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ot water fell over Av'elyth in silver sheets, slipping through the long black strands of her hair and tracing the pale white curves of a body she had not truly seen in weeks.

For several quiet minutes she simply stood beneath it, naked and motionless, letting the heat loosen every muscle while her hands explored the places where pain had taught her wounds should be—the smooth line of her ribs, the flat of her stomach, the length of her side, the shoulder that had once screamed whenever she lifted her arm. Her skin still carried faint evidence of what had happened to her, but the terrible damage beneath it was simply gone; she turned slowly beneath the water, stretched one long leg behind her, rolled both shoulders, then twisted at the waist with growing disbelief when nothing pulled, tore, or burned.

Av'elyth had never been particularly humble about the body the gods had given her, and seeing herself whole again—slender, graceful, strong, unmistakably elven beneath the steam—brought the smallest, satisfied curve to her lips. By the time she finally reached for the towel, she felt less like a woman recovering from death and more like herself again.

She dressed slowly at first, though caution soon gave way to impatience. Every movement became another quiet test. Bending to pull on her boots brought no stabbing pain through her ribs. Reaching behind herself to fasten a strap no longer required clenched teeth. Even the deeper breath she drew before gathering her things filled her chest without resistance. Whatever the druids had done within that grove, they had done far more than simply close her wounds.

For the first time since the caves, Av'elyth left a room without having to think about how much it would hurt to reach the bottom of the stairs.

She stepped out into morning glare. The others were waiting in the courtyard with their packs gathered near the fountain, the sight of them ready to travel again feeling oddly familiar. Navian stood with Oesora and Gaz while Karneth checked the straps on his pack; Lunara was kneeling beside her own, and Jaeshu had found a patch of shade beneath the archway.

Lunara noticed Av'elyth first. Her eyes swept quickly over her from head to toe, and a grin spread across her face. “You look better.”

“I am better.”

Navian’s gaze lingered a moment longer, relief softening something in his expression when Av'elyth crossed the courtyard without favoring either side of her body. Before he could say anything, however, four Emerald Guards entered through the archway, green cloaks shifting behind dark armor as they approached in two pairs. The red-haired woman at their front inclined her head toward Navian.

“Good morning, travelers. I am Jessali, lieutenant of the Emerald Guard.” She turned and gestured toward the street beyond the archway, and as she did, Navian noticed the greatsword strapped across her back. One of its buckles hung loose, and her baldric hastily re-strapped—a fresh sign that it had seen recent use.

“Provost Bree is ready to receive you.”

Behind them, a wagon waited outside the inn, broad and practical, with benches beneath a canvas cover and enough room along the roof and rear frame for anyone who preferred air to company. Their packs went aboard first. Karneth climbed onto the roof with Lunara and Jaeshu, who had already decided that sitting above everyone else was preferable to sitting among them. One of the guards took the reins and with a gentle jolt, the wagon rolled out into the morning streets.

Caerhaven passed around them in pieces: opening shutters, merchants dragging baskets toward the market, soldiers changing posts, children slipping between adults already busy with the day. The wagon climbed gradually toward the castle but turned away before reaching its main approach, following a narrower road toward the cluster of towers and administrative buildings gathered along the outer wall.

Karneth glanced toward the castle. “Not meeting the king, then?”

“You are not that important yet,” Jessali said with a smirk. “Provost Bree governs this quarter of the kingdom in the Crown’s name.”

Karneth looked back toward the distant towers. “Sounds complicated.”

Bree’s offices occupied one of the taller structures nearest the castle grounds, a pale stone tower wrapped in old ivy and joined to a lower hall by a covered bridge.

The guards led them inside and up a winding stair. By the time they reached the upper floor, Karneth had muttered twice that dwarves had the good sense to put important rooms underground, and not "in the sky where your enemies can see you." Gaz had wisely declined to encourage him. At the end of a short corridor, one of the guards knocked on a pair of dark wooden doors.

“Come,” Bree called.

Her office took up most of the tower’s upper level. Tall windows looked over Caerhaven in three directions, while shelves and cabinets held ledgers and rolled parchments rather than trophies. Bree stood behind a broad desk with her reading glasses low on her nose and a large map spread beneath both hands. Her emerald cloak hung over the back of a chair, leaving her in the dark blue dress Av'elyth remembered from the previous evening.

Bree looked up. Her eyes settled on Av'elyth, and for the first time since they had met, genuine surprise briefly escaped her composure. She sat down in her chair and tilted her head with a small smile.

“Well you seem lithe and graceful.”

Av'elyth glanced down at herself. “I had a good morning.”

“So I see.” Bree gestured toward the chairs arranged before the desk. There were enough for most of them, though Karneth immediately chose one at the end of the table rather than squeeze himself next to the wizard. Navian remained standing until Bree gave him an impatient little look.

“This is not a tribunal, paladin.”

With a reluctance, Navian pulled a seat.

Jaeshu remained near one of the windows. Bree let him.

Gaz glanced toward the castle beyond the window. “Forgive me, but I am curious. Does the king know we are here?”

“Unlikely.”

“Ah.”

Bree removed her glasses. “But the queen has wisely left you to me.”

The wizard nodded once and settled into his seat.

“Today,” she said, folding them atop the map, “I do have questions.”

Navian rested his forearms on his table. “So do we.”

Bree’s gaze moved over the seven of them. “Animals.”

The single word sharpened the room. Oesora straightened slightly. Jaeshu turned from the window.

“For several weeks, I’ve been receiving reports I would ordinarily dismiss on their own,” Bree continued. “Horses refusing roads they've traveled for years. Livestock chewing through fences badly enough to injure themselves. Other animals becoming aggressive toward people they know.” She paused. “Then Rikaard told me about a heifer that simply watched him approach, waited until he was close enough, and attacked.”

Lunara frowned. “No warning?”

“None. That was what troubled him.”

Bree placed one fingertip against the map. “The older accounts from the first years of Orath repeat the same detail often enough that I no longer consider it coincidence. Animals changed first.”

Lunara caught her brother's eye.

Bree’s ears shifted back slightly. “You knew.”

Gaz turned back to the provost. “My scholars and I spent years studying Orath’s patterns and habits, whatever it may actually be.”

"In Veniri," Bree said.

The wizard's eyebrows raised. "You've done your research on us."

"Seven strangers arriving together tend to invite it. A paladin, a dwarf, an elf, a wizard, a priestess, and two scouts walking into my city covered in blood and getting the Elder Druid's personal escort?" Bree closed a nearby book. "It's not exactly inconspicuous."

Lunara looked at Jaeshu and silently mouthed, Scouts?

He shrugged.

"So yes," Bree continued. "It's a dangerous world getting more deadly by the day, and these walls will be the only thing keeping Orath at bay. Your group definitely required some looking into."

"Then you'll likely know by now that we pose no threat." Gaz gently set his staff against the table. "We only needed help mending our friend here."

Av'elyth did not move, but the word settled somewhere unexpected.

Friend.

It left behind a small warmth she was not prepared for.

Lunara placed an arm on the table. "As an archer from the hills of Bahlara, I grew up around animals. Whatever Orath does, it's true, they seem to feel it first. I don’t know why. Maybe they’re simply more susceptible."

"Aye," said Karneth. "Our clan used goats for warning. Kept ’em tethered away from the city. When they became bloodthirsty or we found a chain chewed and their eyes black, we knew."

Lunara recoiled. "That's awful!"

"Not as awful as they taste after turning," he pointed. "Don't suggest that."

The archer winced.

Navian raised his hand. "In any case, yes. We know. Animals are the first to show signs."

Bree sat quietly for a moment, her attention drifting toward the eastern window.

“So it's closer than I hoped.”

“It’s already here,” Jaeshu said from the wall, looking out the window.

The veyrin turned her chair toward him.

Jaeshu’s expression remained hard. “Maybe not inside the city. But close enough that the distinction won’t matter soon.”

“Then you understand why I asked you here," Bree said.

Navian knew what was coming. Rikaard had warned them the night before.

“Stay in Caerhaven.”

Oesora lifted her head. Gaz leaned back slightly in his chair.

Bree caught the shift immediately.

“We pay well,” she said.

Jaeshu looked up.

“Very well,” she added.

The ranger turned and stared at the others.

“And we have soldiers,” the provost said. “Good ones. The last bank of the Makodos. I have a captain I trust and guards who know the surrounding land."

Gaz's chin left his hand as he turned to Bree. "Makodos, you say."

The veyrin's long ears lowered slightly.

"What I do not have are many people who have seen what you have seen. Fewer still who have continued walking afterward. Every Great War made our world younger. So if Orath truly is drawing closer, I would rather have seven people like you inside these walls than somewhere beyond them.”

Navian lowered his eyes to the map between them. It was not an unreasonable offer. That made refusing it harder.

“Those Great Wars before us,” he said.

Bree said nothing.

“Thousands of soldiers, knights, mages. Even shamans and warlocks. Even Caer Valoria sent armies via ships. They all marched toward the Ironspines over and over.”

“I know.”

“Then you know numbers didn’t stop it.”

Bree’s expression tightened. “But numbers still defend cities, paladin.”

“They defend until Orath reaches the walls.” Navian leaned forward. “I’m not saying Caerhaven shouldn’t defend itself. You should. But if we stay here waiting for whatever’s coming, all we’re doing is fighting Orath where it decides to meet us. People have been doing that for ninety years.”

He leaned forward and touched one finger to the eastern red mountains drawn on Bree’s map.

“We’re going to the Ironspines.”

The room stilled.

Bree ears angled toward him. “All seven of you?”

Navian glanced around. Karneth sat with his arms folded. Lunara met his eyes without hesitation. Gaz gave a small nod. Jaeshu remained motionless at the window. Oesora’s answer was already in her face. Av'elyth, alive and upright again, looked almost impatient for the conversation to catch up with a decision she had made long ago.

“Yes.”

Bree stared at them for several seconds. “That is suicide.”

Karneth nodded once. “Maybe.”

"Maybe?"

From the corner, Jaeshu flicked an apple he had apparently liberated from a bowl. “We haven’t been there yet.”

Bree turned toward him.

Jaeshu took a bite.

"I never offered you that, ranger."

"See," he said, chewing thoughtfully. "You can't even protect your fruit."

A faint breath escaped Bree’s nose, but whatever amusement threatened never fully arrived. “You will not survive the Ironspines simply because there are seven of you. You may not even reach them. The forest to the east has been effectively closed to outsiders for decades, and no one in this city can tell you with confidence what waits beyond it now.”

Gaz shifted forward. “If you wish to help support our astonishingly poor decision in some less fatal manner, I can think of several possibilities.”

“Such as?”

"Soldiers? Not an army. But a few, perhaps, specialized individuals?" The wizard tilted his head out the window. "Rikaard seems capable."

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” came a man’s voice from beyond the door.

Bree’s head snapped toward it. “Rikaard!”

There was an immediate shuffle outside, followed by several guards ordering someone—and apparently his dog—to return to the stables.

“Apologies,” she sighed. “He is very nosy.”

Bree closed her eyes for half a moment. “My point is, even if I had the soldiers or specialized personnel to spare—which I do not—as your scout in the corner pointed out earlier—”

"Ranger," said Jaeshu.

"Ranger. Archer. Scout. Whatever," Bree flicked her hand. "Even if I had people to spare, I can promise you that absolutely none of them would be brave enough or foolish enough to follow you."

A silence followed.

"Would you follow you?"

Another long silence.

Navian leaned forward. “Food then. Bandages. Oil. Medicine. A new mount. Perhaps a map that does not end with a decorative picture of mountains and the words ‘everyone dies here.’”

The corner of Bree’s mouth lifted.

“Those... I can provide.”

“Much cheaper than an army,” Karneth added.

Bree stood and moved toward a larger map pinned along the wall. “A map will help immediately east of Caerhaven. After that, I would treat it as increasingly optimistic.”

Jaeshu came away from the window and joined her.

Bree pointed to the roads leading out of the city. “These routes are still traveled. Merchants use them, though less often than they once did. There are smaller trading paths here and here if you want to remain off the main road.” Her finger moved farther east and stopped at a broad stretch of green. “Then you reach the forest.”

“The Golden Quiet” Gaz said.

“That is what humans call it.”

Av'elyth folded her arms. “...Ilvarin'del.”

“It's a very old forest,” Bree continued. “Once there was regular trade with Caerhaven through it. Messengers, caravans, even families moving between settlements. But that changed after Orath. The grand elves there withdrew deeper into their territory. Roads closed. Patrols became less welcoming. Outsiders stopped being trusted.”

“How long?” Oesora asked.

“Most of the last half century. Never been there myself. It's been that way my entire life.”

Navian studied the map. “Do they attack travelers?”

“I cannot tell you. And I suspect anyone who could answer from experience is unlikely to be here.”

He looked up at her, waiting.

“That is not evasion,” Bree said. “It is the truth. Reliable information from inside the forest has become rare. I cannot promise those roads still exist, that the settlements beyond are still occupied, or that anyone there will tolerate seven armed strangers walking through their territory.”

“They won’t see seven strangers. They’ll see six,” Av'elyth said. “And an elf.”

The provost removed her glasses. “...true.”

Av'elyth’s tone stayed calm. “If they’re willing to speak before they start shooting, I’ll do my best to make sure we keep speaking.”

Karneth scratched at his beard. “And if they start shootin’?”

Av'elyth considered that. “Then we begin... negotiations.”

Karneth grunted. “Aye.”

The smile that moved briefly through the room faded as Bree returned to the map.

“Beyond the Golden Quiet, my information becomes unreliable at best. Roads change. Settlements disappear. Borders move, especially when people stop talking to one another.”

Jaeshu nodded. “We’ll take what you have.”

Bree returned to her desk. “And there is one other matter. Horses.”

Gaz’s expression brightened hopefully.

“You are not getting seven.”

It dimmed again.

“Not after the reports we just discussed. If animals are being affected first, I will not send seven people east sitting on seven potential problems. Av'elyth gets one because I am not making someone who was nearly dead yesterday walk out of Caerhaven.”

Av'elyth opened her mouth.

Bree raised one finger.

“I know. You feel wonderful.”

Av'elyth closed it.

“One additional horse for provisions and rotation if someone needs it. No more. If either animal behaves strangely, you dismount and end it immediately. Do not wait for certainty.”

Navian nodded. “Our dwarf has no problem with that.”

Jaeshu made a sound to himself.

With the harder matters settled, some of the weight finally left the room. Bree marked a blacksmith on the map whose work she trusted and recommended a place near the southern market where they could eat before leaving. When Jaeshu reached absently toward the fruit bowl again, she slid it to the opposite side of the desk without interrupting herself.

The ranger stared at it.

Bree continued speaking.

Lunara covered a smile.

By the end of the meeting, the room no longer felt like an interrogation or a recruitment attempt. Bree’s natural veyrin hospitality had resurfaced somewhere along the way, and whatever caution had greeted them that morning had softened into something warmer. Somewhere in the conversation, strangers had become allies.

Navian rose.

“Thank you.”

Bree reached for her glasses. “For?”

“For all of it. The rooms. The food. Letting us stay here.” His gaze shifted briefly to Av'elyth. “And for giving us somewhere to bring her.”

Bree’s eyes followed his toward the window where the upper branches of the great tree could still be seen beyond the rooftops.

“That part belongs to the druids.”

“I know.”

Bree put her glasses back on. “My offer remains until you leave the city. You would be most welcome here.”

Navian smiled faintly. “We'll remember the offer.”

Bree extended her hand across the desk.

“I hope you find whatever you believe is waiting in those mountains.”

“So do I.”

“And if you discover the sensible answer is to turn around?”

Navian glanced toward the others. “Then we turn around.”

“Good.” Bree released his hand. “Try to remain alive long enough to make that decision.”

He gave a small nod.

Bree’s ears tipped back slightly as she looked over all seven of them.

“And if you go out there and find more than you were bargaining for, come back. Caerhaven would welcome you home.”

Home.

The word carried an unexpected warmth among people who had never shared one.

The provost knew what she was doing. She was very good at it.

The Emerald Guard escorted them back down the tower. By the time the wagon carried them away from the castle district, Bree’s map was rolled beneath Jaeshu’s arm and the morning had climbed higher over Caerhaven.

Newcastle was waiting at the south gate.

The direwolf sat at Rikaard’s side, broad-headed and alert, watching the arriving wagon with the calm interest of an animal who seemed to understand far more than anyone had bothered explaining to him. Beside them stood a plain brown mare already saddled for travel, while Lilly waited a little farther back near the stable rail.

Lunara saw her before the wagon had fully stopped.

Rikaard followed her gaze. “Yeah,” he said. “Figured you’d want to say goodbye.”

She climbed down and crossed straight to the chestnut mare, wrapping both arms around Lilly’s neck. The horse shifted beneath the embrace but did not pull away. For several quiet seconds Lunara simply held her, one hand moving slowly through the familiar hair along the side of her neck.

“I’ll be back, girl,” she murmured.

Rikaard nodded. “She’ll be safe.”

Lunara looked over at him. “Promise?”

He chuckled. “Lady, she’s got food, water, a good stall and me. She’s about to live better than you.”

Lunara gave him a look, though there was little force behind it. She turned back to Lilly and pressed her forehead gently against the mare before finally letting go.

“Take care of her.”

“I will.”

The humor left his voice for those two words.

By then the others had begun unloading their belongings from the wagon. Jaeshu claimed Bree’s rolled map before Gaz could reorganize it into whatever system only Gaz understood, while Navian and Oesora divided the provisions between the packs. Karneth hauled his own over one shoulder and dropped heavily from the wagon.

Av'elyth approached the brown mare.

Rikaard handed her the reins. “Nothing fancy, but she’s steady.”

Av'elyth ran a hand once along the animal’s neck, examining her with the same quiet attention she might have given a new bow.

Lunara glanced over. “What are you going to call her?”

Av'elyth looked at her.

“Call her?”

“She needs a name.”

Av'elyth’s gaze moved back to the mare. “No.”

Lunara frowned. “No?”

Av'elyth stroked the mare’s neck once more. “The provost just spent half the morning explaining what we are supposed to do if Orath reaches either animal.” She took the reins firmly in hand. “Naming things just gets you attached.”

Navian straightened and slung a pack over his shoulder. "A fair point. Elf."

Av'elyth looked back. "Thank you. Paladin."

They shared a small smile as she placed one foot in the stirrup and mounted. Smoothly.

Karneth, meanwhile, looked around the gate. “Thought your provost said there’d be another horse?”

Rikaard scratched at the side of his jaw.

“Ah. Yeah, well.” He glanced toward Karneth. “I was about to lend you folks another horse, but I figured you’d favor this nonsense instead.”

He whistled.

Heavy hooves scraped against stone somewhere beyond the stable wall. A handler appeared around the corner leading another mount.

Karneth’s eyes lit up.

“A bloody bramblehorn!”

For one rare moment, the dwarf looked genuinely stunned.

He crossed the space between them with surprising speed and reached the ram, one broad hand settling carefully against the thick fur along its neck. Up close, the animal was even more impressive: dense through the shoulders, heavy with muscle, its great curling horns worn smooth along their outer ridges from years of growth. The bramblehorn lowered its head slightly beneath Karneth’s touch, warm breath spilling across his wrist, then leaned into the dwarf’s palm.

Karneth’s hand slowly worked deeper into the coarse fur at its neck.

A grin spread beneath his beard. He turned and slapped Rikaard across the back hard enough to nearly buckle the man’s knees.

“Lad,” he breathed, “you’re one of a kind!”

Before Rikaard could recover, Karneth hauled him into a crushing embrace. “Far as this dwarf is concerned, you’re one of the Taarn Castali clan now!” He squeezed harder. “A brother of brothers.”

Pinned helplessly against the dwarf’s chest, Rikaard surrendered what little breath he had left.

“...You’re... welcome.”

Karneth roared with laughter and finally released him. Rikaard staggered backward, bent over with both hands on his knees and dragged in a desperate breath while Karneth immediately returned to the bramblehorn. He ran one hand proudly over the saddle, checked the straps along its flanks, then gave one of the massive curling horns an appreciative knock with his knuckles.

“Aw, you’re all gonna see somethin’ majestic now!” Karneth looked back at the others with open delight. “Bramblehorns are the mounts of gods. Strong on the climbs, sure-footed on stone, stubborn enough to carry an owlbear through the end of the bloody world.”

The ram snorted. Karneth grinned at it.

“Aye. You know.”

He gripped the saddle and planted one boot into the stirrup. “We’ll make some time now.”

Av'elyth watched Rikaard coughing his lungs back into working order and laughed quietly.

“Should’ve just given him a horse, beastmaster.”

Soon, the little company had settled into something resembling readiness again. Av'elyth sat upon the nameless mare. Karneth stood beside his ram with one hand still resting possessively on its saddle. The others adjusted packs, weapons and straps while Newcastle remained planted beside Rikaard, observing all of it with patient stewardship.

The man looked across the seven of them. “You all have what you need?”

Lunara glanced over the provisions. “Looks like it!”

Gaz patted his satchel and agreed.

Rikaard rested one hand on Newcastle’s head. “Road stays easy for a while. After that, I’d listen to him.” He nodded toward the ranger. “Guy looks miserable enough to know where he’s going.”

Jaeshu stared at him.

Rikaard grinned. “See.”

A quiet laugh escaped Lunara and Oesora.

Rikaard leaned forward to shake Navian's hand. “Come back with something worth hearing, paladin.”

“We’ll try.”

“Preferably yourselves.”

Navian smiled. “No promises, Wolfhart.”

The two men shared one last clasp. There was nothing more to say without beginning the farewell again, and neither of them seemed willing to do that, so Navian nodded and turned toward the road.

Av'elyth rode near the center upon the mare she refused to name. Karneth walked beside the bramblehorn at first, though the way his hand kept returning to its saddle suggested that arrangement might not last long. Lunara looked back twice before they had gone a hundred yards, waving toward Lilly until the chestnut mare disappeared behind the curve of the wall.

Navian raised one hand.

Rikaard threw an arm high above his head.

Then the road bent, and Caerhaven began to gently slip away behind them.

For a while they traveled without speaking. The city walls slowly shrank against the morning sky, towers sinking behind the low hills until only the great tree remained visible above the rooftops.

They had entered Caerhaven bloodied and exhausted, carrying Av'elyth toward the grove without knowing whether she would ever wake again.

They left with her sitting straight-backed upon a nameless horse, almost completely healed and already looking like herself.

The open road settled around them again.

Jaeshu naturally moved toward the front, studying the land ahead as the main road curved between two grassy rises. After a time he lifted one hand toward a lower break in the hills where scattered pines had begun to take hold.

“There,” he said. “The trader’s path cuts through there. Keeps us low, and the road is smoother. Easier to ride.”

Gaz brightened.

“I prefer the smoother, easier road. After all...”

He caught up just enough to tap Jaeshu lightly on the shoulder with the end of his staff as he passed.

“I seem to be carrying more coin than I arrived with. How strange.”

Jaeshu stopped for half a step.

He watched Gaz walk by, rolled his eyes, and followed.

The wizard chuckled.