Arion rose from the bed, his body now feeling stronger, the remnants of pain slipping away with each movement. The warmth of Eira’s healing magic had done its work. He stood, stretching his stiff muscles.

He turned to the villagers who had gathered to see him off. He gave them a nod.

“Thank you,” Arion said. “For your hospitality. I’ll be back if you need me again.”

The villagers nodded, a few offering soft smiles. They had seen what he could do, and they trusted him.

Arion turned to leave, his eyes briefly meeting Eira’s. She stood a little apart from the others. Her curiosity had not waned, and it lingered in her gaze. She stepped forward, her footsteps light on the earth.

“You’re not staying, then?” she asked, her voice gentle but tinged with something else—concern, perhaps.

Arion shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I can't. There's something I need to do."

Eira watched him closely, sensing that he had a destination in mind, a purpose driving him forward. It wasn’t just the monsters that had brought him here—it was something deeper, something only Arion seemed to understand. She hesitated, then spoke again.

“If you’re heading into danger, I could come with you. I’ve traveled far and seen much. Perhaps we could help each other.”

Arion met her gaze for a brief moment, his expression softening, but there was a finality in his eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I travel alone. It’s safer that way. This is my fight."

Eira nodded, accepting his decision. As Arion turned and made his way toward the village’s edge, she stood there, watching him go. A sense of uncertainty settled over her, and for a moment, she wondered if their paths would cross again—or if this was the last she would see of the mysterious man.

The wind stirred softly, the only sound between them now. Eira watched him disappear into the distance, a question lingering in the air, "Who is he fighting for? And what would become of him on the road ahead?"

---

The village bore the scars of chaos. Shattered carts lay abandoned in the dirt, and fragments of clay pots crunched underfoot. The air felt heavy, thick with the tension of unspoken fears.

Master Lorien arrived at the village. Villagers froze as he passed, their gazes darting away as though his presence alone could unravel their thoughts.

Lorien’s sharp eyes swept over the scene, noting every detail. He stopped in the center of the square, where the cobblestones were stained dark from the previous battle. "Bring me the village head and the elders," he said. It wasn’t a request—it was an order.

The village head and the elders obeyed. They shuffled forward hesitantly, heads bowed and shoulders slumped. Lorien towered over them, his expression unreadable. "Speak," he demanded. "What happened here? What did you see? What do you know?"

Each answer was met with a scrutinizing stare, his eyes narrowing at any hint of hesitation or fear. The villagers stammered their responses, their voices cracking under his gaze. Some fumbled their words, others spoke too quickly, desperate to please. Lorien remained impassive, his staff glowing faintly as he tapped it against the ground, punctuating their words with an ominous rhythm.

As the interrogation continued, a chill seemed to settle over the village square. The villagers whispered among themselves, too afraid to voice their unease aloud. To them, Lorien was a predator they couldn't offend. And under his unyielding scrutiny, none dared to lie.

Eira stepped forward. Her healer's robes, embroidered with golden symbols of the Temple of the Sacred Healers, caught the light as she moved into the center of the square. The villagers parted for her without hesitation. She stopped a few paces from Lorien, her gaze steady and unwavering despite the oppressive weight of his presence.

"Master Lorien," she began, "I am Eira, a healer of the Temple of the Sacred Healers. I speak on behalf of these villagers."

The faintest flicker of recognition crossed Lorien's face at her introduction, but he gave no other indication of being impressed. His staff lowered slightly, though its crystal continued to emit a faint, ominous glow.

Eira’s tone sharpened, though her composure never wavered. "I must warn you, Master Lorien, that any harm brought to me or these people will have consequences far beyond this village. The Temple’s influence reaches even the highest circles of the kingdom. The pope himself would take notice."

A murmur ran through the gathered villagers, emboldened by her words. Lorien, however, remained silent, his sharp gaze fixed on her. The weight of his scrutiny might have cowed another, but Eira stood tall, her hands clasped lightly before her.

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After a moment, Lorien inclined his head slightly, more acknowledgment than deference. "The Temple’s reach is well known," he said evenly. "Yet I wonder why a healer of your station happens to be here in this remote village, at such a convenient time. Are you truly their savior, or do you have other motives?"

Eira raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of indignation flashing across her face. "I was passing through when I saw the aftermath of the attack," she replied. "It is my duty as a healer to offer aid where it is needed. Unlike the kingdom’s forces, which seem to arrive only after the damage is done, I do not wait for orders to act."

The quiet accusation hung in the air, and a few villagers exchanged wary glances. Lorien’s expression remained unreadable, but the tension between them was palpable. His fingers tightened slightly on his staff, and his tone grew colder. "You speak boldly for someone in such a precarious position, Healer Eira. I will remind you that my duty is to uncover the truth behind this attack, not to entertain criticisms of the kingdom."

Eira tilted her head, a faint smile gracing her lips. "And my duty is to protect lives, Master Lorien—whether from monsters or overzealous mages. I suggest we both focus on our roles."

Lorien’s eyes narrowed, but he offered no retort. Instead, he shifted the conversation back to his purpose. "Very well. Tell me what you know. Did you see the monster, or have you heard anything unusual from the survivors?"

Eira folded her arms, her calm demeanor unbroken. "The survivors described it as a massive frog-like creature, unnaturally strong and resistant to their weapons. As for what I heard, only their fear and despair. But rest assured, Master Lorien, I have no intention of hindering your investigation. I trust you will ensure these villagers are treated with the respect they deserve."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, and for the first time, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of Lorien’s lips. He inclined his head again. "We’ll see, Healer. For now, I have more questions to ask."

Eira held his gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the villagers. Whatever Lorien intended, it was clear she would not be intimidated.

Lorien began to steer the conversation. "Tell me, did anyone unusual arrive in the village recently? A traveler, perhaps—someone capable of defending against such an attack?"

Eira’s eyes narrowed slightly. She noticed the way his gaze lingered, sharp and probing, as though he sought to uncover a hidden truth. The question itself seemed innocent enough, but there was a weight behind it, a subtle pressure that set her instincts on edge.

"The villagers here are simple folk," she replied carefully. "Most lack the means to defend themselves against such creatures. If not for their quick thinking, more lives would have been lost."

Lorien’s staff tapped against the ground, a faint echo rising with each strike. "And yet," he continued, his eyes never leaving hers, "They could defeat them. Do you want me to believe that ordinary villagers could defeat immortal monsters? Someone—or something—must have helped them here."

Eira’s heart quickened, though she kept her breathing steady. Her instincts flared, warning her that Lorien’s line of questioning was no coincidence. He wasn’t simply curious about the attack—he was hunting. His words felt like a net, cast wide and tightening with each response, and she suspected she knew who his true target was.

Eira straightened, adopting a composed stance. Her hands clasped lightly before her, but her fingers twitched, betraying the calculations running through her mind. "Perhaps. But why did you ask?"

Lorien tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "This person is dangerous. His presence alone is the reason why immortal monsters multiply quickly. He has a stranger power to seal monsters. Surely, you must have seen him?"

The subtle malice beneath his words became unmistakable, and Eira’s wariness deepened. She met his gaze directly now, refusing to falter under his scrutiny. "I did encounter such a man when I arrived," she replied slowly, each word carefully chosen. "If the kingdom deems him dangerous, I naturally will cooperate with you and show you the way. My concern has been with the injured and ensuring they survive this ordeal."

Her response was smooth, but she could feel the weight of Lorien’s silence, the unspoken accusation hanging in the air. He studied her closely, as though searching for cracks in her resolve.

Eira, for her part, remained composed, though her thoughts raced. She knew she had to tread carefully. Lorien was not the kind of man to abandon a suspicion easily, and every answer she gave would only fuel his hunt further. Her only choice was to protect Arion—whatever the cost.

"If you’re looking for the young man the villagers mentioned, he went west, toward the river. Likely seeking safer ground after the attack."

She pointed to the path that cut through the dense forest on the village's outskirts. It was a lie, a carefully constructed deception to lead Lorien astray.

Lorien’s eyes followed her gesture, narrowing slightly as if weighing her words. His silence stretched, oppressive and cold, as he studied her. Eira met his gaze without flinching, though the faintest sheen of sweat began to gather at the nape of her neck.

After a beat, Lorien inclined his head, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "The river, you say? Interesting. Very well." He tapped his staff once against the ground, the crystal atop it glowing briefly before dimming again. "You’ve been most helpful, Healer."

He turned without another word, his crimson robes swirling as he strode toward the edge of the village. The villagers watched in tense silence as his figure receded into the distance, their collective relief palpable.

But Eira’s relief was short-lived. She kept her face neutral, her hands clasped tightly behind her back as she watched him disappear into the shadows of the western forest. Her instincts screamed that Lorien was not so easily deceived, that her lie had been a fragile veil at best.

Lorien’s expression remained impassive as he rode his horse. Yet within his mind, his thoughts churned like a storm. He replayed Eira’s words, the slight pause before her answer, the measured calm in her voice. It was all too perfect.

"A clever ruse," he mused to himself, his lips curling into a faint smile. "But not clever enough."

He stopped at the fork in the road, the western path stretching into the dense forest while the eastern trail led toward the mountains. Without hesitation, he turned east.

Lorien’s mind sharpened, calculating his next steps. The healer’s lie had only confirmed his suspicions—she was protecting someone, likely the very person he sought. And if her words pointed west, the truth almost certainly lay in the opposite direction.

"You can run," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing on the horizon, "but you won’t hide from me."