The early morning’s blue glow poked its fingers through the dense overgrowth. Sunrise would arrive soon, and Vethirn, having stopped to rest and tend to himself, was only just returning to his guild’s hideaway. They’d found an abandoned shack at the forested mountainside that had burned beyond livability, likely having once served as a hermit’s retreat in one of the few remaining undeveloped stretches of Ransvale.

Half-charred and missing a hinge, the door wobbled and scraped against the ground. Inside was barren, the walls black with soot. Cobwebs dominated every corner, creeping across the ceiling and shaking down feathery motes of dust. The only sign that anyone had been there was a trail of various footprints leading toward the hatch. Vethirn climbed down into the near-pitch darkness, guided by his keen sight and footing, then rapped on the locked door that greeted him at the bottom.

“Vethirn,” said a light but crackly voice from the other side, noting the distinct rhythm of his knocks. “Was starting to think you might not be coming back.”

A tall, peppy woman with cropped blond hair let him in, sporting a smirk that narrowed her eyes to slits. Raised in the frigid region of Chilgrave, she had the stocky stature and pale complexion of a northeastern Nelthrin. Lean yet defined muscles sculpted her entire body, pronounced by the sleeveless, belted shirt over which her arms were crossed.

“I thought much the same, truth be told,” replied Vethirn, bleary-eyed as he glanced around the foyer. Crates and sacks lay strewn about and stacked haphazardly to the ceiling, and in his absence the others had constructed a makeshift bar. Were he not so overcome with exhaustion, he might have found it amusing – or even impressive. “I see things have been holding up well enough here.”

“Yes, we’ve gotten by just fine the past twenty-four hours. Care to divulge where you ran off to?”

“Just across town, for some supplies.”

“Odd. You sent Lossan and Beldroth to do the same. Not to mention we’ve got all… this.” The woman waved her arms about, emphasizing the sheer volume of provisions they’d already amassed. “But I’ll give you some slack since you look absolutely fucking beat. Maybe we can talk about it once you have your wits intact.”

“Perhaps.”

“Aye, now get to bed. And hide that bandaged arm of yours – someone’s been worried about you.”

Vethirn’s bottom lip protruded as he let out a knowing sigh. He drew his cloak over his arm.

“Of course. Thank you, Gryntha.”

“My pleasure.” With a stiff nod, Gryntha marched on toward the bar, hands stuffed in the pockets of her form-fitted trousers. Eager to turn in, Vethirn proceeded down the narrow corridor. He passed by a number of doors on either side, but one in particular stopped him as it creaked open. A pair of amber eyes peered out from a small crack, glistening in the distant flames from the foyer.

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“You,” said Avara, opening the door enough that she was in full view. It seemed her sneer was becoming permanent as of late – perhaps for good reason. “You were really about to walk past, weren’t you?”

“I thought everyone might be sleeping.”

“You left a vague note saying you were tending to ‘business,’ with no indication of when you would be back. There are people trying to kill all of us right now, have almost succeeded, and they know you best of all. All this, and you thought I would sleep?”

“In my naivety.”

“Where were you? What was so urgent that you couldn’t send one of us instead?” She reached out and tried to pull Vethirn into the room, but he stepped out of her reach.

“We can discuss this in the morning.”

“Besides the fact that it very well is morning already – I’d rather not wait to find out what business you were up to when it pays us a visit.” Her words were beginning to fray what resilience Vethirn had left. Gnawing at it. Weighing him down even more than his own exhaustion. About this, however, she was right – transparency was a matter of safety.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he conceded.

“How fortuitous that your supposition determines all. Now speak.”

“I was seeking out allies, as few as we have left.”

“Then I was right to worry you might get yourself killed. We don’t need allies, Vethirn. We need to lie low and protect ourselves.”

“No, we need to fight, Avara. We need to root out the Forsaken and absolve ourselves of this crime, the cause for which we never gave half a shit about in the first place. Not all have turned against us, and those who haven’t are worth finding, however dangerous a task it may be.”

Biting her lower lip, Avara let out a huff of frustration. Her fists tightened as she wrapped her arms around her waist, restraining a swell of rage screaming to be let free. Only her defeated sadness, rolling down her shoulders and tensing her face, had strength enough to quell it.

“Everything’s changed so fast, Vethirn.”

“I know.”

“But you didn’t need to change along with it. I feel like I know you less every day since you stepped into the role of Velius.”

“I’ve only changed as much as I’ve needed to.”

Avara shook her head.

“No. You didn’t need to become him.”

Vethirn was unsure whether he could argue that he hadn’t – not that he cared to do so. Fatigue was beginning to tighten its grip on his judgment. Of only one thing was he certain.

“We both should rest.”

Avara reached out again, this time successfully grasping his arm. As she tried to coax him nearer, drawing his arm out from the cover of his cloak, he winced.

“You’ve been hurt,” She loosened her grip on the sturdy, soft cotton of the bandages, and looked to his face for an explanation.

“I managed.”

“I suppose you did.” Every word Avara wanted to say pooled up into tears. She didn’t want to let them fall, to leave unspoken, even if her thoughts would turn out to be purely wishful.

“Stay with me,” she pleaded. But Vethirn shook his head before she finished, as if he knew she’d ask this of him. There was something he could not place – something that came about her mannerisms. Perhaps it was the sudden softening of her features, or the slight tilt of her hip. The forlorn yet inviting glint in her eyes. Whatever the case, it did not seem innocent, but it was vulnerable.

“Let’s think soundly before we change one more thing,” he said. To this, Avara gave a regretful nod.

“Very well.” Stepping back, she released his arm. “Goodnight, Vethirn.”

“Get some rest.” Vethirn stifled a yawn, eager to take his own advice. He felt her gaze lingering on him as he swept away, heading for the shadowed door at the end of the hall.