The night outside the cave was restless. The wind carried the scent of blood and ash, curling through the cracks in the stone like a warning that the world hadn't forgotten them. Inside, the fire burned low, throwing long shadows across the walls, each one twisting like restless spirits.
Ragnar sat close to the flames, sharpening a blade that wasn't his. He had taken it from a dead man hours ago, yet the steel still hummed faintly with the trace of a Law.
Every scrape of the whetstone against the edge echoed in the silence, steady and sharp.
Selene was watching him. She didn't speak, but the way her silver eyes lingered carried questions Ragnar refused to answer. Her chains glowed faintly, reminding them both of the curse gnawing at her life. She hid her pain well, yet Ragnar noticed how tightly her hands curled around her knees when the fire flickered.
At the mouth of the cave, Kael leaned against the wall, arms folded, silent as ever. He was a shadow waiting to move, his patience heavier than steel. Dax muttered to himself, tossing pebbles into the fire, while Ruin sat further back, his expression unreadable, but his eyes fixed on Ragnar with suspicion.
The silence broke with a bitter laugh.
"You know," Dax said, voice low but restless, "I thought following you would mean answers. A plan. Something more than hiding in a cave, waiting for the next bastard to show up and cut us down."
Ragnar didn't look up. The whetstone scraped again, sparks dancing briefly. "Then leave."
Dax stiffened, but Ruin's smirk cut in. "Told you. He doesn't lead—he devours. We're nothing but kindling for his fire."
The words hung heavy, but Selene finally spoke. Her voice was quiet, yet it carried sharper weight than either man's.
"Do you think you're any different, Ruin? You followed him here because you saw something you wanted. Strength. Survival. Maybe even revenge. Don't twist it into anything noble."
Ruin's smirk faltered. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Ragnar lifted his gaze from the blade, his crimson-black eyes catching the firelight. For a moment, everyone felt the weight of his stare.
"I won't beg you to stay," he said flatly. "But understand this—alone, you're already dead. Stay near me, and maybe you'll last longer. That's the only promise I'll ever give.
"The fire popped, filling the silence.
Selene's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "You're terrible at speeches, monster."
Dax snorted, shaking his head, but the tension eased just slightly. Even Ruin looked away, unwilling to press further.
Only Kael finally moved, stepping closer to the fire. His shadow stretched long, darkening the flames for an instant.
"You speak of survival," he said quietly. "But survival isn't enough. Men without purpose crumble faster than corpses. So tell me, Ragnar—what's the reason you keep fighting?"
Ragnar paused. The whetstone stilled in his hand. For the briefest moment, the cave seemed to hold its breath.
Then, slowly, he set the blade down and met Kael's sharp, unblinking stare.
"The reason?" His voice was low, heavy. "Because the world thinks I don't deserve one."
The words cut through the silence like a knife.
The fire guttered, shadows twisting across the walls. And though no one replied, each of them carried that answer into the quiet of their own hearts.
Outside, the night deepened. Somewhere beyond the hills, a horn sounded faintly—the sound of hunters drawing closer.
The fire cracked. Ragnar's shadow pulsed.
And none of them slept.