The three of them sat around the fire.

  Night had settled fully now, the fractured moon hanging high above the temple ruins, silver light glinting off the polished stones. It marked almost a week since they’d left Solvara’s ashes behind.

  The boar crackled and hissed over the flames, the smell of roasted meat thick in the air. Ryn and Lilia had managed to butcher it, though judging by the streaks of blood staining their arms and faces, “managed” might’ve been generous.

  Lilia looked down at herself — clothes ruined, hair matted, streaks of red drying against her hands — and grimaced.

  “…W-We really need to clean,” she muttered.

  Ariel nodded, wringing her nose

  Lilia let out a slight giggle at her expression.

  So they decided, first thing tomorrow, they’d head to the lake in the hills, wash themselves, and maybe, just maybe, feel human again.

  For now, though, something much more important lay before them — the food they’d fought for, the food they'd earned.

  Lilia portioned it out evenly, using a shard of flat stone as a makeshift plate.

  They ate in silence at first, too hungry to speak. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and the faint hum of insects in the distance.

  Ariel took another bite. Then another.

  Her eyes widened.

  She dropped her plate .

  “This is—” she said, “ the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

  Lilia blinked, then grinned, brought her hands to her waist and puffed out her chest.

  “O-Of course it is,” she said proudly.

  Ryn said nothing, just kept eating. The meat was good, really good. Smoky, tender, rich. But to lilia and Ariel after days of dried fruit and half-burnt roots, it might as well have been the greatest meal ever made.

  He glanced at the two of them, who were laughing softly beside the fire.

  “R–Ryn?”

  Lilias voice was small, but it cut through the quiet.

  Ryn turned, confusion flickering across his face.

  Lilia hesitated. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the hem of her sleeve. The firelight flickered against her eyes, She drew in a slow breath.

  “…Teach me,” she said at last, her voice trembling.

  Her gaze lifted to meet his.

  “Teach me how to use a sword.”

  Silence settled over them for a long moment. Ryn looked at her, the firelight catching on his face.

  “Why?” he asked flatly.

  Lilia blinked, searching for the words, but nothing came easily.

  “...I-I’m really not sure,” she admitted at last.

  Ryn sighed, the sound soft and weary.

  He could see the logic—without one arm, he was no longer the bulwark he once was. If Lilia learned to fight, it would give them more time in a skirmish, another pair of hands, another set of eyes.

  …And besides he could guess the real reason Lilia wanted to learn.

  “Alright.”

  Lilia’s eyes widened in surprise at how easily he’d answered, but she looked genuinely happy. She was about to say something when Ariel cut in.

  “Teach me aswell,” Ariel said quietly. Her eyes still on the food

  Ryn didn’t even turn to look at her.

  “No.”

  She stood up suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet crackle of the fire.

  “Why not?”

  Ryn didn’t face her. His gaze stayed fixed on the flames, the reflection dancing across her bandages “My job is to make sure you survive,” he said evenly. “Teaching you how to fight doesn’t align with that.”

  Ariel stared at him, her jaw tightening. “...Why are you still like this?”

  That made him turn. Slowly. His eyes met hers, tired but sharp.

  “Solvara is gone, Ryn,” she said, her voice trembling between anger and grief. “Your duty doesn’t exist anymore. Your job—” she stopped, looking down, her hands curling into fists.

  “It’s over.”

  He didn’t speak for a long while. The fire popped softly between them.

  Then, in a whisper that carried something painfully certain, he said,

  “...Not while you’re still alive.”

  Ariel’s brow furrowed. Something sharp flickered across her face — annoyance?

  “Gods,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

  Ryn gave no answer, only stared into the fire until the embers blurred the lines of his face. Lilia sat between them, watching the dust of their argument settle and rise again.

  Ariel broke the quiet, voice tight. “We’re going to do a trial. I need to know at least how to protect myself.”

  Ryn’s head turned, slow and deliberate. “We’re not doing a trial.”

  “We have to.” She stepped forward, jaw set. “We can’t survive out here without it.”

  “No, we don’t.” His tone was flat, final.

  “Yes, we do.” She closed the distance between them, her voice rising. “How are we going to cross the hills? The aberrations will only get worse the longer we stay in this area. We can’t—”

  “I’ll make sure you two get where you need to go.”

  Ariel’s laugh was short and brittle.

  “How can you be sure? You couldn’t even do that when Solvara fell”

  Ariel’s breath hitched, but she didn't stop.

  ”...And now you’re missing an arm.”

  Those words landed like a strike. Ryn’s shoulders tightened; For a beat the only sound was the fire’s pop

  The words hung between them. Ryn's shoulders went rigid. His hand—his only hand— clenched into a fist. For a heartbeat, she thought he might finally say something.

  Lilia rose quickly, voice cutting across them. “A–Ariel thats enough.”

  Her face twisted with worry as she struggled to form the words.

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  “Ryn… was—”

  Ryn didn’t let her finish.

  “Lilia, you said you wanted to learn how to fight.”

  He paused, his gaze steady. He didn't look at Ariel.

  “Let’s start.”

  Lilia blinked, caught off guard. Her expression twisted into confusion as she looked past him, toward Ariel then to the darkness outside and the fractured moon hanging above.

  “...Now?”

  Ryn tilted his head slightly. “Is there a problem?”

  She shook her head quickly. “N-no, there isn’t.”

  Ariel stood there, frozen, the echo of her own words ringing in her ears. Lilia looked between them, torn, before following Ryn with a final glance back.

  Her hand clutched her other arm, the one wrapped in cloth. She lowered her gaze, saying nothing.

  ***

  Ariel watched as Ryn and Lilia faced each other, the firelight catching faintly on the blade between them.

  Lilia gripped Ryn’s sword with both hands, its weight dragging at her arms. It was too heavy for her, too long, too sharp, too real. Unlike Ariel, she didn’t have a blessed strength. Holding it was a struggle.

  Ryn, on the other hand wielded nothing but a stick.

  Before they began, he spoke.

  “Before we start,” he said quietly, “you need to understand something.”

  He stepped closer, his tone steady.

  “Combat isn’t just strength or speed. It’s endurance, focus… and a little bit of will. But—”

  He paused, eyes fixed on her.

  “Combat, in its simplest form, is the end of someone’s intent. Purpose into motion. Your ability to act, no matter the chaos around you. Every fight, every duel, is two wills trying to impose their truth on the other.”

  “At its core, combat reveals who a person truly is—stripped of safety, of words, of masks.”

  Lilia blinked, unsure what to make of it.

  …Wasn’t it just about who struck who first?

  Ryn caught the look on her face and gave and frowned faintly.

  “I don’t expect you to understand that yet,” he said. “You will when it’s real.”

  He gestured toward the sword.

  “For now, we start with your body. Repetition. Control. In a real fight, there’s no time to think. Your instincts decide if you live or die.”

  Ariel stayed silent, watching them through the dim light—the weight of his words hanging in the stillness between each breath.

  Ryn motioned for Lilia to attack first.

  For a heartbeat, she hesitated, then lunged forward, blade glinting in the firelight. Her stance was shaky but determined. The sword was far too heavy for her; it dragged her arms down even before she swung.

  Ryn didn’t block. He simply stepped aside, turning with the motion, the air whispering past his shoulder as the blade missed by inches. His stick came up and tapped her side enough to knock her off balance.

  He signaled her to go again.

  Lilia stumbled, breath catching, then reset her stance. She tried to steady her grip, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Sweat was already gathering at her brow.

  She lunged again.

  Ryn deflected it with a single motion of his stick, and the sword slipped from her control, cutting harmlessly through air. Before she could recover, the end of his staff struck her forearm. The sound cracked against the still night.

  Lilia hissed in pain, jaw tight. Ariel winced from where she stood, her own arm instinctively tensing in sympathy.

  Ryn’s voice came quiet, even.

  “Again.”

  Lilia’s grip faltered, but she nodded. Her breath came rough now.

  This time, she waited, tried to read him like he’d done to her. But he didn’t move. His eyes were steady, calm, unreadable.

  Then, when she finally gathered the nerve to strike, Ryn moved first.

  He closed the distance in a single step, the staff tracing a blur through the firelight. It stopped a hair’s breadth from her head.

  She froze.

  For a moment, neither moved. The fire cracked behind them.

  Then Ryn stepped back, lowering the staff.

  Lilia exhaled shakily, lowering her sword. Her arms were trembling from exhaustion.

  Ryn’s voice softened slightly. “That’s enough for today.”

  But she shook her head, stubbornness flickering in her eyes. “No. Again.”

  Ryn didn’t argue, he simply lifted the staff once more.

  The next few minutes blurred into a rhythm of motion and sound. The dull thud of wood meeting steel. The scrape of boots on dirt. Lilia falling, rising, swinging again. Each time she attacked, Ryn corrected her, wordlessly, with pain.

  By the time she collapsed for good, she lay flat on the ground, drenched in sweat, her breathing ragged, hair plastered to her face. The sword slipped from her hands and hit the ground beside her with a dull thud.

  Ryn sat down a little away, crossing his legs, the staff resting across his knees. His breathing was calm, but faint tremors still ran through his fingers.

  “You did well,” he said after a moment.

  Without waiting for a reply, he pushed himself up and headed for the temple gates. His steps were steady, but every movement carried a faint stiffness. The pain from his injuries hadn’t faded; he’d been pushing himself too far these past days.

  "I'll take watch this time, Ariel."

  Ariel was about to argue, but then she noticed the tone in Ryn's voice, flat, final, and realized it would be pointless.

  She hesitated, her mouth opening as if to protest anyway, then closed it.

  "Alright," she said quietly, settling back down beside Lilia.

  Ryn gave a slight nod and moved toward the temple entrance, his silhouette framed against the fading light outside.

  She crouched beside Lilia and nudged her cheek gently with one finger.

  “You alive?”

  Lilia groaned, sitting up with effort. Her hand went to the spot where Ryn had struck her.

  “...He’s a monster,” she muttered.

  Ariel couldn’t help a small, tired laugh. “Yeah,” she said softly. “He is.”

  ***

  Ariel sat beside Lilia, watching as she lifted the waterskin and drank like she hadn’t tasted water in days. Half of it was gone before she stopped to breathe.

  They’d refill tomorrow, so it was fine. Probably.

  The fire had burned low, its glow painting faint lines across the temple walls. The air was cold enough that their breath misted, fading into the dark. Beyond the doorway, she could see Ryn’s silhouette, still, quiet, sitting at the edge of the ruined gate. The faint shimmer of his blade rested beside him, catching what little light the fractured moon offered.

  It had been a long time since Ariel wasn’t the one taking first watch. The thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

  A part of her itched to stand, to trade places with him, afraid that when she woke next Lilia and Ryn would be gone .

  But another part, the smaller, quieter part, was tired.

  Lilia shifted beside her, curling beneath the worn blanket they shared.

  “D-Don’t say things like that to Ryn… Ariel,” she mumbled, voice barely a whisper, already heavy with sleep.

  Ariel turned slightly, eyes lingering on her friend’s face. Dirt streaked her skin, hair tangled and damp from sweat, but there was something almost peaceful about her expression now.

  A small, fragile calm.

  This. This was what she wanted.

  Not the trial. Not the power.

  Just... this.

  Them, together, as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

  Ariel lay back, staring up at the cracked stone ceiling, where moonlight bled faintly through the gaps. Her thoughts drifted—past the fire, past the night, to everything she’d tried to hold together on her own.

  Maybe she didn’t have to anymore.

  She thought maybe… just maybe it was ok to feel normal again.

  Her vow flickered.

  Her eyes closed.

  Outside, the wind moved through the temple’s broken arches, soft and low, like a sigh that carried through the night.

  ***

  Ryn sat there for a long time.

  Neither Lilia nor Ariel woke to take the second watch, but he didn’t mind.

  It was better this way. It was how it should be.

  The night was still. The fire had burned down to faint embers, their light flickering against the broken stone walls. Beyond the ruins, the stars stretched endlessly above, cold and clear, scattered like shards of glass across the dark.

  His gaze lingered on the fractured moon, its pale veins cutting through the sky.

  After a while, he reached into his pocket and drew out the small ring.The metal—if it even was metal—was a deep, obisdian black, almost glowing in the moon. He closed his fist around it, gripping it tight.

  The silence pressed close.

  Ryn lowered his head, resting his forehead against his knees as a quiet breath left him.

  Moonlight spilled over him, catching in his dark hair, tracing the faint tremor of his shoulders as the night stretched on.