The road to the capital of Lorthraine—a city the land was named after, wound through the vast countryside, a ribbon of dirt and stone threading through fields, forests, and small villages. Ellie trudged along it, her footsteps heavy, her heart heavier. She’d agreed to the representative’s offer, reluctantly, with a knot of dread that had only tightened since the day she left Greymire.

It was the lesser of two evils. The constant eyes on her, the mounting threats—it had all become too much. In the capital, maybe she could disappear into the crowd of the powerful and ambitious. There, her presence might fade into the shadows of grander schemes. At least, that was her hope.

But hope was a flimsy thing. The journey had not been quiet.

She had planned to slip out of Greymire unnoticed, just another traveler on the road. But the world had already shifted around her. Her name—her supposed feats—had spread faster than she could outrun them. By the time she reached the first town, the rumors had already arrived ahead of her, like an echo chasing its own sound.

At the tavern, the first sign greeted her in the form of a nervous, wide-eyed barkeep. The man’s hands shook as he poured her a drink.

“Welcome, Miss Ellie. An honor, truly,” he stammered. “I, uh... I heard about the sorcerer. And the mercenaries.” His voice dropped in reverence as he set the cup before her. “Didn’t think I’d ever meet the woman who brought down a man like him.”

Ellie forced a tight smile, her hands gripping the cup. “I... didn’t think anyone here would know me,” she mumbled, taking a quick sip. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

“We’re lucky to have you, even just for a night,” the tavern keeper continued, smiling at her as if she were a war hero. “Folk round here feel safer knowing you’re passing through.”

She drained the drink quickly, murmured an awkward thanks, and left without looking back. The weight of the man’s gaze lingered long after she stepped out the door, almost as if it followed her onto the road.

*****

In the next village, things got worse.

Ellie had barely reached the edge of the marketplace when a group of young adventurers blocked her path, their faces shining with youthful eagerness. They looked barely older than children—mismatched swords, ragged armor, eyes full of fire. Their leader, a boy with unruly hair and a sword that looked far too heavy for him, stepped forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The one who took down that dark sorcerer?” His voice was breathless, like meeting her was the greatest moment of his life.

Ellie took a step back, pulling her hood lower. “No. You’ve got the wrong person.”

But the group closed in, surrounding her with grins and awe-filled stares.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“We know it’s you,” one of the others said, a girl with wide eyes. “The stories are everywhere. They say you’re a hero!”

“I’m not,” Ellie said firmly, but her words were swallowed by their excitement.

“We want to learn!” the first boy blurted, eyes shining. “Teach us! Teach us how you did it—how you beat someone so powerful!”

Her stomach churned. She didn’t have an answer, not one they’d believe. “I didn’t... I wasn’t alone,” she tried, but their expressions didn’t waver. Their belief had taken root, too deep to be plucked out by mere truth.

“Please,” the girl pleaded, grabbing her arm. “Just one lesson. Anything.”

“I... I don’t know what to tell you,” Ellie said, desperate to escape. She bit her lip, searching for something, anything to satisfy them. “Just... trust your instincts. Stay focused.”

The boy’s eyes widened, as if she had handed him a sacred key. “Trust your instincts,” he repeated, nodding earnestly. “Yes, that’s... that’s perfect.”

Ellie offered a weak smile and slipped through the group, feeling their eyes on her until she turned the corner. As she hurried down the road, she could hear them still murmuring her name, repeating her hollow words like they were magic.

*****

Days later, in a larger town bustling with traders, Ellie kept her head low as she pushed through the crowded market square. The noise of the crowd swirled around her, a cacophony of bartering voices and clattering wheels. For a moment, she thought she might blend into the chaos, just another face in the sea of travelers.

But then a towering figure stepped into her path. His armor gleamed in the afternoon light, a massive sword slung across his back. His face was hard, carved from years of battle, and his eyes locked onto hers with cold intent.

“Ellie of Greymire,” he said, his voice carrying through the din, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “I’ve heard the tales. Of your power. Of your victories.”

Ellie’s heart stuttered in her chest. She tried to step around him, but the man shifted to block her path again, his hand casually resting on the hilt of his sword.

“I am Alric of the Red Blade,” he continued, eyes never leaving hers. “And I challenge you to a duel.”

Around them, the market seemed to pause, the noise fading as heads turned to watch. The crowd parted slowly, as if anticipating a show. Ellie’s pulse hammered in her ears.

“I—I don’t accept,” she stammered, barely able to force the words out.

Alric’s eyes narrowed. “You refuse?”

“I don’t duel,” Ellie repeated, louder this time, trying to steady her voice. “I—please, I’m just passing through.”

The crowd murmured, a ripple of surprise spreading through the onlookers. Alric’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, his gaze darkening. For a moment, Ellie thought he might draw it, force her into a fight she had no hope of winning.

But then, a gust of wind whipped through the square, sudden and fierce, stirring up dust and loose paper. It was nothing more than a random shift in the weather, but in that tense moment, it felt like something more. Alric hesitated, his hand slipping from his sword as he blinked against the dust in his eyes.

Ellie didn’t wait. She darted around him, slipping through the crowd, her heart pounding in her chest as she fled the market. She didn’t stop running until the town was far behind her, and even then, the weight of Alric’s challenge clung to her like a shadow.

The rumors were growing, spreading faster than she could escape them. No matter where she went, the legend of Ellie of Greymire followed, larger and more dangerous with each passing town.

And as the capital loomed ahead, Ellie couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t running from her past. She was running straight into something far worse.