The portal shimmered to life in the corner of Evan’s bedroom, the soft hum and crackle of energy cutting through the mundane silence of the night. Evan barely had time to process the familiar sound before Lyrin stepped through, her face a mixture of urgency and quiet determination. She was dressed in her flowing robes as usual, the green and gold fabric catching the faint glow of the portal behind her. Her silver hair, usually so composed, was slightly tousled, as though she’d rushed to prepare herself.

  “Evan,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with worry. “I know it’s earlier than we planned, but I need your help.”

  Evan sat up from the couch where he’d been dozing, rubbing his eyes and trying to shake off the fog of sleep. “What’s going on? I thought we had another day before you visited again.”

  “There’s been an accident,” Lyrin explained quickly, stepping closer. “One of the younger daughters of House Vaelora—the royal family—has been injured while hunting near a village on the border with Vornath. It’s a serious injury, and she needs healing before she can be moved safely.”

  “Okay,” Evan said, getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket. He’d learned enough about Velanthor by now to understand the significance of royal blood. “What kind of injury are we talking about?”

  “A fractured leg,” Lyrin said, her expression grim. “Severe enough that it requires immediate attention. I can heal her, but it will take time and focus to ensure it’s done properly. And... I may need protection. The village is near the border, and tensions have been rising in the area.”

  Evan nodded, already pulling on his boots. “Alright. Let’s go.”

  Lyrin gave him a grateful smile and activated a new portal, the swirling light illuminating the room for a brief moment before she stepped through. Evan followed, the sensation of passing through the portal still strange and disorienting, like stepping through a sheet of cold water. When they emerged, the air was different—crisper, with the faint scent of pine and damp earth. The village lay ahead, nestled in a valley, its modest buildings surrounded by a low wooden palisade.

  As they approached, two royal guards intercepted them, their armor polished and their weapons at the ready. One of them stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Halt. State your business.”

  Lyrin stepped forward, her posture calm but authoritative. “I am Lyrin, a priestess of Seralith, called here to assist Lady Talia of House Vaelora. This is Evan, my goddess-appointed guardian.” She held forth a symbol on a chain that Evan has seen her carry often.

  The guards exchanged glances, their suspicion easing slightly at the mention of Seralith. After a brief moment, the one who had spoken nodded. “Very well. We’ve been expecting you. Follow me.”

  They were led through the village, the dirt paths bustling with activity despite the late hour. Villagers and guards alike moved with purpose, their faces tense. The guard brought them to a modest but well-maintained house near the center of the village, where a small group of attendants stood outside, speaking in hushed tones. Inside, they found Talia lying on a sturdy wooden bed, her face pale but composed. Her leg was splinted, the makeshift bandages stained with dried blood.

  Lyrin immediately moved to Talia’s side, her fingers already glowing faintly with her healing magic as she began to assess the injury. Evan stood back, his eyes scanning the room and the surrounding area out of habit. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his gut the moment they’d arrived.

  “It’s a severe fracture,” Lyrin said softly, speaking more to herself than anyone else. “The bone is misaligned. If I don’t take care, it could heal improperly and cause complications.”

  Talia, despite her obvious discomfort, managed a faint smile. “Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Lyrin said gently, her hands moving over the injured leg. “You’re not troubling me. Just try to relax.”

  Evan, standing nearby, glanced at the man who hovered by the door, his expression one of restrained concern. “How did this happen?”

  The Chamberlain sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Her horse shied unexpectedly while riding through the forest. The stirrup snapped, and she was thrown violently to the ground. We’re fortunate the injury wasn’t worse.”

  Evan nodded, his mind already piecing together the situation. “And the horse? Spooked by something?”

  “Likely,” the Chamberlain replied, though he didn’t seem convinced. “We didn’t see what caused it.”

  Before Evan could press further, the door opened, admitting a messenger in what Evan guessed was the livery of House Vaelora. His face was pale, and his breathing was labored as though he’d run all the way from wherever he’d come.

  “Captain,” the messenger said, addressing the Guard Captain standing near the entrance. “Scouts report soldiers from Vornath near the neighboring village. They may be preparing to move.”

  The Guard Captain’s expression darkened, and he immediately began issuing orders. “Send two squads to investigate and secure the area. I want the remaining squads on active patrol around this village. No one gets in or out without my approval.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the messenger said before hurrying out.

  Evan’s hand unconsciously drifted toward the hilt of his sword as he turned to Lyrin. She was still focused entirely on Talia, her magic flowing steadily into the injured leg. The faint glow of her healing magic illuminated her face, her expression serene but deeply focused.

  He moved closer to her, lowering his voice. “Lyrin, we might have trouble. Vornath’s soldiers are nearby.”

  Her eyes didn’t leave Talia’s leg, but her brow furrowed slightly. “I can’t stop now. This will take time. Please, Evan... keep us safe.”

  Evan nodded, though the tension in his chest grew heavier with each passing moment. He stepped back, positioning himself near the door and scanning the room again. The guards outside were alert, their movements sharp and purposeful, but the sense of unease in the air was palpable.

  As the minutes dragged on, Evan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his gaze fixed on the door. Whatever happened next, he was ready to do his part. For Lyrin, for Talia, and for the promise he’d made to protect those who needed him.

  The soft glow of Lyrin’s magic finally faded as she leaned back with a weary but satisfied sigh. Talia’s leg, once grotesquely bent and splinted, now rested in perfect alignment, the flesh whole and unmarred. The young noblewoman flexed her foot cautiously, her expression shifting from discomfort to relief.

  “It’s done,” Lyrin said softly, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from her face. “The fracture is healed, but you should avoid walking on it for at least a day. Let your strength return fully before you put it to the test.”

  Talia gave her a grateful smile, her previously pale cheeks regaining some color. “Thank you, Priestess. I owe you more than I can say.”

  “You owe me nothing,” Lyrin replied, her tone gentle but firm. “I’m simply glad I could help.”

  Evan, who had been standing by the door with his sword about to be drawn for the better part of the last hour, relaxed slightly, though he didn’t let go of the tension entirely. He glanced out the window, his gaze scanning the now darkened village. The squads sent to investigate the neighboring settlement still hadn’t returned, and the Guard Captain’s expression had grown increasingly grim as the time ticked by.

  Finally, the Captain stepped into the room, his armor clinking softly as he approached. “We’ve waited long enough,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “The longer we stay here, the more vulnerable we become. We’re leaving for Aurensvale immediately.”

  Lyrin started to protest, but the Captain raised a hand to forestall her. “I know Lady Talia’s strength isn’t fully restored, but this situation is becoming too dangerous. We cannot afford to risk her safety—or yours, Priestess.”

  Evan nodded in quiet agreement. The uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at him since their arrival had only grown stronger. “He’s right,” he said, glancing at Lyrin. “We can’t stay here. We’ll protect her on the road.”

  The Captain had said immediately, but it took another half hour to finish the preparations. Horses were saddled, supplies loaded, and the remaining squads of guards formed a tight perimeter around the carriage. By the time the entourage set off, the stars were high in the sky, casting a faint light over the forested path ahead.

  Evan and Lyrin rode inside the carriage with Talia, the young noblewoman reclining on plush cushions. Despite the tension of the situation, Talia seemed to have regained her usual composure, her sharp blue eyes flicking between Evan and Lyrin with curiosity.

  “I must say,” Talia began, her tone light and teasing, “you two seem rather... close. Is this a customary arrangement between a priestess and her bodyguard?”

  Evan opened his mouth to respond, but Lyrin beat him to it, her cheeks pinking slightly. “It’s not... that kind of arrangement,” she said quickly, though her voice wavered just enough to make Evan glance at her. “Evan is here because Seralith chose him to assist me. His role is entirely professional.”

  “Entirely,” Evan echoed, though his tone carried a hint of humor. “I’m just here to keep her safe.”

  Talia arched an elegant brow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Hmm. If you say so. But I’ve seen the way you look at each other. There’s a warmth there that’s hard to ignore.” She paused, her gaze shifting to Evan. “And you, Sir Evan, are full of mysteries. You’re not like the men of Velanthor.”

  Evan chuckled, leaning back slightly. “That’s because I’m not from Velanthor.”

  Talia tilted her head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

  Lyrin shifted slightly, her voice taking on a more measured tone as she explained. “Evan is from another world entirely. A place called Earth. It’s... difficult to explain, but Seralith brought him to our realm to help us in our fight against Vornath.”

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  Talia’s eyes widened, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Another world? Tell me more. What is Earth like?”

  “Well,” Evan said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s... complicated. We don’t have magic like you do here, but we’ve got technology—machines and devices that make life easier. Cars, planes, phones... things that let us travel quickly, communicate instantly, and do all kinds of things that might seem strange to you.”

  Talia’s expression lit up with fascination. “It sounds incredible. No magic, but you’ve created your own form of power. I’d love to see it someday.”

  Evan laughed softly. “It’s not perfect. Earth has its own problems. But yeah, it’s... something.”

  Lyrin watched the exchange quietly, a small smile playing on her lips. She seemed relieved that the conversation had shifted to lighter topics, the tension of the past few hours easing slightly. Even Evan found himself relaxing, the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels and the warmth of the company lulling him into a rare sense of calm.

  “So,” Talia said, her tone turning playful once more, “if you’re from another world, does that mean you have your own queen to serve? Or are you a free man, serving only this lovely priestess?”

  Evan smirked, glancing at Lyrin. “I think Lyrin would argue that I serve Seralith first and foremost. But beyond that, I’m just trying to figure things out as I go.”

  “A man of mystery indeed,” Talia said, her voice light but her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. “Perhaps I’ll learn more about you on this journey.”

  Lyrin glanced at Talia, her expression unreadable for a moment before she cleared her throat. “We should all get some rest while we can. The road ahead is long.”

  Talia nodded. As the carriage continued its journey through the quiet night, the tension that had gripped the group earlier seemed to dissolve, replaced by a sense of camaraderie. For now, all seemed well.

  ‐—-------

  The night’s calm was shattered in an instant.

  The first sign of danger came with the sinister hiss of arrows slicing through the air. The carriage jolted to a halt as several soldiers were struck, their cries of pain punctuating the stillness. Evan’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, and before the second volley landed, he was already out of the carriage.

  “Ambush!” the Guard Captain bellowed, rallying the remaining soldiers as chaos erupted around them. Shadows moved swiftly among the trees, and moments later, figures in dark armor emerged, charging toward them with ruthless precision. These weren’t ordinary soldiers—they moved with a practiced, predatory efficiency, their tactics honed for exactly this kind of ambush.

  Evan’s eyes scanned the battlefield, quickly picking out the leader. At the rear of the attackers strode a tall man clad in dark leather armor reinforced with metal plates, his movements almost unnervingly fluid as he barked orders to his troops. His face was partially obscured by a metal half-mask, but his piercing eyes and the cruel smirk on his lips radiated confidence—and danger. His hair was dark and slicked back, and he carried himself with the air of someone who had never lost a fight he didn’t want to. He wielded a curved blade with a grip as natural as breathing, and even from a distance, something about him set Evan’s nerves on edge.

  Evan didn’t have to wait long to see why. The man—a captain, judging by the deference his troops showed him—moved with a speed and strength that defied explanation. With a few devastating strikes, he cut down two of Talia’s guards who had dared to charge him, his blade an extension of his will. There was a precision to his brutality, a cold efficiency that spoke of years of experience.

  “Evan!” Lyrin’s voice called from the carriage, breaking his focus. She was leaning out of the door, her hands glowing faintly as she cast protective wards over the carriage and the soldiers who still stood. “Be careful! These aren’t ordinary mercenaries!”

  “No kidding,” Evan muttered, his grip tightening on his sword. He stepped forward, cutting down one of the Irregulars who had strayed too close to the carriage. The man fell with a grunt, and Evan turned just in time to block another attack, his blade meeting the edge of an axe.

  The skirmish around him was fierce, but it was clear that Talia’s guards were being overwhelmed. Despite their training, they were no match for the ruthless coordination of the Irregulars. Evan’s focus, however, narrowed to the masked captain, who had begun to take notice of him.

  The captain’s gaze locked onto Evan as he stalked closer across the battlefield, his smirk widening. “You’re not one of her guards,” he said, his voice carrying easily over the din of battle. It was smooth, almost amused, but there was an undercurrent of menace that made Evan’s skin crawl. “Interesting.”

  Evan didn’t respond, instead stepping forward and cutting down another Irregular who had been advancing toward the carriage. The captain’s eyes flicked toward Lyrin, who was still casting wards and attempting to shield the remaining guards.

  “Ah,” the captain said, his smirk deepening. “I see. Protecting the priestess, are we? How noble.”

  Evan’s gut twisted as the captain began to move toward Lyrin, his blade glinting ominously. Without hesitation, Evan intercepted him, their swords clashing with a sharp, ringing sound. The force of the blow nearly sent Evan staggering, and he immediately realized that this man—whoever he was—was far stronger than he had any right to be.

  “Evan,” Alara’s voice rang in his head, sharp and urgent. “Be careful. He’s not just skilled. He’s enhanced.”

  The captain seemed to sense the hesitation in Evan’s movements and pressed his advantage, his strikes coming faster and harder. “You’re good,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “Better than most of the fools I’ve cut down tonight. But you’re wasting your strength on this priestess. You can’t protect her forever.”

  He feinted, then pivoted, his blade slicing toward Lyrin. Evan barely managed to block the strike, grunting with the effort. The captain’s smirk widened. “See? Weakness. You’re too distracted trying to keep her alive.”

  “Funny,” Evan shot back, his voice strained but steady. “You call it weakness. I call it doing the right thing.”

  The captain’s expression darkened, his strikes growing more aggressive. Evan fought back with everything he had, his movements sharper and more fluid than they had been even days ago. Alara’s training was paying off, but it was clear that this fight wasn’t going to be won easily.

  As the battle raged, the tide began to turn. Talia’s guards, bolstered by Lyrin’s wards and Evan’s presence, regained their footing and began cutting through the remaining Irregulars. One by one, the attackers fell, leaving only their captain standing.

  Raleth—Evan didn’t know his name yet, but he could feel the weight of it in the way the man carried himself—glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in the situation. He was injured, blood dripping from a shallow cut on his arm and another on his leg, but his posture remained steady, his confidence unshaken.

  “Well,” he said, stepping back and lowering his blade slightly. “This has been entertaining, but I think it’s time I took my leave.”

  Evan moved to pursue, but Raleth raised his free hand, and a burst of dark energy erupted between them, forcing Evan to shield his eyes. When the light cleared, Raleth was gone, his retreat covered by the remaining shadows of the forest.

  Evan cursed under his breath, his heart pounding as he scanned the treeline. Lyrin stepped up beside him, her expression a mixture of relief and concern.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, her hands glowing faintly as she reached out to heal a gash on his shoulder.

  “I’ll live,” Evan said, though his voice was tight. His mind was already racing, trying to piece together what had just happened. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t just another mercenary. He was something far more dangerous.

  And Evan had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths.

  The surviving guards regrouped quickly, their faces grim but resolute as they gathered what remained of their strength. The Guard Captain, his armor streaked with blood and grime, wiped his brow and surveyed the shaken group. Though they had driven off the attackers, the cost had been heavy. Of the original four squads, only a dozen soldiers remained standing.

  “We’re not safe here,” the Captain said, his voice low but commanding. “We press on to the next village. If we make it, Priestess Lyrin can portal Lady Talia directly back to the capital. No more delays.”

  Evan, standing near the carriage, nodded in agreement. “Good call. We don’t know if they’ll regroup or if there are more of them out there. We need to move.”

  Lyrin, still pale from the effort of healing Talia and casting protective wards throughout the ambush, gave a tired but determined nod. “I’ll do what I can to keep us protected until we reach the village.”

  Talia, seated once again inside the carriage and protected by Lyrin’s wards, was silent. Her usual composed demeanor had cracked, leaving her visibly shaken. Evan climbed into the carriage, glancing at her with a mix of concern and guilt. He hadn’t been able to keep the ambush from happening, but at least they had survived.

  The journey to the next village was uneventful, though the tension among the group was palpable. Every rustle in the trees, every distant sound, felt like the prelude to another attack. Evan kept his hand on the hilt of his sword throughout the ride, his eyes scanning the forest for any signs of movement. Talia remained quiet for most of the trip, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. It wasn’t until they were within sight of the village that she spoke.

  “I’ve never been... ambushed before,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at Evan and Lyrin, her expression conflicted. “I thought I was prepared for anything, but...”

  “No one’s ever truly prepared for that,” Evan said, his tone gentler than usual. “It’s not easy, but you handled it. You’re still here. That’s what matters.”

  Talia gave him a faint smile, though her eyes remained haunted. “Thanks to you both.”

  Once they reached the village, Lyrin wasted no time preparing the portal. The guards formed a protective perimeter while Evan and Lyrin escorted Talia to a quiet clearing on the outskirts. The ritual was quick, and within moments, the portal shimmered into existence, its light casting an ethereal glow over the group.

  The trip back to the capital was just as disorienting as always, the sensation of stepping through the portal leaving Evan slightly off-balance. When they emerged, they found themselves in a grand courtyard of the Vaelora family’s castle. The towering spires and intricate stonework were impressive, even to someone like Evan, who had seen his fair share of Earth’s architectural wonders.

  Talia was immediately swept away by a group of attendants who had been anxiously awaiting her arrival. She paused briefly, turning back to Lyrin and Evan with a sincere smile. “Thank you both, truly. I owe you my life. Please, take advantage of the castle’s hospitality. You’ve more than earned it.”

  Before Evan could respond, she was whisked away, leaving him standing awkwardly beside Lyrin. The priestess turned to him, her violet eyes shining with excitement.

  “Evan,” she said, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten, “this is a rare opportunity! The Vaelora castle is one of the most beautiful places in Velanthor. I’d love to show you around.”

  Evan hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lyrin, I appreciate it, but I can’t. I’ve got work in the morning, and if I don’t show up, people are going to start asking questions. I can’t exactly tell them I was off fighting soldiers from another world.”

  Lyrin’s enthusiasm dimmed slightly, her expression turning sheepish. “I... I understand. You’re right. I’ve been asking a lot of you without considering how it affects your life on Earth. I’ll try to give you more notice in the future.”

  “Thanks,” Evan said, his tone softening. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but I need to balance this... whatever this is... with my life back home. We’ve been lucky so far that nothing’s happened in the middle of my day.”

  Lyrin nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. “I’ll be more mindful. I promise.”

  With that, Lyrin opened another portal, this one leading back to Earth. As Evan stepped through, the familiar sights and sounds of his small apartment greeted him, the contrast to the grandeur of Velanthor’s castle almost comical. He dropped his gear by the door and sank onto the couch, staring at the ceiling as the events of the past couple of days replayed in his mind.

  The ambush, the fight with the mysterious captain, Talia’s quiet bravery in the face of danger—it all swirled together in his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the image of Raleth Mordane, the captain who had nearly bested him in combat. The man wasn’t just skilled; he was something else, something stronger and faster than a normal human. And the way he had taunted Evan about protecting Lyrin still grated on him.

  Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was grateful to be back on Earth, back in the relative safety of his mundane life, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Velanthor had a way of pulling him back in, whether he was ready or not.

  As he lay there, the weight of his dual life pressing down on him, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could keep this up—and what kind of person he would become in the process.