We set out after breakfast. The day was cold and overcast, but at least the rain had held off. The forest, as before, felt endless—trees stretching in every direction without landmarks or variation. Once again, we relied on my uncanny sense of where we were meant to go.

  Faie walked ahead of us, idly sending her illusory grey cat scrambling up a tree.

  “Drisnil,” she said, glancing back, “how is it that you’re not lost?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted. “I just… know where we are in relation to where we need to be.”

  She frowned. “That’s strange. Did you train that ability?”

  I searched through Drisnil’s memories. She’d never possessed anything quite like this—certainly not with this level of certainty.

  “No,” I said slowly. “I think it’s just a talent I have.”

  Faie’s expression soured, her disappointment obvious. “Fine. If you don’t want to tell me your secret.” She tilted her head. “But you should at least tell your friends.”

  I let out a small sigh. Some people weren’t interested in answers—only leverage.

  “I appreciate Drisnil’s tracking,” Illara said calmly. “I don’t really mind how it works.”

  Faie turned to her. “Has she told you how it works?”

  “No,” Illara replied. “I believe her when she says it’s an innate talent.”

  Faie dismissed the cat illusion with a flick of her fingers and instead conjured an ethereal hand, using it to pick up sticks and toss them aside as we walked.

  Illara watched her for a moment, then asked gently, “Faie, what will you do if you exhaust yourself casting spells and can’t defend yourself if something attacks?”

  Faie didn’t slow. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I said mildly. “But that lesson might be painful.”

  Faie shot me a sharp look, eyes narrowing slightly, then turned away and resumed flinging sticks with unnecessary force.

  After a full day of walking, we finally reached our old campsite.

  Norman’s and Illara’s belongings lay scattered where we’d left them, packs torn open and emptied. The remains of the stalker were barely recognisable—its body had been ripped apart, likely by scavengers drawn to the blood. Nearby, one of our pits still held a wolf, skewered cleanly on the sharpened stakes.

  Faie surveyed the scene quietly.

  “So this is where my master made his last stand,” she said at last. “Quite fitting, I think.”

  I nodded, forcing myself to stay steady. “After Illara was knocked down, the stalker went through me and stabbed Norman. Then it tried to flee. It fell into that pit.” I gestured. “Cain and I finished it there. I was stabbed clean through the leg in the process.”

  Faie didn’t respond immediately. She walked the perimeter instead, studying footprints, disturbed soil, broken branches. She crouched beside the pit, eyes tracing the marks where the creature had fallen.

  Finally, she stood.

  “I see,” she said coolly. “So your lack of skill is what got Norman killed.”

  The words cut deep.

  Drisnil’s rage surged up instantly, hot and violent, begging to be unleashed. I inhaled slowly and forced it down.

  “Yes,” I said, voice tight but controlled. “I failed. I didn’t use my skills properly in that moment.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Illara said firmly, stepping forward.

  Faie turned on her.

  “I do,” she snapped. “You owe me a master now.” Her jaw clenched. “As recompense, I will be allowed to live in the tower.”

  “You can live with us,” Illara replied calmly.

  Faie’s composure shattered.

  “Why the fuck would I want to live with the person who caused my master’s death?” she shouted, eyes blazing as they locked onto me.

  I froze, stunned by the sudden ferocity.

  Then I saw it—tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. The anger wasn’t cruelty. It was grief, raw and unshielded.

  “It’s alright,” Illara said softly, stepping closer. “We all miss Norman.”

  She pulled Faie into a hug before she could protest.

  Faie’s resistance collapsed.

  “He treated me better than anyone,” she said brokenly. “He never made me feel like I was disposable. I never wanted to be left behind.”

  Knowing there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t make things worse, I turned away and began gathering what remained of our gear.

  Illara’s armour was bent and twisted beyond repair. Norman’s coin pouch had survived—four gold coins and six silver inside. I recovered a few utensils, a writing quill, and a scarf and hat that had somehow avoided being torn apart. The rations were gone entirely, likely the reason scavengers had shredded the packs.

  When I finished, Faie had calmed. She sat beside Illara now, her head resting against her shoulder, eyes distant but dry.

  “We should leave,” I said quietly. “Camping near a corpse like this will attract the wrong kind of attention.”

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  The sun was already sinking toward the horizon. We’d be forced to make camp in darkness—but that was far preferable to staying here.

  Illara and Faie rose without argument and followed as we turned back toward Holver. After about an hour of walking, we stopped and began setting up camp beneath the darkening trees.

  The night didn’t trouble me. I moved easily through the shadows, gathering firewood while Illara and Faie worked together to coax the campfire to life.

  Once I’d gathered enough firewood for the night, I helped prepare dinner. With no meat left, it amounted to little more than tough roots boiled in water—filling, perhaps, but joyless.

  “I really don’t like your choices for dinner,” Faie complained, chewing resentfully.

  “If you want better food,” I replied with a faint smile, “you can carry it next time.”

  She scowled but didn’t argue.

  “As for watch,” I continued, “I can take yours tonight, Faie. You could use the rest.”

  She nodded once, not looking at me.

  “Will you be alright?” Illara asked quietly.

  “Yes,” I said. “One night with less sleep won’t hurt. I think Faie’s had enough for one day.”

  “You know I can hear you,” Faie muttered.

  “Yes,” I replied mildly. “And I suspect you don’t mind the outcome.”

  “Correct,” she said shortly.

  After Illara finished her prayers and lay down, she tried to keep some distance from Faie. Faie ignored the attempt entirely, slipping closer and drawing the woollen coat over them both like a shared blanket.

  Illara hesitated… then sighed and let it happen.

  I settled in for a long night. I let the fire burn low, trusting my night vision more than the light. The forest breathed around us—wind through bare branches, distant creaks, the occasional rustle of something unseen.

  Five hours passed.

  Then I saw movement.

  Low. Coordinated.

  “Wolves,” I whispered, shaking Illara and Faie awake.

  Illara was instantly alert, bow in hand, sword ready. Faie stood just behind her, shoulders tense, hands shaking faintly.

  “Don’t worry,” I murmured. “We can handle this.”

  “I’m not worried,” Faie snapped. “Just cold.”

  Eight wolves emerged from the darkness, circling us. Likely the same pack that had torn through our abandoned camp.

  They didn’t hesitate long.

  Five charged at once.

  Illara loosed an arrow. It struck true, punching through a wolf’s skull. The body hit the ground with a dull thud.

  Faie reacted immediately, unleashing a burst of dazzling colour that washed over three of the wolves. They yelped and skidded to a halt, blinded and disoriented.

  Two wolves came straight for me.

  I drove my rapier forward, catching the first cleanly through the throat, the blade punching into its brain. It dropped instantly.

  The second leapt.

  I stepped in and punched it mid-air, deflecting its trajectory just enough to throw it wide.

  Behind me, I heard Illara drop her bow and draw the short sword I’d lent her—followed by the wet sound of steel finding flesh.

  The wolf I’d deflected turned and lunged again. I ducked beneath it and thrust upward, ending it in a single motion. Its weight crashed into me as it died, pinning me to the ground.

  Before I could push it off, I saw Faie act.

  She summoned her ethereal hand and reached out to the last charging wolf. Where the hand touched, flesh began to melt away, sloughing from bone. The wolf screamed, staggered, and collapsed dead a few steps later.

  The three blinded wolves never recovered.

  Illara moved through them swiftly, efficiently, stabbing each through the heart before returning to me and helping shove the dead wolf off my chest.

  “Thanks,” I said, breathless.

  “Don’t mention it,” she replied.

  “That was exciting,” Faie said, eyes bright.

  I looked around at the bodies scattered in the firelight. “Well,” I said, “it seems we’ll have meat for breakfast. And dinner.”

  “The forest provides,” Illara agreed quietly.

  Faie didn’t respond.

  She stood there, staring at the fallen wolves, a faint, satisfied smile on her face.

  Illara moved first, kneeling beside the nearest wolf and drawing her knife.

  “You should sleep, Drisnil,” she said gently. “I can manage this.”

  I didn’t argue. Exhaustion settled over me the moment she said it.

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  I curled up near the fire and closed my eyes. Somewhere beside me, I felt Faie shift closer, her warmth pressing against my back. Normally I might have cared, or at least noticed more sharply—but right then, sleep claimed me too quickly for concern.

  When I woke, the fire had been rebuilt and the smell of cooking meat hung heavy in the air.

  Illara stood over the flames, turning strips of wolf meat with practiced care. I pushed myself upright, rubbing my eyes. My body still ached with fatigue, but lingering didn’t feel wise.

  “Good morning,” Illara said. “I managed to butcher most of the wolves while you were asleep. We should be able to take a fair amount back to Holver. I think people will appreciate it.”

  Faie was already awake, seated a short distance away and amusing herself by making her illusory cat chase its own tail.

  I gathered my things and set about preparing the meat and skins for travel. The added weight would slow us down considerably, so I fashioned a crude sled, stretching wolf hides over a frame to hold the bundles. It wasn’t elegant, but it would work.

  Once that was done, I finally sat and ate.

  The meat was rich and filling, a stark contrast to the roots and dried scraps we’d endured lately. For a moment, it reminded me of my earliest days in this world—watching Cain’s party do the same after a hard fight, the simple satisfaction of survival.

  “Thank you for breakfast,” Faie said through a mouthful of meat. “Your cooking is definitely better than Drisnil’s.”

  Illara laughed softly before I could respond.

  “That’s only because I have better ingredients,” she said quickly.

  I raised an eyebrow but let it pass.

  “I think we’ll need to camp at least one more night,” I said, glancing at the sled. “Dragging this much meat will slow us down. Still… I think it’s worth it.”

  Illara nodded in agreement.

  We packed up and set out soon after. I took the lead, hauling the sled through the damp forest floor. I was tired, but focused enough to keep us moving steadily.

  After a while, curiosity got the better of me.

  “So, Faie,” I said, “that spell you used last night—the one that rots flesh.”

  She brightened. “Ah. Vampiric Drain. Very useful spell. Shame about the short range, though.”

  “It heals you as well?” I asked.

  “Yes. Not as effective as Illara’s miracles, but enough to stop bleeding.”

  “That is useful,” I admitted. “Less so if you want to butcher what you’re fighting.”

  Faie tilted her head. “Why would you want to butcher your enemies?”

  I nodded back toward the sled. “Sometimes they’re edible.”

  She considered that. “I’ll still use it. I like the spell.”

  The image of flesh melting away returned unbidden, and I grimaced.

  “It’s… gory.”

  She shrugged. “Does it matter if killing is clean or messy, as long as it works?”

  In a sense, she was right. The result was the same—only the path differed.

  “Have you ever used it on a person?” I asked.

  “No,” she said easily. “I haven’t had the opportunity yet. But I wouldn’t hesitate. If a human is hostile, they deserve what they get.”

  I said nothing after that.

  Faie’s thoughts were darker than I’d expected—not monstrous, but unflinchingly pragmatic in a way that unsettled me. It was a reminder that people were rarely simple. That grief, loss, and ambition shaped everyone differently.

  And as we continued through the forest, dragging the weight of both meat and memory behind us, I wondered just how much of that darkness I would have to learn to live with—hers, and my own.