Floor 1: Chapter Twenty - Irrelevant

There was no birdsong to wake up to, not this deep into the forest. Just the aching quiet that came from a night of hurt, healing, and hauling buckets from the nearby stream to wash the blood out of my clothes.

The camp stirred in all the same fashions as the day before. I woke before most of the cooks had even stretched their arms or opened their tents, the events from last night replaying in my mind. The tracks. The perfect illusion. The tiny prints behind it. How I cried over an animal that would have killed me if I hesitated even half a second longer. Then I stood, slinging my bow across my shoulder more out of habit than need.

One of the cooks, a freckled woman with a brown braid thicker than her wrist, caught me slipping past the camp's edge.

“My Lady!” She called out. “Heading off so soon?”

“Oh,” I blinked. “Just for a bit.”

“Here.” She held up a cloth-wrapped bundle. “I noticed you getting started early, so I did too.”

I smiled faintly, accepted it with a nod, “Thank you.”

“Of course. My Lady. It’s my pleasure.”

“You can call me Remy, and you are?”

“Yetta.” She curtseyed. “My… Remy.”

I nearly chuckled but only nodded before walking off, “Pleased to meet you.”

The forest was flush, still damp from night, cool and full of hush. By the time I reached the clearing, the sun had barely breached the horizon. Light glinting off the dew on every leaf, every blade of grass, and as I turned to face the scene of the shadowmaws death.

I saw it. Curled in the dirt. Same patch where its mother had fallen. Same place I’d knelt, petting it fur gone cold. Lay a small cub. Black as night and slightly blurred in shifting shadow.

My heart broke at the thought it might be waiting for its mother, but some part of me recognized it probably knew better. I didn’t speak at first. Hardly moved, just enough to sit cross-legged some ten feet off and open the breakfast Yetta had packed.

Egg. A soft bread crust. Two strips of dried jerky, salted to hell.

I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I even came out here, if not to be heartbroken again but I chewed quietly, and the cub didn’t stir. Just lay there like a forgotten shadow, too small for the space it now occupied alone.

“Sorry, lil’ guy,” I murmured, unsure if I was apologizing for surviving, or just for the world. “Your mom. She was good. Fierce. Cunning.”

My voice came softer now, almost hoarse. “I didn’t want to… but she wasn’t gonna stop.” My head shook. Of course, she wouldn’t. The cub didn’t stir, but I saw an ear twitch. “You don’t understand, or maybe you do, but I had to protect my own.”

My voice cracked again. “I guess that's all your mom was doing. Protecting hers. Doing what she had to, no matter the risk.”

A minute passed. Then two. I finished the egg and bit into the jerky. That’s when I noticed it watching me, head lifted, eyes sharp but not afraid.

I stared back, slow and sniffling. Then tore the second strip of jerky in half and tossed it lightly toward the cub. It landed gently in the dirt, a little more than halfway between us. “Probably hungry, yeah?”

It waited. Then crept forward on trembling legs, picked up the strip, and carried it back. Eating it without breaking eye contact.

Watching it eat made something loosen in my chest. Maybe it would survive.

“You’re a clever little fella,” I said softly. “Your mom was too. That illusion? Spot on.”

I thought back to what Sierra had said, “Not smart enough, apparently.”
Then added, “Make sure your illusions aren’t too crisp, alright? Can you do that for me?”

The cub didn’t respond, but its ears twitched again.

“You don’t know what I’m saying,” I sighed. “You just want more jerky.”

I smiled, faint and worn. “I can’t give you all of it.” I paused. “Well… maybe I can.” Maybe that’s the least I can do.

I got low, slowly crawling to the halfway point and held out the last piece in my palm.

It took a moment, but the cub inched closer. Sniffed the air. Then me. A step, then another, until its cold nose brushed against my fingers.

I braced, half-expecting it to bite. But it didn’t. Instead, it ignored the jerky entirely and pressed the side of its face into my hand. Nuzzling. Like I’d been feeding it for years. Like I hadn’t killed the only thing it had ever known.

My throat tightened. “You don’t have anyone left, do you?” I whispered.

It leaned into my hand with a low, vibrating purr.

“I don’t know how to take care of you,” I said honestly. “But I can try… If you want me to.”

I moved to stand, but before I could, the cub clambered awkwardly into my lap. All paws and limbs with strange angles. Then, after a brief shuffle, it scaled my back, clinging to my cloak like a sapling, and perched on my shoulder.

Not balanced. Not graceful. But stubbornly there.

“My gods,” I blinked, stunned. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

The cub blinked back.

We stood there for a long breath.
Then I took the first step toward camp.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

The morning haze hadn’t lifted yet. Dew clung to the tents like breath on glass, and the embers of the night’s fires were still faintly glowing when I stepped back into camp. We got stares immediately, but kept on anyway.

Selene, Dent, Eshlyn, and Val had all gathered around in a small circle by the time I returned, chattering about nothing in particular.

The cub kept pace beside me for a bit. Then, without warning, scrambled up my cloak again like a mountain it had already claimed. Awkward paws, too-big ears, little claws like hooks snagging cloth. She perched on my shoulder with all the confidence of someone who’d done it before.

I took a seat beside Val, who was the first to say anything, because of course he was.

“…Remy.” He stared at my shoulder, voice carrying a sense of amusement and caution. “Is that what I think it is?”

Dent nearly choked on his own breakfast. “It had a cub?!”

“It did,” I muttered, guilt gnawing under the surface.

“And you brought it back?” He said with a mixed expression.

“Didn’t exactly bring her, she followed me.”

Selene narrowed her eyes, leaning forward, arms crossed tight. “Remy, that thing could grow to be the size of a wagon.”

“She’s just a cub.”

“A Shadowmaw cub.”

“So what?”

Eshlyn let out a long breath like she was trying not to laugh. “You do know those things are like apex predators, right?”

“She’s not dangerous.” I scratched her chin between my forefinger and thumb till she stretched upward. “Isn’t that right, lil buddy?”

“You say that now,” Dent grinned. “Just wait until she’s tearing your boots up and weighs enough to crush you in your sleep.”

“She already tried that,” I said. “Only a little. Mostly failed.” I looked down at the bite mark on my boot.

The cub yawned then, wide, toothy, feral. And maybe it should’ve been terrifying, but it wasn’t. It was just… small. Scrawny and watchful. Tired from a night of heartbreak, neither of us had words for.

Dent scratched his jaw. “What do you even feed one of those?”

“Hopefully not one of you,” Selene said flatly, but I picked up the hint of humor in her voice.

“She had jerky this morning,” I said. “Seemed to like it.”

A beat passed.

Then Val squinted up at her, perched on my shoulder like some ridiculous demon cat, and added, “She's so menacing, I love it.”

I choked. “You would.”

“We’re gonna need a name for her, aren’t we?” Dent chimed in.

“I wasn’t planning on naming her,” I said, but I already knew I was lying.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dent grinned. “You can’t just not name her. Isn't that how you get cursed or something?”

“Pretty sure that’s not how curses work,” Selene muttered as if she knew.

“How about Eldath?” Eshlyn offered.

“Can't name her after a goddess, that's bad luck,” Dent responded.

“Alright… So something simple like, Void?” Eshlyn tried again.

“Too edgy,” Val said. “Sounds like she’s about to start a band.”

“Midnight?” Dent muttered.

“Too on the nose,” I said quickly.

“Ruin?” Dent tried again.

“No.” Everyone said it at once.

“Lil ruin?” Dent said, voice quiet and fading.

The cub’s ears twitched as everyone stared in contemplation.

“What about…” I pondered. “Nightlock?”

“Like the poisonous flower?” Val asked.

“You're thinking of nightshade.” Eshlyn corrected, “But nightlock loosely translates to poison of the forest.”

“Hell yeah, cute lil forest poison.” Val grinned. “That’s a little long for a name, though.”

“Maybe Nyla for short?” I countered.

Selene tilted her head. “Nyla… sounds sweet.”

Dent nodded. “I like Lil Ruin better, but okay.”

The cub licked her paw, then bit it.

“Nyla, it is,” I said, scratching behind her ears. “Until she tells us otherwise.”

She purred like thunder. Then Val handed her some jerky from his breakfast, and she hopped down to gnaw on it. “Your family now, lil Nyla. I’ll protect you with my life.”

“Alright,” I muttered. “That's a little much.” That earned a chuckle from everyone, even Eshlyn, but Val didn’t flinch, just added “I mean it.”

---

                                                                                 ...

 

We traveled for another day, deeper into the forest, until every bush seemed to remember us and the trail twisted back into all the same unsettling horror as the first time.

The forest had gone quiet hours ago. No wind. No rustle. Even our footfalls seemed muffled, swallowed by the soil. The tree trunks bent inward like they were leaning in to listen. Branches curled where they shouldn’t. Roots tangled like limbs mid-spasm. No birds. No bugs. Even the air had lost its smell.

Everyone felt the shift, but I kept walking like the memories weren’t clawing at my heels. Nyla followed closely, only sometimes climbing to rest on my shoulders. A grounding presence, even if the guilt of her mother clawed at me in every nudge.

The sun was starting to drop when we crested the final stretch of land. And there it was.

The tomb.

The entrance lay as we’d left it: blocked by a massive, slanted slab of stone, like the lid to something better left buried. Moss clung to its face like dead skin. Vines strangled the stone, pulsing with dark tendrils, black as pitch, with a faint violet sheen in the dying light.

But one thing was certain: it wasn’t dead. That otherworldly heartbeat was still there, syncing with my own. But this time, it felt more… aware. Like something behind the stone had waited. And knew, we were back.

I slowed at the edge of the clearing, exhaled slow, eyes locked on the tomb. Then turned.

“Gregory!”

I scanned the gathered convoy until the tall, greyed man stepped forward.

I pulled him aside, voice low but clear. “You’ve set up base camps before, yeah?”

Gregory nodded. “Three tours, my Lady. Plenty of staging operations.”

“Good,” I gave a tight nod. “Then I’m relying on your expertise to get this place set up how it needs to be.” Then pointed to the stretch of flat earth directly off from the tomb entrance. “There needs to be a defensive position around there, and no one touches that slab without explicit permission. Better yet, only put your best people on it and don’t open it for anyone but me. Got that?”

Gregory gave a low, “Understood, My Lady, right away,” and turned to begin issuing instructions.

I stepped forward then, raising my voice with the same amplification spell from before. “Listen up!” My voice cracked like thunder through the trees. Louder than I meant, so I adjusted.

“This is it.”

“We’re here until this thing’s over. So get comfortable. Gregory Gradoff’s in charge of the setup. Follow his lead.”

My eyes swept across the crowd: soldiers, scholars, cooks, herbalists, merchants. Some alert. Some already nervous.

“Once the camp’s set and secure, there will be a leadership meeting. Stay sharp. Stay put. Don’t wander off.”

I let the silence hang for a moment. “That is all.”

The crowd began to move, dispersing in murmurs and motion.

Val came up to me, grinning, then passed Nyla a stick of jerky like he was bribing a chaperone. “Seeing you bark orders like that? Kinda a turn on.”

“Not now, Val.” The camp behind us buzzed with motion, canvas snapping, crates clattering, boots crunching in the dirt. I eased a bit at that, and turned just enough to press a hand to his chest, voice low. “Later… If you’re good.”

Dent slung an arm over my shoulder then, careful not to jostle Nyla who looked less than pleased. “Gregory might’ve been smarter than we thought, saluting you back then.”

“Oh, stop. I picked him out because he’s got experience.”

“Maybe enough to know who deserved saluting,” Eshlyn chimed in, arms folded and eyebrow raised. “You’re starting to sound like someone with command drilled into their bones.”

“Mhmmm,” I gave her a sidelong glance. “Sounds like a nice way of saying I’m bossy.”

“Authoritative,” she said. “In a good way. Scary. Regal, even.”

“Alright, alright,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Let’s just get the camp up before Nyla tries to eat someone’s boot.”

“She can have mine,” Val said, offering it up like tribute. “It’s how I show loyalty.”

---

                                                                                 ...

 

 

The camp was set up quicker than I expected. Gregory had it laid out in sections assigned to each group: research, medical, dining, and trade. The soldiers staked the perimeter without needing direction and posted a rotating watch at the tomb entrance. The command tent stood largest, dead center, circled by the people expected to face what lay below.

I slipped into my own tent just as the sun dipped beneath the trees. Unrolled my mat. Laid out my bedroll. Folded my pack, armor, and spare clothes beside it. When I finally laid down on my stomach, it hit me—how far I’d come since the last time I was here. I let my head rest, eyes closed.

Back then, I barely knew Val and Eshlyn. Dent was just the kindest person I’d ever met, next to Selene. That first dive into the tomb bonded us, desperate and outmatched. Loosely protective. Now I had food in my stomach. A place to sleep. Friends who stuck around. More than friends even. Everything I wanted and felt like I didn’t deserve back then.

And now that I had it, it could all be taken away again.

The tent flap rustled.

Val ducked in, all shoulders and sly smile. “Hope I’m not interrupting a dramatic inner monologue.”

“You are,” I said, without moving.

“Good, I’d hate to leave you alone with your thoughts for too long.” He plopped down beside me like we were in the middle of a conversation instead of a breath away from war. I didn’t stop him.

The flap rustled again, and Nyla nosed her way inside, tail flicking with purpose. She trotted up to Val like she had something important to deliver—and dropped a half-crushed lizard directly onto his lap.

Val startled. “What the...?”

“A gift,” I said, trying not to laugh. “You should be honored.”

“Where’d she even find it?” Val huffed.

“Hell if I know.” I paused. “I haven't seen a proper critter since this morning.”

Nyla gave a satisfied huff and circled twice before curling up beside my boots.

“Delightful.” Val picked up the dead lizard with two fingers. “Good to see she's getting something besides jerky.”

“Mhmm.” I turned over onto my back then. “She even caught a small bird earlier.”

“Saving the delicacies for herself.” He set the corpse down by Nyla’s feet, but she didn't stir, “smart girl.”

“What's that?” I teased, facing him now. “Raw lizard not appetizing enough for you?”

“Apologies to Nyla, but…” He turned onto his side, eyes tracing me. “I think I’m in the mood for something else, right now.”

“Oh?” I played along, shifting closer and slipping my hand beneath his collar. “And what might that be?”

He leaned in, brushing his knee over my thighs. “I think you know.”

I stared into his icy blue eyes till our lips met, soft and familiar. Then pressed into him, fingers finding the muscle along his spine. Every touch dissolved the world outside, just warmth beneath skin and breath. When we parted, he rested his forehead on mine, eyes half-lidded.

“How do you do that?” I whispered.

“Do what?” He cradled my jaw, gaze molten.

“Make everything else disappear.” My voice faltered, but I didn’t let him go.

“Inner monologue’s really getting to you, huh?” His lips drifted to my neck, teasing it in slow arcs.

I leaned into it, running a hand through his hair.“Care to be my distraction?”

“Always,” he breathed against my skin. “But maybe you should tell me what’s really going on in that head of yours.”

“You know,” I arched under his touch, breathless. “I’ve never been good at that.”

“Try me.” He eased back onto his side, close but patient. “I’m sure I can take it.”

I twirled a lock of his hair between my fingers, “I don’t know…”

“Come on.” He didn’t look away. “What’s weighing on you?”

“Fine,” I said, lying down flat again. “I’m just worried.”

“About everyone else, right?” He smirked as if revealing some unspoken truth.

“Naturally,” I answered too quickly.

“For you, yeah.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” He sighed. “You carry things like there's no one here to help. Maybe just share the load a little.”

I sucked in a breath, tried to swallow it. But the words clawed out anyway. “Gods, Val. You always do this.”

“Do what?” He snapped back.

“Turn it around like I’m the one with the problem.”

That flash of hurt in his eyes hit harder than it should’ve. “You did not just say that to me.”

I regretted it, but the pressure was already boiling. “Seriously, Val. There’s eleven of us going down there.” I sat up. “You really think we’re all coming back?”

“Yeah.” He replied quickly, but his eyes betrayed him. “If we’re smart about it.”

“Smart about it? Great. And whose job is that primarily?” I challenged.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. I knew.

It was mine.

The weight settled again in my gut, heavy and cold. Every step we’ve already taken, every order I was expected to give, it was me. It had been me since the day I stood on that box. Since I told Kael to scram.

“You’re not alone in this, Remy.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I said, sharper than I meant to. “They’ll be looking at me like I know what I’m doing. I don’t.”

Val didn’t flinch. “Gods Remy I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

I looked away. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” His voice softened. “We each have strengths. You don’t have to carry it all. Just lean on us. Please.”

I responded with the only thing I could think of, “Can you promise me it’ll be ok?”

“Remy.” He whispered.

“Promise me we won’t lose anyone.” I echoed, voice firm.

“Seriously?”

“Promise me,” I repeated.

“I can’t!” He stared at me, jaw tight. “I wish I could. But I can’t… and neither can you.”

The silence stretched for a moment, then the tent flap opened.

“Not to interrupt, my darlings, but… the leadership meeting’s waiting,” Selene said, crisp and to the point.

I sat up too fast. “Ok. I just… need a minute.”

The silence returned until Val finally broke it. “I’m here for you. No matter what happens, remember that.” Then he stood and offered his hand. “Let's go be smart.”

I stifled a laugh before lacing my fingers with his. “Right and pretend I’m not scared shitless.”

---

                                                                                 ...

Commotion and movement lit up the command tent from afar. Light slittered out the half-closed entrance. A large table dominated the center, wide, worn, and waiting. A few low lightstones flickered at the corners, casting long shadows across the blank parchment at its heart.

Funny, I could tell a crowd of two hundred to go kick rocks, but this small gathering of so-called important people sent a chill straight through me. Every word would matter in there. I had no idea what they’d ask… or what I’d say, but only one thought stood out to me. Warn them.

I let the silence stretch one breath longer, then stepped in, letting the flap fall shut behind me.

Gregory stood in the corner beside a soldier I half-recognized from breakfast. A few scholars and medics clustered to one side. Even a few cooks had shown up, their nervous energy clinging to the edges of the room like shadows.

Our crew was gathered as well: Val, Dent, Eshlyn, and Selene. Dent and Selene stood, the rest sat, but all of them wore that quiet, bracing look, like they knew we were getting close to something we couldn’t undo

At the far end sat Dagonbord, too composed, too still, like he belonged to a different meeting entirely. His presence cast a long shadow of its own. Seated near him, and filling the rest of the chairs were Kael, Bram, Tovin, Sierra, Nico, and Lyssa. Everyone who’d be following us into hell.

No one had taken the head seat, and I immediately knew why.

It wasn’t like the others, plain, scarred, meant for sore backs and muddy boots. No. This one had carvings and velvet trim that didn’t belong in a war camp. It wasn’t a seat. It was a throne.

It irked me how clearly it had been saved, polite, expectant, like someone had wiped it down and crowned it sacred just for me. Left open so everyone could see me take it. That alone made me want to throw it across the room. I wasn’t here to play monarch. I was here to keep people breathing.

Contempt grew the closer I got, but I didn’t sit.

Instead, I grabbed the chair by the back and smashed it into the ground. Wood splintered as it crashed, legs cracking loud. Then tossed it aside like the trash it was. A few people flinched, startled, but no one said a word.

I left it there, broken, sideways, irrelevant. Let it lie like the symbol it was: hollow, and in the way.

The silence held taut as twine. For a long moment, I thought maybe I’d gone too far. Until I caught the flicker of a grin from Val and the quiet, unmistakable nod of approval from Eshlyn when I stepped into the space it left behind. It was subtle, but steadied me like a hand on my shoulder.

Then I spoke, voice level. “Are we waiting on anyone?”

“No,” Selene answered quickly. “All accounted for.”

“Good.” I scanned the room, faces tense, uncertain. I could see it plain as anything: no one was here for a speech. They wanted clarity. Direction. A reason to trust us, or me.

“I’m sure you all have questions. Input to offer. Requests for your sections. We’ll get there, but first, the ones entering the tomb tomorrow need to know what they’re walking into.”

I let my gaze move across the table. “So here’s what to expect.”

“We’re likely facing two main threats. The first is the horde. The undead are brittle on their own, but fast, and there’s more of them than we can count. When they move, it’s like water through a cracked pipe. You stay ahead of it, or you get swallowed.”

I let that hang.

“As a countermeasure, I’ll be placing markers at each strategic choke point, glowing aetherscript glyphs, easy to spot on the cave walls. If we hit resistance, we fall back to the nearest marker and assume formation. No hesitation. No improvisation. Val will walk us through what that looks like in a moment.”

I nodded to him.

“The second threat is worse. Ascender husks. Not many, but they are tactical. Organized. Some can even cast spells. They fight like they remember who they were, and they don’t break so easily.”

A few glances passed around the table. Still, no one interrupted.

“Val’s formation worked before. I trust it’ll hold again.” I folded my arms, a quiet habit. “He’ll walk you through the adjustments.”

Val leaned forward, tapped the center parchment, and didn’t bother standing.

“We’re going to keep it simple and tight. Choke-point defense formation. Front line is me, Bram, Tovin, Dent, and Kael. We hold the bottleneck at all costs. If we fall, then everything goes to shit. If you have a problem with being on the frontline, then speak up, we can't have you panicking later.”

A few eyes flicked up. He let the moment breathe before continuing.

“Flanks go to Eshlyn and Sierra. Offensive spellcasters. Thin the herd. Blast and burn, don’t hold back. He nodded to them both. Nico and Remy take flex positions beside them, fast, mobile, and paying attention.

He motioned toward the center. “Lyssa’s support. She's anchored in the middle, close enough to keep everyone alive, but out of harm's way.”

He scanned the room, pausing in that confident commander type of way. “Any questions? Don’t save ‘em for tomorrow.”

Kael stood, unfolding a rough diagram of his own and holding it up beside Val’s. “I’ll hand it to you, that lines up pretty well with what I sketched.”

Val gave a sideways smirk. “Praise this early? You’re getting soft.”

“Where credit’s due,” Kael shrugged, expression unreadable.

A pointed throat-clear cut through the moment. “Ahem,” Dagonbord said. “And where do I fit into this little formation of yours?”

Val didn’t even blink. “You don’t.”

That stirred a ripple around the table.

Dagonbord straightened. “I'm sorry?”

“You’re not listed, because I don’t know what you bring to the field,” Val said, calm but sharp. “Unless you plan on throwing hands with the front line or lighting things up with spellcraft, you’re a liability. And liabilities don’t get placement.”

Dagonbord’s lips thinned, but he didn’t back down. “By order of the Queen, I am part of this party. And unlike some, I don’t need to prove myself with bravado or broken furniture.”

“Then stay in the back, and try to keep up.”
Eshlyn cut in then, voice cool and absolute. “If there are no more questions, let’s move on.”

She didn’t wait for agreement, just reached into her satchel and unfolded a neatly creased chart. “The schedule is straightforward. Breakfast at sunrise. We enter the tomb once there’s light. Debrief here every evening, short, organized, and on time. Findings will be distributed at every meeting.”

“Lastly.” Her gaze moved over the group, even and steady. “Soldiers will be positioned to ensure no one is entering the tomb outside of the main group, and the slab closes before sundown. No exceptions.”

A subtle shift moved through the tent, quiet acknowledgment.

“Selene and I will handle rotations and rationing. You’ll get your section assignments tonight.” She nodded towards me so I chimed in again. “Questions? Requests? Input?”

The tent went quiet for a long moment. Then Kael stood, arms folded neatly behind his back. “I have a request,” he said, firm, practiced, perfectly even.

“Let’s hear it.”

“My squad would like to take point tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” I glanced his way. “Why’s that?”

Kael didn’t fidget. Didn’t shift. Just held his posture with that rigid calm, like he’d rehearsed this exact ask in the mirror. “We’re newly formed,” he admitted. “First deployment outside drills. If we’re going to function as a unit, we need pressure. Real terrain. Real stakes. Preferably before the worst of the fighting starts.”

“You want lead tomorrow,” I said slowly, “as a training exercise?”

“We’re trained,” he clarified, “just not seasoned. This gives us cohesion. Trust built under real conditions. If we’re going to be reliable when it matters, we have to be tested.”

I weighed his words for a beat. It wasn’t a bad request—logical, and not ego-driven, as far as I could tell. "Tomorrow's objective is to gather a sample from where we found the first. My team needs final say.”

Eshlyn and Val gave me a small nod of agreement.

“But…” I added.

Kael perked up slightly.

“Very well,” I said. “My team will direct the route. As long as everything goes to plan, we’ll stay out of your way.”

Kael gave a crisp nod. “Thank you.”

I studied him a beat longer. “That said, if either of the threats I mentioned shows up, we fall back to the original plan and I take over.”

“Understood, my Lady,” he said, no edge to it. No resistance. Just pure formality, like the title didn’t belong to me but the moment. He sat again, precise as ever. No posturing. No muttered digs. Just ambition wrapped in iron.

I looked around. “Anything else?”

Silence answered.

“Then enjoy yourselves,” I said. “The night is yours.”

---

                                                                                 ...

 

 

Dawn hadn't broken yet, but Nyla had other ideas.

A wet nose shoved against my cheek, followed by a low huff. I groaned into my blanket, but she was already pawing at my face like she’d been waiting all night for the world to start moving.

“What do you want?” I muttered, eyes barely open. “Tents open. Go chase a cricket or something.”

I drifted off until another cold nose nudge brought me back. Nyla’s tongue scraped my cheek like glass on sandpaper.

“Ugh. Fine.” I sat up, groaning. “What did I get myself into with you?”

Nyla pranced around the tent as if she’d accomplished something.

“Don't look so proud of yourself,” I muttered, dragging on my cloak. “Just lucky you're cute.”

Outside, the camp was still sleeping. A few embers crackled low in the fire pits. Someone snored two tents over. Probably Tovin. The sky was that dark-grey before sunrise, all hushed air and heavy clouds. Nyla trotted through the trees, waiting up when I wasn’t fast enough. “Stop acting like this is a hunt. I don't even have my bow.”

I should have grabbed my gear. In my stupor, I’d left with practically nothing.

She trotted ahead, tail high, nose twitching. Probably chasing the scent of a rabbit or trouble. I stretched my back and let the stillness settle. For a moment, it felt like the forest held its breath with me, no orders, no politics. It was almost peaceful.

Until I heard a thud in the distance. Wood against wood. Not quite a rhythm but not chaos either.

Old habit kicked in before reason did, I crouched low, heart already up in my throat. No bow. No gear. Just a cloak and a bad decision, but then it came again.

Thud. Thud-thud. Hard and fast. Too precise to be an aberration or beast.

Nyla kept pace beside me as I slowed my step, ears tracking the noise. A clearing opened just ahead, draped in early morning mist.

In the middle of which was Lyssa.

She stood in front of a thick pine, pale-plated hair half-tied, sweat clinging to her jaw. She held a practice blade, a crude one. Not like what Val and I used, it was basically just a stick. Too long for her. Too light to matter, but she kept swinging anyway, sharp arcs that hit the bark with jarring resistance.

She didn’t see me. Or maybe she did and didn’t care.

Her footing was off. Stance a bit too square. But there was nothing careless about the way she moved. If anything, she was trying too hard, like effort alone might fix what training didn’t. I couldn’t help but think back to when Val first started training me, how I might have looked back then.

I smothered my steps out of habit, then couldn’t resist: “Training for a tree war?”

She jumped, nearly tripping over her own feet. “Gods, when did you get here?”

“A bit ago.” I shrugged, grin wide. “What are you doing?”

“Training,” she said quickly, before adding, “My Lady.”

I cocked my head. “That much I gathered. But all alone? And with a stick?”

“It’s what I have,” she said, not embarrassed, just matter-of-fact. “And I didn’t think anyone would be up.”

“Didn’t take you for a fighter.”

“I’m not,” she said. “Not officially.”

“Then… why?”

She shifted her grip on the ‘training blade,’ jaw tightening for a second. “Because I’m tired of being useless until someone’s bleeding.”

That gave me pause. “Uh-huh.”

She shrugged, like she hadn’t just said something honest enough to sting. “And I’m certainly not trying to impress anyone.”

“Tree murder’s hardly impressive.” I jabbed.

She blinked at me, like she couldn’t tell if that was an insult or a joke.

“I’m kidding.” I let a smirk rise. “I know a few things… care for an opponent that's not made of wood?”

Nyla huffed nearby, pawing at the dirt, which I interpreted as approval.

Lyssa hesitated. “You're serious?”

“Course. I’m up, aren’t I?” I said, already looking for a suitable stick. “Might as well make use of it.”

I found a decent one, straight, dense, about the right length, and gave it a few test swings before stepping into the clearing. Nyla trotted off into the underbrush, probably chasing something tasty, but I figured she’d circle back soon enough.

“Alright,” I said, tapping the ground with the stick. “How much sparring have you done?”

She looked down. “Not much.”

“Then we’ll start simple. Equal distance, blades locked.” I raised mine, and she mirrored the motion.

I studied, quickly noting her knuckles were white with tension. “First off, stop strangling it like it owes you money.”

Lyssa blinked, looking down at her grip. “Oh.” Then adjusted.

“Looser,” I added, stepping in with an easily parriable strike downward. “Rigidity is not your friend. Sturdiness comes through motion, not strength.”

Her hands softened. A small shift, but a good one.

“Better,” I nodded.

She struck next, stance awkward, but determined. I leaned into it slightly, catching the arc with my own.

“Right. Two things,” I said. “One, you’re swinging from your arms. That’s all show and no power. You want the strike to come from your hips, turn your body into it.”

She reset, trying again, a bit less clumsy.

“And two,” I said, sidestepping her next swing. “Keep your footing fluid. If you plant your feet like that, anyone faster than a stump will take your knees out.”

I tapped her foot with mine, guiding it back just a fraction. “There. Now try again.”

She did, and this time the swing had rhythm, less noise, more force. It landed smooth against my guard. Her eyes lit up, just slightly.

“Ayy, much better,” I said, grinning.

She exhaled a soft laugh.

We kept at it until sunrise was in full swing. Light drills, mostly, slow strikes, mirrored movements, the occasional instruction. Nothing fancy, just the kind of practice that makes your muscles ache in all the right ways. It was refreshing, like we could forget the anticipation of the day ahead and just be. She wasn’t snarky like Eshlyn or rough-edged like Val. But I could tell there was a fire beneath her calm exterior.

Time slipped sideways, quiet and steady, the kind of rhythm that asked nothing of either of us, just offered space to breathe, until a twig snapped behind us, and Nyla gave a soft huff.

“Look at you go-getters.” Dent’s voice cut through the mist, low and amused. “Save some for the tomb, why don't ya?”

I turned to find him standing at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, hair lazy. Half-dressed for the day.

I shook my head, “How’d you even find us out here?”

“When you weren’t in your tent, I knew you couldn’t be too far off,” he smirked. “Also, breakfast is ready… and Dagonbord’s looking for ya.”

“Ugh. What does that prick want?” I snapped, not bothering to save face.

Dent took a seat on a fallen log nearby. “Prick wouldn’t say.”

“Not a fan, I take it?” Lyssa chimed in, taking a seat next to him while downing a gulp from her canteen.

“Please, he already told me he was basically just sent here to spy on me,” I replied.

Dent’s brow furrowed. “He said that, for real?”

“Why you?” Lyssa looked visibly confused.

“Hell if I know.” I lied.

Dent gave me a smug look, grin wide. “Should we tell her about how you cussed out the queen?”

“I did not cuss out the queen!” I said sharply.

Lyssa straightened, “You did what!?”

I groaned. “Damn Dent, can't keep your mouth shut for one second, can you?”

“Come on.” He spoke with his hands, “It’s funny.”

I didn’t dignify him with a response. But Lyssa laughed, really laughed, for the first time that morning. Her smile caught the light like it belonged there.

“Honestly.” Lyssa finally said, straightening. “I kinda figured he’d be more focused on you, Dent.”

“So did I,” I added.

“That old bat?” Dent smirked, “He’s not my type.”

“Yeah, I doubt he’s anyone's type,” Lyssa said with a faint chuckle.

“Speaking of types.” Dent’s eyes flicked to the practice sticks, then to me. “You sure Kael’s okay with you teaching their healer to crack skulls?”

“She wanted to learn.” I shrugged. “And as far as I’m concerned, it’s none of his damn business.”

“I doubt he’d see it that way,” Lyssa added, expression unreadable.

“Yeah, well…” I glanced down. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“Oh, please. I knew I’d be in trouble just for being out here. I can hear him now,” she tilted her head and mocked in a pinched, nasal tone: “You’re wasting your energy on nonsense.”

“Oh my gods.” Dent grinned, voice rising, “You sound just like him.”

She rolled with it, hand to her chest like quoting scripture: “Stop playing around, we need you in tip-top shape for this expedition.”

We all breathed out a laugh.

“That’s so him,” I added, then let the grin fade as I pulled my thoughts back together. A silence settled, comfortable, but short-lived. “Well.” I stretched my back one last time. “Guess I should go see what prick of the year wants.”

“Yeah, about time to gear up anyway,” Dent said, pushing up from the log.

Lyssa stood too, brushing bark from her legs. “Thanks for the lesson… really.”

I gave her a nod, casual as I could make it. “Anytime.”

“If you really want to show your appreciation.” Dent grinned. “Call her princess, she loves that.”

“Shut up!” I punched his arm in the usual fashion, then turned to Lyssa. “He’s joking, please don’t actually do that.”

She only shook her head, smiling like she wasn’t sure if she’d just been hazed or welcomed. “...Okay.”