—MEADOW—

Long shadows reached across the training grounds, where Claude swung his sword in practiced arcs under Woodrow’s watchful gaze. The sound of steel cutting through the crisp morning air punctuated the silence, each swing more deliberate, more forceful than the last. When the training concluded, Wilbur surprised us all when he appeared in front of the church to call Claude and me both. His eyes told me that Claude's vitamins were ready. Wilbur had tasted his blood again after nourishing him well with the improved milk and eggs. He was shy at first when accepting meat, but Agate, Harlan, and I threatened to spoonfeed him bits of it if he did not. So he grinned, convinced when Harlan said that eating well would only bring him closer to his goal of becoming a fine soldier.

I guided Claude to the church. Wilbur presented a simple vial of a dark-brown liquid to Claude. "Finish it in one gulp," he instructed. "I've done all I could to cover the awful taste, but it will still be unpleasant. If only I had honey, but, well..." He motioned for Claude to drink up.

Claude stared at it, at Wilbur, at me. He shrugged, braced himself, and gulped down the bottle. He shivered and stuck out his tongue and made an awful face, stamping his feet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You were not lying!" He gasped out. Wilbur chuckled and dismissed him, saying that he should probably rest for a while. When Claude was gone, Wilbur whispered, "It is meant to boost strength and speed, but I am unsure if the essence of daisies would make him sleepy. We'll watch him tomorrow."

Tomorrow came, Claude's eyes blazing with determination. We trained in the meadow this time. I stood away, leaning against a tree at the edge of the field, watching them. My chest tightened with every swing of Claude’s sword, with every new enhancement Wilbur devised to sharpen his abilities. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him, from the way his movements had become more precise, more powerful under Woodrow’s guidance. And yet, all I felt was a deep, gnawing dread.

Claude had been so eager when he first told me his plans. He spoke of securing land, of earning armor and resources for the future. His voice had been filled with a kind of youthful excitement, the kind that reminded me how young he truly was, despite the horrors he’d already seen. It was noble, I supposed, wanting to make something of himself, to carve out a place in this world that had offered him so little. But he was on a dangerous path.

I closed my eyes, feeling the kindflame stir within me, flickering just beneath the surface. I had used it so many times now, always with one purpose: to protect him. To bolster his shadow resistance, to shield him from the darkness that lurked in every corner of our world. Most of my prayers I offered to Gaelmar were for Claude’s safety, for guidance in how to keep him from falling into the same darkness that had claimed so many before him. But Gaelmar was silent, and the kindflame, for all its warmth, offered no answers.

Woodrow called out another command, and Claude responded with a quick, practiced strike. I watched as Woodrow corrected his stance, showing him how to pivot on his heel, and how to twist the blade just so. It was a subtle movement, but one that could mean the difference between life and death in a fight.

I swallowed hard, the knot in my chest tightening. Woodrow had been teaching him for weeks now, and his progress was undeniable. He could hold his own in a fight, that much was clear. But what happened when it wasn’t a shadowbeast he faced, but something far worse? What happened when the enemy wasn’t something I could burn away with a flicker of kindflame?

My hand tightened into a fist at my side. The thought of Claude out there, in the thick of battle, risking his life for a dream that could so easily shatter, filled me with a kind of helplessness I wasn’t used to. I had fought so hard to keep him safe, to keep the shadows from claiming him. But now... Now it felt like he was walking willingly into their grasp.

A surge of heat rose in my chest, and I exhaled slowly, trying to calm the kindflame before it erupted. I couldn’t protect him forever, could I? Claude had a right to his own path, his own choices. But the idea of him becoming a full-fledged soldier, of putting himself in constant danger, tore at me. I glanced toward the heavens, a silent prayer slipping from my lips. Gaelmar, give me guidance. I had never felt so torn. I was caught between wanting to protect Claude from the world and wanting to let him find his own way. But what if his way led to his death? Could I stand by and watch that happen?

“Ryne,” Woodrow’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. I blinked, realizing that training had come to a halt. Claude was looking at me now, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His smile was easy and confident.

“Ryne,” Claude repeated, walking toward me. “I’ve been thinking.” His tone was serious, though there was still that flicker of excitement in his eyes. “I’m ready. Woodrow says I’m almost there—almost good enough to fight with the others. If I keep training, if I keep pushing myself... I’ll be ready to join Bahram's soldiers soon, if they'll have me. Who knows, with the armor and the resources they'll give me, I can finally have something to pay you back.” Claude saw my lips move, so he added, quickly, "I just want to. I want to give back."

I nodded, but I couldn’t find my voice. My throat felt tight like every word I wanted to say was trapped, strangled by my own fear.

“I need this, Ryne,” Claude continued, stepping closer. His expression softened as he searched my face. “I want to be able to stand on my own. I want to be someone you and others can rely on. You've helped us so much, in more ways than feeding us. But I can’t keep depending on that. I need to be strong, too.”

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I need you to stay alive, I thought, but the words never left my lips. Instead, I forced a weak smile, my hand twitching as if it wanted to reach for him but didn’t know how.

“Claude,” I started, my voice quiet. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

He frowned slightly, his brow knitting together. “Everywhere is danger. We live in a dangerous time, don't let the peace of Rothfield fool you. It may be a losing battle and what I've learned here won't guarantee me living to see the bright dawn one more time, but it's giving me a fighting chance." He looked at me steadily. Woodrow walked away, leaving us, suddenly interested in watching a common flower in the grass. "That’s why I’m doing this. If I can face that danger head-on, I can protect you. I can protect all of us.”

I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t that simple—that no amount of swordsmanship or strength could prepare him for the horrors that awaited on the battlefield. But instead, I looked away, the kindflame flickering weakly inside me. I had already used so much of my power to keep him safe, to shield him from the darkness. But it wouldn’t be enough forever.

“I won't ever stop praying for you," I said. "I won't stop worrying."

Claude’s expression softened, his hand coming to rest on my arm. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through me, and for a moment, I was lost in the simple connection between us.

“I trust you, Ryne,” he said quietly. “Whatever you think is best, I’ll listen. But this... this feels like what I’m meant to do.”

I met his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the future—saw him in armor, standing tall among the soldiers, his sword burning bright with kindflame. But I also saw the blood, the pain, the fear in his eyes. The vision left me cold.

“I’ll keep protecting you,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “Even if you don’t want me to.”

Claude smiled, not fully understanding, and turned back toward Woodrow. My heart ached as I watched him go, the kindflame burning hotter, a reminder of all I had sacrificed to keep him safe. And now, as I stood on the edge of a decision I didn’t want to make, I wondered how much more I would be willing to sacrifice just to keep him, and people like him, alive.

—MOUNT LHOTTEM—

The night was still as we set out, the wind whispering through the peaks of the mountain range. The moon hung low, casting silver light across the jagged paths that snaked their way into the distance. I walked silently behind the group, my footsteps falling in rhythm with the hum of the earth beneath me. It was one of those nights when the air felt thick with an energy that charged my senses and made me acutely aware of every breath, every flicker of shadow. I had chosen this night deliberately—Woodrow, Harlan, and Agate were available, the perfect team to accompany Claude into the mountains for his first significant trial. I watched from the darkness, hiding myself in the shadows, careful not to let them see me. Especially not Claude.

He had come so far in his training—Woodrow had made sure of that—but the fear gnawed at me all the same. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was too soon, that I was pushing him into a danger he wasn’t ready for. And yet, here we were. Claude’s determination had been unwavering; he wanted to prove himself, to show that he could carry his own weight, and so I had to let him. But I could not stand idly by on his first mission.

Woodrow led the group, his tall figure cutting a steady path through the rocky terrain. His dagger hung loosely in his belt, gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Agate, as stoic as ever, followed closely behind, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. Harlan was last in line, his spear at the ready. And in the center of them all, like a precious stone encased in steel, was Claude. His face was set with determination, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as if it had always belonged there. The thought made my chest tighten.

They were tasked to gather fire opals near the mouth of Mount Lhottem. Claude was eager to prove himself in this trial, to show that he could handle the responsibility and the weight of what lay ahead. I only hoped he was ready. I placed my hand on the soil, already feeling the shadowbeasts sensing us through their spawning area. As we reached the mouth of a narrow cave, the air grew colder, and the shadows deepened. Woodrow raised a hand, signaling for the group to halt. He turned, his sharp eyes catching mine for just a moment, though I remained hidden in the darkness. He knew I was there, of course. He always did. But he didn’t acknowledge me.

“We’ll make camp here for a short while,” Woodrow murmured, his voice low but steady. “The beasts will come soon enough. Stay alert.”

Claude nodded, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. I could see the tension in his shoulders and the slight tremor in his fingers. He was nervous, but he was hiding it well. I knew him too well, though. I could see the determination in his eyes, but there was also doubt that lingered just beneath the surface. But that was natural, wasn’t it? Fear was part of the process. It was how he used that fear that mattered.

They set about preparing their equipment, sharpening blades, and checking supplies. Harlan muttered something to Claude, offering him a word of encouragement as he adjusted his armor. Agate stood off to the side, her eyes trained on the horizon, ever the watchful sentinel. And then, as if summoned by the very weight of their preparation, the first growl echoed from the depths of the cave.

My breath caught in my throat as the shadows shifted, coiling and twisting like living smoke. The shadowbeasts emerged, their blackened forms rippling with unnatural energy, their eyes gleaming with malevolent hunger. They were larger than I had remembered, their claws glinting like obsidian in the moonlight. Another low growl rumbled from their throats, sending a shiver down my spine.

Woodrow moved first, drawing his dagger in a swift, fluid motion, the blade gleaming with an eerie light as it cut through the air. He stepped in front of Claude, his movements practiced and sure, the calm of a seasoned warrior who had faced death more times than he could count. Harlan followed suit, his sword raised, while Agate nocked an arrow and pulled the string taut, her eyes narrowing as she took aim.

Claude hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his own sword at the ready. He looked small, standing between the seasoned fighters, but there was a fire in his eyes that gave me pause. Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy I had met months ago. He had grown stronger, and more confident. The shadowbeasts lunged, their claws slashing through the air with deadly grace. Woodrow and Harlan moved as one, deflecting the blows with their swords, their movements perfectly synchronized. Agate loosed an arrow, the shaft burying itself in the nearest beast’s neck, but it only slowed for a moment before pressing forward again, its eyes fixed on Claude.