Calyth sat near the small campsite’s crackling fire, absently polishing the engraved shaft of his javelin. The runes of Temperance—his patron Virtue—caught the orange glow, reflecting flickers of dancing light onto his calm but pensive face. Beyond the circle of firelight loomed the dark outlines of pines and tangled underbrush, a reminder that, even near Sanctivar’s outskirts, the wilds offered little certainty.

Opposite him, Kaida paced in restless circles. Her short cleric’s robe—adapted for quick movement—rustled with each step, and her amber eyes all but glowed in the shifting light. Calyth watched her with a mixture of affection and caution; she was a living spark, always ready to ignite at the slightest hint of danger or opportunity.

“Are you going to keep staring at that letter,” she began, “or are we actually going to do something about it?” She gestured at the parchment in Calyth’s hand, a faint sneer of impatience tugging at her lips.

Calyth exhaled, unfolding the letter for what felt like the tenth time that evening. Its edges were already smudged with soot. “Lady Luz-Lin’s words are vague, which worries me more than if she’d been explicit. She mentions sightings—dark shapes, unexplained livestock deaths—near the old chapel dedicated to Vanariel. She suspects demonic influence.” He paused, scanning a passage in the flickering firelight. “She also says Lord Edric is en route.”

Kaida rolled her eyes. “Lord Edric. Great. At least we’ll have people to hide behind if it turns out to be something truly nasty.” Her sarcasm elicited a faint smile from Calyth. She folded her arms. “I still don’t see why we’re hesitating. The letter is practically a cry for help. Isn’t that what we do? Help?”

“We do. But we also consider the cost.” Calyth set the letter aside and looked at her, his green eyes steady. “If this is another small swarm demon infestation, we can handle it. But if it’s worse—” He caught himself, unwilling to voice the dread lingering at the edge of his thoughts. “I’ve seen chapels overrun before. The corruption can run deep.”

“But that’s the whole reason I’m here,” Kaida said, stepping closer. The staff strapped to her back bobbed in time with her words. “Humility’s blessings might not shatter mountains, but they can unravel illusions, hide me from demonic sight. Don’t treat me like a child who can’t handle the truth.”

A hint of a smile ghosted across Calyth’s lips. “You entered your twelfth years just a few weeks ago. You are a child.”

She bristled. “Not when it comes to demon-fighting.”

He studied her for a long moment. She was only twelve, but she carried herself with a confidence that belied her years. Some days, he questioned whether it was too soon to involve her in missions with real stakes, but the Alabaster had recognized her raw potential. And deep down, he knew she had the strength to stand beside him—he just worried the cost might be too high if her fiery spirit led her astray.

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He pulled on his boots, leaning forward to toss a few more branches into the fire. “All right,” he relented, voice quiet. “We’ll answer Lady Luz-Lin’s summons. At sunrise, we break camp. But on one condition: you follow my lead. If this turns bad, we retreat.” He lifted his javelin, letting the runes glimmer. “Temperance means knowing when to push forward and when to pull back.”

Kaida snorted. “As long as we actually push forward.”

They lapsed into a contemplative silence. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, as if the trees themselves awaited the decisions of a traveling cleric and his young ward. In the distance, Sanctivar’s walls rose against the moonlit sky, a bastion of flickering torches and the soft silhouette of spires dedicated to the Seven Virtues.

Calyth’s hand drifted to the scar along his jawline—a subconscious gesture he never could shake. The memory of a burning village flickered in his mind: a family he failed to save, and a single child he’d chosen to rescue at the last second. She’s alive because of me, but so many others died. The guilt weighed on him, even years later.

“You’re thinking about that night again.” Kaida’s voice was unexpectedly gentle.

He blinked, forcing the memory back into its cage. “It’s hard not to. Every time I sense an omen like this, I remember how a demon infestation can spread if left unchecked.”

She sat down next to him. For a moment, she placed her hand over his, her demeanor uncharacteristically soft. “You’re not the only one who lost something. Or someone.” After a beat, she cleared her throat and withdrew, her bravado returning. “Besides, we’ll be careful. You have me—and my unstoppable staff skills—at your side this time.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that softened the tension in his chest. “The unstoppable staff. Right.” Though the weight of his past lingered, he felt a glimmer of hope in Kaida’s presence. She might be a reckless spark, but perhaps that spark was exactly what he needed to balance out his tendency to dwell on regret.

Overhead, the moon broke free of a wispy cloud, illuminating the glade. Their meager possessions—bedrolls, a pot of half-eaten stew, Kaida’s small personal trunk—looked well-traveled, a testament to the wandering life they led. Soon they would pack up once again, heading into unknown danger for the sake of a distant noble’s plea.

Calyth rose and offered Kaida a hand. “Try to get some sleep. Once we leave these outskirts, we’ll have to rely on the old roads, and I doubt we’ll find any restful inns along the way.”

She yawned, and for an instant, he saw the actual child beneath the battle-ready exterior. “Fine, fine.” As she crawled into her bedroll, she gave a final remark: “Just promise you won’t overthink this. I need to prove myself.”

His expression turned solemn. “I know you do. Let’s just make sure you live long enough to do it a thousand times over.”

She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and Calyth was left alone with the fire and the silence. He crouched near the embers, letting the warmth soak into his hands. The letter from Lady Luz-Lin remained at the edge of his vision, an ominous reminder of what awaited them. He wanted to believe it would be a straightforward exorcism, a simple purge of dark influences. But if I’ve learned anything, he thought, it’s that darkness rarely stays small when ignored.