Josh stirred as the first light of morning seeped through the shutters of the Bull’s Head inn. The room smelled of old wood, wool blankets, and faint smoke from the taproom below. He rolled over, groaning as his ribs reminded him of every shield slam and troll slam from the day before.

  Across the narrow room, Brett sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, staff leaning against the wall beside him. His blonde hair was a mess, and his robe looked like he’d slept in it halfway. He hadn’t spoken since they stumbled in last night.

  Josh rubbed his eyes, voice rough. “You’re up early.”

  Brett gave a humorless laugh. “Didn’t sleep much.” His gaze lingered on the wooden floorboards.

  Josh pushed himself upright, wincing at the dull ache in his shoulder. “Still thinking about the troll?”

  Brett’s jaw tightened. He nodded. “I thought you were going to die.”

  The words landed heavier than any monster’s strike. Josh blinked, caught off guard by the blunt honesty.

  Brett went on, voice low but urgent. “I’ve seen you banged up before. Cuts, bruises, even when we got in stupid situations back home. But that… that thing—” His fists clenched in his lap. “You couldn’t hurt it. Nothing we did worked. I just… I thought that was it. That I was going to watch you get crushed and I couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it.”

  The silence stretched, broken only by the muffled laughter of someone stumbling out of the taproom downstairs. Josh stared at the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling. “But I didn’t die,” he said finally. “You’re stuck with me a bit longer.”

  Brett shook his head, almost angry. “Don’t joke about it. If Caistina hadn’t been there…” His voice cracked, but he forced it steady. “I can’t lose you. Not here. Not in this world.”

  Josh swallowed hard, guilt and gratitude warring in his chest. He reached over, resting a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “You won’t. I promise. I learnt my lesson, and will be more careful in the future.”

  For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Brett exhaled, leaning back against the wall. His voice softened, a flicker of something brighter cutting through. “I want to be scared, to say we should stop this lifestyle before we get too deep, but when I cast that fire… when I felt it burn through me, it was like nothing else. Like I was finally alive. Scared out of my mind, sure, but… it felt right.”

  Josh chuckled under his breath. “Guess we’re both crazy then. I felt the same with the shield. Like I finally had a purpose - something I’ve not had in a long time.”

  Brett looked at him then, really looked, the corners of his mouth lifting despite the weight in his eyes. “So what do we do, Josh? Find a way home? Pretend this never happened?”

  Josh grinned, fierce and unshakable. “No. We remember what happened, learn from it. We keep going. Yea, take the risks, push forward, but maybe you call me out when I’m being stupid, and I’ll do the same for you. If we can survive trolls, we can survive anything. We’ll keep getting stronger. And if we’re lucky…” His hand tightened into a fist. “Maybe we’ll become the kind of heroes people tell stories about.”

  Brett let the words hang between them, then laughed quietly, the sound carrying more hope than before. “Heroes, huh? That’s a long way from two idiots stumbling into another world after a night at the pub.”

  Josh smirked. “Every hero’s got to start somewhere.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, watching the sliver of sunrise widen across the floorboards. For the first time since the troll, the fear didn’t feel so heavy. There was risk, yes but also wonder, adventure, and a chance at something more than either of them had ever dreamed.

  Brett stood, grabbing his staff. “All right then. Heroes it is, as long as you promise to call me out on stupid decisions and I’ll do the same for you.”

  Josh swung his legs off the bed and reached for his gear, the weight of sword and what was left of his shield, suddenly less a burden, more a promise. “Let’s go see what quests the world has for us today.”

  —

  The morning streets of Ashenfall were already stirring by the time Josh and Brett stepped out of the Bull’s Head. A cool breeze carried the mingled scents of baking bread, damp earth, and woodsmoke. Merchants rolled up their shutters, farmers brought carts of produce to the square, and children darted between the legs of draft horses with half-awake laughter.

  Josh adjusted the weight of his shield on his arm, grimacing at the gouges and dents left from their fights - one half of it missing completely. The rim was cracked where the drake had bitten into it, and the leather straps had been re-tied twice already. “First stop after the guild this morning is an armourer’s shop. This thing’s got no fight left from it unfortunately. Think it’ll snap in half if a strong breeze comes along.”

  Brett glanced at the battered shield and nodded. “Good call. You were limping hard yesterday, most of those stings and cuts got in under your guard, didn’t they?”

  “Yeah,” Josh admitted, stretching his thigh where the muscle still ached. “Greaves would help. Maybe heavier straps, better fit. If I’ve got enough coin left from buying a new shield.”

  Brett’s mouth twitched in a smile, though there was steel behind it. “If you’re short, I’ll put some money towards it. Don’t argue. My staff’s still solid, and I don’t need much more than food and a bed right now. You’re the one standing in front, taking all the hits for me. If better armour keeps you on your feet and the monsters away from me, that’s worth every coin I’ve got.”

  Josh hesitated, pride warring with practicality, but then he clapped Brett on the shoulder. “Thanks, mate. I’ll take you up on that if I have to.”

  “Good.” Brett’s grin widened, a little of the tension breaking. “Though I am buying something for myself today.”

  Josh raised a brow. “What’s that?”

  “Food. Actual, decent travel food.” Brett’s nose wrinkled. “I swear, if I have to chew through another strip of that bloody jerky, I’ll throw it at the next goblin instead of casting fire. It’ll probably do more damage.”

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  Josh barked a laugh, nearly startling a passing horse. “All right, fair. We’ll see what the market’s got before we set out again.”

  By the time the guild’s stone fa?ade came into sight, the town was fully awake. The streets bustled with adventurers and townsfolk alike, and the guild itself hummed with noise spilling out from the great hall.

  As they mounted the steps, Josh slowed his stride, glancing back at Brett “I think we need to ask for advice on what gear we should be getting. I imagine when we go out into the wider world there will be all kinds of things we’ll need.”

  “Yea, I wonder if they have magical tents with plumbing?” Brett replied.

  Josh chuckled, but beneath it the words weighed heavy and real. They weren’t just stumbling forward anymore; they were learning how to live as adventurers, one scar and one lesson at a time.

  Together, they pushed open the guildhall doors.

  The guildhall’s noise rolled over Josh and Brett like a wave, laughter, mugs slamming against oak tables, the faint tang of spilt ale and woodsmoke.

  Perberos and Carcan were easy to spot, already at a table near the hearth. The twins had claimed it with the same casual ownership they claimed everything: Carcan perched cross-legged on the bench, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, while Perberos leaned back with his boots on the edge of the table, looking as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “There you are!” Carcan waved them over with a grin. “I was starting to think you’d got lost.”

  Josh smirked. “We wouldn’t miss out on the morning. I wanted to see which group did the most quests!”

  Perberos gestured to the room. “Looks like most of the other trainees are already here, I’m sure we’ll find out soon, along with the next part of the training.”

  Josh followed his gaze. Several familiar faces sat scattered across the hall, new adventurers from their cohort. Adqen Windheart, the pale-haired elf mage, was in quiet conversation with Koz’ru Willowblesser, a fox-like Beastfolk whose fur shimmered silver beneath the lantern light. Nearby, Zolma Studz, a round-faced human healer with kind eyes, sat beside Vokal Rainstrength, a tall, lean wolf Beastfolk ranger. Strandor Staggust and Craberos Quadrinn were swapping tales over mugs, their laughter loud enough to draw a few annoyed looks from older adventurers.

  But of the group that had once seemed the loudest in training, Torrel, Brannur, and their companions, there was no sign. Their absence left an unspoken weight in the air.

  “Strange not seeing them,” Brett murmured, frowning, everyone knowing who he meant.

  “Maybe they’re still out.” Josh tried to make it sound light, but his words fell flat.

  Before the thought could linger, Adqen noticed them. “Ah, the shield-bearer and fire-slinger return.” The elf mage’s voice carried a musical lilt, his smile faint but genuine. “How did your first assignments go?”

  Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “Messy. But we made it through. Got five quests done.”

  That earned a ripple of reaction. Zolma’s eyes widened, and Vokal gave a sharp whistle. “Five? In one day? Not bad at all.”

  Koz’ru tilted her head, fox ears flicking. “You must have pushed hard to clear that much. Did you find the wasp nest, then?”

  Brett grimaced. “Oh, we found it. Big as a barn and nastier than I’d like to repeat.”

  Carcan smirked. “Josh nearly drowned in bugs, but he lived. Barely.”

  That drew a round of laughter, though Zolma reached across to pat Josh’s arm with a warm smile. “You look in one piece, at least. That’s what matters.”

  Strandor leaned forward, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “We only managed two quests yesterday. Bandit camp and a pack of dire boars. Hard enough with four of us, and even then we had to drag Craberos back to town half-conscious.”

  Craberos rolled his eyes, though he still sported fresh bandages across one arm. “Boars hit harder than goblins, I’ll give them that. Damn tusks nearly gutted me.”

  “Still,” Vokal said, tail flicking lazily, “at least you got to fight something worth the trouble. We had wolves. A den of them. They went down quick, but not before they shredded half our gear. And my cloak.” He shot Koz’ru a pointed look.

  The fox-eared mage grinned, fangs flashing. “You shouldn’t have been standing in front of me when I cast.”

  Vokal’s ears went flat. “You set me on fire!”

  The table broke into laughter again, Brett covering his mouth to hide a grin. “Sounds like you two had just as messy a day as us.”

  At the edge of the gathering, a heavy mug slammed onto the table. Noe Farrowrage sat hunched forward, thick arms crossed, his jaw set in its usual scowl. His armour was still scorched and battered from the day before.

  “Tch. All of you congratulating yourselves for scraps,” he growled. “Two quests, five quests, it doesn’t matter. Monsters keep breeding faster than this guild can clear them. You think you’ve done something just because you scraped through alive?”

  Josh felt his hackles rise, but Brett nudged him under the table before he could speak.

  It was Carcan who broke the silence, smiling sweetly at Noe. “Well, at least we did scrape through alive. Looks like you did too, so maybe don’t bite everyone’s heads off about it.”

  Noe’s glare flicked to him. “You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone who hides behind others in a fight.”

  Perberos leaned forward then, boots dropping from the table, his smile sharp. “And you’ve got a loud mouth for someone who hasn’t the results to back it. How many quests did you complete, Farrowrage?”

  Noe bristled but said nothing, taking a long pull from his mug instead.

  “Thought so,” Perberos muttered, sitting back again.

  “Enough,” Zolma cut in gently, her voice like cool water against the heat. “We all came back alive. That’s worth more than counting quests.”

  “Spoken like someone who didn’t win” Carcan teased.

  Zolma laughed, unoffended. “Spoken like someone who knows half of us are lucky to be sitting here at all.”

  The mood softened. For a moment, even Noe looked less tense, his scowl fading into something closer to weariness.

  Josh exchanged a glance with Brett. Their companions were all different, cocky, bitter, kind, reckless but they were bound by the same truth: they had survived their first true taste of the adventurer’s life.

  Then the doors of the guild lecture halll groaned open.

  The noise dimmed, as if a draft of cold air had slipped inside with the newcomers. Ronald strode in first, his scarred face carved in stone, eyes sweeping the room with grim purpose. Beside him came Kal, the usual jovial guild healer’s features stern, his features unreadable in the torchlight. Caistina followed, her step slower, her usual poise wrapped in a tension that even the rowdiest adventurers could feel.

  But it wasn’t the mentors that silenced the hall.

  Between them stood a single figure.

  Bheldur Giantguard. The dwarven ranger, confident and boastful in their training, broad-shouldered and built for battle - this morning he was a shadow of himself. His armour hung in tatters, one arm bound in rough bandages. Dried blood crusted at his temple, his beard matted where a wound had bled unchecked. His bow was still in hand, string frayed, as though he hadn’t let go of it since whatever had come for him.

  Everyone was drawn to his eyes though. Hollow, sunken, staring out at nothing as if the darkness of the forest still clung to him.

  The guildhall’s warmth evaporated. Every adventurer knew without a word what this meant.

  Something had gone terribly wrong.

  The mentors led him further in, the doors shutting behind them with a heavy thud, and the light of the hearth flickered as if recoiling from what had entered.

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