The clearing was finally still. Steam drifted from the scorched pines, fading into the night air. Elaria broke away from the bound rogue and crossed toward me, her steps soft but unsteady.

  “You’re hurt,” she said quietly.

  Before I could answer, her hands cupped my jaw, guiding my face toward the moonlight. A faint glow formed beneath her palms. Warmth spread through my cheek, dulling the throbbing ache from the vanguard’s kick.

  “You don’t have to—” I started.

  “Yes, I do,” she murmured. “You always pretend you’re fine.”

  Up close, I could see how tired she was. The edges of her eyes were rimmed red. Her breaths came thin and uneven. She’d nearly drained herself keeping the rogue alive—and yet she treated a bruise on my face like it mattered.

  “You’re pushing yourself,” I said quietly.

  “And you’re dodging the point.” Her lips curved into a tired smile. “You’re always the last one to admit you’re hurt.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that. At least not one I liked.

  “There,” she whispered. “Good as new.”

  The glow faded as she finished. She lingered a moment longer than she needed to, close enough for me to see the faint worry lining her eyes. Then she stepped back, brushing her fingers against mine.

  “Try to stay in one piece,” she added gently. “It makes my job easier.”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  Behind her, something shifted.

  Lira stood near the treeline, half-hidden in shadow, watching us with a stillness. Her expression gave away nothing. Her posture was perfect, controlled.

  Only her eyes moved—following Elaria’s hand, then flicking to mine, then away again.

  The moment stretched as she watched quietly.

  Elaria didn’t seem to notice. She touched my arm one last time—a brief, reassuring gesture—and turned to help Merric with the prisoner.

  Lira stayed where she was, cloak stirring in the cold wind, gaze steady and unreadable. When I looked her way again, she offered a single curt nod before moving toward the unconscious rogue.

  The unspoken message was clear enough.

  It was time to go.

  Merric adjusted his grip and hefted the rogue over his shoulder with a low grunt. The girl’s limp form sagged against him.

  We started down the narrow path leading out of the clearing, pine needles crunching softly beneath our boots. The forest had grown quieter after the fight—no wind, no distant birds, just the slow, wheezing breaths of the girl Merric carried.

  “Why do unconscious people always weigh twice as much?” he wheezed, shifting her higher on his shoulder.

  Lira walked a few paces behind him, her steps light and deliberate. “Quit complaining. It’s not that far.”

  Merric shot her a look over his shoulder. “Says the one traveling light.”

  “If you’re struggling, I can take her,” Lira replied, tone flat.

  Merric snorted. “Oh, never. Can’t have the ice princess hauling heavy bodies.”

  A faint groan rose near his ear.

  “Who… are you calling heavy…?”

  Merric nearly jumped, tightening his grip. “By the Sight—don’t do that. I almost dropped you.”

  The rogue stilled with a shaky exhale. Her earlier bravado gone, every breath sounded like it tugged at the wounds Lira drilled into her legs.

  For a while, no one spoke.

  The trail curved toward town, the lantern glow slowly becoming visible through the trees. My cheek still held the faint warmth of Elaria’s healing sigil. Her words lingered too—You pretend you’re fine—echoing in the back of my mind.

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  As the town came into view, the rogue lifted her head just enough to look my way.

  “You’ll understand soon,” she rasped. “Out here, they don’t forgive people like us.”

  Her gaze held mine—drained but sharp. “Sight decides everything. Don’t let the Guild fool you.”

  The words dug under my ribs the same way they had in the clearing.

  Merric jostled her with a huff. “Alright, enough. No cryptic speeches while I’m carrying you.”

  But her warning stayed with me long after she fell silent.

  We reached the town’s gate, approaching the stationed guards. They straightened the moment our golden Guild tags flashed under the lanterns, stepping aside immediately.

  We made our way toward the small Guild building in the center of town.

  Inside the Guild courtyard, a uniformed guard stepped forward as Merric eased the girl down from his shoulder. She winced but didn’t look away from me.

  “Another rogue? Figures.” The guard shook his head. “Ever since the Lords raised taxes, the whole region’s gone feral. I’ll take her from here.”

  He lifted the rogue with a grunt and nodded toward the Guild hall. “Your claim should already be logged.”

  Merric watched the guard carry her off, rubbing at the back of his neck. “She talked like we were the villains,” he muttered. “Can’t say I love that.”

  “Don’t dwell on what she said,” Lira murmured. “Rogues survive by rattling the people holding their chains.”

  We followed him across the courtyard, collected our sealed payment, and stepped back into the late day. The sky had gone a deep blue, the last of the light fading behind the treetops.

  The road west stretched long and quiet ahead of us.

  No one said it out loud, but we all felt the same thing:

  The real journey had only just started.

  We hadn’t made it far before the day’s exhaustion finally caught up to us. A few leagues outside of town, the last of the light bled into an expansive night sky. We found a clearing just off the road, sheltered by leaning pines and a fallen log half-submerged in moss.

  We set up camp in quiet efficiency. I gathered firewood, Lira coaxed a flame from the tinder, Merric pitched the tents, and Elaria prepared dinner.

  Elaria’s movements were slower than usual, fatigue hanging on her limbs like lead. From across the firelight, I watched her hands tremble slightly as she stirred the pot. She’d pushed herself hard tonight—nearly past her limit, to keep the rogue alive. She behaved as if she were fine, exactly the thing she scolded me for.

  Merric collapsed onto the fallen log with a groan.

  “I’m so hungry I could eat a mana beast whole. How much longer on that stew, Elaria?”

  “Not much longer,” she said, blowing across the spoon. “Just waiting for the meat to finish cooking.”

  Dinner came and went without much conversation. Afterward, Merric retreated to his tent, his snoring echoing from inside like distant thunder. I lingered by the fire, watching embers drift upward into the dark.

  Elaria joined me a moment later, settling at my side—close enough that I caught the soft floral scent of her perfume. Her face softened as she looked over at me.

  “You should get some rest,” she said quietly. “Today wasn’t easy on any of us.”

  I turned, meeting her deep emerald eyes.

  “I think it was hardest on you. Healing that rogue took everything out of you.”

  A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe. But I’m glad I was able to save her—even if she didn’t make it easy.”

  I studied her for a moment, unsure whether to admire her or envy her compassion. I wished I cared as deeply as she did—even for those who tried to kill us.

  “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard,” I said gently.

  Her smile shifted into a soft huff. “You’re one to talk. You’re always the first one injured and the last one to admit it.”

  I sighed, letting the fire crackle between us in place of a reply.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and for a moment the entire clearing seemed to still—just the fire, the wind, and the quiet shape of her beside me.

  Across the flames, Lira watched us over the rim of her canteen. When our eyes met, she looked away quickly and adjusted the clasp of her cloak. She hadn’t said much since the rogue’s warning. Something in her posture felt wound tighter than usual.

  Elaria rose slowly. “I’m going to turn in. You should, too.”

  I nodded, standing with her before heading toward my tent.

  But lying down didn’t settle my thoughts. Sleep hovered just out of reach. The rogue’s voice threaded through the dark.

  Sight decides everything.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant.

  And a part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

  Dawn came cold and pale. A thin layer of frost covered the grass, crunching underfoot as we packed our things. Lira was already awake, her cloak dusted with dew and her eyes fixed on the western road stretching into the hills.

  “We’ve got a long way ahead of us,” she said as I approached. “Halcwyn is ten days out if the weather stays fair.”

  “What if it turns?” Merric asked around a mouthful of dried fruit.

  “Then it’s twelve,” she said.

  Merric groaned—and immediately coughed as a piece of fruit caught in his throat.

  I snorted. “That’s what you get for complaining.”

  He shot me a watery-eyed glare, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

  A soft laugh came from behind me.

  “I can’t with you guys,” Elaria said, shaking her head.

  With that, we set off westward, the rising sun spilling soft gold over the path ahead. For a while, the only sound was our boots on the packed dirt and the occasional bird stirring in the frostbitten branches.

  By midday, the road had grown busier. Wagons creaked past us—merchant caravans, farmers hauling winter stores, even groups of traveling weavers bundled in thick shawls. Most people offered a polite nod or wave, but some carried expressions of quiet loss as they passed.

  After a while, one caravan slowed as it neared us. The lead driver lifted a hand in greeting.

  “You four headed west?” he called.

  “Yes, sir. Toward Halcwyn,” Merric answered.

  The man exhaled sharply. “Then keep your wits about you. The nobles out there have been squeezing villages dry. Taxes doubled this month, and some folks can’t even afford grain.”

  Another man sitting on the wagon’s edge leaned forward. “We passed through Sunferne yesterday. Half the town was gathered in the square, arguing with the lord’s men. Looked ready to riot.”

  Lira’s posture shifted subtly. “Has the Guild intervened?”

  The driver’s brows rose. “Guild? No one’s seen them in weeks,” he scoffed. “Nobles claim the authority to levy whatever they want in the name of the Sight. People are hungry, miss. Hungry and angry.”

  The second man added quietly, “Wouldn’t be surprised if someone snapped soon.”

  He jerked the reins, and the wagon rolled on, wheels crunching over the hard dirt.

  “You youngins be careful now,” the driver called as they departed.

  Merric let out a sigh. “Great. Just what we need. Angry nobles.”

  “Angry villagers are worse,” Lira corrected.

  Elaria frowned, glancing west. “Do you think it’ll spread?”

  “It always spreads,” Lira said. “Once one lord decides he wants more coin, the rest always follow.”

  The worry on Lira’s face was visible—an unusual sight for our stoic caster.

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do sitting here. Let’s get moving,” I said, stepping back onto the western path.

  The others followed, matching my pace.

  Not long after, another caravan approached. This one was smaller, pulled by two old mares with frost on their manes. An elderly woman sat in the back, weaving thin strands of thread into a patterned cloth.

  She lifted her gaze as we passed. “You’re with the Guild, aren’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am, we are,” Elaria answered kindly.

  Relief flickered in the woman’s eyes. “Then you should know—Lord Hardin has guards posted on the western farms. He’s been confiscating crops under the excuse of ‘winter shortages.’ My grandson nearly lost a hand arguing with his men.”

  “That’s illegal. He can’t do that,” Merric said flatly.

  The woman let out a brittle laugh. “Dear boy, out here, what’s legal depends on who’s willing to enforce it.”

  Her words echoed the rogue’s warning a little too closely.

  Sight decides everything.

  As the caravan rolled away, silence fell between us. Eventually, Elaria broke it, hope flickering in her eyes.

  “We should help if we can.”

  Lira didn’t answer at first. Then, quietly, “We’ll stop at Sunferne and assess the situation. But don’t expect the nobility to appreciate interference.”

  Merric scratched the back of his head. “I hate politics.”

  “You just have no knack for it,” Lira said.

  He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  I stayed quiet, watching the horizon. The western road wound through low hills beneath a pale blue sky, but after hearing the locals, the land no longer felt peaceful. Something was boiling beneath the surface—resentment, hunger, fear.

  And through all of it, the rogue’s voice crept back into my thoughts.

  You’ll understand soon.