rest in peace," she echoed, and drank deeply. Her movements were calm, almost reverent, but her eyes glimmered faintly when she set the mug down.

  Cale picked up his ale and stared at the amber liquid. He didn’t have words. Only feelings—swirling, cshing, heavy.

  "May they rest in peace," he whispered.

  The ale burned as it slid down his throat, the bitterness curling across his tongue. His face twisted slightly at the aftertaste, but he forced it down, blinking rapidly to stop the sting in his eyes from spilling over.

  For a long moment, no one spoke.

  "Now, I think I'm drunk enough to hear what happened at the hamlet," Lui said, his voice quieter than before, his eyes locking onto Cale from across the table.

  Cale’s hand froze around his mug.

  He didn’t respond immediately. His heart gave a slow, heavy thud, as if bracing for the weight of memory. The flickering firelight cast long shadows on the table, and for a moment, the tavern noise faded around him.

  He took a breath.

  And began.

  He spoke of fire. Of screams. Of the man who had stumbled into the hamlet abze, his body reduced to a living torch. He told them how panic spread like wildfire through the square, of vilgers trying to flee with their children in their arms. He described the ten cultists who emerged from the darkness—each cloaked in crimson, each branded by fire, their eyes hollow, their limbs blistered. And the one at their center—a man , his voice an omen.

  Cale told them of the woman who had nearly died, frozen in pce as the first fireball was hurled. How he had moved without thinking, shield morphing from his arm in a blur of steel. How he had stood between the fme and her life.

  He spoke of battle. Of steel and fire cshing beneath a darkened sky. How every step he took was measured—non-lethal, precise. How he spared lives where he could, striking to disable, not destroy. And how, in the end, when their leader ignited himself and his fallen in a final act of vengeance, he had shielded Tiana with everything he had.

  He spoke of what came after.

  The silence.

  The ash.

  The wisps.

  And the child.

  When he finished, his voice cracked. He stared at the table, unable to meet their eyes.

  The tavern had grown quiet around them. Only the distant clink of mugs and murmurs of other patrons reminded them they were not alone.

  Bor’s hands were trembling. He reached for his mug, stared at the amber liquid for a long second, then slowly set it back down.

  Lui’s lips parted, but no words came. He slumped back in his chair as the story had pressed its full weight into his chest.

  Then, at st, he spoke.

  "So that’s what happened... they are all gone. All of them."

  He looked at Cale—no anger, no bme. Just sorrow.

  "You tried to save them."

  Bor exhaled hard through his nose. "You fought. They didn’t even get the chance."

  Silence settled over them like a shroud.

  Tiana, reached beneath the table and gently took Cale’s hand. Her grip was firm, grounding.

  Lui turned his head and signaled the serving woman. "Another round," he said, his voice hoarse.

  The woman nodded and soon returned, repcing their empty mugs with fresh ones, the foam bubbling at the top.

  Lui raised his mug again, this time more slowly. His eyes were red.

  "To those who burned too soon."

  They all raised their mugs.

  And drank in memory of ashes.

  Some drinks ter, Bor and Lui rose from their seats. The firelight from the hearth caught on the sheen of their half-empty mugs, casting a flickering glow across their solemn faces. The weight of shared grief clung to the air like smoke.

  They offered to pay, of course. Bor reached into his coin pouch, fingers fumbling for silver, his brows furrowed in quiet insistence.

  But Tiana raised a hand, calm and steady. "No need," she said. "Consider it a farewell gift. And good luck—wherever the road takes you."

  Bor hesitated, then dipped his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Lady Tiana."

  Lui stepped forward and csped Cale’s shoulder. His eyes were tired but sincere. "Take care of yourself, kid."

  And then they were gone, leaving only the creak of the tavern door behind them, and the faint scent of the road on their cloaks.

  Cale watched the door for a long moment, eyes lingering where they’d st stood.

  "Do you think we’ll ever see them again?" he asked, voice quiet, not turning his gaze.

  Tiana's eyes followed his. "Maybe one day," she said softly. "But the world’s wide, and people vanish like smoke. So don’t count on it."

  They sat in silence after that—the kind that didn’t need to be filled. Just the warmth of the fire, the clink of distant mugs, and the heaviness of memory shared between them.

  Eventually, Tiana raised her hand to catch the serving woman’s eye. "Bring us a bottle of red," she said. "Something good."

  The woman nodded and returned shortly, setting down a dark bottle and two polished gsses. She moved with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times before.

  Tiana poured the wine slowly. The liquid glowed in the firelight, dark and rich, like blood in gss.

  She slid one across to Cale.

  "Drink with me."

  Cale eyed the gss, wary. "I don’t really like alcohol. It’s... bitter."

  Tiana tilted her head, smiling slyly. "That’s because you haven’t had the right kind. Or maybe... you just haven’t had it with the right person."

  He gave a soft huff of amusement but didn’t move.

  Leaning forward, her emerald eyes locked with his, her voice dropping to a low, pyful murmur. "Come on, Cale. Just a sip. One sip. For me."

  His ears burned with heat.

  Reluctantly, he lifted the gss and took a tentative drink.

  Still bitter.

  But somehow—

  Softer.

  Maybe it was the wine.

  Maybe it was her.

  The night wore on.

  Tiana drank more than he did. Her cheeks turned a warm pink, her posture loosened, her ughter spilling out more freely. Her words grew softer, more unguarded, like walls slowly slipping away.

  She leaned on the table, her dark hair falling in wild waves around her flushed face. "Did you know..." she murmured, slurring just slightly, "when I first saw you, I thought you were an escaped sve, a very handsome one."

  Cale's cheeks flushed deep red. "Thanks," he mumbled, unsure how else to respond.

  She waved her hand with exaggerated fir, nearly toppling her gss. "And yet here we are. Drinking wine in a tavern. Life is strange, isn't it?"

  He looked at her then—truly looked. The curve of her lips, the flicker of sadness hiding behind her teasing gaze. The way she sat, proud yet weary.

  "Thanks for everything," he said quietly.

  Her smile faded for a heartbeat, softening into something almost fragile.

  Then she ughed again, and—for a fleeting moment—the world felt lighter. The pain didn’t vanish, but it dulled, just enough for them to breathe.

  Silence returned, warm and still, like a ke under the moon.

  Cale didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.

  But in that moment, there was warmth.

  And there was her.

  The night air was cool against their flushed cheeks as they stepped out of the Broken Pike. The tavern's wooden sign creaked above them in the wind, and the nterns swayed gently along the narrow street.

  Cale gnced around, brow furrowed. The streets all looked the same now. Stone alleys, twisting paths, buildings stacked close like tired old men leaning on each other for support.

  "This way, I think," he muttered, taking a hesitant step.

  Tiana giggled beside him. "You don’t even know where you’re going, do you?"

  "Not exactly. I didn’t pay attention when we got here."

  She pointed ahead, her arm wobbling in the air. "That one! Or maybe... no, maybe it was left. Or behind that bakery? Damn, I want bread."

  Cale gave her a sideways gnce. "You're not helping."

  Tiana pouted. "I’m trying. But the wine’s having a serious argument with my memory."

  The streets were nearly deserted. The city slept, and the moonlight did little to illuminate the confusing tangle of alleys. Every turn looked the same, and there wasn’t a soul in sight to ask for directions.

  They turned down a narrow ne fnked by tall brick buildings, shadows thick between them.

  And then—

  A figure dropped from the darkness.

  A man, cloaked in ragged clothes, nded before them. A glint of steel fshed in his hand—a dagger.

  "Well, well," he rasped, his voice gritty like gravel. His eyes flicked to Cale, then lingered hungrily on Tiana. "What do we have here? A little couple lost on their way home?"

  Cale stepped in front of Tiana, his arm instinctively raised.

  The man ughed. "Oh, don’t be so quick, boy. I don’t want your coin."

  His eyes returned to Tiana, leering.

  "She’s the real treasure here. That hair, those legs... Must be nice to have someone like that hanging off your arm. But maybe it’s time she had a real man’s attention."

  Tiana blinked slowly, squinting at him. "Did you just insult me and flirt with me at the same time? You're pathetic."

  "You shut your mouth," he snarled, taking a step forward.

  Cale didn’t move.

  But his eyes were no longer soft.

  The air around them shifted—cold, controlled, and brimming with tension.

  Tiana wobbled slightly but steadied herself, her eyes narrowing.

  "You picked the wrong pair to harass tonight," she said, her tone sharpening.

  The man didn’t notice the faint shimmer of metal beneath Cale sleeves.

  He only saw a boy.

  A mistake he was about to regret.

  Suddenly, two more figures dropped silently behind them.

  Cale’s head whipped around. His senses screamed—how had they gotten so close without him noticing? Not a footstep. Not a breath. Magic?.

  Before he could speak, the fight erupted.

  One attacker lunged forward. Cale reacted instantly, arm snapping upward. He grabbed the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it hard as he drove his knee into the attacker’s gut. The dagger cttered to the ground.

  The second attacker moved in from the side—the same one who had spoken earlier. But Cale’s vision wavered; the figure multiplied and shimmered, their edges blurring like smoke.

  "Cale!" Tiana shouted.

  He spun around—

  And froze.

  One of the cloaked attackers had her. Her arm was twisted behind her back, her body pinned against a tall figure who held a gleaming bde pressed to her throat.

  "Move," the man growled, voice as cold as steel, "and she dies."

  Cale’s blood turned to ice. His fists clenched at his sides, every instinct screaming to strike—but his body locked in pce.

  The alley, once alive with the chaos of movement and steel, now fell deadly still.

  Only the distant creak of a shutter stirred in the silence.

  And the edge of a bde hovered above the pulse of someone he couldn’t lose.