Eis took one last look at the pinned bandit—his groans fading into the rustling forest—and stepped out of the undergrowth.

  Her cloak caught the light first, then her pale hair, then the gleam of the crossbow in her hands.

  The trio turned instantly.

  The archer reacted first, bow raised, arrow drawn in a heartbeat. His stance was sharp, trained—but his expression flickered with wariness and a hint of recognition.

  The armored man stepped protectively in front of the silver-haired woman, sword lifted but held with restraint. The woman’s hands glowed faintly with healing magic, though she kept the spell steady in her palms rather than unleashing it.

  The air between them tightened—strangers caught in the aftermath of blood and dust, unsure whether the next heartbeat would bring thanks or violence.

  Eis lowered her crossbow slowly and showed empty palms.

  “I’m not your enemy,” she said calmly. “Your attackers scattered because of me.”

  The archer’s eyes narrowed. “…You’re the one who helped.”

  His gaze flicked from corpse to corpse then to the man still pinned to the ground.

  The armored man didn’t drop his guard, but his voice softened.

  “Then we owe you thanks. Most travelers would’ve let the road take us.”

  The woman stepped forward slightly, brushing a silver strand behind her ear. Curiosity overcame fear.

  “You’re not with the Guild, are you? I’d remember someone with weapons like that.”

  Her eyes lingered on Eis’s crossbow, then drifted to the blades at her side.

  The archer stiffened.

  “It sounded like at least five… that’s not common training.”

  The armored man lifted a hand, silencing him. His gaze stayed on Eis—sharp, assessing, but not openly hostile.

  “Who are you, stranger?” he asked. “You fight like someone who’s seen real combat. Not a mercenary’s drills. Not a hunter’s habits.”

  His eyes flicked briefly to her weapons, then back to her face.

  “And you carry yourself like you’re used to surviving alone.”

  She stepped further into the clearing.

  “Just a traveler,” she said. “My name is Eis.”

  The armored man studied her a moment longer, then slid his sword back into its sheath with a soft scrape.

  “Traveler or not,” he said, “you saved three lives.”

  He glanced at the dead bandits.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Maybe more.”

  The archer lowered his bow slightly, though still cautious.

  “That crossbow isn’t standard.”

  Eis gave a faint shrug.

  The woman stepped closer, her healing magic fading into the air. She smiled—gentle, warm.

  “In any case. The gods were kind to put you on this road.”

  She raised her hand and released a soft wave of green light. Cuts closed. Bruises eased. A feather-light warmth brushed Eis’s skin.

  “A small thanks,” she said. “I’m Lira.”

  The armored man nodded.

  “Ronan.”

  The archer muttered, half-reluctant,

  “…Kael.”

  Their names settled into the still air like dust after a battle.

  Eis looked down the road. Smoke still curled upward from broken wagons. Scavengers would come soon.

  Ronan followed her gaze.

  “We’ll head to the next outpost before nightfall. The Guild will want word of this ambush.”

  He paused, then added, “From there, we make for Lumaire for a full report.”

  Lumaire.

  The name locked itself in Eis’s mind—her first solid landmark in this strange world.

  She let a calm breath slip out.

  “…I am also heading there.”

  Ronan’s expression eased, some tension lifting from his shoulders.

  “In that case,” he said, “travel with us. The road ahead isn’t safe for anyone alone.”

  Kael shot him a sideways look but didn’t argue.

  Lira’s smile warmed, relief softening her features.

  Eis inclined her head.

  “I’d be glad to.”

  “Good,” Ronan said simply. “We’ll watch each other’s backs until Lumaire.”

  Lira brightened.

  “There’s a town ahead—Briarstead. We can rest there tonight and reach Lumaire tomorrow.”

  Kael lowered his bow fully, muttering,

  “…Fine. Just keep that crossbow pointed away from me.”

  Eis nodded and moved with them as they gathered their packs. Ronan ended the pinned bandit’s suffering with a clean, respectful strike and a whispered prayer. They left the rest for the crows.

  The road wound northwest through dappled sunlight. Eis walked at a respectful distance—close enough to listen, far enough not to intrude. Their conversation drifted softly: guild rumors, minor politics, fragments of daily life.

  Lira glanced back often, her smile small but sincere.

  Ronan’s stride remained steady, disciplined even in exhaustion.

  Kael scouted ahead, sharp-eyed and quiet.

  As the forest opened into rolling fields, thin smoke curled from hearths on the horizon.

  Briarstead.

  Cooking scents swirled through the air—roasting meat, bread, herbs. Civilization felt unreal after the dangers of the wild.

  At the gate, Ronan flashed his insignia. The guards waved them through without question.

  Inside, Briarstead breathed with simple life: cobblestone paths, lanterns lit by children, the hum of evening chores, laughter drifting from windows.

  Ronan gestured toward a wooden inn.

  “We’ll take rooms at The Copper Mare. Clean beds. Good food. No questions. Join us, Eis.”

  Lira added warmly,

  “Let us treat you. Please. You saved us.”

  Kael muttered something that might have been agreement.

  Eis nodded.