Curious insight? Conflicting theory? Double click the text and share.
I welcome all scholarly debate... within reason, of course.
The room was clean. Walls pale, air still. Luxurious and quiet, like a perfumed tomb. Even the bed felt intimidating, like my breathing might stain it. It lay like a crater in the center of the room. Large, immaculate and untouched.
I sat at the mattress’s edge, hands laced tightly as if they held answers. My pulse had steadied, but my thoughts chased themselves in shrinking circles.
Surely, I hadn’t ruined everything with what I said at dinner. The bitch deserved it, and worse. But still, what did it accomplish? Maybe startled the officials, reminded the guards of their neglected duties. But the Queen? She laughed. Called me childish.
Made me look like a fool, or maybe I did that myself.
But I meant every word.
And Dent?
I couldn’t shake the memory of his jaw twitching, the strained stillness hiding panic beneath politeness.
Fuck that woman for holding back.
For sitting on this information just to rattle us… And if that was her goal, I'd fallen right into it.
Dammit.
My bare feet struck the floor as I stood abruptly.
                                         ...
Â
The hallway outside was dim and lined with cold marble, two servants stationed near the corner with their hands folded and eyes politely blank. There were guards, too. Not watching. But aware. One nodded slightly as I passed, but I didn’t acknowledge him.
Dent’s door was just down the hall, soft light leaking from beneath it. I hesitated. Then knocked.
“That’s you, isn’t it, Remy?” His voice bled through the door, too casual, too bright.
“How’d you know?” I muttered.
The door cracked open revealing his furrowed face. “Figured you’d come over. You can’t get enough of me.” Then gestured for me to come in.
“Oh, please.” I tried to laugh but couldn’t.
His room was similar to mine, but everything was out of place. The chair near the window was on its side. A small glass lay cracked on the tile, water creeping into the seams of an expensive rug. Bed linens loosely thrown into the far corner, and one of the desk drawers was strewn out on the floor, like a broken limb.
Dent, by himself, looked familiarly fine. Hair still neat. Tunic crisp. A bit too fair, but his eyes told me everything.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” I said, letting the door shut behind me.
He only gave a weak laugh, more breath than sound. “Figured I’d follow your lead.
I made my way in, sarcastically taking a seat on the floor linens, “Gods, please don’t bring that up.”
“Aw, c’mon. It wasn’t that bad.” He plopped down next to me. “Not like you javelined a kitchen knife at her.”
A low chuckle escaped my lips. “Believe me, I thought about it.”
“At least that would’ve been interesting.”
“Interesting way to die, sure.”
His voice shifted low, quieter than before. “Yeah… sure would be.” He was picking at a seam in the rug, working at it like it had done something wrong.
I let the silence stretch.
Then finally, “How’re you feeling?”
“Honestly?” He shrugged. “I feel fine. I really do.”
A little relief stirred in my chest as I tried to believe him. “Well, that’s great, right?”
“Yeah… For sure.”
I paused a bit longer at that. “Think maybe the Queen’s bullshitting us then?”
“No.” He said too quickly.
I blinked. “No?”
“No…” He said again, “I think she’s probably right.”
My voice raised despite myself. “C’mon, Dent, don’t give me the runaround. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” he said, too fast but continued. “At least, I thought it was nothing. Till the Queen said what she did and… It just made sense.”
“Dammit, Dent.” I exhaled hard, tension winding through my ribs. “You know I’m here for you. If something’s happening, you need to tell me.”
“It’s not like I feel sick or anything,” he responded. “It’s just… different. I can’t describe it.”
Fuck!
I wanted to scream. Punch something. Fix it. But I didn’t even know what “it” was. Before I could say anything else, a knock interrupted us, and Dent started to rise.
“Relax,” I said, pressing a hand gently to his arm. “I got it.”
I crossed to the door, not fully making it there before a voice rang out from the other side. “You know what’s up. Just let me in already.”
Val.
I cracked the door and pulled him in before any guards or servants could peek. “What do you want?”
He gave me a look like I’d just grown a second head. “What do I want?”
Realization of my rudeness quickly followed. “Sorry. I’m just… a little on edge.” Then motioned to the floor. “Dent’s laid out a nice bed for us on the rug.”
Val raised a brow without comment, dropping down beside Dent, and folding his legs like he belonged there. “Eshlyn & Selene are on their way.”
“Damn,” Dent muttered, eyeing Val. “Couldn’t pick a different room?”
“What?” Val smirked. “Don’t want everyone to know you trashed it?”
“Funny,” Dent said flatly. “But no, I’d rather they didn’t.”
Val's grin widened. “Relax, Dent. No one gives two shits about your delicate reputation.”
A pause followed.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Dent said, finally returning Val's grin, “I’d think you were tryin’ to start something.”
“My my,” I cut in, “aren’t you both feeling scrappy tonight?”
“You started it.” Val looked up at me, almost admiringly. “Thought I was gonna have to fight our way out of the dining room.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” I dropped my head back for a second just as another knock drummed on the door.
“It’s unlocked,” I called.
Eshlyn stepped in first, wine bottle in hand, Selene gliding in close behind. Both of them still dressed like royalty without a care.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Selene said dryly, righting the nearest chair before easing into it.
I could help but light up. “That’s what I said!”
Selene only grinned.
Eshlyn claimed a spot beside me, drifting down to what had clearly become the unofficial gathering place for the night. “Everyone made it,” she said, tone breezy. “How wonderful.”
I bumped her with my shoulder. “Get your fill of playing politics?”
“Enough for a lifetime.” She leaned against it, a smirk ghosting her lips. “Speaking of which…”
“Don’t even.” I cut her off, already sensing where she was headed.
Her hands lifted in mock surrender, “mhmmm, fine then.”
Dent looked around, smile not quite reaching his eyes.
“Okay, but seriously... why is everyone in my room?”
Selene was the one to answer, her voice even, thoughtful. “Because there’s a decision to make, and only the three of you know what we might be getting into.” She motioned to Val, Eshlyn, and me.
The air shifted as if everyone took a deep breath all at once.
Then Val leaned forward, arms resting loosely on his knees. “We went in blind last time. We weren’t ready.”
“We needed to,” I said softly. “Dent was nearly a corpse by the time we got there.”
“And you all nearly died,” Selene reminded, not unkindly. “Isn’t that right?”
I could sense Eshlyn's unease as she picked at the label on the wine bottle. Eventually setting it down beside her. “Well, yes…” She said, “Last time, we encountered a sizable horde of undead, and there is a very real possibility of it showing up again.”
Dent didn’t speak. He just stared at the corner of the room, expression unreadable.
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t go,” Eshlyn’s shoulders fell. “But let’s not pretend it wasn’t horrifying.”
My mind slipped. Bringing me back to the steps. The moment I thought she was gone. So I slid my hand over to hers. “No one’s pretending.”
Val exhaled through his nose. “And now it's all the more complicated: The Queen’s team. The other Ascenders. The workers. They’re all wildcards.”
“I feel like we can't trust them,” I added plainly.
“Exactly,” Val agreed.
“Trust or not, we may need them.” Eshlyn chimed in, “Another party of ascenders means we won’t have to wear ourselves out. Going back alone is… well… ”
“Suicide.” Val finished the sentence when she didn’t.
Eshlyn paused a moment before replying. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt,” Dent finally spoke up, but his voice was quiet. “Not because of me.”
My eyes drifted to his. “That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” His jaw flexed, voice rising. “The queen said I’m a walking test subject and you’re talking about risking your lives, again, because of me.”
“I’m the whole reason you got infected in the first place!” I snapped back.
He didn’t flinch. “And I’m the reason they’ll be watching us like lab rats!”
“I thought you said you felt fine!?” My voice rose in sequence.
“I do!” Dent argued in turn.
“Then we don’t let them,” Val cut in, as if it were simple.
Dent's head shook in disbelief. “And how are you going to do that?”
Eshlyn chimed in similarly. “If we do this, we can set our own terms.”
Selene folded her ghostly hands in her lap. “You may not be able to stop the queen from sending whoever she wants. But you may be able to decide where they go. How much they see.”
I bit my cheek in contemplation. “They’re counting on our insight. We can leverage that.”
Eshlyn nodded. “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow I’ll petition the Queen for operational control. We tell her we need to lead, or the mission fails.”
“That way we can keep the Queen’s people in check.” Val nodded.
Dent looked deflated but sighed in agreement. “Fine, but I’m going with you, and if things go sideways, let me take the hit.”
My legs jolted into a standing position before I could stop them. Words spewing out like lava. “No! No fucking theatrics this time!”
The room froze.
“I mean it.” I continued. “No one goes in with that self-sacrificial bullshit. We go together. We leave together. Or not at all.”
My eyes found Val’s, and he nodded. Then Eshlyn. Dent. Selene. One by one, they all nodded in agreement.
“I know I’ll most likely remain at the staging camp, but I’ll keep the researchers and support crew in line. No one steps in unless you say so.” Selene added, her voice soft but certain.
I turned towards her before finding my seat again, “Thank you.”
“Let’s toast to it,” Eshlyn said, lifting the wine bottle and taking a drink before passing it along.
One by one, the bottle made its way around the circle. Val drank without hesitation. His gaze intertwining with mine. So I did the same.
When it reached Dent, he paused, just for a heartbeat. Then tipped it back.
No words between us. Just the echo of commitment in the gesture.
                                         ...
Â
The next day came and went too fast; before I knew it, it was time to go.
The Queen accepted our terms, or pretended to, though we never saw her face again.
Orders came filtered through polished servants and the advisor she sent in her place. Advisor Dagenbord. Apparently one of her most trusted and “studied.” As a compromise to our terms, he was to accompany us everywhere.
The courtyard buzzed with motion. Boots crunching gravel, voices lifting sharply over various crates, cradled by the scent of packed rations and cold steel. Soldiers, support staff, and a small cluster of Ascenders milled about in a loose half-circle of chaos that looked a lot less prepared than it should have.
I sat on a crate of my own, near the edge, elbows on my knees, watching it all unravel like a thread pulled too fast. People shouted over one another. Others stood around, probably waiting for instructions. One poor soul was trying to wrangle a goat into a supply cart.
Dent stood stiff beside me, the back of his neck burning under too many stares.
We’d been promised operational control.
But gods, what did that even mean? They want us checking their gear for them? Packing their rations? Might as well wipe their asses too.
The truth was, I was ready to go, and had no godsdamn clue what I was supposed to do beyond that.
Eshlyn and Selene emerged from the main hall with Dagenbord in tow, his long cloak whispering behind him like it had somewhere better to be.
He had the look of someone steeped in privilege since before they were born, something I'd recognized from the queen. Pale gold embroidery trimmed the folds of his official robes, and his dark hair was slicked back with such precision it barely dared move. His eyes, half-lidded and unimpressed, swept the courtyard as if he were disappointed in the dust.
The crowd parted for them like a wave.
“Operational control has been granted,” Dagenbord announced, as though it were some holy decree. “This unit,” he gestured to us, “will be leading this expedition under the oversight of the Crown. Effective immediately.”
I figured that was the cue. The moment someone was supposed to step forward and make sense of the chaos. Instead, there was silence.
Dent and Eshlyn looked to me. It was slight, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Enough to twist my gut and send shivers down my spine.
Before the silence could stretch a moment longer than necessary, a dark-haired Ascender from the other party stepped forward and climbed onto a crate like it were a podium made for him.
He moved like a blade sheathed in ceremony, every inch of him precise and cold. His polished breastplate bore a family insignia, catching the morning light like it had been waiting for this moment.
His silver-blue eyes swept the crowd like a commander inspecting his ranks, sharp, detached, already calculating who was worth keeping. When he spoke, his voice didn’t need volume. It carried the way command does, trained to be obeyed.
“For those of you new to this style of operation,” he began, “discipline is paramount. As leader of the Vanguard Fangs, I expect… ”
“Actually,” Eshlyn spoke up, smooth but firm.
He carried on without pause. “...everyone to stay sharp and stay together.”
I wasn’t sure why exactly, but anger erupted in me as I stepped forward. One hand pressing on Eshlyn’s shoulder before calling out to him. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Excuse me?” His gaze snapped to me like I’d slapped him. I could tell he wasn’t used to being interrupted, let alone challenged.
I wasn’t even sure what I was doing, only that I hated his smug, polished posture, and I’d just been handed enough authority to use it like a stick. “You heard me.”
His expression barely flickered as he straightened. “Kael. Noble House of Vanguard. Floor Eight.”
“Great.” My voice was drier than dust. “Now get the fuck off my crate.”
“I’m sorry?” He blinked, as if the concept of being dismissed hadn’t occurred to him.
Eshlyn spoke up again. “Surely you heard the decree. Leadership of this expedition falls to us.” She said it with that usual calm elegance, but I caught the hesitation, just a flicker too long on her gloved fingers.
Kael’s smile was all courtesy, no warmth. “Of course. Then by all means...”
He stepped down, and the weight of a hundred gazes shifted toward Eshlyn.
She opened her mouth, closed it, then looked down again. I couldn’t help but feel the contrast in her demeanor. Eshlyn was always so sure of themself, so why the hesitation?
Then I felt it.
The weight of everyone’s gaze shifting from her to me.
Val leaned in behind me, murmuring low, “Better say something before that prick does.”
I turned to Eshlyn once more, hoping for a lifeline, but I could see the confidence draining from her eyes. So I stood up on the “podium”. Not gracefully. Not confidently. Just… up. And said the only thing I could think of.
“We’re not here to hold your hands,” I began, trying not to cringe at the sound of my own voice. It was louder than I meant it to be but no one moved. So I kept going.
“That means packing your gear. Checking your rations. Keeping your wits sharp. That’s all on you, and if you can't handle yourself…”
I swallowed as my heart hammered. Like it could feel the gravity of Kael’s gaze like a blade across my throat.
“…then walk away right now.”
The silence could slice through bone. Shit. I was in it now.
“This place we’re going, it’s not safe. It’s not pleasant. It’s so far into the dead forest it’ll feel wrong just existing there. Resupply will be difficult, and returning alone is out of the question.”
I scanned their faces. No idea if I was making anything better or worse.
“There are two hundred and forty-one souls in this courtyard,” I said, unsure of how I knew that number was accurate, or if it even was. “My goal is for every single one of you to return home to your loved ones.”
I took one last breath.
“We leave in an hour. We will be on site for a full fortnight and it's a three day hike. Plan accordingly.”
That’s when I stepped off the crate, heart still hammering like I’d just survived a duel, but the crowd was already starting to disperse.
Eshlyn joined me in stride, “Thank you.” she said, voice low.
I took her hand, “Course.”
Turning towards the others, Selene caught my eye first, offering a curt nod as I made my way back to the group. Dent and Val, of course, were smirking like they were watching a play.
That's when Dent reached out and patted me on the head like some proud uncle. “Good job, kiddo,” he said, voice syrupy sweet. I swatted at him, rolling my eyes.
Val trailed behind, grin lazy. “You telling everyone to handle their own shit? I almost cried.”
I gave him a playful shove. “That’s not what I said.”
Then, more serious, “Actually, I do need something from each of you, though.”
“Anything,” Selene said, voice an echo of soft grace.
“Could you get an accurate head count? And double-check we’re bringing enough supplies for everyone?”
She tilted her head. “You mean it’s not, exactly, two hundred and forty-one?”
I chuckled in spite of myself. “Let’s just make sure, please.”
She nodded once, already turning toward the logistics cart.
I looked to Eshlyn next. “Can you check in with each group? Take requests, see if anyone needs something specific before we head out.”
“Happy to,” she said, smoothing a hand over her robes as she moved off.
“Val,” I said, quieter now, “Think you could scan the crowd a bit? We need to know about anyone who looks like they might slow us down... or start shit.”
“You mean besides the tall, dark and handsome Kael of Vanguard.” He said mockingly.
“ Yes, exactly.” I said, grinning reluctantly.
“You got it.” He turned.
Then Dent, arms crossed, lifted a brow. “You got something for me to do, or am I just here to look pretty?”
“Stay close. Try to look friendly.” I paused. “Or, you know… non-parasitic.”
He groaned. “Ugh. The worst job.”
“Oh, shut up,” I muttered, still grinning.
And just like that, they each peeled off, drifting into motion with purpose. Leaving Dent and me alone in our little corner of the courtyard. Except one remained, barely noticeable in the shadow of the others, but standing there clear as day was Dagenbord."
I turned to address him. “Just going to stand there?”
“Observing, as the queen instructed.”
“How about you go observe Selene or Val.”
“No, I believe I am in the right place here.”
“Uh huh.” I groaned plainly before letting him be, still as a statue.
We sat in silence for a bit, but it was impossible not to catch everyone's lingering stares. I couldn’t tell if they were sizing me up or watching Dent for symptoms but we’d been dealing with it all morning.
I tried not to care but Dent was scratching the back of his neck when I noticed his eyes flicking between a group of soldiers by the supply carts.
I nudged him lightly with my elbow. “Don’t worry. They’ll get bored eventually.”
“I think they’re trying to figure out if I’m gonna sprout fangs or start coughing up blood.”
I raised a brow in mock suspicion. “Been doing that a lot lately?”
He snorted, but I could feel the tension in him, tight and coiled. Like he was holding his breath in a room of people just waiting for him to crack.
“They’re scared of me,” he said finally, low and quiet.
“They just don’t know you.” I tried to sound reassuring.
“Doesn’t matter. Their minds are made up.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “You’re probably right.”
He looked at me, like he expected me to tack on a joke or soften it somehow but I didn’t. Because I was scared too. Only difference being I wasn’t scared of him. I was scared for him.
The moment lingered until I finally stood up fully, brushing the dust off my palms. “Come on,” I said, jerking my chin toward the center of the courtyard. “Let’s take a look around. Greet some people or something.”
Dent groaned like an old man sitting up from his chair. “Remy the diplomat. Never thought I’d see it.”
“Very funny, but seriously, I need you as a buffer.”
“Shall I look as friendly as possible, your liege?” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“I don’t think they’ll buy that anymore,” I said, starting to walk. “Just be your lovable, goofy self.”
He fell into step beside me, muttering something about public relations as we made our way toward the unfamiliar faces. Then I felt a third set of footsteps trailing behind. They were quiet, but present.
Dagenbord.
I knew it was him without looking. His presence was something strange. Easily forgotten. Always just close enough to overhear. Never quite close enough to confront.
If there’s anyone to worry about… I thought, it’s him.
                                         ...
Â
Various groups noticed us as we made our slow loop through the courtyard. Some gave polite, respectful nods. A few even smiled, offering quick greetings or bits of small talk. But most just… stared.
They eyed Dent up and down, then looked at me like I’d grown a second head for saying hello.
It didn’t take long to move through most of the courtyard. But something caught the corner of my eye as we reached the outskirts. A figure bearing that unmistakable fluid demeanor that drifted through chaos like it belonged there. Untrained eyes mistake it for courtesy, but I knew it meant a thief was helping themselves to whatever they wanted.
In this case, a full crate of dried fruit sat just beside them, one flap angled open like a half-hearted shrug. The figure picked it up with a practiced smile, patiently handing it off to the merchant couple packing the wagon, but not before palming a sealed packet, tucking it into their sleeve with an easy flick of the wrist.
I didn’t care much, or at all, but it piqued my interest. Enough for me to focus my intent. Muting our footsteps as we moved closer.
When we were a few paces off, the figure finally glanced my way, no guilt, just a flicker of amusement. That’s when I caught the glint in their silver eyes, the cropped ash-blond hair, the wiry build. Soft features. And a garb not unlike my own. They looked to be some variant of a fairy. Male, female, or something in between, I wasn't sure, but they were beautiful in some unique way.
“Morning,” they said, voice bright. “Didn’t see you there.”
“I prefer it that way, but we’re just moving through, getting to know everyone.”
“Interesting,” they added. “You’d think a leader might be busy organizing the expedition instead of spying on the catering.”
“I’m no leader and wouldn’t need to spy if thieves weren’t running amok.”
They clutched their chest in mock betrayal. “Thief? That’s a strong word for someone merely redistributing from surplus to needy.”
“You mean from the cart to your pack?”
“Exactly.” They grinned. “Surplus to needy.”
Dent snorted, then tried to cover it with a cough. I nearly did the same, but, weighing how useful this might be, I replied sharply.
“If you tell me your name, I might not report you.”
“How generous.” they said with dubious charm. “Names Nico. Floor two. Competing for the scout position in the Vanguard Fangs.”
I almost laughed. “Did that Kael guy really name your group after his own family?”
“Yes… Yes, he did,” Nico said with just enough theatrical suffering to make it funny.
Dent gave a low whistle. “Wow. someone’s compensating.”
“I’ll say.” My head shook in disbelief. “Anyway. You can call me Remy, and this is Dent. That creepy shadow not too far off?” I tilted my head slightly. “That’s the Queen’s advisor, Dagenbord. He keeps thinking I’ll forget about him, but I won't.”
Nico’s smile faltered then. “Oh… Wonderful.”
He didn’t turn to look, but his body shifted, just enough to suggest he was recalculating. Not afraid, exactly, but rattled in a way that made it clear: getting caught by me was preferable to being noticed by the advisor.
“Let’s take a walk, Nico.” I turned to step away without checking if they’d follow. “Tell me about this team of yours.”
They hesitated for a moment before falling into step with a lazy shrug. “Fine, but only in the interest of self-preservation… What do you want to know?”
We carried on through the busy bodies, meandering our way toward the edge of the gathering. “I met Kael. I take it he’s some kind of leader?”
“Yes, but he’s still competing, same as the rest of us, though it's best not to remind him of it. He doesn’t think he needs to.”
“What do you mean, competing?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“There are four positions and six of us,” Nico said, like it was obvious. “Two will be cut following this mission.”
Dent seemed unfazed, so I tried not to look as surprised as I felt. “You’re serious?”
“Of course.” He blinked at me, like I’d asked whether the sun was hot. “It’s the traditional way of doing things.”
“Sorry, I’m unfamiliar.” My brow furrowed. “How do you even decide?”
“Group consensus. Whoever doesn’t fit, doesn’t stay. They’ll have to find another party or get reassigned. Haven’t you done this before?”
“Well… our group came together through bad luck and coincidence, so... no.”
“Interesting.” Nico gave me a sideways glance. “Then what’s your role?”
“My role?” I echoed, already unsure what answer he was digging for.
“Hmm, let’s see. You don’t strike me as a caster, though the charm bracelet on your wrist says otherwise. You carry a bow, so scout, maybe. Then there’s the twin daggers: longer than knives, shorter than swords. And the way you move...” He gestured vaguely at me. “The off-putting swagger. Like a brawler with nothing to prove.”
I blinked, still processing the surgical analysis. “Off-putting swagger?”
He grinned. “At first, I thought it was arrogance. But now… I’m not so sure. You’ve got this reluctant leader, stray dog energy. The kind that gathers a following, even if it growls.”
I squinted. “Stray dog energy?”
“Exactly.” He looked way too pleased with himself. “A bit hard to pin down. Probably why it works.”
“Well, aren’t you observant.”
“And yet,” he said, tapping the side of his cloak where the stolen package was stashed, “you still managed to sneak up on me.”
“You were distracted,” I said, maybe too fast.
“True, but still.” He tilted his head. “Well done, Remy.”
“You analyze everyone like that?” I asked, brushing off the complement.
“Only when I feel it’s necessary.”
“Think I could get you to use some of that in my favor?” I said, casually dropping to the grass as we cleared the crowd.
“I fail to see what I’d be gaining.” Nico remained standing. So did Dent. “It’s not like I’m competing for a spot in your party, and you don’t even assign roles.”
It was a fair point. I had nothing he wanted, and not enough leverage to matter. So I only let out a sigh.
“Very well then, Nico.” I waved them off without offering a handshake. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
They turned to shake Dent’s hand, but he quickly moved away. “Naw, I don’t think so.”
Nico smiled, turning back towards me before striding off. “Next time, let’s hope I see you before you see me.”
I let out a breathy chuckle, unsure if it was a lame joke or genuine challenge. “Uh-huh, fat chance.”
They only dipped their head, still grinning. “Good day, you two.” We both watched as Nico vanished into the bustle of the courtyard, their practiced prance already absorbed by the noise.
“I like them,” Dent said, finally settling beside me.
“I don't know. Seems useful but kind of weird.”
“Aren't we all?”
“Fair point.” I paused before continuing. “Speaking of which, do I give off stray dog energy?”
“Oh, certainly,” Dent said, way too excited. “Fleas, ticks, everything.”
My eyes rolled, “Ugh. I shouldn’t have asked you.”
“You know I’ll always be honest with ya, Remy. You reek of stray dog.”
“I do not!” I punched his muscled shoulder, maybe harder than necessary.
He clutched it dramatically. “You can't hit me, I’m sick.”
“Keep running your mouth. See what happens.” I grinned wide, a kind of grin only Dent could stir.
                                         ...
Â
The mist mingled low between the trees, curling like pale fingers around our ankles. Thick branches clawed overhead, blotting out what little light filtered through the cloud-choked sky. The only sounds were boots crunching over damp earth, drumming against the continual groan of cart-wheels trudging through soft dirt, and the quiet clatter of gear jostling with each slow step.
I’d found my place at the head of the convoy, setting the same path we’ve taken so many times before. The river trail to Dent’s woodland camp.
Everyone seemed to keep pace, even the wagons, but it was slow. Agonizingly so. I couldn’t help but reflect on the three of us. We could make it from the city to the tomb in one long stretch, but this time, it’d likely take multiple days.
Over two hundred souls marched at my back. Their footsteps echoing into a roar, no one could deafen. Our little party, unnamed and informal, created a miniature formation around me, like I’d somehow become the gravity holding us together.
Selene was the first to break the silence when we stopped to rest, her voice low and efficient. “Head count’s still solid. Two hundred and forty-one.” She said it like it mattered to me if someone gave up half way and never came back. This time tomorrow, that would cease to be an option, so now was as good a time as any, but I didn’t tell her that. Instead, I thanked her and nodded like I understood what to do with that information. Like I was the one she was supposed to report to.
Eshlyn appeared next, her expression careful. “A few requests came in. Soldiers asking to load their armor onto wagons rather than wear it while we march. And someone wants to confirm watch rotations for tonight.” Her tone shifted, just a touch. “One noble-born quietly asked for reassignment. Says their squad isn’t a good fit.”
I drank from my canteen, trying to look like I knew what to do with that.
“Watch rotations are on them to figure out, and as long as they’re keeping their weapon close and their eyes open, I don’t care if they march naked,” I said, glancing toward Val. “Right?”
He gave a single nod. “Agreed.”
“Alright then.” I paused for another beat. “Let the noble switch squads if that raises morale. Their only job is security, and it's not like we’re assigning bunkmates. They can talk, eat, or breathe near whoever they want, as long as they stay in formation.”
Eshlyn’s mouth twitched into something between amusement and approval. “I’ll pass it along.”
She stepped away, and a beat later, Dent leaned in. “Hey, not to be rude, but… when did you become queen of the march?”
“Oh my gods.” I turned to him, eyes wide. “I’ve been thinking the same thing! I gave one half-assed speech and now everyone thinks I’ve got answers!”
Val snorted, then coughed, trying not to laugh. Dent didn’t even bother, cracking up beside him.
“Seriously,” I went on, grinning now. “I just wanted Kael out of the way!”
Then paused for breath. “No kidding, someone saluted me earlier!”
That did it. Val doubled over, wheezing through his teeth. “Stop. Remy. You’re killing me.”
“It’s not that funny!” I said, trying to stay indignant, but even I couldn’t stop the grin.
Dent wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “It kind of is, though.”
Dent raised his canteen in mock salute after composing himself. “Don’t sell yourself short. Dagenbord announced it in front of everyone. You gave the speech. And Kael was kicked off the podium in swift motion.”
“I yelled at a prick and stood on a box,” I said flatly. “That’s not leadership.”
Val laughed again. “And to think you were trying to lay low.”
“Gods,” I groaned. “That’s so far out the window now.”
“Well then,” Dent muttered, holding his canteen higher now, “we might as well embrace it.” Then grinned wide. “To the queen of the march.”
I unenthusiastically tapped my canteen to his, then Val’s. “Yeah, yeah. Queen of the march. Whatever.”
It took a few moments for the smiles to fade but eventually Val cleared his throat. “Alright. Guess it’s time to get down to business.”
“What’ve you got?” I asked, already adjusting my tone.
“The way I see it, most of these wackos aren’t worth worrying about. Dagenbord and the other ascension party are the ones to keep an eye on. They’ll be front and center with us, which means the most opportunity to screw things up, or turn on Dent.”
I dropped my voice, glancing toward Dagenbord, who sat just far enough off to fane disinterest. “You really think they’d do that?”
“Maybe not all of them,” Val said. “But Dagenbord’s got secrets, no question. And Kael? He strikes me as the kind of guy who’d kill a baby if ordered to.”
“Damn,” I muttered.
“Right? And glued to his side is this walking brick wall named Bran. Easily a foot taller than him, and everyone else, for that matter. Shaved head, she looks like she was sculpted out of rage and chiseled stone. If you tangle with Kael, you’re getting her, too. And she probably hits like a runaway cart.”
“So we’re surrounded by zealots, secret keepers, and cartoon bodyguards.” Dent stretched his legs with a groan. “Starting to miss the days when I only had to worry about the parasite eating my brain.”
I wanted to laugh, but the joke landed somewhere low and heavy in my ribs. “Right. What else?”
“There are a few others. Siera, Tovin, Lyssa, Nico. They all seem level-headed. Siera’s a bit chaotic, but in a mostly contained way.” Val shrugged. “As a group, they’re strong. Structured, sure, but not tight-knit. If things go sideways, I wouldn’t count on them holding the line.”
“Hmm.” I chewed on that for a long moment before offering a simple reply. “Thanks, Val. That's good to know.”
                                         ...
Â
The sun had long fallen under the horizon when I recognized the bend up ahead. The one that signaled Dent’s camp was not far off. We’d pushed past sundown, but the dark was thickening by the minute. Enough to begin imaging Dent’s campsite was less like a clean patch of grass, and more like a beacon of hope, shining in the distance.
Low lantern light lit the long stretch of carts in our wake. We were just shy of the treeline when I clocked a distant scream coming from somewhere near the middle of the pack. It seared through the rhythm of boots and wagon wheels like a snapped wire. Loud enough to send a noticeable pause through the convoy. We all froze on impulse, and then came the shouting. “Medic!”
Shit.
I turned then, following Val and Eshlyn, who were already jogging back through the ranks, toward a growing gaggle of workers circled around a soldier laying on his back. I recognized him immediately. Not like I knew him, but it was the same soldier who saluted me earlier. They clutched their fists, face already drained of color. A shallow burrow in the earth lay collapsed beside him.
A smaller figure was already kneeling, hands hovering faintly above his skin, glowing with the warm hue of a gentle sun. Her presence was calm, almost serene. Lilac-colored eyes lay beneath an ivory braid laced with tiny flowers flowing down to her shoulders.
“What happened?” I asked the growing crowd.
“Ground gave way,” someone pointed. “Maybe a burrow or collapsed trench. Guy just stepped wrong.”
Seriously, he stepped wrong? I thought quietly, but couldn’t help feeling responsible. These were humans, and we were marching in the dark, after all.
“You’re a healer, yeah?” I motioned to the gold-haired girl.
“Yes,” she didn’t look up. “And this poor soul’s shattered his ankle. Compound fracture, might not want to look if you're squeamish.”
Gods.
I genuinely tried not to recoil, but the torn skin and jagged white structure shining beneath the blood had me second-guessing if that was possible.
“You’ve got to be joking.” I meant to sound concerned, but it probably came out horrified.
“Afraid not.” She finally met my gaze. “You’ll need to hold traction while I mend it.”
That's when Val did something I hadn’t thought of, but was so extremely useful. His voice rang out through the growing crowd. “All of you back the hell up! Give us some space over here!” And they did, forming a not-so-distant semicircle in the lantern glow.
I blinked. “What… right, yeah.” Then scrambled to the ground, breath catching as I caught sight of the wound again. Then adjusted my grip, wrapping both hands around his foot and pulling gently until he jerked in pain.
“You’ll need to pull harder than that.” The flower haired girl spoke softly, but I felt the urgency in her tone like a current under calm water.
That's when I fully looked at the man. He was older for a soldier. Short black hair woven with grey. A trimmed beard to match. “What’s your name, soldier?”
“Gregory,” he winced. “House of Gradoff.”
Gods, I wish everyone would stop telling me their lineage.
“Right, Gregory,” I paused to meet the healer’s gaze, then his. “This is going to hurt.”
“Here, take this. It will help numb the pain.” Eshlyn uncorked a small vial, handing it off to him.
He drank it without question, letting out a small sigh of relief upon finishing. The moment he did, I yanked his foot back, hard, until the bones clicked into place with a wet, nauseating sound. The healer nodded, hands turning to a shade of green, over the injury.
He screamed, raw and high, thrashing until Val moved in, pinning his shoulders to the raw earth. A few moments later, the healer stopped. “It’s done.”
Gregory was still panting, but his face was less ashen now. “Gods… wow. Thank you. That feels… so much better.”
Someone from the crowd murmured, “big baby,” prompting more than a few chuckles.
“It will be weak until he rests, but likely better by tomorrow.” The woman added plainly.
Then I stood up, motioning to a couple of nearby soldiers doing nothing useful. “Hey. You two, load this man onto a wagon, will ya?”
They looked at each other before moving to lift him. “Right away, Ma’am.”
Ma’am?
The words threw me more than I cared to admit. I’d slept on rooftops most of my life. Had no title or lineage to name. I certainly didn’t want to be in charge of anyone. If anything, I figured Eshlyn would’ve been handed that, but here I was, again, giving orders, and people were listening.
“Listen up!” I called, pointing ahead. “I know you’re tired; it’s been a long day. But camp is just past that bend. Flat land. Fruit trees. A place to bathe.”
I paused, swallowing against the weight of their stares. “Stay with me. Just a while longer.”
The silence stretched. Then, a raspy voice from somewhere in the crowd: “You heard the lady. We’re nearly there.”
Another voice followed, then another, until the group began to stir, resettling packs, adjusting gear, and falling back into motion.
“Well, that was exciting,” Eshlyn murmured, falling into step beside me.
Val joined from the other side. “This is the easy part, and people are already snapping bones. It’s kinda pathetic.”
“Agreed,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.
The girl with flowers to her shoulders and violet eyes approached with a faint smile. “Nice work, My Lady.” She extended a hand, then hesitated slightly, like she wasn’t entirely sure if the title was correct. “I’m Lyssa. Vanguard Fangs. Floor four.”
Lady? I looked over to Eshlyn, who only shrugged.
Then hesitated a beat before shaking her hand. “Remy. Good to meet you.”
Val, Eshlyn, and Selene introduced themselves in turn, no titles, no pomp, just names and nods.
“Useful skill you’ve got there,” Val said, tone unreadable.
“Thanks,” Lyssa replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Not that rare where I’m from, but it’s opened a few doors down here.”
She glanced toward a nearby knot of figures, Kael at the center, Someone I could only assume was Bran looming beside him, and a bearded figure with a massive shield strapped to his back.
“I should probably get back to the Fangs.”
“Tight leash?” I asked, only half-joking.
“Something like that.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “See you around.”
She turned away, vanishing into the lantern-lit mist as the column pressed forward.