My eyes snap open, jolted by a surge of energy that rushes through me like a wave in the ocean. The bed beneath me is softer than anything I’ve felt before, cradling me in its luxuriousness. The chandelier above, with its freshly lit candles, casts a warm, golden light over the room. For a fleeting moment, I think I’m back at the inn where Lacey and I stayed. A ringing fills my ears, muffling the voices I hear to my right. I try to move, but my body refuses, rigid and heavy as if pinned down. My chest feels crushed, as though an elephant is perched on me.

“That was amazing, Lamberra,” Belli’s voice filters through the haze. I watch her clap her hands, the sound distant yet sharp.

“See? No scar!” She stretches her hand toward me, displaying her unblemished palm. I want to respond, to ask her what’s happening, but my lips won’t part, my voice locked away. She notices my struggle and continues, her tone light but instructive. “You probably can’t talk or move yet, and that’s okay. You overexerted your mana. Everyone has some level of it. Every human, every elf. But there are exceptions, like us. We have an overabundance, which lets us do things others can’t. Mana is finite, though. Take your mother, Selma. She doesn’t have an overabundance, so when her mana runs low, she gets tired and sleeps. But you? Ever felt restless at night? Like you can’t sleep even though you want to? That’s your over abundance at work.

“Oh, shut it, Belli,” interrupts a deeper voice, warm with familiarity. “She’s clearly had enough.” My eyes dart to the corner of the room, catching sight of Willow. His fiery red hair cascades down his back, a stark contrast to Belli’s more delicate frame. He towers over her, broad-shouldered and commanding, his presence filling the space of the small room. “Hey, Lamberra.” His tone is softer when he addresses me, but there’s a sharp edge when he turns to his sister. “You should’ve waited until I got home. This wasn’t how we were supposed to do this.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Belli replies dismissively, waving him off. “She’ll be fine.” I watch as she approaches, her hands glowing faintly. She mutters something under her breath, her voice too low to make out, and suddenly, another jolt of energy courses through me. It feels like lightning striking my veins. My body reacts instinctively, shooting upright, my back slamming against the headboard.. “What the fuck, Belli?” I blurt out, instantly regretting my words.

“Man,” Willow laughs. “Out of all the times we’ve fought and I’ve beaten her to a pulp, she’s never cursed at me!” Belli’s left highbrow raises and I watch her turn to Willow. “Such spark, is she like this when you two train?”

“Oh yeah. When she gets mad she turns into a different animal,” he says, still laughing in a shallow manner. “I’m not mad,” I mutter, brushing hair from my face, “just… confused. I came here tonight expecting to talk, and now I’m thrown into this whole world of magic?” My hands tremble as I try to gather my hair into a bun, the motion clumsy from the lingering effects of exhaustion. “Calm, Lamberra,” Belli says gently, stepping closer. Her hand brushes mine aside, her touch soft and practiced as she twists my hair into a neat bun. “You’ll be okay. You have incredible potential, not just in magic. Soon, elves might have a place on the High Council again, and maybe you’d like to join me on that journey?” Her words are a whirlwind, and I can’t help but laugh nervously. “W-what? I’m not even an elf.”

“No matter.” She shrugs. “The point is to show humans and elves can work together.”

“Why do you think they gave us mansions in the slums?” Willow chimes in, his voice steady but hinted with bitterness. He leans against the wall, his arms crossed. “It’s to make humans hate us. We’re rich but you’re poor.” I glance between them, my confusion mounting. “How does being a magic user help with any of that? What could I possibly do?” Belli sits at the edge of the bed, her expression calm and reassuring. “Those are two separate things, Lamberra. For now, let’s focus on your magic. I believe anyone with the ability to use it should learn how.” She pauses, a small smile playing on her lips. “As for politics, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Are you hungry?” The warmth in her voice reminds me of Mama’s, soothing and grounding. It’s hard not to feel comforted.

“I’m not sure if I wanna eat right now,” I say slowly, starting a grin, feeling like myself again.

“There she is!” Willow exclaims, his voice booming with energy as he strides toward me. He stretches out his hand, and I take it, his grip firm as he pulls me up with a quick, effortless jerk. “We’re going to change the world, the three of us! Just like I’ve always said, ever since we were kids!” His enthusiasm is infectious, filling the room with his larger than life personality. “You’ve been saying that forever,” Belli says, standing and rolling her eyes with a slight smirk. “Besides, we’re still children.”

Both Willow and I follow Belli toward the kitchen and then the dining room table. By the wall, a painting of Willow and Belli’s father who died four years ago in the war of Blade’s Crossing. The Kingdom of Stormhaven went on a conquest against the Kingdom of Aurelia, particularly for the water and mining rights of Blade’s Crossing. A large piece of land that borders the Kingdom of Aurelia toward the west.

When the war and genocide against the elves ended, one of the peace terms was that elves would always be the infantryman in all future wars. General Rowena Mira, being an elf, was sent to many battles due to this decree. He was killed in the last few weeks of the Blade’s Crossing war. It’s said he led a group of fifty men behind enemy lines and capitulated the rest of Aurelia’s army that was some five hundred strong still. General Mira was able to lead both humans and elves alike and showed no discrimination. To be frank, if it weren’t for General Mira the genocide of the elfs would have likely ended in their extinction. To say the Mira’s are an influential family even as elfs would be an understatement. “I miss your father,” I say softly, my gaze lingering on the portrait. “He had such a warm laugh. But this painting… it doesn’t do him justice.”

“Are you calling my late father sexy, Lamberra?” Willow teases, a mischievous grin spreading across his face easing the mood. Belli laughs as she pours soup into cups. “The frightening thing is, he’d have loved your company, Lamberra.”

“I don’t know, would you let me court him if he were still here?” I tease back.

Willow’s laughter fills the room, and even Belli chuckles, sharing the lighthearted moment. Soon, Belli sets a large bowl of mushroom soup before me, complete with a piece of crusty bread on the side. It’s a delicacy, the kind you can only make when you’re lucky enough to grow mushrooms in your own garden. I reach for the spoon, but my hands are still trembling, unsteady from the strain on my mana. Willow notices and sighs, shooting a pointed look at his sister. “Belli, you wrecked this poor girl. She wasn’t ready to burn her mana down to zero yet.” Belli rolls her eyes but steps behind me, placing her hands on my back. “Vitalis,” she murmurs, and another wave of energy floods through me. My back arches sharply, my head snapping toward the ceiling as grunts and gasps escape me. Just as suddenly as it starts, it’s over. When I look down, my hands are still. “I guess I have a lot to learn,” I groan, rubbing the back of my neck.

“See?” Belli says brightly. “You’re already coming around!”

“Will I be okay to travel tomorrow?” I ask hesitantly.

“Travel? Where to?” Willow leans in, curious.

“I’m heading to Siburg if Mr. Finch has a supply run for me. It pays well enough to keep my family going for a couple of months.”

“No worries! I’m heading to Siburg too,” Willow says with excitement. “Shall I accompany you? As repayment for Belli’s sins.”

I chuckle at his playful tone. “Oh, well… yes. I’ve never traveled with anyone before, so the company would be nice.” Suddenly feeling starved with the energy back inside me, I start to devour the soup in front of me.

“The two of you staying at Duke’s inn?” Belli interjects, smirking. “Good luck getting him to shut up, or stop staring at you all night.”

“Duke’s? No, I haven’t stayed there in years,” Willow replies. “I usually camp by a lake a few miles past his place.”

"Hm. Well as long as you two are safe," Belli mutters. The rest of the night passes in a warm blur of conversation and card games. Beneath the high, skylit ceiling of the Mira mansion, the moon casts its silvery glow over us. When the hour grows late, Belli turns to me. “Would you like to stay in the guest room tonight?”

“That would be lovely, Belli. Thank you.” I see her approach me and place her hand around my bicep. “Thank you for trusting me. Especially tonight. Willow and I are trying to complete our father’s dream. You’ve always treated us like another human, and show us that coexistence is possible. We need you.” I place my hand on her arm stretched out to me. The two of us are standing in the living room. Same height, as my eyes lock onto her purple pupils. “You are no different from me. We’re stronger together.” I tell her with a smile on my lips.

“If you do go to Siburg with Willow, be careful. Magic training is intense, it’ll take a few weeks to be back in full strength, and certainly several days back to fifty percent as your body learns.”

“Of course, however, I think Willow will do just fine as my protector,” I say with a smile. We gave a short embrace as I made my way to the guest room of where I was earlier. A candle light in the corner and the curtains open allowing the moonlight to flood in. I let my hair down from the beautiful bun Belli made and placed the hair tie around my arm. As I sink into the soft bed, the day’s events swirl in my mind. But exhaustion claims me quickly, and I drift into darkness, the world fading to quiet stillness.

I’m jolted awake by the violent shaking of my bed. Willow’s towering frame looms in front of me, his hands firmly gripping the wooden frame. “Wake up, Lamberra!” he calls out, his voice booming with exaggerated enthusiasm. I decide to play along, dramatically rolling toward the edge and letting myself fall to the floor with a resounding thud. “Ugh,” I groan, sprawled out on the ground. Willow laughs heartily, clearly proud of his efforts. “Time to hit the road!” he announces, as if we’re embarking on some grand adventure. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” I mumble, dragging myself up. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I shuffle into the living room. “Where’s Belli?” I ask, noticing her absence.

“She’s still asleep,” Willow replies. “Honestly, I hope she makes it past midday. Poor girl’s been pushing herself too hard. That’s actually why I’m heading to Siburg. To take care of something in her place.” He’s fully dressed, his sharp uniform as impeccable as his posture. The crisp black fabric of his button-down and trousers is accented by the three white stripes on his right side, marking him as a lieutenant. On the left, the emblem of a burning arrow gleams. The symbol of the Kingdom of Stormhaven. His fiery red hair is neatly pulled into a bun, though the precision only highlights the rugged scar that runs along the side of his head. It arcs toward the back, ending near the stub of his elven ear. I’ve never noticed it before; then again, I’ve never seen him look so composed.

“Politics, mostly,” he says with a weary sigh, adjusting the sword strapped to his waist. Its ornate sheath, a deep royal purple, contrasts with the severity of his uniform. “Shall we swing by Mister Finch’s and your place before we leave?”

“Uh, yes, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course. We’ll make great time,” Willow assures me as we step out into the brisk morning air. The warmth of the rising sun battles the lingering chill, we are certainly approaching winter. The streets of the slums are already bustling, and nearly everyone we pass salutes Willow. “Have you gotten used to it?” I ask, watching him nod in acknowledgment at yet another passerby.

“To be frank,” he says, his voice laced with exhaustion, “I have no idea how my father managed it. It’s draining. I wish I could just walk around unnoticed, like you.”

“I get that,” I reply softly, not wanting to press further. “At least the path to Siburg is quiet. Hardly anyone uses it aside from merchants or missionaries.”

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Willow groans dramatically. “Oh, hell. The last thing I need is to deal with some pacifist religious freaks.” When we reach Mister Finch’s apothecary, it’s clear he’s only just opened. A small line has already formed outside. “No worries. The uniform has its perks,” Willow says, leading the way. People part for him instinctively, their salutes going unacknowledged as he strides forward with a commanding presence. Inside, Mister Finch nearly topples out of his chair at the sight of him. “My Lord! How can I assist you?” the old man exclaims, his voice trembling.

“Not a lord, Finch,” Willow says firmly, gesturing for me to step forward.

“Oh, Lamberra,” Mister Finch says, his tone softening as he recognizes me. “Is everything all right? How can I help?”

“I was wondering if it’s time for the Siburg delivery,” I say. “I can head out today.”

“Yes, please! I’m in desperate need of Isabella’s herbs from Siburg. It would be a great help. Would thirty crowns suffice?” he offers, his voice tinged with desperation. I blink in surprise. Thirty crowns? It’s usually twenty. “That would be nice. Half now, half upon my return?” Mister Finch nods quickly, fumbling with his coin pouch before handing me the first half. With pleasantries exchanged, Willow and I leave the shop. “Quite the payday for a simple delivery,” Willow remarks as we make our way to my home.

“It’s usually less,” I admit. “I think he was worried you’d arrest him for underpaying me,” I mention.

“Even if that was the case, I am not a knight. I have no arresting power, the only thing I am good at is killing others,” Willow sighs, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Still, the only thing that old man knows how to do is mix herbs,” I say, nudging him playfully with my elbow. He offers a faint smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through his stoic demeanor. I’ve never seen him so professional before. It’s almost like I’m walking with a brick wall. As we approach my house, I spot Mama sitting on the porch. She waves at me, but her expression shifts to one of panic when she notices Willow. Scrambling to her feet, she begins brushing off her dress in an attempt to tidy herself up. “Selma, don’t bother! Look however you please! This is your home.” Willow calls out, but Mama ignores him, hastily shouting for Amara to get out of her nightclothes.

“My, how you’ve grown, Willow. You look just like your father,” Mama says softly, her hand brushing against Willow’s face. There’s a fondness in her voice that pulls at the edges of my memory. “I remember when you, Belli, and Lamberra were just children playing by the river. We’d sit and watch you all for hours.”

“You’re making me blush, Miss Selma,” Willow replies with a warm smile. He takes her hand gently, kneeling down to a knee to kiss it. “You’ve always honored me.”

“Lamberra!” I barely have time to turn before Amara bursts through the front door, throwing herself into my arms.

“Amara! I told you to put on your school clothes!” Mama scolds sharply, her tone laced with exhaustion. Amara just giggles, clinging to me without a care. I hold her tight, feeling her small frame tremble with joy. “Mama,” I say gently, “I’ll explain while I’ve got her. Willow and I are making a delivery run to Siburg today. He’s accompanying me both ways.” Mama’s shoulders visibly relax, though her face remains stern. “Good. I feel better knowing you won’t be alone,” she says before launching into a lecture about safety and how even someone as skilled as Willow isn’t invincible. I nod along, knowing there’s no cutting her short when she gets like this.

Excusing myself, I head to my room to change. I slip into my travel clothes: a dark blue dress that ends mid-thigh with a flat white collar, paired with black pants. My worn brown boots fit snugly, sturdy enough for the trek. Finally, I secure my small sword in its sheath across my back, its presence more of a comfort than a necessity. Grabbing my bag for Mister Finch’s supplies, I rejoin everyone outside. Mama pulls me into a fierce hug the moment I step out. “I’m so glad Willow’s going with you, but please, be careful. Promise me.” I return her embrace, her worry settling in my chest like a stone. “If I’ve come back unscathed by myself the last ten times, I’ll definitely be okay with Willow,” I assure her.

She finally lets go, though her hands linger on my shoulders. Amara, however, clings to my side, her face crumbling as tears threaten to spill. “Oh, goodness,” I say, kneeling down to meet her gaze. “You do this every time. It’s just three days, little one.” She doesn’t respond, burying her face into my shoulder. I hold her close, planting a kiss on her head before rising. Willow steps beside me, his presence steadying as always. Together, we begin our journey, Mama’s voice following us as she calls out reminders to stay safe and words of love. We wave goodbye, the morning sun warm on our backs.

“I love the outfit,” Willow says after a moment, his tone relaxed.

“Thanks. I figure I should look halfway decent on the road. No sense in inviting trouble,” I reply, brushing a hand over the fabric.

“This is true,” he agrees. “I can’t imagine the horrors people have faced on this path. By the way, how good are you with that sword?” He nods toward the sheath across my back.

“About as good as you taught me,” I say with a shrug. “I’ve never used it in a real fight, though, and I hope I never have to.”

“You never truly know how skilled you are until it’s life or death,” he says, his voice edged. “But if you stick to the fundamentals, you’ll outmatch most opponents.”

“Of course. Is that why I spent hours until my feet and hands were bleeding?” I say in an annoyed manner.

“Hey, you learned, didn’t you?” Willow replies, laughing. We break off onto the Siburg road, leaving the bustling town behind. The path grows quieter, the only sounds are the rustle of leaves and the soft rush of the river to our right. The forest on our left is thick and dark, the trees shedding their orange leaves in the crisp autumn air. By the time the sun climbs high, we decide to stop for lunch. “Bread?” Willow offers, pulling a loaf from his bag.

“Sure. I usually don’t eat until Siburg, so this is nice,” I say, accepting it.

“You’ve got to keep your energy up. Too risky otherwise.”

“True, but when you’re poor, you learn to make do,” I reply, my tone light but truthful. Willow doesn’t respond, his gaze distant. I notice the tension in his shoulders and try to fill the silence with idle chatter, but he suddenly holds up a hand, silencing me. “How far are we from Duke’s? Three or four hours?” he asks, his voice low and sharp.

“Closer to five,” I answer cautiously. “I walk slower than you, so maybe four.”

“No more breaks,” he says, standing abruptly. “Eat while we walk. Trust me?”

His intensity is unsettling, but I nod. “Okay.” I couldn’t help but scan all of my surroundings trying to come up as to why he’s so nervous.

Willow keeps me nodding silently along as we trudge through the dense forest, the rhythm of our steps the only constant. We each devour an entire loaf of bread, but neither of us speaks much, the silence stretching indefinitely. Maybe he’s tired of talking, that’s all we’ve done since last night. Or maybe there’s something on his mind he isn’t ready to share. Hours pass, the sun dipping lower, casting golden streaks through the canopy above. The path begins to curve deeper into the forest, the Siburg River now just a distant murmur a couple of miles to our right. When the wooden structure of Duke’s inn comes into view, the sight startles me. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever made it here a few hours before sunset,” I remark, my voice hinting with astonishment. Willow doesn’t respond, his steps deliberate as he pushes open the creaky door to Duke’s. I follow him inside, the familiar warmth of the dimly lit room wrapping around me. Behind the counter sits Duke, slumped over his desk, snoring softly.

“Wake up old man,” Willow says, thumping his head. Duke jerks upright, his faded blue eyes snapping open as a fit of coughing overtakes him. “Why, hello. My first two patrons this entire week,” he croaks, his voice raspy. His diminutive frame is hunched, his beard still patchy despite his advanced age. The wiry hair resembles a boy’s awkward attempt at growing facial hair.

“That’s what I want to ask about. Where is everyone? No merchants, no travelers, nothing. Has something happened in Siburg?” Willow asks, his tone sharp. The question surprises me. I hadn’t noticed the emptiness he picked up on, my mind too preoccupied with the company I’ve kept to properly scan our surroundings. Duke stands, his small frame barely reaching my chest, and shuffles closer, craning his neck to meet Willow’s gaze. “There’ve been a string of muggings along this path for the past month or so. It’s scared most folks away. They’re taking the new road now, even if it means a longer trip.”

Willow frowns, glancing toward me briefly before turning back to Duke. “That’s unfortunate, old man, but we won’t be staying here tonight. We need to push closer to Siburg if we want to make it by late morning tomorrow. Do you have any food we can take with us?” Duke’s face lights up faintly, though his movements remain sluggish. “Aye, plenty. Business has been so slow I’ve had time to hunt. Squirrel okay for you?”

“Two, please. Here, for your trouble.” Willow digs into his pouch and produces a small handful of gold crowns, handing them to the innkeeper. I catch a glimpse of the pouch as he tilts it, there must be at least fifteen crowns in there. My jaw tightens with surprise. Usually, a squirrel only costs two crowns. Duke’s eyes widen as his hands tremble, clutching the small fortune. “Wow... thank you, young man. This is more than I usually make in a week.”

He disappears into the back and returns with four squirrels instead of two, their fur stripped clean and ready for cooking. “A good deed deserves another,” Duke says, handing them over with a faint smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll investigate the muggings once we’re in Siburg and try to resolve it. I hope business returns to you soon,” Willow says before turning and heading toward the door.

I follow him back out into the fading light. “Well, that explains it,” I mutter. “I felt like someone was watching us, but I guess they wouldn’t risk attacking with your uniform in plain sight.” Willow’s expression softens as a smile briefly touches his lips. “Probably not. I wasn’t angry, you know. Just... preparing myself. It’s a hard headspace to enter, to kill.”

I exhale a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Oh, thank the heaven. I was starting to think I’d upset you somehow.”

“Never.” His voice is calm now, almost reassuring.

“Say, how long until the lake?”

“Just a few more hours. We’ll get there as the sun sets.” Walking side by side for hours and not getting much sleep last night has completely drained me again. The promise of rest spurs me on, though exhaustion presses heavily on my limbs. The lack of sleep last night has caught up with me. Before I realize it, I’m leaning against Willow’s side, my legs refusing to cooperate. Without a word, he hoists me onto his back, his broad frame carrying me with ease. “Rest, Lamberra. Your mana is still nearly depleted. We’ll need it restored soon.”

I can only manage a faint nod, resting my head against the back of his neck. Sleep evades me, though, interrupted by the jarring rhythm of his steps and the uneven path beneath us. When he finally sets me down, the sprawling lake comes into view, its surface glinting with the last fiery hues of daylight. Willow gathers firewood nearby, his movements deliberate as he works to prepare our meal. The air grows cooler as night settles over us. “Can I help?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper, my body still heavy with fatigue.

“Some more firewood would be helpful,” Willow says, brushing soot off his hands. “I can start dinner now, but we’ll need more for the entire night.” I nod, grabbing a few larger branches scattered nearby. The air is still, save for the occasional rustling of leaves overhead. As I venture a little farther, I hear faint snapping, twigs breaking underfoot, and the shuffle of something moving in the shadows. My heart quickens, and I clutch the logs closer to my chest, squinting to make out anything in the dim light of the fading sun. Taking a cautious step forward, I scan the darkened trees, my pulse loud in my ears. Suddenly, a massive elk bursts from the undergrowth, its hooves pounding the earth as it streaks past me. I gasp, my breath caught in my throat, but before I can react, Willow is there, his right hand resting on his sword, ready to draw.

“Just a deer,” I whisper, exhaling shakily. Willow, who clearly saw this entire encounter starts to laugh. Loud and warm, the sound breaking the tension. “You watch the dinner. I’ll finish gathering wood,” he says, patting my shoulder before vanishing into the trees.

I return to the fire and sit down, turning the skewered squirrels slowly over the flames. The rich scent of roasting meat fills the air, calming my nerves. Before long, Willow emerges, carrying an absurd amount of firewood, enough to last us a week. I shake my head, stifling a laugh. Such overkill, I think to myself. “So, with reports of mugging along the path lately, we should probably take turns on watch to be safe,” Willow says, settling down by the fire.

“Makes sense. But you’re up first,” I tease, stretching out. “I haven’t been this tired in years.”

“I can live with that,” he replies, giving me a small, genuine smile. “Magic training takes a toll. For me, it’s fire magic, and even that’s exhausting. Belli’s probably taught you everything by now, though. If you’ve got healing magic, you can manipulate more than you realize. Right now, there’s fire, lightning, water, and healing. But…” He pauses, his voice lowering. “I fear what we don’t know. The ‘unknown.’”

“Hm?” I tilt my head. “Belli never mentioned that.”

Willow leans back, his face half-lit by the firelight. “All elves can manipulate magic, but when humans and elves started having children humans began inheriting the trait. Somewhere in your family, you’re tied to an elf. That’s the only way you’d have magic.” He hands me two cooked squirrels, keeping the other two for himself. As I take the food, I notice his gaze fixed on the flames, his expression distant.

“The genocide started because of fear,” he says after a long silence. “Humans were afraid elves would dominate with magic. They struck first, wiping out entire clans before the elves could fight back. My father always said humans didn’t just fear magic; they wanted to weaponize it. And they succeeded.”

“So, what we know of magic is essentially limited, and the ones in power have manipulated or made it into some weapon we have no idea about?” I ask, seeking clarification.

“That’s the gist.” His response is clipped, his tone heavy with resignation. He finishes both his squirrels in silence. Later, we lie near the fire, staring up at the sprawling stars. We talk of trivial things, the small joys we’d cling to if we ruled the world. Willow’s laugh is softer now, his edges worn down by exhaustion, and I slowly edge off asleep.

When it’s my turn for the watch, he shakes me gently awake. “Fuck, it’s cold,” I mutter, sitting up stiffly. “I added fresh wood to the fire,” he says. “If you need anything, wake me.” Our eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between us. He settles where I’d been lying, wrapping himself in a blanket with his sword at his side.

The hours creep by, the fire’s embers casting flickering shadows. I watch the moon descent through the night sky, my thoughts wandering aimlessly. Then, just at the edge of the clearing, something stirs. I freeze, squinting into the darkness. At first, I think it’s the firelight playing tricks on me, but the faint outline of a figure moves between the trees. My grip tightens on my sword as my heart races.

“Willow,” I whisper, barely audible. He’s awake in an instant, his hand already on his sword. “What is it?”

“There’s someone out there,” I murmur, gesturing toward the forest.

Willow’s eyes narrow as he scans the darkness. Rising slowly, he motions for me to stay close. Together, we stand by the fire, its light creating a fragile barrier against the encroaching shadows. The clearing is silent except for the crackling flames and the occasional rustle of leaves. Then, a voice emerges from the darkness, smooth and mocking. “Hello, hello, travelers,” it calls. “Lovely night to camp, huh?”