The storm had passed, but Greyspire still burned.
Smoke drifted across the mountains, curling into the pale sky like ghosts that refused to leave. The air reeked of ash and mana discharge — sharp enough to sting the lungs.
Rowan leaned against a shattered boulder, wrapping fresh bandages around his forearm. The skin beneath still crackled faintly with blue light, scars from forcing his mana past its limit.
Cass whistled low as he dumped a pile of salvaged gear beside him. "Well, that was fun. Ten outta ten for explosions, zero for subtlety."
Rowan didn't even glance up. "You're lucky we got out alive."
"I prefer to think of it as style," Cass said, grinning. "The 'barely surviving' look suits us."
Lynx huffed nearby, tails flicking irritably as she watched smoke rise from the ruins below. "Halden's fortress is done for. The slaves are scattering. The Phoenix crest's influence here is broken… for now."
"Yeah," Mira muttered. "For now."
She was crouched by a stream running down the mountain slope, washing the soot from her hands. The water was icy enough to bite. She didn't flinch.
Cass plopped down on a rock. "So… what's next? We got one noble down, six more to go, and no clue where the next is hiding."
"Rest first," Rowan said simply. "We move when the smoke clears."
Cass blinked. "Wait, rest? You? Mister 'sleep-is-for-the-weak' wants a nap?"
Rowan ignored him, staring out at the wreckage of Greyspire. The sun caught on the broken metal and frozen stone — once a monument of power, now a graveyard.
He didn't feel triumph. Just… weight.
---
Later, when the sun dipped below the mountains, they made camp near the treeline.
The fire crackled lazily, throwing soft gold light across tired faces. For once, the world around them felt still.
Cass snored the loudest, wrapped in his cloak like a burrito. Lynx lay curled on the other side of the flames, her nine tails twitching as she slept, fur shimmering faintly with mana sparks.
Rowan sat apart from them, leaning against a log, hands clasped around a tin mug of cooling tea. He stared at the flames, eyes unfocused, thoughts elsewhere — maybe back in Greyspire, maybe further.
Mira sat down across from him, the soft rustle of her cloak breaking the quiet. "Can't sleep?"
He shook his head. "Too loud."
She frowned, glancing around. "Loud?"
He tapped his temple. "Up here."
Mira smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah. I know that one."
For a while, neither spoke. The fire filled the silence for them.
Then, softly — "You didn't have to catch that blast for me."
Rowan looked up, surprised. "You'd have done the same."
"Maybe," she said, "but still. Thank you."
He shrugged, gaze dropping back to the flames. "It's what my father would've done."
Something in his voice cracked a little when he said that. Mira noticed.
She leaned forward slightly. "You talk about him sometimes. The way people talk about someone they're still trying to understand."
Rowan's lips twitched into a sad smile. "That's because I am. He wasn't perfect — he broke a lot of things, and people. But he believed the world could change. I guess… I'm still trying to see if he was right."
Mira's eyes softened. "You want to prove him wrong or prove him right?"
"I don't know," he said quietly. "Maybe both."
The wind picked up, scattering sparks into the night. Mira tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear, watching him.
"You know," she said softly, "when I met your father, he was reckless. Braver than anyone I'd ever seen. He'd charge into hell if he thought it might save someone. You remind me of him sometimes."
Rowan chuckled under his breath. "That's not always a compliment."
"No," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips, "but sometimes it's the reason people follow you."
Their eyes met again — firelight reflected in both, warm and unguarded. The world felt smaller for a moment.
Then Cass mumbled in his sleep, "—stop flirting, we're all gonna die anyway—"
Mira's face went scarlet instantly. "He's asleep, right?"
Rowan bit back a laugh. "Pretty sure. But I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."
"Good," she said quickly, looking away. "You didn't."
The fire crackled again, filling the gap between them.
---
Hours passed. The stars blinked awake above the dark sky — cold, distant, and infinite.
Rowan eventually rose and walked to the edge of the clearing, where the forest opened to the valley below. The remains of Greyspire glimmered faintly in the moonlight.
Mira followed, quiet as snowfall. "You're thinking again."
He smiled faintly without turning. "Bad habit."
"Useful one," she said. "Someone's gotta keep us alive."
He tilted his head slightly. "You trust me that much already?"
"Not yet," she replied with a half-smirk. "But you're getting there."
That pulled a low chuckle out of him — soft, rare, real.
The cold wind brushed past them, carrying the faint smell of ash and pine. Mira stepped closer, folding her arms. "We can't keep doing this forever. Every noble we face will be worse than the last."
"I know."
"So why keep going?"
Rowan's gaze hardened on the ruins below. "Because if we stop, my father's death means nothing. The people buried in those mines mean nothing. I won't let that happen."
His words carried a quiet fire — not loud or desperate, but deep, steady, burning from somewhere that had nothing left to lose.
Mira watched him, the faintest ache forming in her chest. "You really are your father's son," she murmured.
Rowan turned slightly. "Is that good or bad?"
"Ask me when we're not surrounded by corpses," she said.
He laughed softly again, then looked out at the valley once more. "We'll head east tomorrow. Toward Valecrest. Rumor says the next noble — Lady Selara — runs her domain like a golden cage."
Mira nodded. "Then that's where we start breaking bars."
They stood there a while longer, side by side in the quiet — two silhouettes outlined by moonlight and ash.
Rowan didn't realize how close she'd stepped until he felt her shoulder brush his. She didn't move away. Neither did he.
For a heartbeat, the world didn't feel so heavy.
---
By morning, the fire was ash, the camp cold.
Cass stretched with a groan. "So, what's the plan, fearless leader?"
Rowan adjusted his coat, eyes sharp again. "We find Lady Selara. And we make her talk."
Lynx yawned, tails flicking. "You think she'll hand over a key just because you ask nicely?"
Rowan's lips curved into a thin smile. "No. But it's worth asking first."
Cass snorted. "Yeah. Classic Rowan. Always polite before the explosions."
As they packed up and headed east, Mira walked a few steps behind Rowan, her thoughts tangled.
The snow had melted. The air was warmer. But somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that the warmth had less to do with the weather — and more with the man walking just ahead of her.