They found a hollow that smelled faintly of pine and old soot. The brazier here had real coals. Someone had left kindling. Someone else had once thought to build a place for laughter.
Riven was on form. He started telling the same story about the mountain-worm, but this time he added sound effects and an opera voice. Kael pretended to be unimpressed, but the laugh came out anyway. Seren rolled her eyes, then smirked when Riven did the opera bit badly on purpose.
They ate the small meal they had — stale bread warmed on coals, a sliver of meat for Riven, and a little salt Kael saved. Little things become festivals when you're hungry.
Riven kept testing the edges of danger with jokes. "If we make it out, I want a statue. Gold, obviously. A plaque that says: 'Riven — the man who swore at every bell and survived.'" He thumped his chest. "I deserve it."
Seren wrote: Statue of an idiot. She folded it and tossed it into the fire, where it curled and blackened. She handed Kael the ashes in a tiny fold of cloth like a medal.
Kael laughed out loud at that — full and unexpected. It felt like a crack in something tight inside him. Riven cheered as if he'd achieved a goal, making a stupid victory noise.
They told small stories. Riven's tales were huge and goofy. Kael's were small and pointed. Seren only wrote, but the notes were aimed and sharp — the best roasting. Someone had called her cold earlier; that night, her notes warmed their shoulders.
After a while, Riven dozed, head against a wall. Kael watched him, thinking of how stubborn he was under the jokes. Seren tucked a scrap with idiot behind Riven's ear like a badge.
They fell into a quiet that felt less like fear and more like a truce. Kael opened the Key and turned it over in his palm, thinking how much it had bought and how little. He thought of the ledger and the boy who'd stolen bread and the market where the coin slid into sleeves. He thought of Lyra and how easy it was to feel small under someone's gaze.
A small pop of coal startled them. The fire hissed. For a second, Kael felt very human. Just three people with a weak fire and too many names.
A sound rolled in the stone like a small acknowledgement.
BOOOONG.
Kael looked at both of them and said nothing. They both understood: the world was still keeping a list. But they had laughs and a warm place and a stupid, loud friend to snore through the night.