The rain showed no mercy. It pelted Silas and the healer as they rode back toward Darkwood Hollow, the relentless downpour muffling the sound of hooves against the soaked earth. The storm hadn’t let up for hours, turning the already treacherous journey into a gruelling ordeal. Silas’s cloak was soaked through, his face set in grim determination as he focused on the road ahead.
Beside him, the healer rode silently, her posture straight and composed despite the worsening weather. She hadn’t spoken a word since they’d set off, and Silas wasn’t inclined to start a conversation either. His thoughts were consumed by Layla’s fragile state, her life hanging by a thread. The healer’s presence was a small comfort, but the fear gnawed at him that even she might not be enough.
The storm grew fiercer, with the wind howling through the trees, their branches bending and creaking under its force. The sky was a dark, oppressive grey with no sign of letting up. Silas could feel his horse struggling beneath him, the powerful beast’s stamina waning with each passing hour. He gritted his teeth, willing them both to push through the pain and exhaustion. Layla needed them.
But it was no use. After what felt like an eternity, the horse’s pace slowed to a weary trot, its sides heaving with the effort. Silas knew they couldn’t push any further without risking the animal’s health. He tugged gently on the reins, guiding the horse toward a small cluster of trees that offered some shelter from the storm.
“We’ll rest here,” he called over the wind, his voice rough from the cold and strain.
The healer nodded wordlessly, dismounting with a graceful ease that contrasted sharply with Silas’s own stiff, pained movements. They led their horses under the shelter of the trees, and Silas patted his mount’s neck, whispering soft words of reassurance.
They simply stood there for a while, the rain still pouring around them, a steady drumbeat against the leaves. The healer remained silent, her expression unreadable as she checked her horse’s tack. Silas leaned against a tree, rubbing his aching arms, trying to gather his thoughts. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating, but eventually, he felt the need to break it.
“You’re from the East, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice gruff from disuse. “Your attire… it looks like something from Ryukami.”
The healer glanced at him, her green eyes meeting his briefly before she looked away. “Yes,” she replied softly, her voice carrying a faint accent. “This is a kimono, the traditional garb of my people.”
Silas nodded, though he wasn’t sure what to say next. He’d heard stories of the Ryukami continent, a land shrouded in mystery and ancient traditions. But beyond that, he knew little, and it felt strange to be having this conversation now, in the middle of a storm, with so much at stake.
“Never been there myself,” he said, more to fill the silence than anything else. “Must be different from Amberfell.”
“It is,” the healer replied, her tone neutral. “Very different.”
Silas hesitated, then decided to press further. “I don’t think I caught your name,” he said, his curiosity piqued despite his weariness.
The healer paused, her gaze flickering to meet his. “Kie,” she said, her voice steady. “Kie Takahara.”
Silas blinked in surprise, the name catching him off guard. For a moment, he wondered if she might be royalty or of noble blood, and the thought made him wary. Why would someone of her status be out here, in this wilderness, helping him? Moreover, what was she doing in Amberfell anyway?
“That’s… quite the name,” Silas murmured, trying to keep his tone casual despite the questions swirling in his mind. “You must be of noble birth.”
Kie’s expression didn’t change, though there was a faint glimmer of something in her eyes—pride, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. “That was a different life,” she replied, her tone dismissive, as if her past no longer mattered.
Another awkward silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of the rain and the occasional snort from the horses. Kie seemed content with the silence, and Silas couldn’t muster the energy to force a conversation. His thoughts drifted back to Layla, and the heavy weight of uncertainty settled over him once more.
After what felt like an eternity, the rain began to ease, and Silas noticed his horse’s breathing had steadied. He pushed off the tree, shaking off the weariness that clung to him like a shroud. “We should carry on,” he said, his voice low.
Kie nodded, mounting her horse in one smooth motion. Silas followed suit, wincing as his sore muscles protested. Without another word, they set off again, the horses’ hooves squelching in the mud as they resumed their journey.
Kie nodded, mounting her horse in one smooth motion. Silas followed suit, wincing as his sore muscles protested. Without another word, they set off again, the horses’ hooves squelching in the mud as they resumed their journey.
The day dragged on, the sky growing darker as the hours passed. The storm had lessened, but the air was still heavy with moisture, and the road was treacherous underfoot. Silas’s mind was a blur of worry and exhaustion, the thought of Layla’s fragile state driving him forward even as his body screamed for rest.
By the time they finally reached Darkwood Hollow, night had fallen. The once-familiar landscape was cloaked in shadow, the trees looming like spectres in the darkness. Silas barely noticed, his focus narrowing to a single point: getting Kie to Layla as quickly as possible.
They dismounted just outside the sanctuary, the stone structure barely visible in the dim light. Silas could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he led the healer inside, his breath coming in ragged gasps from both exertion and fear.
Rowan was waiting for them, his face a mask of anxiety as he hovered over Layla’s still form. He looked up as they entered, his eyes widening with both hope and dread. “Silas…?”
“We made it,” Silas rasped, stepping aside to let the healer through. “This is Kie Takahara, a renowned healer. She’ll help.”
Kie wasted no time, kneeling beside Layla and examining her with practised hands. Her expression remained calm, but her eyes flickered with something akin to urgency as she began her work. Silas and Rowan could only watch, their hearts in their throats, as Kie’s hands moved over Layla’s wounds, her touch gentle but firm. She then took out a round pellet with a pungent herbal scent from a small pouch and fed it to Layla.
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The chamber was eerily quiet; the only sounds were Kie’s murmured incantations and the faint rustling of her robes. Time seemed to stretch on, each second a lifetime, as Silas and Rowan stood by, helpless to do anything but wait.
Finally, Kie looked up, her green eyes meeting Silas’s with a steady gaze. “She’s stable for now,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “But she’s not out of danger yet. I need to continue treating her, and it will take time.”
Silas felt a rush of relief so intense it nearly brought him to his knees. He exchanged a glance with Rowan, who looked equally overwhelmed, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Thank you,” Silas whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you so much.”
Kier nodded, already turning back to Layla. “Stay close,” she advised, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I may need assistance.”
Silas and Rowan nodded, settling in to watch as the healer continued her work. The night stretched on, but for the first time since the battle, a fragile hope flickered in Silas’s heart. Layla was still hanging by a thread, but that thread was no longer fraying.
They would see her through this, no matter what it took.
☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂
The three days that followed Layla’s injury felt like an eternity. Kie had assured Silas and Rowan that Layla would recover, but the atmosphere in Darkwood Hollow remained tense. Silas spent much of his time hunting in the nearby Amberwood Grove, bringing back game to sustain them while they waited. He wasn’t one to sit idly by, especially not when so much was at stake.
Each time he returned from the grove, he’d find Rowan by Layla’s side, helping Kie in any way he could. The older woman worked calmly, her hands steady as she administered the nutrients and medicines that would bring Layla back from the brink. Rowan was a diligent assistant, though the guilt and fear in his eyes never seemed to fade.
On the third day, just as Kie Takahaa had predicted, Layla’s eyes finally fluttered open. Her gaze was unfocused at first, but as she regained her bearings, she found Rowan’s tear-streaked face hovering over her.
“Layla,” Rowan breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re awake. I… I thought—” He choked on his words, his relief palpable.
Layla, still weak but managing a small smile, reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m okay, Rowan. You don’t have to worry so much.”
Rowan shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes again. “It’s my fault you’re like this… You were distracted because of me, and I couldn’t do anything to help. I’m so sorry.”
“No,” Layla said firmly, though her voice was soft. “It wasn’t your fault. I let my guard down. That creature caught me off guard because I wasn’t careful enough. Don’t blame yourself.”
Silas, who had been standing quietly by the doorway, moved closer. “We’re just glad you’re awake, Layla. We can’t lose you.”
Layla gave him a faint smile, but before she could respond, Kie suddenly appeared at Silas’s side, her hand outstretched. “Well, now that the patient is stable and on the mend, it’s time to settle the bill,” she said with a sudden, businesslike tone that startled the three companions.
Silas blinked, taken aback by the abrupt shift in her demeanour. “Uh… how much do you need?” he stammered, not expecting to be hit with a request so soon after Layla’s recovery.
“Fifty Silver Grand era coins should do,” Kie replied without missing a beat, her hand still extended.
Rowan, Silas, and Layla all stared at her in disbelief. Rowan, his expression pained from the sheer absurdity of the amount, was the first to speak. “Fifty silver coins? We’re thankful that Layla’s okay, but can’t we negotiate a better deal?”
Kie’s eyes narrowed, her voice taking on a steely edge. “Saving lives is good business, young man. I don’t offer discounts. It’s either pay up in full, or you make an IOU in the name of Lonestar Mansion. I believe you’re Sullivan Lonestar’s son?” She turned her gaze to Silas, who was still trying to process the situation.
Silas sighed, realising he had no choice. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll write up the IOU.”
Kie smiled, satisfied. But as Silas started to write, she suddenly asked, “You’re from the Lonestar Manor, right? Have you ever heard of Kaede Hakirai?”
Silas looked up, surprised. “Kaede Hakirai? Yes, she’s my archery instructor. Why?”
Kie’s demeanour changed in an instant. “That bitch is your instructor?” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with disbelief. “I should have charged you more!”
Silas was completely taken aback by her outburst. “Why are you cursing her? What did she do?”
Kie folded her arms, clearly still agitated. “We’ve never gotten along well. Just recently, Kaede’s grandson was trying to get all comfy with one of my granddaughters, but my granddaughter kicked him flying. The boy didn’t learn his lesson and came back pestering her again!” She laughed, though the sound was more of a cackle. “I’ve got a score to settle with Kaede for that.”
Silas’s eyes widened, his mind racing. “Her…Her grandson? But… I thought Kaede was in her thirties…”
Kie burst out laughing. “That old fossil? She’s no spring chicken, I can tell you that!”
Silas felt a strange mix of emotions. He had always admired Kaede’s skill and presence, but now he reeled from the revelation. Before he could process it further, Kie looked at him shrewdly. “What’s with that look? Don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for your instructor and now you’re all confused knowing she’s older than you thought? I’m right, aren't I?” She laughed as if she had figured him out completely.
Silas flushed and denied it vehemently, “N-no, it’s not like that!”
Still nursing the pain of Kie’s exorbitant fee, Rowan muttered under his breath, “Look who’s talking. You’re an old hag yourself.”
Kie’s sharp ears caught the remark, and without missing a beat, she whacked Rowan on the head. “Behave, brat,” she snapped.
The tension in the room broke as Layla burst into laughter, though she quickly winced as her still-tender wounds protested. Silas, shaking his head in disbelief at the bizarre turn of events, couldn’t help but chuckle as well. Layla soon went back to rest, Kie watching over her with a stern eye.
☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂
Two more days passed, and Layla’s strength began to return. However, despite being weakened, she grew restless and insisted they continue their trials. “We’ve wasted enough time,” she insisted, trying to sit up despite the dizziness. “We need to get back on track.”
Rowan and Silas exchanged worried glances. “You’re not ready yet,” Silas insisted, gently pushing her back down. “You need more time to heal properly.”
“You could barely stand yesterday,” Rowan added. “Just rest a bit longer.”
But Layla was stubborn, shaking her head. “We can’t just sit here forever. I’m fine—”
She was cut off when Kie suddenly appeared at her bedside, thrusting a closed fist in front of her. “Say little girl, what is this?” Kie demanded, her voice sharp.
Layla blinked, confused. “It’s… your hand?”
Kie shook her head and slowly opened her fingers to reveal the front end of a stick, the rest hidden in her sleeve. “No, it’s a stick,” she said, waving it slightly. “And I’ll use it on you if you don’t listen and get some proper rest!”
Layla stared at the stick, torn between laughing and crying. Finally, she sighed, resigning herself to Kie’s strict care. “All right, all right,” she said, lying back down. “I’ll rest. I promise.”
Kie nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, get some sleep.”
Silas and Rowan shared a relieved smile, grateful that Kie had managed to convince Layla to take it easy. Though the trials awaited them, it was clear they would need to be patient before continuing their journey.