—MEADOW—

It was one of those rare days when the clouds thinned, allowing the sun’s light to break through and cast a warm, golden glow over the meadow. I extended my hand, letting the faint warmth fall on my pale skin. The sun behind the thick clouds, hung low in the sky, washing the landscape in a soft haze as I sat among the grazing sheep. My robe, worn and fraying at the edges, told the story of days spent tending to the flock. I leaned back against my arms, closing my eyes, just for a moment, and felt the weight of exhaustion settle deep into my bones. My head dipped. I jolted awake, snapping myself back into the present.

The meadow was so peaceful it reminded me of my warm cot back in the old monasteries, with heavy mattresses and goose-feathered pillows.

I didn’t hear Claude approaching until his boots crunched softly in the grass nearby. Opening my eyes, I found him standing over me, hands in his pockets, watching with that familiar mix of concern and polite amusement.

“Long day, huh?” His voice was gentle. He made an attempt at light teasing. "Your eyes look like they carry sacks of dry grains."

I startled slightly but managed a smile, trying to shake off the weariness that clung to me. I noticed the sword at his side. It was his father's, not the wooden one he usually trained with. I’d forgotten Woodrow had told him to practice with real blades tonight. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“How could you, dozing off like that?” He chuckled as he sat down beside me, his body settling into the earth as if it belonged there. As if it belonged near mine. I smiled, noticing that his training was starting to sculpt his arms. He looked out over the sheep, his expression softening. “Looks like you’ve been taking better care of them and the land and the people than yourself.”

The smile faded from my lips. I glanced down, picking at the frayed hem of my robe. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t look fine.” He hesitated before reaching out, placing a hand on my arm. The warmth of his touch warmed me. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

His touch burned through the fabric of my sleeve, reminding me of just how human he was. I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. When he was like this, I could not help but spill out all my worries and all the lives I had lived before him. I always saw children babbling with each other when they became friends. They told stories when they learned how to form words. How can I become a true friend to Claude when all the words I wanted to build his trust would be at the cost of our stay at Rothfield?

If he knew the truth? The thought alone made my stomach twist. How could I ever begin to explain to steady, kind, Claude that the gentle monk he saw was a jailor keeping a monster inside him from rampaging and turning his good-natured brothers into something sinister, hungry for blood? That the monastery wasn’t just a place of prayer, but a sanctuary for creatures like me, creatures of the night, hiding in plain sight?

“I don’t want to be a burden,” I whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

His grip tightened slightly as if to reassure me. “You could never be a burden. Not to me.”

His words struck deep, and I hated how much I wanted to believe them. How easy it would be to let him in, to show him the loneliness I carried. But I couldn’t do that to him. Claude didn’t deserve the burden of knowing what I truly was, of living in fear that one day he might become prey instead of a friend.

Still, I leaned into his touch, just a little. It was a small gesture of trust, but for me, it was monumental. The air between us felt thick with a tension that had been building for a long time. I knew Claude cared for me, but how could I let him get closer when every step toward me was a step toward danger?

“Come on,” he said after a moment, his voice light as he stood and offered his hand. “Let’s head back before it gets dark. I’ve got some stew on the fire, and you could use a proper meal.”

I hesitated but took his hand. The warmth of his grip steadied me as I rose to my feet. It was so easy to imagine a different life—one where I could accept his kindness without fear. But this wasn’t that life. The monastery was a sanctuary, yes, but also a prison, one where the truth could never be spoken aloud. And yet…

As we walked, the sheep trailing behind lazily, Claude filled the silence with talk of the farm. He always did that; filling the quiet with stories of crops and cattle, his voice soothing, making the world feel less dangerous. Less complicated.

“Ryne?” Claude asked, his voice cutting through my thoughts. He turned to face me, his brow furrowed. “You alright?”

I swallowed hard, staring at the ground. The urge to tell him surged up, almost overwhelming. I could feel the words pressing at the back of my throat. I’m not what you think I am, Claude. I’m not even human.

“It’s just…” My voice came out small, trembling. “There are things…”

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He stepped closer, and I could feel his concern like a physical thing, wrapping around me. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

I shook my head, the tension building in my chest. “I can’t. I just… I can’t, Claude.”

He was quiet for a moment, then his hand found my shoulder, grounding me again. “You don’t have to be afraid. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

Together. How easy it was to forget, with him beside me, the life I’d left behind. The darkness and shadows that still clung to me.

I forced a smile, thin and brittle. “I appreciate that. I really do.”

But I saw the hurt in his eyes, the way they dropped to the ground. “I didn’t mean to overstep.” He scratched his head, looking almost sheepish. “I know you’ll become a monk and I’ll always be a farmer until my last days, and…”

“No, Claude,” I interrupted, grabbing his arm. “It’s not about that. It’s… something else.” I looked him in the eye. “You make me feel happy. You make me feel normal. You just see me.”

He studied me, his eyes searching my face for something I wasn’t ready to give. Eventually, he nodded, though there was sadness in his gaze. “Alright. I won’t push. But you know where to find me when you’re ready.”

Guilt settled heavily in my chest as we walked back. I didn’t deserve his kindness and his friendship, not with the secrets I carried. But I was thankful.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into twilight, the night grew colder. The weight of the truth pressed harder on me. I glanced at Claude, his shoulders silhouetted against the fading light, and wondered how long I could keep pretending and protect him from the truth. Sure when he grew old, he will…

A sudden chill swept over me, one that was all too familiar. My eyes widened, and I clutched my chest, glancing at the distant mountains. Claude stopped beside me, concern furrowing his brow. I slowed as we neared the edge of the meadow, where the trees cast long shadows in the fading light. The chill began to creep up, raising the hairs on my arms, running to my scalp.

“What’s wrong?” Claude asked.

I tried to summon warmth to my hands, but Gaelmar’s kindflame was too weak. I’d pushed myself too hard, and drained my energy.

“Ryne?” Claude stepped closer, steadying me. “What is it?”

“We need to get back to the monastery. Now.” My voice trembled.

Claude whistled for Belle, and I called for Ember, hoping her flame could protect us. But before she arrived, the rustling in the trees grew louder. Before either of us could react, a massive dire wolf stepped out from the woods, larger than any I’d seen before, its red eyes glowing in the darkness. The dark forest's power had waned this day, and it did not waken to protect us.

Claude stepped in front of me, raising his sword, his stance firm. The one that Woodrow had taught him. The beast lunged, and I screamed, calling out to Gaelmar, a desperate warmth surging through me and into Claude’s blade. It glowed faintly, a soft blue, as it clashed with the wolf’s claws. But then the light sputtered, and the world darkened around me. All my flame had been blown away by that simple blessing. The last thing I saw before everything went black was a flash of fiery red hair and a smaller, glowing creature at his side. A sharp silver thing flew through the air, striking the beast, and it disintegrated into ash as Claude and Woodrow took it down. Ember's went up to me, licking my nose, hot as coals.

—CRYPT—

When I awoke, it was to find Wilbur staring down at me, frowning. Woodrow stood beside him, peering over me with his arms crossed.

“What…?” My voice came out weakly, Wilbur helped me up, gently pulling me by the arm. Woodrow gave a curt nod, muttering something about informing Claude that I had woken up.

“Claude?” The name hit me like a stone dropped into still water. “Claude!”

“Settle down. He’s all right.” Wilbur’s voice was soothing as he sat beside me, placing a steady hand on my back. “Woodrow arrived just in time. I suspect it was Ember you called. She went from playful to dragging both of us by our robes, nearly setting my table ablaze in the process.”

I groaned, pressing a hand to my head, which felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise. “I feel terrible.”

“You’ve been overexerting yourself,” Wilbur said calmly, his eyes full of quiet concern.

“I need to play my part in making sure the monasteries and its inhabitants survive,” I huffed.

Wilbur’s face darkened for a moment, his expression pained before he quickly looked away. “I’m sorry that we haven’t been able to offer more help.”

I closed my eyes, not intending to hurt him. I turned his face back toward me, my fingers gripping his sleeve. “You’re doing everything you can.”

“You’re shouldering too much responsibility.” His voice trembled slightly. “And if it hadn’t been for Claude…” He shuddered. Just then, Woodrow reentered the room.

“I sent him off,” Woodrow said, settling back into the shadows. “He wouldn’t leave until you were awake. But now that I promised him you're safe and in one piece, he went home.” He crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he hovered near the steps. “You’re not using your powers efficiently, Ryne.”

I sighed. It was true. I had been running on fumes, using the kindflame for the daily routine required by the monastery--protection, dispelling, barriers--without giving myself the rest I desperately needed.

“We’re fortunate Claude is as strong as he is,” Woodrow continued. “He managed to hold his own until we arrived. He’s quite the fighter for his age.” His tone was approving, but then he exchanged a glance with Wilbur, one I didn’t quite understand.

Before I could ask, the room spun again, and I blinked, suddenly realizing that Ember was curled up on my lap. She was fast asleep, and I realized her flame was spent. She must have shared with me her own store of fire, making me wonder what our connection was. I brought my cheek to her soft, warm head, letting her gentle heat calm the whirlwind inside me.

“Thank you, Woodrow,” I mumbled through a yawn, my body heavy with exhaustion.

“Rest now,” Wilbur urged softly.

And so I did, drifting into a sleep filled with visions of silver daggers and soft candles, rising and falling like the breath of the night.