Illara began her training immediately, which meant she left early to meet Jenna. That left me behind with Theo, Ash, and Sera. I was not allowed to leave the house, and in truth I did not want to. It was bitterly cold outside, and the warmth of Theo’s hearth felt like a rare kindness.

  Theo poured himself a cup of tea, then glanced over at me.

  “So, Drisnil,” he said carefully, “have you been looking after my daughter well?”

  I nodded. “I think so. I’m enjoying watching her grow. Seeing her experience things for the first time.”

  Theo’s brow furrowed. “You make it sound like you’ve known her a long time.”

  I hesitated, then gave him the safest version of the truth.

  “Well… in three weeks we’ve fought bandits, rescued a woman from goblins, cleared out a kobold den, and captured a bounty. It feels like a lifetime.”

  It was still a lie, in a way. But it was close enough to pass. I did not know if Theo would ever understand the full shape of my reality, the way Illara did.

  Theo’s mouth tightened. “That is… a lot. And it doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

  “I assure you we’re careful,” I said, and meant it. “I don’t want Illara harmed either.”

  Theo stared into his cup for a moment as if weighing my words.

  “If you’re being careful,” he said slowly, “why is it only the two of you? Most groups travel with at least four. People watch each other’s backs.”

  He was right.

  It struck me sharply then, the way certain dangers only become obvious when someone says them aloud. Was I being reckless? Had I mistaken capability for safety?

  “We’ve had Norman with us for some things,” I admitted. “But you’re right. We need more people we can trust.” I exhaled. “That’s partly why we’re here. Jenna won’t travel with me, but I’m hoping Cain might choose to come instead.”

  Theo relaxed a fraction at that. Not fully, but enough that the worry eased out of his shoulders.

  “Please do,” he said quietly. “Illara is… special to me. I can’t imagine what I’d do without her.”

  While Theo and I spoke, Ash and Sera had quietly disappeared down the hall, slipping into Ash’s room without fanfare. The house felt warmer for it. Seeing Ash able to have something gentle, something normal, after everything that had happened to him… it made my chest tighten in a way I did not entirely understand.

  To keep myself from sitting idle, I spent the rest of the morning working on a project of my own.

  Playing cards.

  I had too much time, and if I was going to be trapped indoors for two weeks, I would go mad without something to do. The only problem was materials. There was no paper here, none that I could steal without raising questions.

  So I had to improvise.

  Wooden tiles. Like dominoes.

  Simple enough to shuffle if they were small and smooth, and durable enough to last. I could draw the suits and numbers with a heated poker, burning them into the surface so they wouldn’t fade. Nothing fancy. Just functional.

  Enough to play five hundred.

  Enough to pass time with three or four people and pretend we were normal.

  I borrowed Theo’s tools and began cutting thin strips of wood into tiles, trying to keep them uniform. It took longer than I expected, but Drisnil’s hands were steady, practiced. Precision work came naturally to her, and for once I was grateful for that.

  By midmorning, I had a small pile of cut tiles and aching wrists.

  Illara returned at lunchtime looking drained already, cheeks flushed from cold, eyes dulled with exhaustion.

  “Jenna has me memorising incantations,” she groaned, dropping into a chair. “So much reading. It’s boring and tiring.” She rubbed at her eyes. “At least Cain is training me this afternoon, so I get to move instead of stare at words until my brain leaks out my ears.”

  She glanced toward my work, curious.

  “What are you doing?”

  I instinctively shifted my body slightly, blocking the tiles.

  “It’s a secret,” I said, trying to sound casual. “But you’ll like it when I’m done. Assuming it works.”

  Illara narrowed her eyes. “No fair. You can’t keep secrets from your best friend.”

  I couldn’t help smiling.

  “It’ll be worth it. And if it doesn’t work out… you may never even know what it was.”

  Her expression brightened into something smug. “Then it better work out. Because now I really want to know.”

  She ate quickly, barely chewing, then stood again.

  “I’ll see you in time for dinner!” she called, already heading for the door.

  Then she was gone, leaving a brief chill behind her, like she carried warmth with her when she moved.

  I returned to my work.

  Theo watched occasionally, interest flickering, but he never asked outright. Maybe he thought it was harmless. Maybe he thought it was strange. Maybe he had learned by now that with me it was safer not to ask too much.

  By evening I had a working prototype of five tiles.

  Only five.

  Handcrafting takes time, and I had underestimated how long this would take. But holding them in my hand felt satisfying. Real. Something created, not destroyed.

  Illara returned after dark.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She looked worse than she had at lunch. Mud clung to her cloak and boots, and flecks of it were spattered across her cheeks. Her hair was half-loose, half-torn free from whatever braid she’d started with.

  She shuffled in without speaking and collapsed into a chair at the table, letting her head sink onto her folded arms.

  Theo frowned. “Illara?”

  She groaned without lifting her head.

  “Cain worked me hard,” she muttered. “He made me duel him, and I slipped and fell right into the mud.” She turned her face slightly, eyes squeezed shut. “I have a lot to learn. I’m not looking forward to two full weeks of this.”

  Then she lifted her head just enough to look at me.

  “Oh. Cain also said he wants to train you.”

  I blinked. “Why?”

  Illara dropped her head again, suddenly very interested in the grain of the table.

  “I told him about… everything,” she said. “And he thinks you need it.”

  There was a faint pause.

  I exhaled slowly. “Well. I suppose it can’t hurt.”

  Illara let out a tired laugh that was almost a whimper.

  “Heh,” she said. “I wish it didn’t hurt. Cain doesn’t hold back.”

  That evening, Illara decided that being clean mattered more than modesty and washed herself in front of the hearth. When she was finished, the water was brown with mud, and bruises marked her skin from the day’s training. They stood out clearly in the firelight, signs of effort rather than injury.

  “It feels so much better to be clean,” she said as she pulled on fresh clothes.

  I was not quite ready to wash myself in the living room, so I decided the grime of a few days could stay. That felt preferable to freezing outside or revealing more of my body than I was comfortable with.

  “Shall we get some sleep?” I asked.

  Illara nodded and followed me to bed. It was comforting to have someone to hold on a night as cold as this, and she settled easily into my arms.

  After a while, she spoke softly.

  “If you could go back to your original world, would you?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it,” I said. “I’m not leaving much behind there. And my life feels more full now, with you in it.”

  The words slipped out before I could stop them. Illara shifted closer, pressing herself more firmly into my embrace.

  “Good night, Geoff,” she murmured. “I feel the same.”

  The next morning I had time to myself and used it to prepare more of the wooden tiles. Ash watched with mild curiosity as I worked, leaning against the doorway now and then, but Sera had chores to attend to and did not come by.

  Illara returned at the usual time for lunch, rubbing at her eyes and looking unfocused. After eating quickly, she grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the door.

  “Don’t want to keep Cain waiting,” she said. “Hopefully with you around he won’t be as hard on me today.”

  I laughed softly. “I hope so. I’d rather not match the number of bruises you had yesterday.”

  We trudged through the snow toward the training grounds. The village lanes were quiet, and whenever someone noticed me they turned away or crossed the road. Doors closed. Eyes dropped. These were the same people I had sung with in the fields during harvest, and now they treated me like I might lash out without warning.

  The thought stung.

  Illara noticed my expression and squeezed my hand.

  “Don’t worry about them,” she said. “They don’t know you like I do. If they did, they’d treat you like a friend.”

  I smiled at that. Whatever the village thought, I was not alone.

  The training grounds were little more than a muddy enclosure surrounded by stock fencing. Roughly thirty metres across, it looked like it normally served as a livestock pen, though today it had been cleared and trampled flat for sparring.

  Cain waited for us, leaning against the railing. Three wooden swords rested beside him. He straightened as we approached, smiling broadly.

  “Welcome to your first day of training, Drisnil,” he said. “And welcome back, Illara.”

  “Thank you for your tuition,” I replied.

  “Thanks for your time,” Illara added.

  Cain tossed a sword to Illara, which she caught by the hilt, then threw one to me. I caught it easily.

  “First,” Cain said, “I want to see how you fight against each other. Practice bout only. Pull your strikes. I’d prefer you not bruise each other’s pretty faces.”

  We stepped into the ring. The mud had thawed just enough to be slick, making footing uncertain.

  Illara took her stance, sword raised above her right shoulder, the blade pointing behind her. Drisnil recognised it immediately.

  I held my blade pointed down, right leg leading, deliberately open, inviting her to strike.

  “Begin!” Cain called.

  Illara charged at once. As she swung, I shifted my weight from right to left, gathered toward her, and extended my blade, touching the tip lightly to her throat before her strike could complete.

  She froze.

  “You looked defenceless!” she protested.

  “She wasn’t,” Cain said calmly. “Based on what you know of Drisnil, are you really surprised she fights that way?”

  Illara scowled. “I’m not surprised she beat me. She has more experience.”

  “Again,” Cain said, turning to me. “Different opening stance this time.”

  “Alright,” I said.

  We reset. This time I mirrored Illara’s stance, blade raised over my right shoulder.

  “Begin!”

  Illara hesitated and did not move.

  I advanced slowly, closing the distance. When I was within striking range, I turned my body and blade as my sword descended. Illara attempted to parry, but her blade was knocked aside and mine came to rest against her right shoulder.

  “Again!” she snapped. “At least you’re holding back enough not to hurt me.”

  Cain nodded once. “That’s enough. Drisnil, I’ve seen what I needed. Your sword skills are fine. What you lack is tactical awareness, especially when fighting as part of a group.”

  He stepped into the ring and picked up one of the wooden swords, holding it at his hip, blade angled upward, left hand resting on the pommel.

  “Now,” he said, “both of you fight me. I win if either of you goes down. You win if you manage to hit me.”

  He looked between us.

  “Begin.”

  I immediately broke left, trying to circle behind him. Cain moved at once, using my motion to close on Illara instead. Before I could adjust, his blade was already at her throat.

  “It seems I win,” Cain said mildly.

  Frustration burned in me, sharp and immediate.

  The challenge was difficult. Embarrassingly so.

  But I knew, even as I clenched my teeth, that this lesson mattered.

  The rest of the day followed the same pattern.

  Whenever I stayed close to Illara and tried to press the attack, Cain exploited our lack of coordination, stepping cleanly aside and forcing Illara between us. His blade would tap her shoulder or throat before I could adjust, a clear reminder that closeness without communication was a liability.

  When I tried to compensate by giving her space, Cain punished me instead. He slipped past my guard while Illara’s body blocked my counter, his wooden sword rapping sharply against my head or ribs before I could recover.

  Every mistake was deliberate. Every correction ruthless.

  By the end of the afternoon, my arms ached and my thoughts felt slow. Mud clung to my boots and clothes, and frustration gnawed at me far worse than the cold ever had.

  Inside me, Drisnil seethed.

  She wanted control. She wanted speed. She wanted to end the lesson by showing Cain exactly why people feared her. I could feel the temptation rising, sharp and seductive. Let her take over. Let her solve the problem the way she always did.

  But I didn’t.

  This training wasn’t for Drisnil.

  It was for me.

  I needed to learn how to fight without cruelty. How to survive without surrendering myself to her instincts. If I couldn’t do that, then every promise I’d made to Illara meant nothing.

  Cain lowered his sword at last and nodded once, satisfied.

  “That will do for today,” he said. “You’re learning. Slowly. But you are learning.”

  Illara looked exhausted, streaked with mud and bruises, but when she glanced at me there was no frustration in her eyes. Only determination.

  As we left the training grounds, muscles burning and breath steaming in the cold air, I realised something uncomfortable but necessary.

  If I wanted to protect the people I cared about, I couldn’t rely on being the monster everyone feared.

  I had to become something better.

  And that was going to hurt.