Melkna’s court erupted in chaos as everyone hurriedly prepared for departure under the fading summer sun that would offer us a few more hours of daylight. Each nod of acknowledgment slowed my progress toward the stables. The groom greeted me with a silent wave as I entered. Only the soft snorts and shifting hooves of the horses disturbed the stillness. I quietly wandered between the stalls, letting the cool air and scent of hay settle my thoughts. I stopped behind a stone arch when I heard Miadiel’s voice, hesitant to interrupt.

  “Did you pack provisions for the journey?” Miadiel asked, voice even. “I will only stop to let the horse rest.”

  “Where are you going?” Mherlk asked, falsely innocent.

  “Eternal.”

  Her soft laugh told me everything I needed to know about Mherlk’s face. Through the wall, his energy dimmed, like the warmth of a fire suddenly smothered.

  “He is not as fearsome as ‘Lyan claims,” she tried to reassure him.

  I stepped from my hiding place, unable to resist. “Trust her. Everyone who met him returned alive… I guess?”

  “Stop frightening everyone like that,” she chided, but I caught the smirk in her voice.

  The tension broke. Mherlk smiled as he tightened the strap on her packs.

  “No word from Sahar?”

  “None.”

  She exhaled sharply, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “This man…”

  I gave a quiet nod. “He’ll have some outrageous excuse.”

  Her horse stamped and snorted, more eager to leave than its rider. “Going alone. Again.”

  “Mherlk is with me. And you too are leaving alone,” I replied.

  “He would follow you into the fire. And I am always the one who pulls you out.” I took her extended arm in mine. “But I won’t be there this time.”

  “I know.” I tightened my grip. “If our paths don’t cross again—”

  “Don’t.” She whispered as her grip tightened more. I clung to her. Longer than I should have. Longer than I could afford. Because if I were anyone else, I could freely ride to Eternal with her.

  “Make sure we see each other again,” she insisted.

  “I’ll try.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Her eyes on mine as she slowly pulled free.

  But it was all I had.

  She turned to Mherlk as she mounted her horse. “Take care of her.”

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  He raised a hand in salute, nodding once.

  She smiled, then turned, the sound of hooves striking stone drowned out my farewell.

  “She is right. You should wait for us.” Jhoir’s voice surprised me. He sat on a bench, looking at me.

  “The people of Tur can’t,” I replied.

  “That’s not why you are going before us.” His voice was gentle but firm.

  I turned to face him. “Does it matter why?”

  “It matters that you think it’s normal to rush headlong into death.”

  I turned away, hurt by his words.

  “Worrying will kill me faster than patching you up,” his voice cracked. “And when you die—everything you have built breaks.”

  “I am not planning to die—”

  “No one ever does!” He screamed. Jhoir, always the first to charge into battle was shaking.

  “If I die, he leads.”

  “A sacrifice had always been the way to push the Order forward,” I silently muttered. “It has always been a commander’s fate, hasn’t it?” His expression broke as he read on my lips.

  “Just be alive when we get there. That’s all I ask,” he implored.

  I looked in his eyes, trying to find comforting words for a short time. Unable to muster anything, I turned away. “Are we ready to leave?”

  “We can go now,” Mherlk answered, pointing the bags on his horse. “We’ve enough provisions to reach the Third Kingdom!”

  Without a look at Jhoir, I headed toward him. “Ready to follow me one more time?” I asked as I mounted and settled into the saddle in one smooth motion.

  His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “Life would be dull otherwise.”

  “But this time, we may not come back.” I warned him.

  He shrugged, completely unfazed. “What could possibly go wrong, fighting beside the mortal echo of the goddess Rikka?”

  Only those who never met her said that.

  “We ride,” I said.

  We rode in comfortable silence. Mherlk had always understood when to talk and when not to. Purple petals still clung to my hair, caught in strands of the same hue. We had followed the muddy trail that wound toward the northern plateau and by the time we reached its end, the sun had slipped beneath the horizon. Its last light brushed the whole valley like a fading blessing. That’s when he spoke.

  “Jhoir was not himself. He was terrified and not only for you,” he said, keeping pace beside me.

  “I know,” I replied after a while.

  “But I’m not.”

  I glanced at him, amused. He was the only one who didn’t judge me, and I didn’t need to promise him anything.

  “The village is preparing to celebrate,” Mherlk observed as we pressed forward.

  The marketplace pulsed with life. Below, lights shimmered like a river of gold—spilling from the northern hills into the southern forest, winding west along the road that slipped toward the restless sea, and stretching east to Melkna, perched above the land like a silent sentinel.

  “The good side of this story,” I said with a laugh, “is that the villagers will get to celebrate twice this year.”

  “I’m eager to see that,” he replied, bitterness edging his voice.

  Tomorrow, the citadel would stand nearly empty. Theresa and a handful of apprentices left behind. A hundred of us would gather to fight in the same place—enough to topple a kingdom, yet against an equal legion of malds, we may not last a heartbeat. Everyone’s lives rested in my hands.

  “We came from different places for the same reason. Don’t torture yourself,” Mherlk said, as if he read my thoughts

  “How?”

  “By accepting it,” he said. “Everyone who joins the Order knows how it ends. As Commanders, we don’t choose their fate—we only guide them while they walk toward it.”

  “We?” I asked.

  He smiled, childish. “Don’t take me for a fool. We both know I will be a much better commander than you.”

  I studied him, struck by the certainty in his voice. Long gone was the apprentice who once clung to every word of my stories.

  “Then let me be your sword for the rest of your short life.”

  He raised his eyebrow, feigning confusion.

  “Don’t take me for a fool,” I added. “We both know I am the better fighter.”

  He burst out laughing before accelerating his mount.

  “Save us!”

  A man screamed before falling into the dirt. A bhor emerged behind him, its malevolent gaze locking onto us. With a swift, brutal motion, it planted its sharp foot on the man’s head, crushing it with a sickening crack. His lifeless eyes, still open, stared straight at me.