By evening, the temperature had cooled considerably, and so did the mood of the festival. The sun had vanished underneath the horizon, and the stars twinkled high above in the heavens. Torches had been placed around the Center, giving the festival a healthy glow.

With the last of the contests of strength over, the festival-goers sat at sturdy oak tables facing the stage. The sight of Sujin struggling to make it back to their table through waves of flatterers was amusing to Renya. The Mayor had even toasted Sujin’s victory, which made him blush up to his ears.

“That wasn’t half bad,” Renya called, looking up at Sujin as he approached their table, a ring of flowers hanging from his neck.

Sujin scratched at his cheek. “I told you so,” he said, “he wasn’t much trouble at all.”

“It ended quite fast,” Renya noted. “Are all fights like that?”

“Some,” Sujin said, taking a seat beside Renya. “Any skilled fighter worth their salt would try to end it quickly; long, drawn-out melees are a fool’s game. That’s what the Mayor told me.”

“Oho? You sound experienced.” Renya picked at her bowl of spiced porridge. “He’s been training you?”

He nodded. “My father—the Mayor thinks I should learn to defend myself. It’s rewarding, knowing you’re getting stronger but. . .”

She raised a brow. “But?”

“I just worry,” he said, looking down at his hands, “if I’m learning to fight for the right reasons. I’m good at it, but that’s pretty much it.”

“Is there a wrong reason?” Renya asked, adjusting her spectacles with both hands.

Sujin grimaced. “I don’t know if that’s the life I want, always in the middle of a fight.”

Renya grinned—and then pushed her bowl of porridge aside—she wasn’t hungry. “Wouldn’t you say life itself is the eternal fight?” She looked over at Sujin, who shrugged in response.

“Is that one of your proverbs?”

“Nope,” she said. “I coined it myself. You can quote me on it if you want.”

“No. . . thanks?” Sujin turned his attention to the empty stage. Qilen had wandered off somewhere, although he had promised to return shortly. “What do you make of him? The storyman.”

“Qilen? He’s nice, I figure.” She hesitated—even she wasn’t sure what to make of him. “Everyone else seems to like him enough. Unlike the peddlers, he doesn’t treat us like idiots, and from what I hear, he even pays for board and lodging.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Sujin grumbled, reaching across the table for a bowl of fruits. He picked out a plump apple. “You’ve talked to him the most, right? What do you think of him personally?”

Renya eyed him for a moment, then broke into twinkling laughter. “What’s brought all this on, Sujin?”

Sujin regarded Renya, his face stiff and cold. “Is it too much to answer a simple question?”

“When you force it onto me like that,” Renya said, “yes.”

“If he asked you too, would you run off with him?” Sujin pressed, his voice searching for an answer.

“Well, I’ve never once thought of it,” she admitted, “not even once.” She had lied. But she guessed any answer otherwise would’ve sent him into one of his moods.

He sighed heavily—seemingly relieved.

“You’re oddly proactive today,” Renya said. “Usually, all you do is just scowl and glower at me.”

He frowned, responding with an unflattering snort. “I don’t glower.”

Renya rested her hand on Sujin’s broad shoulder. It wasn’t proper, but she had lacked a lot of that lately. “Take it from me,” she said, “you might want to take a look at yourself. You’d be surprised what you learn.

“I don’t glower,” he repeated, “not purposely. I just have a mean face. So did the Mayor and my mother, or so I heard.”

“Must be nice,” she said, “to know who your parents were. I don’t even know where my father was from.”

Compared to everyone else, Renya did look foreign. Even if she had lived her entire life in Silverleaf Village. Sujin’s hair was a muddled shade of gold, and so was his father’s, likely his mother’s as well. But Renya’s hair was stark black, and it stood out like a wolf among sheep. It didn’t bother her as much anymore, but there had been times where she seriously considered dying her hair. The Priestess narrowly talked her out of it

“He was an outsider,” Sujin stated. “What else is there to know?"

“Why did my mother come back without him? Did he love me? Is he still out there somewhere in the world? If he is, then why has he never tried to visit me?” Renya paused for a breath. “I’ve got a thousand questions for him, if he’s still among the living, that is."

“My earliest memories of my father aren’t pleasant,” Sujin said softly. “I think he blamed me for my mother’s death. Maybe it’s better that you never got to know him. Isn’t holding onto what he could be better than finding out what he’s really like?”

Renya furrowed her brows. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Sujin rose to his feet, tossing the apple back into the bowl. “Follow me,” he muttered. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

“Well,” Renya said, rising, “lead the way then.”

. . .

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“So, where are you taking me?”

They rounded an ancient tree, its gnarled branches draped with bittervine. They were far from the village now, the light of the torches faint.

“Where I go to think,” Sujin said, looking straight ahead at the boundary limits of the forest coming upon them. “My head feels clearer there. I don’t know why. It just does.”

Thankfully, Sujin led her down a beaten path. She imagined trying to traverse an uncharted forest at night in a dress. The thought of it left her cringing. The full moon overhead was obscured by tangles of reaching branches. Despite it, light still shone down on the forest floor.

The ceaseless chirping of crickets filled the forest.

A half-hour into the trek, they stopped at a clearing. A small stream trickled down from a slope of large stones at the far end of the clearing. At the center was a silver solus tree, a bouquet of wildflowers placed at its roots.

“A Silverleaf,” Renya whispered. “I didn’t think there were any more left.”

“Besides my father and I, no one else knows about this place.” Sujin grimaced. “Well, at least that’s how it was. I guess you know now too. You won’t go flapping your mouth about this place, right?” He hesitated, then quickly added, “I don’t think you’d go telling everyone, but I have to be sure. Promise me.” There was a pleading tone to his voice. She had never heard him talk in such a way.

“I promise,” she said. “But why did you bring me here if you didn’t want anyone to know?”

Sujin’s gaze fell on the Silverleaf, and his face seemed to soften. “This is my mother’s resting place.”

Silence descended on the clearing, the chirping of crickets fading away.

“I’m sorry,” Renya said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t,” Sujin replied. “You don’t have to say anything.” He turned to her. “I brought you here for a reason.”

Renya’s eyes narrowed. For what reason could he have dragged her out to the forest in the middle of a festival? She could think of a few, and they were hardly appropriate.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to visit here in the future,” he said, “at least not for a while.”

Renya blinked as the implication of his words dawned on her. “What are you talking about?"

“My father plans to send me away,” Sujin said. “He’s already sent out letters to the military academy in Shaizu. Apparently, the headmaster is an old friend from his in the army. He’s mentioned it to me in the past, but I think he’s serious now.”

“Didn’t you want a life away from violence?” She shrugged. “A military academy doesn’t sound ideal for that.”

“I know that,” Sujin snapped, looking back in the direction of the village. “This is my home, Renya. I don’t know anything besides Silverleaf Village. Now, I’m being ripped away from my life. I’ll be gone for a decade at the least, in a strange city for people I don’t even know. I just want one constant that I know will never change in the time I’m gone.”

Renya nodded slowly, feeling awkward and lost for words.

“A single constant is all I need,” he muttered. “Will you wait for me until I get back?”

Suppressing the shock running through her mind, Renya sighed and slowly shook her head. “Sujin. . . I’ve never once thought of you that way.”

He looked deep into her eyes. “I know it’s sudden, but-”

“But what?” she snapped, more harshly than she intended. “I wait in this village, pining away for you? I consider you a friend, Sujin. I really do.” She took on a softer tone. “But I have my own life to live, and it belongs to me.”

“You can make a family,” he pleaded, “isn’t that what you want?"

“No!” Renya shouted. “Don’t you dare hold that over me!”

Sujin closed his eyes. “I. . . understand.” He took a step back and turned away from her. “That’s what I was expecting. So, I won’t hold it against you.” With his back straight and his chin lifted high, Sujin disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

Renya received no answer.

Unbelievable, she thought.

What had he expected? For Renya to give up her life for him like a widowed spinster? She thought back to what Lai Teri had told her. Don’t end up like your mother.

“The Will take her,” she cursed before storming back in the direction of the village. The Priestess wouldn’t appreciate her use of phrasing, but Renya was hardly in the mood to care.

I’ll show you. If Lai Teri thought that there was nothing for Renya in the outside world, she’d prove her wrong.

. . .

Kalis—how long it had been since she read her own name. She scanned the letter, deciphering the hidden code underneath the meandering sentences about the difficulties of homestead life in the Edgelands. None knew the cipher but the Remnant. And even then, only the high-ranking members were familiar with it.

Far from her home, Kalis was forced to adapt to rural life. But Kalis feared she had become too absorbed. There was a certain fragile peace to be found among the Silverleaf villagers. They were honest folks, free of deceit and cunning. A traveler rarely came across such people outside.

She had even found a good man to pass the lonely nights with. Kalis knew he was broken underneath, worn down from the rigors of life, but so was she. Broken people seemed to attract each other.

If you had to take up your sword again, could you? Kalis had asked herself that question an innumerable amount of times.

Whatever she was becoming, Kalis would worry about that later. For now, she needed to focus on the letter.

He has risen, Kalis read, candlelight barely illuminating the characters. And so have his followers. The False One claims papacy.

“So, it has begun,” she whispered to the night, closing her eyes, letting the darkness consume her. A storm was coming, and it would engulf the world. Something bigger than petty squabbles between kingdoms and empires. She could see it coming on the horizon now, a repeat of the War of the Tree. The blood of innocents on her hands and their screams echoing in her mind—she remembered it all. And she would never forget.

It was time for her to leave. Only now could her quest for salvation truly begin.

The girl. What about Renya? The young charge she was sworn to protect. She wasn’t ready, far from it. Even the weakest of bandits would make short work of her, not to mention the hordes of bloodthirsty beasts prowling the wilds.

A single week, Kalis decided. One week until she would set off on her final pilgrimage. A week to prepare Renya for the outside world.

Kalis hummed an anxious prayer. One week wouldn’t be nearly enough, but it would have to do. She had no other choice. A caravan of traders from the Sol Imperium was slated to arrive in a week; they could take Renya on as an apprentice. It was a hard life, that of a traveling merchant, but it was better than just abandoning her.

No, Kalis thought. Don’t be foolish. Can you really trust your little girl with strangers?

A traitorous thought wormed into her mind. The Keeper, could he be trusted to keep Renya safe?

Better him than crafty merchants, she decided.

Kalis growled, trying to sort through the list of potential caretakers in her head. She came up with nothing. It was a choice between her pride and her daughter. Years ago, Kalis’ pride would’ve won out, but she was no longer that person.

Kaizen, she decided. An acquaintance from her wandering years after the war. Last she heard of him, he resided in Shaizu as the master of his own martial arts school. The Keeper would ensure Renya’s safe trip to Shaizu. In return, she’d inform him of the return of that man.

A fair deal for everyone involved.

With that, Kalis returned her attention to the letter.

Please, she prayed to the Will, have mercy on us all. Kalis saw the storming brewing on the horizon, and she wasn’t sure if she could face it again.