#fantasywriters

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“You did,” Feng replied evenly.

Redd tilted her head.

“I didn’t mind.”

Lune chuckled.

“I’ve just come from Prince Sven.”

That immediately drew both of their attention.

“He has a request.”

They walked together through the quiet streets of the noble quarter as Lune explained.

“Several days ago, a patrol reported unusual activity near one of the old pawn shrines north of Vernworth.”

“A shrine?” Feng asked.

Lune nodded.

“His Majesty wishes it investigated. Officially, it’s simply a reconnaissance mission.”

“And unofficially?”

“The prince believes something there has changed.”

Neither pawn spoke for a moment.

Finally, Redd broke the silence.

“We’re…going to need supplies for this?”

Lune glanced at her.

“Probably—yes.”

“Oh.”

She thought for a moment.

“Can I buy some?”

Lune smiled awkwardly.

“Of course.”

Her eyes lit up.

“There are a few things I’ve been dying to try.”

Before either of them could answer, she had already hurried toward the market.

“I’ll stay where you can find me!” she called over her shoulder.

Silence settled between the two remaining figures.

Feng watched Redd disappear into the crowd.

“She’s changing. You know that, right?”

Lune kept his eyes on the marketplace while letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’m aware.”

“Does that trouble you?”

“Not entirely, no.”

The answer came without hesitation.

“The first time she told me she wanted something…”

A faint smile crossed his face.

“I was happy…relieved even.”

Feng watched him speak with half scrutiny and half surprise. His face was sincere. She was sure about that

“It started about a year ago. Little things at first. ‘I want to try this.’ ‘Can we go that way instead?’ I don’t think she even realized she was doing it.”

He laughed quietly.

“I spent years wondering if she’d ever choose anything simply because she wanted it. And I felt like a fool for it up until then.”

Feng smirked.

“Good answer, Arisen. Do you ever feel like you’re still responsible for her choices?” she asked.

The question stopped him.

The sounds of the market filled the silence.

“Before now I’d have said yes. But now...”

“Well you should figure it out soon. Because she won’t wait to want more.”

Lune sighed.

They both watched Redd enthusiastically inspecting a merchant’s wares in the distance.

She was smiling.

Really smiling.

Lune exhaled through his nose.

“Whatever the answer is…”

“I’m fairly certain my purse won’t survive it.”

Feng looked at him.

“Well you can’t win them all I suppose.”

Lune blinked.

Then laughed.

Feng placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on—before we actually lose her.”

Together, they headed toward the market, where Redd was already deep in conversation with a bewildered shopkeeper.

The journey had not yet begun.

Somehow, Lune suspected it already had.

[Later that day]

The northern road stretched peacefully through Vermund’s countryside, winding between dense forests and rolling fields painted gold by the afternoon sun. The steady creak of wooden wheels mingled with the slow, deliberate footsteps of oxen as a small royal caravan made its way toward the frontier.

Canvas-covered wagons, each bearing the crest of Vermund, carried food, medicine, and supplies bound for the northern garrison. A handful of soldiers escorted them on foot, their conversations drifting lazily through the warm air.

Several paces ahead of the lead wagon, Lune and Feng walked alongside the road.

Feng’s eyes wandered constantly—not with suspicion, but with habit. Every bend in the road, every movement in the trees, every distant sound earned a passing glance before she returned her attention to the path ahead.

Lune, meanwhile, seemed content simply to enjoy the quiet.

One of the caravan guards fell into step beside him.

“I won’t lie, Ser Arisen.”

The man laughed under his breath.

“When the captain told us we’d be making a supply run this late in the day, I thought he’d finally lost his senses.”

Another guard, walking just behind the wagon, chimed in.

“The fort’s been waiting on these supplies for nearly a week. Delay them any longer and we’d probably have a riot on our hands.”

The first guard nodded.

“Still…”

He glanced toward Lune.

“I’ll admit, I feel a good deal better knowing you’re traveling with us.”

Lune smiled politely.

“We happened to be headed in the same direction.”

His hand rested lightly against the bow slung across his back.

“It seemed only right that we offer our company.”

“Well,” the guard replied with a grin, “I won’t complain about that.”

Their conversation drifted away, replaced once more by the rhythmic groan of wagon wheels and the steady clopping of hooves against the road.

Behind them, Redd sat near the front of the lead wagon, her feet dangling over the edge.

She watched everything.

The slow sway of the cart.

The patient rhythm of the oxen.

The endless sea of green rolling past beside the road.

Warm sunlight filtered through the branches overhead, dancing across her face as the wagon rolled beneath them.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the breeze brush against her cheeks.

A small smile found its way onto her face.

The soldier driving the wagon glanced toward her.

“…You’re enjoying this.”

Redd opened her eyes.

“I believe I am.”

The guard chuckled.

“I’ve never heard a pawn say that before.”

His companion looked over from the next wagon.

“Never seen one smile much, either.”

Redd blinked.

“Should I not?

“Oh—no.” The older guard shook his head quickly. “Not at all.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed.

“It’s just… pawns usually don’t seem interested in things like this.”

Redd looked out over the countryside again.

“I never thought to be.”

The words left her quietly, almost absentmindedly.

She watched a flock of birds burst from the treetops, their wings catching the afternoon light as they disappeared into the open sky.

“I think…”

She smiled to herself.

“…I was missing quite a lot.”

Neither guard knew how to answer.

The wagon rolled over a shallow rut, gently rocking from side to side.

A soft laugh escaped her lips.

The older guard blinked before shaking his head with an amused smile.

“Well…”

He adjusted the reins in his hands.

“I’ll be.”

Ahead of the caravan, Lune glanced back at the sound.

His eyes met Redd’s for only a moment.

Seeing the smile on her face, he couldn’t help but return one of his own before turning back toward the road.

Feng noticed.

She said nothing.

Instead, she let her gaze drift once more toward the trees lining the roadside.

The sun had long since slipped beneath the horizon, leaving only the pale glow of twilight to guide the caravan along Vermund’s northern road. Lanterns now hung from each wagon, their warm light swaying gently with every turn of the wheels, while the forest on either side slowly dissolved into an endless wall of shadow. The conversations that had carried them through the afternoon had quieted to little more than idle murmurs, replaced by the rhythmic creak of timber and the steady, familiar footsteps of the oxen pulling the carts north.

Lune and Feng still walked several paces ahead of the lead wagon, their silhouettes stretching across the road beneath the lantern light.

One of the guards suddenly nodded toward the edge of the road.

“Wild ox.”

Lune followed his gaze. Several enormous shapes lay scattered in the grass beneath the trees, barely visible in the fading light.

“They’re always sleeping out here,” another guard chuckled. “Lazy things.”

No one gave them a second thought.

The caravan continued onward until another ox came into view.

Unlike the others, this one lay directly across the road.

The lead driver frowned and pulled back on the reins.

“Whoa…”

The wagon slowed to a stop, forcing the rest of the caravan to halt behind it.

One of the guards sighed as he climbed down from the cart, adjusting the lantern hanging from his belt.

“I’ll move it.”

He had scarcely taken two steps before Feng stopped walking.

Something about the scene tugged at the back of her mind.

Her eyes narrowed.

“…That’s strange.”

The guard looked over his shoulder with an amused grin.

“It’s sleeping.”

“No…” Feng muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “It isn’t.”

The farther the guard walked, the slower his pace became. Even from several yards away he could smell it now.

Blood.

Old blood.

Fresh blood.

The metallic scent drifted across the road, carried on the evening breeze so heavily it almost stung the inside of his nose.

His confident stride disappeared.

He approached cautiously before kneeling beside the animal, placing a hand against its shoulder.

The hide was cold.

His palm came away slick and black beneath the lantern’s glow.

For a long moment he simply stared at it.

“…Gods…”

The lantern trembled slightly as he leaned closer.

The ox’s skull had been crushed inward.

Its throat had been ripped nearly open.

“It…” His voice caught.

“It’s been murdered…”

He slowly rose to his feet, lifting the lantern higher as its light swept farther into the surrounding field.

Another ox.

Then another.

Then another.

Each lying exactly where it had fallen.

Each broken beyond recognition.

The smell intensified until it seemed to fill the entire road.

His breathing became shallow.

“…Savagely.”

His eyes continued searching beyond the lantern’s reach.

There were more.

Far more than he’d first realized.

His face drained of color.

“…They all have.”

The words settled over the caravan like ice.

No one spoke.

It was only then that Lune realized what felt so wrong.

The forest had gone silent.

No birds.

No insects.

Even the wind seemed to have abandoned the road.

The caravan oxen shifted uneasily in their harnesses, snorting and stamping their hooves against the dirt as if they sensed something hidden beyond the lantern light.

Feng’s expression hardened instantly.

“Form up.”

The command cut cleanly through the silence. A soldier, unsure of who’s command to to heed, looked at Lune nervously. Lune barked.

“You heard her!”

The soldier quickly fell into formation. Feng gave another order.

“Shields around the wagons. Nobody leaves the road!”

The guards obeyed without hesitation, drawing swords and raising shields as they quickly formed a protective line around the caravan.

Lune slowly turned until his back faced the wagons, his hand reaching over his shoulder for the familiar grip of his bow. He drew it in one smooth motion, an arrow already resting loosely between his fingers as his eyes searched the darkness between the trees.

Someone was watching them.

He could feel it.

The guard standing over the dead ox swallowed hard before lowering his gaze back to the ruined carcass. His lantern illuminated shattered bone, torn flesh, and deep gouges carved through the earth around it.

“What the fuck did this to you?”

The question had barely left his mouth when something shifted.

Not in the trees.

Among the bodies.

Feng saw it first.

One of the dead oxen moved.

Not much.

Just enough.

Every instinct she possessed screamed at once.

“GET BACK!”

The guard spun toward her, confusion flashing across his face.

The corpse exploded sideways.

Something unimaginably large burst from the darkness behind it, crossing the distance in a single thunderous charge.

The impact struck the lead wagon with enough force to lift it completely off its wheels.

Wood splintered.

The caravan’s ox cried out in terror as the creature slammed into it, sending both beast and wagon crashing violently onto their side. The cart rolled with a deafening crack of timber, throwing Redd, the driver, and every passenger into the brush as crates and supplies scattered across the road.

Before anyone could even process what had happened, the creature seized the screaming ox by the neck and dragged it bodily into the darkness.

Its terrified cries echoed through the forest.

Several guards instinctively rushed after it.

“Hold!” Feng shouted. “Stay together!”

No one moved another step.

Somewhere just beyond the reach of the lanterns, the ox continued screaming.

Then came the first impact.

A sickening crack echoed through the trees, followed immediately by another agonized cry.

Then another.

And another.

Each strike landed with enough force to splinter bone.

The ox’s cries became weaker, wetter, until they dissolved into choking gurgles that turned the stomach.

No one could see what was happening.

They could only hear it.

Every blow.

Every crunch.

Every desperate cry.

Each one seemed impossibly close.

Yet hidden entirely within the darkness.

When the final strike landed, the forest fell silent once more.

No one breathed.

Lune stood frozen, his bow already drawn as his eyes swept frantically across the tree line. Every shadow looked alive. Every branch seemed ready to move.

Beside the overturned wagon, Feng hurried toward the passengers, helping Redd and the others climb free from the wreckage.

“You hurt?” she asked quickly.

Redd shook her head, still struggling to catch her breath.

“I… I don’t think so.”

A heavy crunch echoed through the trees.

Everyone froze.

Another followed.

Slow.

Measured.

Deliberate.

The unmistakable sound of something enormous walking toward them.

Then came the breathing.

Deep.

Heavy.

Each exhale rolled through the night like the bellows of a forge.

Lune turned toward Redd without taking his bow from the darkness.

“Are you hurt?”

She opened her mouth to answer.

Instead, every ounce of color drained from her face.

Her eyes lifted beyond him.

Far beyond him.

“Lune…”

He frowned.

“What?”

She raised a trembling hand toward the darkness behind him.

“Behind you!”

Lune spun.

A Minotaur stood at the edge of the lantern light.

It towered over every man present, its immense frame cloaked in black fur matted with fresh blood. Steam poured from its nostrils with every slow breath, and a pair of massive horns framed a broad, bestial face whose muzzle still dripped crimson from its recent kill. In one enormous hand it carried a crude iron maul, its head so thoroughly coated in blood that thick droplets rolled lazily from the metal before splashing onto the dirt below.

The beast did not roar.

It did not charge.

It simply stood there, breathing, its dark eyes fixed upon the caravan with an unsettling calm.

It had already eaten.

Now it was looking for a fight.

The Minotaur drew in a deep breath.

Then it roared.

The sound exploded across the road like thunder, shaking the trees and rattling every lantern hanging from the overturned wagons. Guards cried out, instinctively clapping their hands over their ears as the deafening bellow washed over them. Even the horses farther down the caravan reared in terror.

Lune stood frozen.

He was too close.

Far too close to bring his bow to bear.

The beast moved.

Its blood-soaked maul came screaming toward him.

“Lune!”

A blur of steel and fur rushed between them.

Feng slammed into Lune’s shoulder, driving him to the ground just as she planted her shield in the Minotaur’s path.

The impact was catastrophic.

The maul struck her shield with a sound like a collapsing wall.

Feng’s boots carved two trenches through the dirt as she was hurled backward, crashing into a cluster of guards who barely managed to catch her before they were all knocked sprawling.

The Minotaur barely seemed to notice.

It roared again, lowering its horns before charging straight through the soldiers.

“Hold the line!” Feng barked.

The guards met the charge.

They may as well have tried stopping an avalanche.

Its first swing launched a soldier several feet through the air.

The second shattered a shield into splinters.

A third guard managed to slip beneath the beast’s arm before the Minotaur caught him across the chest with the haft of its maul. The poor man never even cried out. The blow carried him through the air before his body struck a tree with a sickening crack, collapsing lifelessly into the undergrowth.

The remaining soldiers hesitated.

Just for a heartbeat.

It was enough.

An arrow whistled through the darkness.

Thunk.

The Minotaur howled.

The shaft buried itself deep in its left eye.

The beast staggered backward, clutching at its face.

Lune had already nocked another arrow.

He drew, released, and the second shaft streaked toward the monster.

“Try that blind, arsehole!”

The arrow struck beneath the creature’s brow, forcing another enraged roar from its throat.

A guard glanced toward Lune just as another arrow screamed past his face from somewhere behind the trees.

He flinched.

Lune frowned.

“…That one wasn’t mine.”

“Hobgoblin!”

Redd’s warning came too late.

Another black-fletched arrow tore through the darkness.

Lune twisted aside.

The shaft missed him by inches.

Behind him came a wet crack.

A soldier standing near the wagon stiffened as the arrow buried itself through his face.

He crumpled without a sound.

“…Fuck!”

Lune spun toward the forest.

Torchlight flickered between the trees.

Then came laughter.

Low.

Cruel.

Dozens of small figures emerged from the brush, jagged blades and crude armor glinting beneath the dancing firelight. Some climbed over the dead oxen, others crawled from behind them, having hidden among the slaughter all along.

Only then did Lune notice the thick length of broken iron chain still hanging from the Minotaur’s neck.

His stomach dropped.

“…Did they cut this fucker loose?”

The answer came charging from every direction.

“Hold them back!”

The goblins descended upon the caravan.

Steel rang through the night as guards scrambled to meet them. Passengers screamed and scattered between the overturned wagons while arrows continued raining from somewhere within the trees.

Redd looked toward Lune.

“We’ve got the Minotaur.”

Their eyes met.

He understood immediately.

Lune turned away from the towering beast and sprinted toward the goblins instead.

His bow sang.

One goblin pitched backward with an arrow through its throat.

Another collapsed before it reached a frightened passenger.

A third.

Then a fourth.

Every shot found its mark.

Yet for every goblin that fell…

Two more appeared.

A guard cried out behind him.

Lune turned just in time to see another hobgoblin drive a rusted spear through the man’s stomach.

Damn it.

There were too many.

Across the battlefield, Feng struck the rim of her shield with her sword.

The sharp metallic clang echoed through the chaos.

“Over here!”

The Minotaur’s remaining eye found her.

With an enraged bellow, it charged.

Its maul swept across the road.

Feng ducked beneath the first strike.

The second demolished the wagon behind her, reducing thick timber to splinters.

The third clipped another guard, sending him tumbling across the dirt.

The beast lowered its horns.

Feng planted her feet.

Shield forward.

The collision shook the earth.

Stone and dirt exploded outward as her boots sank into the road, a shallow crater forming beneath her heels.

Every muscle in her body screamed.

Pain shot through her injured leg.

Still…

She did not move.

Above them, Redd slowly rose into the air, held aloft by gentle currents of magick swirling beneath her robes. She extended her staff toward the struggling pair as crimson light gathered around its crystal.

The air grew hot.

The spell was building.

“Hold for just a while longer!”

Then came a scream.

Lune’s head snapped toward it.

Beyond the fighting…

Beyond the goblins…

One of the caravan passengers had regained consciousness beneath the overturned wagon.

They struggled desperately against the crushing weight, panic spreading across their face as another goblin noticed them.

Lune started forward.

Something slammed into the side of his head.

Stars exploded across his vision.

He hit the ground hard.

The world became a blur.

Voices sounded distant.

Muffled.

He blinked, trying to focus.

Shapes swam before his eyes.

A guard falling.

A goblin laughing.

Feng still locked against the Minotaur.

Redd holding the growing inferno above them.

The trapped passenger.

Another traveler on their knees as a goblin raised its axe for the killing blow.

His breathing caught.

They were losing.

People were dying.

His bow wasn’t enough.

“Lune!”

Feng’s voice cut through everything.

She looked at him only for an instant as she struggled beneath the Minotaur’s crushing weight.

“They need all of you right now!”

Something inside him snapped.

The goblin’s axe came down.

Steel met steel.

The blow stopped inches above the terrified traveler’s head.

A massive greatsword stood buried in the earth between them.

The goblin stared.

The traveler slowly looked up.

Lune stood behind the sword, one hand wrapped around its hilt.

His bow was gone.

The goblin lunged again.

Lune twisted the blade, knocking the creature backward.

“Can you stand?”

“I… I think so.”

“Get moving, then.”

The traveler scrambled away.

The goblin charged once more.

By the time it reached him…

The greatsword had vanished.

Twin daggers burning with crimson flame crossed before Lune’s face.

He lowered his stance.

The goblin grinned.

Then froze.

A thin red line appeared across its chest.

Lune was already behind it.

The body fell apart before it hit the ground.

Like a ghost, he flowed through the battlefield.

One goblin collapsed.

Then another.

Then another.

Each died before they fully understood he had reached them.

The surviving soldiers stopped fighting for a heartbeat, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.

An archer…

No.

Something else.

Two hobgoblins lunged together from opposite sides.

This time, a long polearm of gleaming magick spun into Lune’s hands.

He pivoted once.

The twin blades at either end carved cleanly through both goblins before the momentum carried him onward.

He never slowed.

Reaching the overturned wagon, he drove the butt of the mystic spear into the earth before levering upward with impossible strength.

The shattered cart groaned.

It rose just enough.

“Move!”

The trapped passenger crawled free as the wagon slammed back to the ground.

Across the road, Feng’s injured leg finally betrayed her.

Her footing slipped.

Just enough.

The Minotaur saw it.

Its maul came crashing downward.

Lune thrust the mystic spear forward.

Green magick spiraled around its shaft before erupting outward into a shimmering barrier that enveloped him, Feng, and Redd in an emerald sphere.

The maul struck.

Boom.

The barrier rippled.

Cracks of green light flashed across its surface.

The Minotaur struck again.

Boom.

The shield bowed inward.

One more blow.

The barrier held.

The beast roared in frustration.

Lune met Feng’s eyes through the shimmering wall.

“I have you.”

The barrier vanished.

“Move!”

She didn’t hesitate.

With a roar of her own, Feng surged forward, planting her shield beneath the Minotaur’s lowered head. Instead of resisting its strength, she turned with it, using the creature’s own momentum against it.

The Minotaur stumbled.

Its horns slammed into the earth.

The ground shattered beneath the impact.

Redd’s voice rang across the battlefield.

“It’s ready! Everyone get back!”

Guards and goblins alike threw themselves clear.

Redd brought her staff down.

The night disappeared beneath a torrent of fire.

A pillar of roaring flame engulfed the Minotaur from head to toe, swallowing it whole. The beast screamed—a terrible, agonizing sound that echoed through the forest—as fire devoured the blood-soaked fur covering its body.

Blind with pain, it stumbled wildly through the trees, crashing through trunks thick enough that lesser creatures would have bounced harmlessly from them. Burning branches rained from above as it tore through the forest in desperate madness.

Then its strength failed.

The Minotaur staggered.

Dropped to one knee.

Then the other.

Its massive body listed forward, flames still dancing across what remained of its blackened fur before it collapsed into the dirt with a thunderous crash.

Silence returned to the northern road.

The surviving goblins stared at the smoldering corpse for only a heartbeat before panic overtook them. Their mocking laughter vanished, replaced by frightened shrieks as they scattered back into the darkness, disappearing into the forest as quickly as they had come.

For the first time since the attack began…

The fighting was over.

The only sounds that remained were the crackling of burning timber and the groans of the wounded.

Smoke drifted lazily between the trees, carrying with it the bitter scent of ash, blood, and scorched fur. The Minotaur’s massive corpse lay where it had fallen, its blackened hide still smoldering beneath the night sky while lantern light danced across the battlefield.

No one celebrated.

There were no cheers.

Only work.

The surviving guards moved quietly through the wreckage, pulling supplies from the overturned wagons and tending to the wounded. Others laid blankets over the fallen, speaking only when necessary.

Lune shouldered one end of a shattered wagon wheel while another soldier lifted the opposite side. Together they dragged it clear of the road before setting it aside.

Without a word, he moved on to the next task.

Feng was helping free one of the caravan oxen from its tangled harness while Redd knelt beside an injured soldier, soft white magick flowing from her staff as she mended a deep wound across his shoulder.

“You’ll be alright,” she said gently.

The young guard nodded weakly.

“…Thank you.”

Lune allowed himself the faintest smile.

At least some of them would make it home.

His eyes wandered across the road.

They found the soldier who had taken the arrow.

The man still lay where he had fallen, one of his companions quietly removing the broken helmet from his head.

Lune walked over.

Neither guard looked up as he approached.

He knelt beside the body and, after a brief hesitation, gently closed the man’s remaining eye.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You should be.”

The words struck harder than the Minotaur’s club.

Lune looked up.

A soldier stood a few paces away, his face streaked with dirt and dried blood. His shield hung loosely from one arm, while the other clenched so tightly around his sword that his knuckles had turned white.

His eyes were fixed entirely on Lune.

“You could do all of that…”

His voice shook.

“…this whole time?”

Lune held his gaze.

“…Yes.”

The answer hung between them.

The soldier laughed once.

It wasn’t amusement.

It was disbelief.

“My comrade’s dead.”

He pointed toward the body at Lune’s feet.

“He died while you were pretending to be a fucking archer.”

Silence.

“You had daggers.”

He took another step.

“That claymore…”

His voice cracked.

“You could’ve stopped that arrow.”

Lune lowered his eyes.

“…Maybe.”

Another guard looked over from farther down the road.

“And the shields…you only keep the good stuff you and your pawns, is it?”

“If you’d done any of that from the start…”

He glanced toward another body being covered nearby.

“…maybe Harlan wouldn’t be a fucking painting right now.”

One by one, more eyes settled on the Arisen.

No one raised a weapon.

No one shouted.

But grief has a way of looking for somewhere to land.

Feng crossed the road the moment she heard the voices.

“That’s enough.”

Every head turned toward her.

“You think he wanted any of this?” she demanded. “Every one of you ungrateful fucks would’ve died if he hadn’t—”

Lune raised a hand.

She stopped, teeth clinched hard enough to bleed.

He never looked at her. His exhausted eyes searched the crowd. Not a friend in sight. He knew this would happen. This was the cost of expectation.

“It’s alright.”

“No,” Feng replied immediately.

“It isn’t.”

Redd had joined them now, confusion plain across her face as she looked from one soldier to another.

“But…”

She frowned.

“He saved you.”

No one answered.

“He saved all of you.”

Still nothing.

The first soldier’s jaw tightened as he stood over a blanketed body.

“Not all.”

The words seemed to drain what little strength remained in Lune’s shoulders.

“…No,” he admitted quietly.

“He’s right.”

No one spoke after that.

The soldiers returned to their work. There was nothing left to say.

The silence that followed felt colder than any accusation.

Lune remained kneeling for another moment before rising to his feet.

He wandered toward the Minotaur’s corpse.

Redd and Feng watched him in silence. Lune moved through the aftermath like a shell of himself. Redd’s heart ached until tears threatened to spill. Feng burned with barely restrained anger. Neither knew how to help him.

He stopped beside the Minotaur’s massive arm, its smoldering corpse reflecting a faint orange light in his weary eyes.

The enormous beast looked smaller now somehow.

Less like a monster. More like another casualty.

His eyes settled on the thick iron collar around its neck.

A length of broken chain still hung from it, one end twisted and freshly snapped.

He reached down, turning one of the links between his fingers.

“Prisoner too, huh?”

he murmured.

“Well you’re free now.”

The words barely left his lips before he released the chain.

Behind him, the caravan slowly came back to life.

Broken wheels were replaced.

The surviving oxen were harnessed once more.

The wounded who could still walk climbed quietly back onto the wagons.

No one called for the Arisen.

No one thanked him.

The title Ser Arisen had vanished from their hearts, replaced with something aligned with disdain.

He was simply…

Lune.

Redd quietly fell into step beside him as the caravan began to move on without them.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

Finally, she looked up at him.

“…Does it hurt?”

He glanced down.

“My jaw?”

“When people are unfair.”

Lune was silent for several steps.

“…sometimes. But I’m sure they’re feeling the same.”

She looked back toward the soldiers ahead.

“You could have told them.”

“I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

He watched the road disappear beneath his boots.

“No explanation I could give would bring their friends back.”

Redd considered that answer.

She wasn’t convinced.

Ahead of them, Feng walked without turning around.

“…You’re wrong.”

Lune looked up.

She kept her eyes on the road.

“They’re grieving.”

Another few steps passed.

“But don’t mistake their grief for truth.”

Lune didn’t answer.

The caravan continued north beneath the stars, its wheels creaking softly through the darkness.

Behind them, the smoke from the battlefield slowly disappeared into the night.

Ahead of them…

The pawn shrine waited.

They had turned it into a song by the third drink.

Claire, the barmaid, stood behind the counter with an apple balanced on her head.

“This is a terrible idea,” she said.

“It’s tradition now!” someone shouted.

Lune stepped into the open space between tables, bow in one hand, cup in the other. He took a big swig as the crowd cheered him on, then set the mug down on the bar.

“Alright,” he called, wiping foam from his mustache. "The people call for a public execution."

He walked up to Claire, straightening the fruit on her head.

"This apple stands accused of grave offenses indeed. What say you in your defense?"

The crowd went quiet, waiting as if the apple might actually confess its crimes. Lune looked at it curiously. He rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, then spread his arms wide and turned to the crowd.

"There you have it," he yelled. "No defense for its crimes. I, the Arisen, judge ye'...Guilty."

The crowd erupted in excitement and laughter.

"Hold still Claire!" A man from the back yelled.

“The fuck do ya think I'm doin'?” Claire snapped. “I’d like to see you do this sober!”

Laughter roared.

Lune lifted his bow. The room held its breath.

He shifted—no longer drunk hero, but something sharper beneath it.

He released.

The arrow crossed the tavern and pinned the apple cleanly to the far wall.

Silence. Then chaos.

Cheers broke the room apart.

“A mad bastard!”

“Do it again!”

Claire checked her head, then laughed harder than anyone.

Lune swept into a bow so theatrical it nearly put him on his ass.

A great bear of a man crashed through the crowd and caught Lune by both shoulders.

“Mad fucking bastard you are!” the man bellowed.

Lune barely had time to grin before the man yanked him close until their foreheads came together.

“You saved us today!”

“I shot it in the eye,” Lune said. “Gravity did the frightening work.”

“Not quite familiar with this 'Gravity' fellow" the man swayed, ale clearly getting the better of him. "But someone ought to suck his cock proper.”

Lune gave a smile that froze between whoa and wow. 

The man considered his words, then threw an arm in the air. 

“Fuck it—I’ll do it!”

The tavern erupted.

"Now now...," Lune said loudly, using his hands to quiet the crowd. "That griffin would have opened me from chin to balls if Redd and Feng had not been my heart and shield."

Then came the twist.

“Aye, that’s our Arisen for you,” the man said low at first, then grew louder. "Felling one griffin by day, two goddesses by night!"

Redd smiled softly. Feng did not.

“Careful,” Lune said, cup raised like a warning. “I praised their skill, not their mercy.”

The cheering swallowed it anyway.

“To the Arisen’s loyal women!”

Feng’s cup struck the table once. Quietly. Only Redd noticed.

Lune’s smile faded slightly, then his cup lowered.

Feng’s scowl should have held his attention.

Her stance did instead.

Most of her weight sat on one leg. The other barely touched the floor, proud enough to pretend it wasn’t hurt. Lune remembered the griffin’s claw catching her during the fight.

He slipped through the crowd and joined them at the wall.

Lune hooked one foot around the leg of an empty stool and dragged it over. The wood scraped softly beneath the roar of the room. He nudged it against Feng’s shin.

She looked down at it.

Then at him.

He said nothing, but his face did all the talking.

I noticed. I won't ask. Have a seat already.

She did. Reluctantly.

Redd watched both of them.

Feng said quietly, “You enjoy this.”

“The cheering?”

“Being seen.”

Lune exhaled through his nose. “A little.”

"Of course," Feng said, eyes sharp. “They only ever see you anyway.”

That landed.

Lune tilted his head slightly, studying her instead of the room. A small smile tugged at him.

“Tell me then, Feng,” he said softly. “Whose eyes do you long for?”

Redd’s fingers paused on the table.

Feng looked away from him, but her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “You already know the answer to that.”

A beat.

“Do not make me say it aloud.”

Redd’s breath caught quietly, almost a laugh she refused to give shape.

Lune’s smile turned gentler now. “No fun at all.”

Feng’s gaze flicked, just for a moment—dangerous, restrained, almost pleased.

“I prefer reserved,” she said.

Redd finally exhaled, soft amusement breaking the tension at the edge of her mouth.

Lune knew she wasn’t going to answer outright, and she didn’t, but this was better than getting his head bitten off. 

He leaned in, placing both elbows on the table. He pulled the plate of bread toward him, then picked up the loaf. 

“There are only two sets of eyes I care about,” he confessed. “The rest are just noise.”

Feng studied him.

Redd held both of them steady with touch alone. For a moment, it seemed like Feng's anger had finally broken. 

Lune went to reach for her other hand that rested on the table, but right before he made contact, she pulled away and folded her arms.

“Then stop letting others decide what we are.”

Lune let out an exhausted sigh. “You think I am in control of that?”

“No,” she said. “I think you'd rather not be bothered to correct them.”

That was all. No sermon. No collapse. Just truth.

Redd’s patience snapped quietly. “I wanted tonight,” she said. “Not this… argument.”

Her voice lowered, just a bit, frustration still layered underneath. “Just this table. Just us. Alive and together.”

The room roared around them again, but it felt farther away.

Lune leaned back in his chair, a long breath followed—one part ashamed, the other defeated.

“I wanted to sit here with you both and just be,” she said,

She looked between them both.“They can only shout stupid shit because they’re alive to shout it. And they’re alive because of us.”

Feng’s arms loosened. Redd’s hand found hers once more, and Feng’s fingers tightened faintly around it.

Her eyes dropped to the table, jaw shifting once like she had bitten back whatever sharp thing she meant to say next.

She still looked annoyed.

Just not certain who she was annoyed at anymore.

Lune tore off a piece of bread and studied it like it might tell him how not to ruin this. Then his expression softened, all the performance draining out of him.

Redd stood, stretching slowly enough for both Feng and Lune to notice. Feng’s eyes flicked once before she looked away. Lune made no such effort.

Redd caught both reactions instantly, smugness curling at the corner of her mouth as she turned toward the hall leading to the rooms. She paused beside the table just long enough to snatch the bread clean from Lune’s hand and take a bite.

“You two can keep arguing if you’d like,” she said around the mouthful, voice warm with mischief. “I, however, have a far more enjoyable use for that energy.”

Feng smirked, tilting her head as she watched Redd disappear down the hall.

“Hate watching her leave,” she said. “But it’s always a hell of a view.”

Lune held out another piece of bread.

Feng looked at it. Then at him.

The offer was ridiculous. Small. Almost stupid.

Somehow, that made it harder to refuse.

She glanced after Redd one last time, sighed, and let the tension fall from her shoulders. Lune smiled, but wisely said nothing.

Feng rolled her eyes and took the bread. Their fingers brushed. Briefly. Enough.

They had found each other again.

Feng pushed herself up from the stool with all the dignity of a queen refusing to admit the throne had helped.

The first step betrayed her anyway.

Barely.

Just a hitch.

Gone so quickly no one in the tavern noticed.

No one except Lune.

His mouth opened.

Feng pointed at him without looking back. “Not. One. Word.”

Lune closed his mouth.

Redd laughed somewhere ahead of them.

[Later in the room]

The room above the Stardrop Inn held the tavern’s noise like a secret.

It came up through the floorboards in dull waves: laughter, boots, a slurred attempt at song. Every now and then someone shouted Lune’s name, and the sound arrived thinner up here, stripped of all its glory.

Feng sat against the headboard with the blankets gathered low around her hips. The candlelight touched too much of her skin. Her armor was in a heap near the chair. Her sword leaned against the wall. Her injured leg rested carefully beneath the linen, angled in a way she hoped looked casual.

It did not feel casual.

She felt exposed.

Worse, she felt aware of being exposed.

Lune stood across the room near the washbasin with a towel tied around his waist. His hair had come loose from its usual bun and hung around his face in dark, damp strands. Without the crowd behind him, without the bow in his hand, he looked painfully uncertain.

Feng almost preferred the boasting.

At least that version of him gave her something easy to scowl at.

Redd stood behind him, bare shoulders glowing softly in the candlelight. She ran her hands over his chest and rested her chin against him, watching Feng over his shoulder.

“There he is,” Redd murmured. “The terrifying griffin-slayer.”

Lune closed his eyes. “Please don’t call me that.”

“You hate it.”

“Yes.”

“Then stop slaying griffins.”

Her smile turned wicked.

“What,” Redd asked, her hands stopping as she looked up at him. “Drunken idiots can worship you, but I can’t?“

Lune stiffened.

“You know I wouldn’t—“

“Shh.”Redd put a finger to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.”

Feng’s mouth twitched despite herself.

Lune opened one eye. “You enjoy my discomfort.”

“I enjoy many things about you.” Redd’s fingers trailed over the scar made by the dragon. “Some more than others.”

That made him go quiet.

Feng watched the shift happen. The joke had been there, ready on his tongue. Then it faded before it could come out. His eyes found hers across the room and stayed there, searching for the right way to cross the space between them.

He did not know how.

Neither did she.

Redd saw that too.

She stepped away from him, reached for the knot of her towel, and let the cloth fall to the floor.

The room seemed to draw in a breath.

Lune’s cleverness abandoned him completely. Feng’s eyes dipped before she caught herself, then rose again with all the dignity she could gather.

Redd stood between them, pleased with the damage she had done.

“You two can be so exhausting,” she said.

Feng lifted her chin. “You invited us.”

Redd glanced back at Lune, then turned back to Feng.

“Yes. You,” she said. “No one invited your little argument.”

Lune’s mouth opened, but words never found him. His eyes met Feng’s, and for a moment neither of them could pretend they hadn’t dragged the argument in with them.

She took him by the towel and pulled him closer to the bed. Lune came easily, but his gaze remained on Feng, wary in a way that made something in her chest ache. Redd climbed onto the mattress first, moving with warm confidence, then crawled toward Feng.

Feng’s fingers tightened in the sheets.

Redd stopped close enough that her breath brushed Feng’s mouth.

“Release it,” She said, lowering her eyes to Feng’s mouth. “Or I shall do it for you.”

Feng looked past her, toward Lune. “I was…considering it.”

Redd smiled. “You consider anger the way priests consider scripture.”

“It has served me well.”

“It’s kept you company,” Redd said. “That isn’t the same thing.”

Feng’s expression sharpened.

Lune shifted beside the bed, but Redd lifted one hand without looking at him.

Stay.

He did.

That annoyed Feng almost as much as it pleased her.

Redd placed both hands on Feng’s face. The touch was gentle, but there was command in it. Redd had a way of making softness feel impossible to disobey.

“No more guessing,” Redd said. Her thumb swept once along Feng’s cheek. “Look at him.”

Feng’s eyes narrowed. “You have become very bold.”

“I have always been bold. You’ve been distracted.”

“By what?”

“Pretending you don’t want to be wanted.”

Feng’s breath caught.

The hit was clean. No cruelty in it. That made it harder to deflect.

Redd leaned in and kissed her.

Feng made a small sound against her mouth, startled by her own reaction. Her hand rose as if to push Redd back, but her fingers closed around Redd’s shoulder instead. Redd smiled into the kiss, slow and knowing, and Feng hated that she could feel it.

Lune looked away.

Redd broke the kiss just enough to speak.

“Don’t.”

His gaze returned.

Feng felt it settle on her. Careful. Hungry. Unsure. He looked at her like he wanted too much and trusted himself too little.

Redd moved lower, her hands sliding down Feng’s sides. Feng stiffened at first, pride trying to outrun sensation. Then Redd found the place where pride lost its footing.

Feng jerked.

One hand flew to the headboard.

“Oh,” Redd breathed, delighted.

“Do not sound so pleased with yourself,” Feng said, though the words came out unsteady.

Redd only smiled and continued.

Feng’s head tipped back against the wood. Her eyes shut for half a second before she forced them open again.

Lune was still watching.

The sight of him nearly undid her worse than Redd’s mouth did. His hair loose. His hands curled against the edge of the mattress. His face stripped of every easy mask. He was looking at her like the world had gone quiet for him too.

Feng stared back because looking away felt like losing.

Redd’s hand reached behind her.

Lune understood the invitation before she had to make it plain. He climbed onto the bed behind her, careful at first, then less careful when Redd pulled him close with a soft, impatient sound. His chest pressed to her back. His mouth found her shoulder.

Redd’s breath broke.

Feng saw Lune’s face change when he joined her rhythm. His brows drew together. His mouth parted against Redd’s skin. The reaction was raw enough that Feng felt it somewhere deeper than jealousy, deeper than want.

He looked at Feng through it.

Still.

The argument sat between them, wounded and stupid.

Feng hated that it had followed them this far.

Lune looked as though he hated it too.

Redd lifted her head from Feng’s lap, lips parted around a breath. Her eyes moved from Feng to Lune, then back again. That mischievous softness returned, the one that always meant she knew exactly what everyone needed and was about to become insufferable about it.

“Come here,” she told him.

Lune’s hand slid along Redd’s waist, but he hesitated.

Feng saw the hesitation and braced before she could stop herself.

“Wait my—,” she started to warn.

Then her hand caught his wrist. Lune stopped immediately.

The tavern noise below seemed to fade beneath the sound of his breath.

“I know,” he said.

Feng stared at him.

Of course he knew.

He had known downstairs. He had known before she sat. He had known when she took that first careful step and pretended it was nothing.

Redd went still between them, watching.

Lune reached for Feng slowly, giving her every chance to refuse. His hand slid beneath her knee, warm and careful. He lifted only when she allowed it, shifting her leg a little to the side, then higher, testing the angle with maddening patience.

Feng waited for pain.

It did not come.

Her grip on the sheets loosened.

Lune noticed that too.

His thumb brushed the inside of her knee once, barely there.

Feng swallowed.

“So he can be careful,” she said.

His mouth softened. Almost a smirk but focus had taken priority. “I have many talents.”

Redd laughed quietly, pressing her cheek to Feng’s thigh.

The sound warmed the room.

Lune moved closer, lowering himself over Feng with one arm braced beside her head. He kept his weight off her injured side. Even now, even like this, he paid attention.

That was the unbearable part.

Feng could have handled desire. Desire was simple. Desire could be met, denied, mocked, sharpened into something useful.

Attention was more dangerous.

Attention got beneath armor.

Lune’s hair fell around them as he leaned down. Feng lifted one hand and caught a dark strand between her fingers.

“If you say something clever,” she whispered, “I will hurt you.”

Lune smiled for the first time since they entered the room. Small. Real.

“Then I’ll be quiet,” he said.

Feng pulled him down by his hair and kissed him.

The restraint in him lasted only a breath. Then his mouth answered hers, careful and wanting at once, and Feng’s body betrayed her with a sound she would deny until death.

Redd made a pleased noise beneath them.

“There,” she whispered. “Much better.”

Feng would have told her to be quiet too, but Redd chose that moment to remind her exactly who had taken command of the room.

The words dissolved before they reached Feng’s tongue.

Lune felt it happen. His hand tightened in the sheets beside her head, but he did not look away. Feng held his gaze through the next wave of pleasure because somewhere inside the heat and candlelight and Redd’s wicked smile, the look between them had changed.

The crowd had called her one of his loyal women.

Lune looked at her now as if loyalty had nothing to do with it.

Feng’s hand slid from his hair to the back of his neck. Her fingers tightened there.

“Stay there,” she said.

Lune’s breath hitched.

Redd looked up, eyes bright with victory. “There she is.”

Feng glared down at her. “Do not start.”

“Oh, I started this a while ago.”

Lune dropped his forehead against Feng’s, laughing under his breath. The sound shook through him, soft and helpless.

Feng hated how much she loved it.

Below them, the Stardrop roared again. Someone shouted for the Arisen. Someone else bellowed the filthy verse of a song that had absolutely not existed an hour ago.

Lune did not move toward the sound.

Redd noticed.

Feng noticed too.

His eyes stayed on her.

For once, the legend could wait downstairs.