Morning light streamed through the narrow window of the bunk room, pale and cold. The coins they'd given me the night before sat heavy in the pouch at my belt, clinking softly as I moved. I hadn't even opened it yet.
I sat on the edge of the cot, running a whetstone along the edge of my guild blade, watching faint sparks leap and die as steel kissed stone. The sound of other apprentices sparring outside drifted faintly through the walls—grunts, shouts, the clash of wood and metal.
Arya leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her cap pulled low to hide her eyes.
"You're up early," she said.
I didn't look up. "Didn't sleep much."
She smirked faintly and pushed off the frame, stepping into the room.
"Guild life getting to you already?"
I finally set the sword aside and met her gaze.
"No," I said. "Just… thinking."
Her eyes narrowed a little at that, but she didn't press. Instead, she tossed something at me—a folded notice parchment. I caught it one-handed and unfolded it.
More contracts.
Caravan escort to the western marshes. Wolf culling near the mountain passes. Another bandit nest northeast of here.
And at the bottom, written in darker ink: Request for apprentices with potential. Training in specialized techniques available.
I raised an eyebrow at her.
"You're already reading the board without me?"
She smirked and perched on the edge of a nearby cot.
"Someone has to," she said. "You take too long sharpening that thing."
I shook my head but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my mouth.
The truth was, something in me had shifted since last night. When we'd walked back into the guild yard with the bandit leader in tow, every pair of eyes had been on us. And I'd felt… taller somehow.
Like I belonged here.
Almost.
I stood, slipping the notice into my cloak, and slung the guild blade across my back.
"Let's see what else they've got," I said.
---
The main hall was already bustling when we arrived. Apprentices and journeymen crowded the notice board, arguing over contracts, jostling one another with good-natured shoves.
A man in a leather apron barked names from a long list, assigning sparring matches and cleaning duties.
But above the noise, one voice cut through it all—sharp, commanding.
"Lynn Holt!"
I turned.
The tall woman with the braided hair stood at the foot of the stairs, arms folded over her chest.
Her eyes found mine immediately, then flicked briefly to Arya.
"You," she said, jerking her chin at me. "Upstairs. Now."
Whispers rippled through the crowd as I stepped forward. Apprentices parted before me like water.
I followed her up the creaking wooden stairs, Arya trailing close behind.
She led us into a smaller chamber, lined with racks of unusual weapons—curved sabers, slender rapiers, axes etched with strange runes. On one wall hung a map of the region, marked with pins and colored ribbons.
The woman turned to me, her expression hard as iron.
"You've proven you can finish a job," she said. "But that doesn't make you guild material yet. Not really."
I held her gaze and didn't flinch.
"So what does?" I asked.
For the first time, the faintest hint of a smile touched her lips.
"Surviving what comes next."
She plucked a scroll from the wall map and tossed it onto the table in front of me.
It was a contract.
"Scout the southern pines. Investigate disappearances near the town of Hollowfield. Suspected wildlife or hostile bandits. Bring back a full report. Reward: 100 silver."
I frowned, scanning the details.
"Hollowfield?" I asked. "Why send apprentices to investigate something like this?"
Her smile widened, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"Because none of the journeymen want it," she said. "Too risky. Too many missing already."
I glanced at Arya.
Her lips quirked faintly.
"Sounds like our kind of job," she said.
I took the scroll and tucked it into my belt.
The woman nodded once.
"Good," she said. "Gear up and leave within the hour. And Holt?"
I paused at the door and glanced back at her.
Her eyes gleamed faintly in the morning light.
"Don't die out there," she said.
---
We left Highridge at midday, the road south winding through grassy hills that gradually gave way to thick forest. The sun was bright but the air beneath the trees quickly grew cool and damp, heavy with the smell of moss and pine.
Arya walked a few paces ahead, her hand never far from the dagger at her hip.
"Do you really think it's just bandits?" she asked over her shoulder.
I didn't answer right away.
The scroll hadn't said much, but the way the guildmaster had smiled when she handed it to me…
No.
I didn't think it was just bandits.
The woods grew darker as we pressed on, the light fading even though the sun was still high. Strange sounds came from deeper in the trees—rustles and snaps, too heavy for rabbits, too deliberate for wind.
By the time the road narrowed into little more than a game trail, Hollowfield lay just ahead.
We stopped at the crest of a hill and looked down at the town below.
Or what was left of it.
Roofs caved in. Doors hanging off their hinges. Smoke rising from a single collapsed chimney.
But no people.
No sound.
Arya's grip tightened on her dagger.
"Well," she said softly. "Here we are."
I adjusted the guild blade at my side and started down the hill.
Whatever was waiting for us in Hollowfield, it wasn't just bandits.
But then again… we weren't just rats anymore.
And this time, we'd be ready.