-Ruik-

  Darkness breathed around me.

  I lay facedown on cold stone, my cheek pressed into dampness that seeped into my skin, into my bones. My back throbbed in violent waves—raw, burning, pulsing like something alive. Every shallow breath sent fire rippling up my spine. I shook uncontrollably, stripped bare except for my trousers, feet numb against the icy floor.

  I tried to lift my head.

  The world tilted.

  Sunlight flashed—glinting off Myrren’s staff.

  Thorn’s hand on my shoulder.

  Brie laughing, the sound fractured, wrong.

  And then Rivulet’s eyes—dark, bottomless—staring at me through bars that didn’t exist.

  I blinked hard, and they vanished.

  Only stone. Only dark. Only the ache.

  My mouth felt cracked, useless. Something inside me rattled—a fever-hunger, a thirst not just for water, but for meaning. For anything that might anchor me to myself.

  A faint glow pulsed against the far wall.

  Torchlight.

  Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Measured. Disciplined. Unavoidable.

  I dragged myself onto my elbows. My back screamed. Breath tore from my chest.

  Goodrick stopped before the bars.

  For a moment, he only stared. His jaw shifted. His eyes were tight with something that wasn’t quite regret and wasn’t quite sorrow.

  “Ruik Thornsson,” he said at last. “By decree of the Dawnsworn and judgment of the Sunspire, you are hereby excommunicated.”

  The word struck harder than any brand.

  “You are stripped of rank, oath, and sanctuary,” he continued. “You are exiled from Torrain. At sunset, you will walk beyond its gates and may never return.”

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  I forced myself upright. My spine spasmed. My vision swam.

  “So… be it,” I rasped.

  Goodrick inhaled slowly, then nodded to the guards.

  The cell door groaned open.

  They hauled me to my feet. I didn’t fight them. I barely stayed standing.

  We moved through the dungeon corridors, past cells that whispered with silence, past stone that remembered too much. Chains rattled faintly. No one spoke.

  The stairwell spiraled upward toward pale light.

  When we emerged, the air cut into me like a blade.

  Evening.

  The sun hung low over Torrain, bleeding gold and red across spires and streets. Bells were silent. Doors stood open.

  People filled the road.

  Villagers of Dunkarr.

  Dawnsworn.

  They lined the street from the cathedral steps to the gates, forming a living corridor. No chains bound me. No words were spoken. But the space they left around me was heavier than iron.

  I lowered my head.

  I couldn’t bear to see their faces.

  As I walked, heads bowed—just slightly. A gesture small enough to escape censure. A farewell without defiance.

  Grief pressed in from both sides. I felt it like hands on my shoulders. Like voices I couldn’t answer.

  High above, on the Sunspire’s balcony, Vaelor stood motionless, pale robes caught in dying light.

  Watching.

  I didn’t look up.

  The gates loomed open.

  “This is the end of Torrain’s mercy,” Goodrick said quietly, only for me.

  I nodded.

  The guards released me.

  I took one step. Then another.

  Past the gates.

  No pack. No blade. No cloak.

  Just my trousers, my scars, and the open road.

  Behind me, the gates began to close.

  I didn’t turn back.

  I walked until the city’s sounds faded and the sun slipped lower, its warmth thinning into shadow.

  Footsteps crunched behind me.

  I froze.

  “Don’t move,” a familiar voice hissed.

  I turned.

  Tom and Jarold stepped out from the brush, breathless, eyes wide. They carried my satchel and cloak between them.

  “You idiots,” I whispered.

  Tom shoved the pack into my chest. “We weren’t letting you leave with nothing.”

  Jarold swallowed. “You’re still our brother. Exile doesn’t change that.”

  My hands trembled as I took my things.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Tom stepped closer. “We should be the ones saying sorry. We should have—”

  “No.” My voice was frayed, but firm. “Your conviction can’t falter. Don’t let Vaelor see it. Not for yourselves. For Dunkarr.”

  Tom swallowed hard.

  Jarold’s voice shook. “Where will you go?”

  I exhaled slowly. Pain followed every breath.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I don’t belong there anymore. And that place can protect our people better than I ever could.”

  They embraced me carefully, gently, mindful of my back. I leaned into them, forehead touching theirs. Their arms trembled.

  “Good dawn, brother,” they said together.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Good dawn, brothers.”

  None of us looked away. None of us pretended to be stronger than we were.

  They stepped back.

  For a moment, we just stood there—brothers—torn apart by a dawn that demanded too much.

  As the last sliver of sun slipped beneath the horizon, I turned toward the darkening road.

  Behind me, Torrain sealed its gates.

  Ahead of me, the night waited.