The forest trail felt endless, winding through dense trees that seemed to close in around them as the day wore on. The convoy moved steadily ahead, the rhythmic crunch of boots and the creak of wagon wheels creating a steady background noise. Evan walked beside Lyrin, their pace matching as they trailed slightly behind the main group. The Temple Guards, ever vigilant, kept their eyes on the path and the woods beyond, but for Evan and Lyrin, this moment felt quieter, more personal.

  The late afternoon sun cast dappled light through the canopy, painting the path in golden patches. It was beautiful in a way that might have been calming, had the tension of their mission not lingered in the back of Evan’s mind. Even so, he found himself glancing at Lyrin more often than he probably should have. Her silver hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it look almost otherworldly, as though it weren’t hair at all but fine threads of spun moonlight. Her violet eyes scanned the forest around them, her expression calm yet alert, though every so often, her gaze would flick to him, and her lips would curve into the faintest of smiles.

  “You keep looking at me,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but teasing. “Should I be worried?”

  Evan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Caught me. Guess I’m not as subtle as I thought.”

  Lyrin raised an elegant brow, her smile growing. “You’re about as subtle as a thunderstorm.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied with a grin. “But seriously, I was just thinking... you seem so at ease out here, even with everything going on. It’s impressive.”

  She tilted her head, her expression softening. “The forest has always felt like a sanctuary to me. Even when danger lurks, there’s a kind of peace in the way the trees stand firm, the way the world continues to grow and thrive despite everything.”

  Evan nodded, his grin fading into something softer. “Makes sense. You... kind of remind me of that, honestly.”

  Her steps faltered for just a moment, her eyes widening slightly as she turned to look at him. “I remind you of... the forest?”

  “Not the trees, exactly,” he said, his voice quieter now. “The way you carry yourself. Calm, steady. Like no matter how crazy things get, you’re this... constant. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Her cheeks flushed at his words, a soft pink spreading across her pale skin. She looked down briefly, as if collecting her thoughts, before meeting his gaze again. “You give me too much credit,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have my doubts, my fears. More than I’d like to admit.”

  Evan stopped walking, gently catching her hand to make her pause as well. The rest of the convoy moved ahead, leaving them in a quieter pocket of the trail. “Lyrin,” he said, his tone serious but warm, “you don’t have to hide that from me. If you’ve got doubts, fears, whatever—let me share them. You don’t have to carry all of it alone.”

  Her violet eyes searched his face, and for a moment, she seemed uncertain. Then, slowly, she nodded, her fingers tightening slightly around his. “Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s... not easy for me to rely on others. But with you, it feels... different. Easier.”

  The space between them felt smaller now, though neither had moved. Evan’s thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles, his touch gentle but grounding. “I’ll take that as a win,” he said softly, his lips curving into a faint smile.

  Lyrin stepped closer, her free hand lifting to rest lightly against his chest. It was a small gesture, but the contact sent warmth spreading through him. “You’ve changed so much since we first met,” she said, her voice carrying a note of wonder. “The way you’ve embraced this world, this mission... it’s inspiring.”

  Evan’s pulse quickened at her touch, but he kept his voice steady. “I’ve had a pretty good reason to step up,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “A pretty great one, actually.”

  Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as she took in his words. For a moment, she didn’t speak, her fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his shirt. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, she closed the remaining distance between them, her forehead resting lightly against his.

  “Evan,” she whispered, his name a quiet exhale that sent a shiver through him.

  He lifted his other hand to rest on her waist, his grip firm but careful, as though afraid she might pull away. She didn’t. Instead, she tilted her head, her silver hair brushing against his cheek as her eyes closed briefly. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and her body seemed to lean into him, as if seeking the comfort his presence offered.

  “You’re... really something, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion.

  She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. “I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly but filled with quiet conviction.

  Evan swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he leaned down just a fraction, their faces so close now that he could feel the faint warmth of her breath. Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, he hesitated, unsure if he should close the gap entirely.

  But then, with a soft, almost imperceptible movement, Lyrin tilted her head, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was as tentative as it was electric. Her hand on his chest tightened slightly, and he felt the faint tremor that ran through her body as she pressed closer. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, pulling her against him in a way that was both protective and intimate.

  The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if they were both savoring the moment, the connection. Lyrin’s fingers slid upward, tangling lightly in the fabric of his shirt, and a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips. Evan felt his own breath catch at the sound, his heart racing as he held her closer.

  When they finally pulled back, their foreheads still touching, Lyrin’s cheeks were flushed, her violet eyes shimmering with emotion. “I’ve never felt...” she began, her voice trailing off as if she couldn’t find the words.

  “Me neither,” Evan admitted, his voice just as quiet. “But I don’t want it to stop.”

  A soft smile curved her lips, and she reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Then let’s not.”

  For the rest of the journey that day, the forest seemed a little less imposing, the dangers ahead a little less daunting. Together, they walked back to the convoy, their hands brushing occasionally, their connection unspoken but undeniable.

  —---

  The forest was alive with tension as the Temple Guards crept forward, their movements silent and deliberate. Evan stayed close to Lyrin, his sword drawn and his senses sharp. The ruins ahead glowed faintly from the scattered firelight of the mercenaries’ camp, their voices echoing faintly through the trees. The plan was simple: strike fast, hit hard, and recover the artifact before the mercenaries could regroup. Simple in theory, at least.

  Evan’s heart pounded as the lead group of Temple Guards moved into position, their gold-and-white armor dulled under camouflage cloaks. They were shadows now, slipping through the darkness toward the perimeter guards. The air was thick with anticipation, every crackle of the campfire or rustle of leaves making his grip tighten on his sword.

  Then, a sharp shout pierced the quiet. One of the mercenaries had spotted the advancing guards.

  "Now!" Captain Deren’s voice rang out, low but commanding.

  In a flash, the remaining Temple Guards rose from their concealed positions and unleashed a volley of crossbow bolts. The air was filled with the twang of strings and the whistle of projectiles cutting through the night. Cries of alarm and pain erupted from the camp as the bolts found their marks. The mercenaries scrambled for their weapons, but the chaos spread quickly, their disorganized state leaving them vulnerable to the disciplined assault.

  Evan’s stomach churned at the sight of the carnage, but he forced himself to focus. This was no time for hesitation. He looked to Lyrin, who nodded, her face set with quiet determination.

  "Let’s go," she said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos.

  The two of them moved swiftly, weaving through the shadows as the Temple Guards pressed the attack. The mercenaries were being forced back toward the central chamber, where the mages and the artifact waited. Evan could see their desperation as they fought to regroup, but the guards’ precision and discipline were overwhelming.

  As they approached the ruins, Evan spotted the faint glow of the magical barrier the scouts had described. It shimmered faintly in the air, a translucent dome of energy surrounding the artifact’s chamber. Two figures stood near its center—the mages, their hands raised as they maintained the spell. Their focus was absolute, their chanting blending with the sounds of battle around them.

  "Almost there," Lyrin whispered, her hands already glowing with the faint light of her own magic. "I’ll need a moment to disrupt their barrier. Keep them off me."

  "Got it," Evan said, his voice low but firm. He tightened his grip on his sword, his muscles coiled and ready.

  They were nearly within range when a shadow moved in their path. A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped out from behind a crumbled pillar, blocking their way. Evan’s breath caught as he took in the figure’s imposing presence—a half-orc woman, her green skin gleaming faintly in the firelight. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and her armor was practical but well-worn, a testament to years of battle. She carried a massive two-handed axe with ease, her stance radiating confidence and strength.

  "Not one step closer," she growled, her voice low and gravelly. Her amber eyes locked onto Evan, sharp and calculating. She glanced at Lyrin briefly, then back at him, clearly assessing the threat.

  Evan instinctively stepped in front of Lyrin, raising his sword. "You’re in our way," he said, his tone steady despite the adrenaline surging through him.

  The half-orc smirked faintly, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. "Your guards are doing a fine job tearing through the rabble. But you’re not getting past me. Turn back, and I’ll let you leave with your limbs intact."

  Evan squared his shoulders, his stance shifting slightly as he prepared for her attack. "Sorry, but we’re not leaving without that artifact."

  Her smirk faded, replaced by a look of grim determination. "Then you’ll have to go through me."

  She lunged forward with surprising speed for someone her size, her axe swinging in a wide arc. Evan barely had time to sidestep, the blade whistling past him and slamming into the ground with a heavy thud. He countered with a quick slash, but she raised her axe and blocked with the shaft, sparks flying as their weapons clashed.

  The force of her block nearly knocked him off balance, and he realized just how strong she was. This wasn’t going to be a fight he could win with brute force—he needed to be quick, precise.

  "Lyrin!" Evan called, his voice strained as he dodged another swing of the axe. "How’s that barrier coming?"

  "It’s holding," Lyrin called back, her voice calm but urgent. "Just keep her occupied!"

  "Sure, no problem," Evan muttered under his breath, ducking another swing. He darted to the side, trying to draw the half-orc’s attention away from Lyrin. "You picked the wrong side, you know," he said, hoping to distract her with conversation. "These mercenaries don’t care about you."

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  The half-orc snorted, her amber eyes narrowing as she swung again, forcing him to duck. "And you think I care about them? Let’s just say I’ve got my reasons."

  "Yeah? Care to share?" Evan quipped, sidestepping another heavy blow. He aimed a slash at her side, but she twisted, deflecting the strike with a quick movement of her axe.

  "Not really," she said, a faint, almost amused edge to her tone. "But I will say this—you’re not bad. For someone who’s clearly out of their depth."

  Evan grinned despite himself, adrenaline fueling his movements. "Thanks. You’re not bad either—for someone who’s about to surrender."

  Her laugh was low and rough, but before she could respond, Lyrin’s voice rang out behind him. "The barrier—it’s weakening! Just a bit longer!"

  Evan’s focus sharpened. He just needed to hold her off a little longer. The half-orc seemed to sense the shift and pressed her attack, her swings growing faster and more forceful. Evan gritted his teeth, parrying as best as he could, each clash of their weapons sending vibrations up his arms.

  But then, something changed. The mercenaries' defensive line was collapsing under the Temple Guards’ assault, and reinforcements were moving in fast. The half-orc glanced around, her amber eyes darting toward the ruins where her comrades were falling back. Her grip on the axe faltered for just a moment.

  "You’re outnumbered," Evan said, his tone firm but not unkind. "It’s over. You don’t have to go down with them."

  Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, he thought she might strike again. But then her shoulders dropped slightly, and she exhaled through her nose, lowering her axe. "Fine," she said, her voice low. "I surrender. But don’t think this means I’m giving up."

  Evan stepped forward cautiously, keeping his sword at the ready. "Smart choice. Drop the axe."

  She hesitated, then let the weapon fall to the ground with a heavy thud. Two Temple Guards approached quickly, binding her hands with enchanted restraints. She didn’t resist, though her piercing gaze never left Evan’s.

  As they led her away, she called back over her shoulder, "This isn’t the end. Not for me."

  Evan watched her go, a strange mix of relief and curiosity settling over him. He turned to Lyrin, who was already stepping forward, her hands glowing as she prepared to finish dismantling the barrier. "You alright?" he asked her.

  "I am," Lyrin said, sparing him a brief but warm smile. "And you?"

  Evan glanced toward the captured half-orc, then back to Lyrin. "I’m good. Let’s finish this."

  Together, they turned toward the artifact, the final step of their mission now within reach.

  —--

  The convoy moved steadily along the dirt road, the rhythmic creak of wagon wheels blending with the clinking of armor and the occasional murmur of conversation among the Temple Guards. The victory earlier in the day had left a strange mix of tension and relief in the air. The artifact was secure, the mercenaries defeated, but the journey back to Aurensvale was long, and the weight of their mission lingered.

  Evan walked near the middle of the convoy, his sword hanging loosely at his side. He was tired, both physically and mentally, but his mind was restless. The fight with the half-orc woman—Kaela, he’d heard one of the guards call her—still played in his head. She had been a formidable opponent, strong and skilled, but what stuck with him most was the fire in her amber eyes, the way she had fought not like a hired killer, but like someone with something to prove.

  His gaze drifted to the wagon a few paces ahead, where Kaela sat bound, her wrists shackled to the wooden frame. She leaned back against the side, her olive-green skin catching the afternoon light, her sharp features set in a mask of defiance. Even in defeat, she carried herself with an air of confidence, her spiked black hair and the faint smirk on her lips making her look like she was daring the world to try her again.

  Evan sighed, his curiosity getting the better of him, and picked up his pace until he was walking beside the wagon. Kaela’s piercing amber eyes flicked to him immediately, narrowing slightly as her smirk deepened.

  “Well, well,” she drawled, her voice low and gravelly. “If it isn’t the holy champion himself. Come to gloat? Or are you here to make sure I’m not planning a daring escape?”

  Evan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Just stretching my legs,” he said casually. “But now that you mention it, should I be worried?”

  Kaela snorted, shifting slightly in her restraints. “Not unless you think I can break these lovely iron bracelets with sheer willpower. Though I’ll admit, the thought has crossed my mind.”

  Evan chuckled despite himself. “I don’t doubt it. You’ve got the stubbornness for it.”

  Her smirk widened, and she tilted her head, studying him with a sharp, appraising gaze. “You’re not bad with a sword, I’ll give you that. Didn’t think one of Seralith’s lackeys would put up such a good fight.”

  “Lackey?” Evan repeated, his tone dry. “That’s a new one. Usually, I get ‘pawn’ or ‘zealot.’”

  Kaela shrugged, the movement limited by her bindings. “Call it like I see it. You rely on divine power to do the heavy lifting, don’t you? Or was that all you back there?”

  Evan’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his tone even. “It was me. The divine power’s just a bonus.”

  “Hmm. Convenient,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Must be nice having a goddess in your corner. Some of us have to fight with nothing but our own two hands.”

  Evan frowned, her words striking a chord he wasn’t expecting. “You’re not exactly helpless,” he said, gesturing to her. “You held your own pretty damn well. If I hadn’t gotten lucky, you might’ve won.”

  Kaela’s smirk softened into something closer to a grin, and she leaned forward slightly, the chains rattling as she moved. “Careful, Champion. Keep talking like that, and I might think you respect me.”

  Evan rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t entirely hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “I respect your skill, sure. Doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  “Fair enough,” Kaela said, settling back again. “I wouldn’t trust me either. But you’re not half as uptight as I expected. Thought your type were all about spouting sermons and looking down your nose at people like me.”

  “People like you?” Evan asked, arching a brow.

  “You know,” she said, gesturing vaguely with her shackled hands. “Mercenaries. Half-orcs. People who don’t play by your shiny, righteous rules.”

  Evan hesitated, his gaze flickering over her. “You don’t strike me as someone who cares much about rules in general.”

  Kaela laughed, a low, throaty sound that made a few of the nearest guards glance uneasily in their direction. “You’re not wrong there. Rules never did much for me, except give people excuses to try and shove me in a box. I don’t do well in boxes.”

  Evan chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m getting that impression.”

  They walked in silence for a moment, the tension between them shifting into something more conversational, almost... comfortable. Evan found himself glancing at her again, his curiosity growing. “Why’d you do it?” he asked finally. “Join up with them, I mean. The mercenaries.”

  Kaela’s smirk faded, her expression hardening slightly. “Why does anyone? Money, freedom, the chance to make something of myself. Not that it matters now.”

  “It does matter,” Evan said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re not just some faceless enemy. You’re... more than that.”

  Her amber eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, she looked almost taken aback. Then her grin returned, slower and sharper this time. “Careful, Champion. You keep talking like that, and I might think you like me.”

  Evan felt a flicker of heat rise to his face, but he held her gaze. “I think you’re dangerous,” he said honestly. “But I also think there’s more to you than what I saw back there.”

  Kaela leaned forward again, her grin turning playful. “You’re not wrong. There’s a lot more to me. But I have to warn you—I’m not the kind of girl your goddess would approve of.”

  Evan snorted, shaking his head. “Good thing I’m not looking for her approval.”

  Kaela blinked, her grin faltering for just a moment before she recovered. “Huh. Didn’t expect that answer. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  Evan shrugged, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

  Kaela’s laughter rang out again, rich and unguarded this time. “Oh, I like you, Champion. You’ve got guts. Let’s see if you’ve got the spine to keep up.”

  Evan shook his head, unable to suppress his own grin. As the convoy rolled on, he couldn’t help but feel that this unlikely conversation had shifted something between them. Kaela might have started as an enemy, but there was something about her—her fire, her wit, her undeniable strength—that made him wonder if their paths were meant to cross for more than just this mission. And judging by the way her amber eyes lingered on him, she might have been thinking the same thing.

  —--

  The portal shimmered behind him as Evan stepped through, his boots hitting the hardwood floor of his modest apartment with a dull thud. The familiar scent of Earth hit him instantly—cleaner air, faintly tinged with the smell of the fabric softener he’d used on the laundry he’d left drying before he’d left. The contrast to Velanthor’s earthy, magical atmosphere was jarring, but in a way, it was comforting. This was home. Or at least, it had been.

  Evan stood still for a moment, letting the lingering hum of the portal fade behind him. His body ached, his muscles protesting every movement after days of fighting, marching, and sleeping on hard ground. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on him, both physical and emotional. The mission had been a success—the artifact was secure, Lyrin and the others were safe—but it had come at a cost. The faces of the fallen Temple Guards lingered in his mind, as did the sharp amber eyes of Kaela, the half-orc mercenary he couldn’t quite stop thinking about.

  With a heavy sigh, he pulled off his boots and left them by the door, then shrugged off the travel-worn mix of modern tactical gear and Velanthor armor he’d been wearing. It clattered to the floor in a heap, the sound oddly satisfying in its finality. The weight of it was gone, at least for now.

  First things first: a shower.

  The bathroom light flickered on, and Evan caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He winced. His hair was a mess, his face smudged with dirt and a faint streak of dried blood that he hadn’t noticed earlier. His gray eyes looked sharper than usual, but they were underscored by dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights. He looked like he’d been through hell—and frankly, he had.

  He turned on the shower, letting the hot water run for a moment before stepping in. The first spray of warmth hit his skin, and he groaned audibly, the tension in his shoulders easing as the water washed away the grime of the past week. He stood there for a long time, letting the steam envelop him, feeling the dirt and sweat swirl down the drain. His thoughts wandered as he scrubbed himself clean.

  The battle with Kaela played through his mind—the raw strength in her swings, the sharp wit of her words. She was... complicated. Dangerous, sure, but there was something about her that had stuck with him. And then there was Lyrin. He couldn’t think about the past week without her face coming to mind—her quiet strength, her steady presence, the way her violet eyes had softened when she’d looked at him. She made him feel steady, anchored, in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

  Evan shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the present. One thing at a time. He finished rinsing off, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. The clean scent of soap clung to him as he dried off and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. The simple comfort of clean clothes was something he’d never take for granted again.

  His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t had a proper meal in what felt like forever. Crossing to the kitchen, he grabbed his phone and scrolled through the options on his favorite delivery app. Pizza? Chinese? Mexican? He settled on Thai—spicy curry and spring rolls sounded like exactly the kind of indulgence he needed.

  While he waited for the food to arrive, Evan grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and twisted off the cap. The first sip was perfection, the bitterness of the ale cutting through the lingering dryness in his throat. He leaned against the counter, savoring the moment.

  The soft chime of the doorbell broke the quiet, and he grabbed the bag of takeout from the delivery driver with a quick thank-you. Back inside, he spread the food out on the coffee table in front of the couch. The smell of the red curry was intoxicating, and the first bite made his eyes close in bliss. Spicy, rich, and comforting—it was exactly what he needed.

  He ate slowly, savoring each bite, the tension in his body easing with every mouthful. The spring rolls were crisp, the curry perfectly spiced, and the sticky rice a satisfying contrast to it all. When he’d finished, he leaned back against the couch cushions with a satisfied sigh, the beer bottle resting in his hand.

  But he wasn’t done yet.

  He reached for the bottle of fine whisky he kept tucked away in the cabinet, a gift he’d been saving for a moment like this. Pouring a finger’s worth into a glass, he swirled it slowly, watching the amber liquid catch the light. The first sip was smooth and smoky, the warmth spreading through his chest like a quiet, welcome fire.

  Evan stretched out on the couch, the glass of whisky resting on the table beside him. The room was quiet, the hum of the city outside muffled by the windows. He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting to the mission, to Velanthor, to the people who had become his allies—and, in some cases, more than that.

  Lyrin’s face came to mind first, as it often did. He thought of the quiet moments they’d shared, the way her voice had steadied him when doubt threatened to creep in. He thought of her touch, her warmth, the way her presence made him feel like he could take on anything. But then, unbidden, Kaela’s smirk flashed in his mind, her sharp wit and unrelenting fire sparking something he couldn’t quite define.

  He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips. His life had become something he could never have imagined—magical realms, battles, alliances, and a tangle of emotions he wasn’t sure how to sort through.

  Eventually, the whisky glass empty and the weight of exhaustion too heavy to ignore, Evan hauled himself to bed. The sheets were cool and clean, and as he sank into the mattress, he felt his body finally begin to relax. His thoughts continued to swirl—of victories and losses, of Lyrin and Kaela, of what lay ahead—but sleep claimed him before he could make sense of it all. For now, he was home. And for the first time in what felt like weeks, he let himself rest.