They left before dawn.
No cheers. No proud speeches. Just the soft scuff of boots on stone and a shared weight none of them had the strength to name. The excitement they'd felt when they first laid eyes on the Crown had faded. In its place was something sharper. Purpose, perhaps. But not the kind that lifted you up. The kind that pressed down. Heavy.
Torik walked in silence.
Last night, he hadn't slept much. Not because of dreams, but because of the clarity he found in the quiet. He had done his part. The job was done. The rest was... not his problem. That's what he told himself.
He pulled Kell aside as they got ready to leave.
"Kell, can we talk?"
They moved to the far wall, just out of earshot from the others. The flickering torchlight cast Kell's features into sharp relief.
Kell leaned in. "What is it?"
"Our deal," Torik said. "It was to steal the Crown. I did that. I held my end. Now let me hold you to yours. Let me go."
Kell looked at him for a long moment. His brow furrowed.
"Now? Here? After everything we've done? We still have a long way to go, boy. Don't you want to help us see it through?"
Torik crossed his arms, gaze low. "I'm not some hero, Kell. I'm just a thief. You may think highly of me, but I'm a selfish thief. That hasn't changed."
Kell grabbed him gently but firmly by the shoulders. "You don't have to be. This is your chance to change."
Torik looked away. The words hit harder than he wanted to admit.
"I am what I am," he said. "I came from nothing, and I owe the world nothing. What reason do I have to risk my life more than I already have? I'm not like you. Some highborn with ideals."
That did it.
Kell's voice rose, sudden and fierce. "You think I came from something? You think I was born into a golden hall with silk sheets? I was a street rat. Just like you."
Torik blinked.
"I wasn't born a soldier. I was born into a tavern gutter. My parents were butchered in front of me by thugs looking for coin. I survived on scraps. I learned to fight because no one else would protect me. But I didn't let that break me. I swore I would become someone that could stop it from happening to others."
Kell leaned in, eyes intense.
"So don't talk to me about fate. Don't act like the world wrote you into some small role and you must accept it. You're standing in a moment most men would sell their souls to reach. You can change. But only if you choose to."
Torik looked down. Words caught in his throat.
Kell exhaled and stepped back. "That said, a deal is a deal. You want to walk away, I won't stop you. Your debt is cleared."
The others were watching now. Dama, Ithren and Whistle were all pretending not to stare but failing.
Whistle broke the silence. "What's the buzz about? You two sound like a quarrelling couple. Need a priest or a sword?"
Kell opened his mouth, but Torik cut in.
"Just running through some plan B scenarios."
His voice was rough, eyes red.
They didn't press. They just returned to packing.
They left the hideout through the sewer routes and followed the tunnels until they emerged beyond Watchfort's walls. From there, they moved through the forest, careful to stay far from the road.
Kell walked at the rear. Whistle led from the front, sharp eyes watching for trouble.
Torik eventually slowed to match Kell's pace.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't know you grew up like that."
Kell didn't look over. "It's alright. Not many do. The point is, you shouldn't stop yourself from becoming something more just because you have a vendetta against the world."
Torik nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe you're right. I used to live just to make it to the next day. Steal a meal. Dodge the guards. But now... I feel like I have a reason to keep going."
Kell smiled. "We all do, lad. We just forget it sometimes."
By midday, the city of Valebast appeared on the horizon.
"Home sweet hell," Whistle muttered.
Dama eyed the distant walls. "They'll be on alert. The Bound."
"They're preparing for war," Ithren said. "We need a quiet way in."
Kell looked to Torik. "You're the expert."
Torik smirked. "Eastern wall. Water intake. Bars are loose."
"Bingo!" Whistle shouted. "Same one I used in my glory days."
They made their way through the brush and found the old grate. Whistle passed out disguise clothes, robes, sashes and cloaks.
One by one, they slipped through the intake tunnel and into the city.
The streets were tense. Robed Bound adherents patrolled in groups. Murmured prayers echoed from every corner.
"They'll turn this city on Ysara if it suits their needs," Kell whispered.
They avoided the main roads, hugging alleyways until they reached the edge of the keep. Torik shook his head.
"No clever way in here."
"Really?" Whistle gasped. "What, no hidden chimney route? I'm shocked."
Kell smirked and stepped forward. He approached the gate guards and whispered something. Then he pulled back his hood.
The guards froze. Recognition dawned, but they then acted normal and walked back into the keep.
Kell nodded to the others, and they followed around the keep walls to a small back door.
The door swung open, two soldiers standing straight and saluting him.
"No one knows I'm here," Kell ordered.
"Yes, sir," they said in hushed tones.
They navigated the halls quickly. They reached the High Lady's chamber, and the guards stood aside in shock when they saw his face.
"What is the-" Highlady Ysara stood quickly, astonished. "Kell?"
"Shh, my lady. We need secrecy."
She nodded, regaining composure. "I presume you succeeded then?"
Kell looked to Torik.
Torik stepped forward and opened the sack.
The Crown pulsed faintly in the torchlight.
Ysara stared. "I underestimated you, thief."
"Thanks, but job's not done yet, miss lady," Torik replied.
Kell smiled. Dama clapped Torik on the back.
"Sorry to interrupt but we have important matters, Is the artificer still here?" Ithren asked.
"Yes," Ysara said. "Shall I notify the Bound we regained the crown?"
"No," Kell said firmly. "Do you trust me, my lady?"
Ysara raised an eyebrow, "I do."
Kell breathed out, "The Bound are hypocrites, they are not our allies. Those knights they make... we believe they come from the crown. They use the power of The Last Titan, the very enemy of god, to create monstrosities.
Ysara stared, mouth slightly open. "Then we are truly in trouble."
The room fell silent.