Sensing the tension closing in around me, I left the square and headed for home. No one tried to follow. If anything, people seemed relieved to let distance grow between us. By the time I reached Theo’s house, the noise of the festival had dulled into a far-off murmur.

  Inside, I gathered my weapons, strapped on my armour, and pulled my hood low. I would give the village time to cool down. I needed it too.

  The night air outside was cool and still. This body seemed to belong to darkness in a way my old one never had; the world felt sharper for it. I slipped out through the palisade without being seen, cloak drawn close, and walked until the lantern glow was only a faint stain against the horizon.

  I found a sheltered hollow between two low rises and sat with my back against a pine. The day’s work had left my muscles heavy and sore, but sleep would not come. I was too alert, too tightly wound. It felt like the nights before I ever became Drisnil, when I would lie awake for hours, flooded with thoughts I could not set down.

  I kept turning one question over in my mind.

  Why had Drisnil protected Illara?

  Was she beginning to care? Or had she simply inherited my promise to keep Illara safe? I reached into Drisnil’s memories, searching for anything that looked like kindness. I found none. Every relationship she had ever kept was transactional. Give to get. Debt and payment. Even her own mother had not loved her in any way I recognised. She had taught Drisnil what Nhalyri society demanded: power above all else, and cruelty as a tool to secure it.

  Protecting Illara was one thing.

  Smiling while she did it was another.

  The thought made my stomach twist.

  At some point in the night I heard Illara calling my name. Her voice carried faintly through the trees, panicked and raw. I did not answer. I did not go to her. Shame rooted me in place.

  She searched through the streets by lantern light, moving from door to door, asking questions I could not hear. Even from a distance I could see the strain in her face. I told myself I was doing her a kindness by staying hidden. If I stepped back into her life now, I would only bring her more pain. I had already cracked something between her and her friends. I could shatter the rest of it without even meaning to.

  When dawn came, I drifted back toward the village. A crowd had gathered outside Illara’s home. I slipped my ring on and let its silence fold over me, then moved closer until I could hear their voices clearly.

  Most of the town was there. A debate was already underway.

  Jenna stood on the front step of Theo’s house, a pale morning sun behind her like a halo she did not need to fake. She raised her voice so the whole crowd could hear.

  “Drisnil is dangerous. My miracles have revealed her true nature to be pure evil. Last night the village saw it firsthand. We must keep her from this place for our own safety.”

  A low murmur went through the crowd. Several people nodded, faces pinched tight with fear and anger. Someone spat into the dirt. A mother pulled her child closer.

  Cain stepped forward, his expression hard but controlled.

  “But Drisnil saved us. Her methods may not be pleasant, but results matter. We need a strong fighter like her to protect this village. We would be fools to drive her away.”

  A small cluster of workers cheered.

  “Here, here,” someone called — uncertain, but sincere.

  Norma surged forward before Cain could say more. Her eyes were red and swollen, her grief still fresh enough to burn.

  “She didn’t save Derrick. My son.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she had to swallow before she could keep going. “She let him die. Derrick was supposed to be her friend. If that is how she treats her friends, how can we trust her?”

  The crowd quieted. A few heads bowed. Someone reached for Norma’s elbow, but she shook them off.

  “She saved me,” Illara said, small and fierce.

  “Yeah, she saved Illara,” Sera added louder, stepping closer to her friend. Her face was puffy, like she had been crying all night. Her hands trembled, but she forced the words out.

  Jenna waited until the murmurs settled again. When she spoke, her tone was calm, like she was explaining something simple to a class of children.

  “Solvarn asks us not to accommodate evil. If we keep her here, we invite his disfavor. We may see crop failures next year because of our sin.”

  A ripple of fear passed through the villagers at that. Harvest and hunger were not abstract ideas to them. They were memories.

  Jenna pressed on, voice steady.

  “Not hunting and killing her is already a kind of mercy, considering what we are normally obliged to do to evil. This is repayment for her help.”

  “She is not evil!” Illara shouted. Her control cracked all at once. “She comforted me through my nightmares when I sleep.”

  My chest loosened with a bitter kind of relief. At least one person could see something other than the blood.

  Jenna stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on Illara’s shoulder.

  “She is only earning your favor,” she said softly. “So she can use you later. You may already be being used now.”

  Illara flinched as if struck. She pulled away from Jenna’s hand and took a step back, her face tight with confusion and hurt.

  Cain shook his head slowly, like he had hoped this would not come to this.

  A silence opened, awkward and waiting, as if everyone hoped someone else would decide.

  Tom shoved to the front, clearly eager to end the argument.

  “Let’s have a vote now!”

  The crowd stirred, people leaning in as if the act of raising a hand could finally make the fear go away.

  “All for banishing Drisnil from this village, raise your hand!”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Hands shot up across the yard. Too many, too quickly. The decision was clear within seconds.

  Only five people did not raise theirs.

  Cain. Illara. Theo. Winefred. Ash.

  Illara looked sharply at Sera, her hand still raised high. The betrayal on her face was raw.

  “I’m sorry, Illara,” Sera said hoarsely. “I know what she’s been to you, but I’m scared of what she is.”

  “But she gave you the courage to finally ask Ash to dance. Would you have done that if it weren’t for her?”

  Sera’s face twisted, tears spilling again. She snapped back, voice rising until everyone could hear.

  “You saw her coldly let that woman have her throat cut. You watched her ignore Derrick bleeding out on the ground just so she could kill and maim. And you saw her face — the glee on her face while she was taking lives and torturing people. She can’t be human!”

  The yard erupted in overlapping voices. Some shouted agreement. Some looked sick. Others looked away from Illara entirely, as if shame were contagious.

  Illara turned and stormed inside the house. Theo hurried after her, his face stricken.

  On his way past Norma he murmured, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Derrick was a good kid.”

  Norma could not answer. She just stood there shaking.

  Tom lifted both arms as if he had been waiting his whole life to declare something important.

  “There we have it. Drisnil is banished from the village. If she returns, she is to be driven off.”

  A cheer rose from part of the crowd. Not joyful, not really. More like people trying to convince themselves they had done the right thing.

  From my hidden place, the sound felt like the closing of a door I had not realized I wanted to keep open.

  I followed Jenna and Cain back to their home, keeping to the hidden as the crowd dispersed behind them. The lane felt smaller without the festival noise. Even the birds had gone quiet.

  Inside, the house was dim and still, smelling faintly of smoke and dried herbs. Cain shut the door a little harder than usual. He stood there for a moment with his hand on the latch, shoulders tense, as if he could still hear the vote echoing outside.

  “You know Illara will likely follow Drisnil, don’t you?” he said at last.

  Jenna didn’t look surprised. If anything, she looked tired.

  “I know. And I intend to support her as best I can. I will lend her my armour.”

  Cain’s eyes widened. “Jenna… that’s yours.”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s why it matters.”

  Her voice softened despite herself. “She is my best apprentice. But she is young and naive. If she goes after Drisnil, I want her to survive long enough to learn what she needs to learn. Maybe the journey will give her some perspective.”

  Cain watched her for a moment, then gave a faint, sad smile.

  “You know who she reminds me of? You, when you were younger. You always wanted to see the best in people.”

  Jenna’s mouth twitched, but not quite into a smile.

  “I still want to believe Drisnil could choose to be good,” she admitted. “But I cannot take that risk. Not here. Not with our children asleep under our roof. Banishment was the only option.” Her eyes lifted to his. “Unless you think you could take her in a fight while defending your family.”

  Cain rubbed a hand over his jaw, thinking it through.

  “She probably has fifty years of training on me,” he said slowly. “Maybe more. You might stand a chance, though.”

  “But it is a chance,” Jenna said quietly. “Are you willing to bet our entire family on a chance?”

  Cain exhaled through his nose. The answer was already in his face before he spoke it.

  “No.”

  Jenna nodded once, as if sealing something in herself. She stepped into the back room. The floorboards creaked under her weight. A few minutes later she returned carrying a bundled roll of gear, tied tight with twine. Metal clinked softly inside it.

  Without another word, she turned toward the door.

  Cain fell into step beside her. He didn’t argue. He only followed.

  We crossed the lane to Illara’s home. Jenna raised her hand and knocked.

  Theo opened the door. His eyes were red. He looked like he had not slept.

  “Oh. Jenna.” His voice was stiff with polite restraint. “What brings you back?”

  “I have come to lend Illara something she may need.”

  Theo hesitated, then stepped aside a fraction. “I do not think she will want to see you right now. But I can ask.”

  He went down the hall and knocked on Illara’s door.

  “Jenna is here. She has something for you.”

  From the other side came Illara’s voice, sharp and raw.

  “Tell her to go away. I have nothing to say to her.”

  Theo returned, not meeting Jenna’s eyes.

  “I do not think she wants to see you,” he said quietly.

  “Yes,” Jenna replied. “I heard.”

  She held out the bundle. A small note was tied beneath the knot.

  “Please make sure she gets this.”

  Theo took it awkwardly. He underestimated the weight, nearly dropping it before catching it against his hip.

  “All right. I will,” he said.

  Jenna gave a short nod. There was no triumph in her, no righteousness. Only the kind of heaviness that comes from choosing a lesser evil.

  She turned away and started down the lane. Cain wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked. Jenna let her head hang low, eyes fixed on the ground.

  Neither of them looked back.

  I stayed tucked in the shadows of Illara’s house, watching and waiting. I had made a promise to protect her, and I would see it through, no matter how hard it became.

  By late afternoon the light outside had begun to soften, turning the windows amber. Illara had spent the whole day shut in her room. Even through the door I could hear the shape of her grief — the hitching breaths and muffled sobs that came in waves. Theo and Ash had kept themselves busy with anything that let them avoid walking past her door too often, as if the sound might break them too.

  When Illara finally opened it, she looked smaller than she had yesterday. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. Her hair hung loose and tangled around her shoulders. She blinked against the light in the hall as if it hurt.

  She went straight to Theo.

  “I need to follow Drisnil,” she said. Her voice was thin but steady, like she had rehearsed the words inside her head all day. “I cannot sleep without her. I do not feel safe without her near.”

  Something in my chest loosened. A small, shameful spark of happiness flickered through me before I could stamp it down.

  Theo’s face tightened, but he nodded.

  “I know.” His voice was quiet. “I will not stop you. But we will miss you. Please come back to us, Illara. When you can.”

  He crossed to the table and picked up the bundle Jenna had left.

  “She said to give you this.”

  Illara’s jaw clenched as if the name itself hurt. For a moment I thought she might refuse out of spite. Instead she took the bundle with stiff fingers and untied it.

  Chainmail spilled into her lap, neat and well-kept, the links darkened with oil. A sunburst was worked into the breast in pale metal — Solvarn’s symbol. A protective charm and a warning all at once.

  She found the note tucked beneath the knots and read it in silence. I couldn’t see the words from where I hid, but I saw her shoulders drop. The anger in her face didn’t vanish, but it softened around the edges into something tired and complicated. A faint “why?” slipped out of her.

  She folded the note carefully and tucked it into her bag.

  Then she moved like someone afraid to change her mind. She packed quickly, hands shaking only when she had to pause and wipe her cheeks. She pulled on boots, slung her bag, and fastened the chainmail. The mail sat a little heavy on her small frame, but she didn’t complain. If anything, it seemed to steady her.

  Ash stood by the door, eyes shining. When she finished, he stepped forward and hugged her hard.

  Illara held him back just as tightly. “I know,” she whispered. “I will miss you both. But I have to do this. For my own peace.”

  Theo swallowed, then kissed the top of her head as if she were still a child.

  Illara drew a breath, squared her shoulders, and walked out into the dusk.

  I followed soundlessly, keeping to the edges of the lane. She didn’t look back. She moved with purpose through the village and onto the well-trodden road leading toward Ravencrest, her boots scuffing the dirt with each step.

  Once the last roofs were behind us, and the tall grass swallowed the path’s edges, I let my ring’s veil fall away.

  “Hey, Illara.”

  She didn’t startle. She didn’t even slow.

  “I knew you would be nearby,” she said softly, as if she had been speaking to me all along.

  Then she turned and stepped into my arms.

  Her hug was sudden, fierce, and desperate in the way grief can be. I wrapped her back without thinking. Her body was warm against mine. Her hair smelled of smoke and wheat and the faint sweetness of the soap Theo used for the household wash. The scent pulled at memories I wasn’t ready to name.

  When she eased back, her eyes were still red but clear.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. “You will be leaving everything behind.”

  “I do not have a choice,” she said. Not stubborn. Not dramatic. Just honest. “You are the only place I have felt safe since that night.”

  The words landed like both a gift and a wound.

  She looked down the road, then back at me.

  “So… where are we going?”

  I glanced toward the horizon, where the sun was burning low and coppery behind the fields.

  “Forward,” I said quietly. “For now, that is enough.”

  And together we walked into the evening, the village shrinking behind us, the road widening ahead.