“How’s the others?” I asked as a pair of Jerald’s men hauled themselves up the ropes and disappeared into the moonlight above.

  He let out a measured breath. “Battered. Shaken. But alive.”

  Relief relaxed the tightness in my chest. “Good.”

  “They’re devastated though… They think you’re dead.”

  The words landed harder than any blow. My stomach dipped and stayed there. I had expected it. After the cave-in, after everything, what else were they meant to think. Still, hearing it said out loud made it real in a way I had not prepared for.

  I swallowed. “How did you find me?”

  Jerald huffed a short laugh. “After all the noise you made? Hard to miss. We’ve been tracking the trolls for days now. Ever since you vanished.”

  “Days?” I stared at him. “Wait. Trolls. As in more than one?”

  He nodded, the humour gone. “There’s been several attacks. Livestock mostly. One villager. A few guards.”

  A dull ache settled behind my ribs as names tried to surface. “Damn,” I muttered. Faces. A farm on the road. A stubborn old man and his diva cow. I pushed the thoughts down before they could take shape. “Anyone I know?”

  Jerald shook his head. “No one from Brookfield. A cottage farther down the river. We’ve been circling the area ever since.”

  I let out a breath I had not realised I was holding. “So why so many trolls?”

  Jerald made a low, irritated sound in his throat. “Not sure... But the lads think something’s drawing them in.”

  A signal came from above. Jerald passed me a rope, then stopped and looked me over properly.

  “No,” he muttered. “There’s no way you’re climbing in that state.”

  I didn’t argue. My legs trembled just from standing. Jerald gave a short order and his men moved at once, tying a loop into the rope and settling it around me. The lift was slow and awkward, each jolt sending fresh aches through my body, but I clenched my jaw and endured it.

  When I finally broke the surface, the night air hit me like a blessing. Cool. Clean. I dragged in a deep breath, the scent of grass and damp earth filling my lungs. Trees loomed overhead as I felt the simple reassurance of solid earth beneath my feet and the open sky.

  I had not realised how much I had missed it.

  “We’ll have to seal this,” Jerald said as we moved away from the chasm. His gaze lingered on the broken ground, jaw tight. “Blasted fools.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  Brent answered instead. “The nobles. Always the nobles. Trolls, cave-ins, monster bait.”

  He did not raise his voice, but the bitterness was clear enough.

  Jerald met his gaze and the two of them shared a look that said far more than words. Around us, the men kept their distance, hoods drawn low, eyes scanning the tree line and the jagged crack in the earth as if expecting it to move again.

  “Alright,” Jerald said, slowing his pace as the others spread out ahead of us. “Since you’ve been dropped right into the middle of this, I’ll explain.”

  His voice stayed low. Controlled.

  “The nobles didn’t set this mess up for young aspirants like you. Not originally. It was meant as free training for their newest lordling recruits. A controlled hazard, they called it.”

  Brent snorted. “Tell him about the trials.”

  “I’m getting there,” Jerald said, shooting him a look. Then he turned back to me. “Not long after you vanished, the governing body at Caerwyn decided that certain aspirants who met the requirements would compete together. That means, nobles versus normal folk…”

  “Together?” I asked. “With the nobles’ lot?”

  Brent let out a sharp laugh. “For honour and riches, they’ll tell you. More like herding rivals into a slaughter pit and seeing who crawls out.”

  My stomach tightened. “That’s not right. They’ll crush anyone else. People will get hurt.”

  Jerald’s jaw worked. “More than hurt. Worse has happened before.”

  “It’s a power play,” said brent. “The bloody nobles are waving their—”

  “Brent,” Jerald warned.

  He cleared his throat. “Showing their true colours.”

  Jerald went on, eyes forward. “What doesn’t sit right is this. They didn’t stop at their own. Invitations went out to other kingdoms. And to the druids.”

  “So, it is a power play,” I said quietly. “Stack the field. Strengthen their own. Cheat their way ahead.”

  Jerald’s expression darkened.

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  They led me through the trees and onto a narrow forest path. I had no real sense of distance anymore, only the feeling that the world around me was wrong after so long underground. Too open. Too quiet.

  Behind us, a few of Jerald’s men broke off, heading back to seal the chasm while the rest turned toward home.

  Jerald handed me a waterskin. I took it without thinking and drank deeply, the cool rush catching me off guard. I had not realised how thirsty I was until my hands stopped shaking. The thought that I had spent days beneath the earth followed close behind, sharp enough to knot my stomach with hunger.

  The promise of food ahead was the only thing keeping me moving.

  My legs burned with every step. The ache crept up from my calves and settled into my hips, heavy and unrelenting. I kept quiet, stubborn pride holding my tongue. Jerald noticed anyway and slowed his pace until he walked beside me.

  “That was a clever trick back there,” he said quietly.

  “What trick?” I asked.

  He tilted his head slightly. “Right before I jumped in. I saw the thing grab you. Thought for a moment it had grabbed a statue.”

  I stumbled half a step. “You saw that?”

  “Briefly.” His eyes flicked ahead to where his men walked a short distance in front of us. “That’s a neat blessing you’ve gotten yourself… Best you don’t show that off. Not where others can see.”

  “Why?”

  “Because someone will try to bind it.” He kept his voice low. “And once that happens, it stops being yours.”

  I frowned. “Bind it how?”

  “By law. By magic. By leash.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter which. End result’s the same.”

  The word blessing sat wrong in my chest. The disguise wasn’t a blessing but the effect of the sword. I hesitated, then decided to test the ground.

  “Jerald,” I said, “I ran into a few rune items down there.”

  He nodded without slowing. “The nobles’ bait.”

  “Yeah. They all had small markings on them.”

  “Runes,” he said. “Ordinary objects don’t draw spriggans. Only things with magic woven into them.” His mouth twisted. “And the nobles weren’t about to toss away anything they’d miss.”

  I thought of goblets, rings, trinkets fused into stone and wood. Lesser treasures. Disposable ones.

  “So, they throw away junk with just enough power to draw monsters,” I said, more to myself than him.

  Jerald’s silence was answer enough. That meant the sword had absorbs runes that were weak. A spark of an idea flickered at the back of my mind.

  “Can runes be empowered? Like add multiple of the same together to make them stronger?”

  He shrugged. “I guess it can be done. But it would be very difficult and expensive. Probably far more expensive that making a pure high resonating rune to begin with… So yeah, those items were bound to be thrown away.”

  Brent slowed, head tilting slightly as if he had caught something in the air. He drifted back until he was walking alongside us.

  “We talkin’ about the nobles and their sudden excess of treasure this year?” he asked with a grin.

  Jerald nodded, moonlight catching in the silver in his hair. “You reckon the rumours were true?”

  Brent snorted softly. “Rumours? No chance. They raided that place. No doubt about it.”

  I frowned, struggling to keep up.

  Brent’s eyes lit a little as he turned toward me. “Well, Red… there’s a city. Was hit by a curse about fifteen years back.”

  Jerald cleared his throat.

  Brent stopped mid-step and fell quiet.

  Jerald glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “That city had one survivor. No one’s been able to get anywhere near it since.”

  Cold settled in my chest. The words pressed too close to something I did not like to think about. My past was a blur of gaps and half-truths, and Jerald had always gone quiet whenever it came up. Too quiet.

  He cleared his throat again, rough this time. “Anyway. Word, is they found a way through the fog. Got into the city. Took what they wanted from the dead.”

  Brent pulled a face. “That’s low. Even for them.”

  Jerald nodded once, anger flickering in his eyes.

  The moment stretched, heavy.

  Brent broke it, glancing at my side. “So,” he said lightly, “where’d you pick up the fancy sword?”

  I followed his gaze to the silver at my hip. “Found it in the tunnels,” I lied. For some reason the sword had somehow disguised itself, and I believed I knew why. But that conversation would have to wait until we were alone…

  Neither of them pressed me.

  “That explains why you’re a bit…” Brent began, trailing off as his eyes lingered on me, searching for the right word.

  “Not dead?” I offered.

  “Precisely,” Brent said. “Good job…”

  “Thanks. I think.” A short, hollow laugh slipped out before I could stop it. I knew he meant well. Still, the words felt thin after everything.

  We walked on as the moon slid behind the tree line, and Brookfield came into view. Lights burned bright across the town, far more than usual. Extra guards lined the perimeter, shapes moving with purpose. As we passed, they straightened and saluted Jerald. The gestures followed us all the way in, and for a moment I felt taller just walking beside him.

  When we reached the house, Jerald raised a hand before knocking. “They still think you’re dead.”

  The door creaked open.

  Doyle’s face filled the gap and his eyes went wide. “My spirits…” The words barely made it out before the rest hit him. Shock first. Then relief so sharp it showed. Then annoyance, lips tightening, jaw setting, before it all settled into something calmer.

  He looked like he wanted to shout at me. Or grab me. Or both. In the end, he did neither.

  “Thank the Old Ones,” he said quietly.

  He stepped forward and pulled me into a brief, careful hug. “Come. Into the kitchen. You must be starving. I’ll fetch the others.”

  He ushered me along as if I might fall over any moment.

  Brent did not wait behind. He raced ahead and made himself comfortable at the table, already reaching for food like he had done this a hundred times before.

  I glanced back at Jerald. “Let me guess,” I said. “He used to live here.”

  “I’m not sure who eats more,” Doyle said as he returned, busying himself with bowls and bread. “Amelia or this bottomless pit.”

  Brent laughed around a mouthful of bread, crumbs scattering across the table.

  For the first time in what felt like days, the tension in my chest eased.

  The room filled fast.

  Amelia was first through the door, eyes red and shining, breath caught halfway to a sob. Rob followed close behind, his face locked tight, but his voice broke the moment he spoke.

  “Holy shit. We thought you were dead.”

  Amelia nodded hard, words spilling out in a rush. “When the rocks came down, we tried. We dug and dug. Hours. But there were too many. Too big.” Her voice wavered and a tear slipped free before she could stop it.

  “So, we ran for help,” Rob said, picking it up when she couldn’t. “But the tunnel was completely blocked. We thought…” He trailed off, jaw working.

  I stood there, unsure what to do with the weight of it. The way they looked at me. Like I was something that should not have been there. I was not used to that. To people worrying over me like this.

  Rob dragged a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath. “How the hell did you survive?”

  “It was rough,” I said. It felt like the only honest answer I had.

  His eyes dropped then, taking in the grime, the blood, the cuts I had missed. They lingered on the sword at my side, unfamiliar and out of place.

  “What happened to the old one?”

  Amelia elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Really? That’s what you ask him?”

  He winced and gave a nervous chuckle.

  I laughed with him, the sound catching me off guard. “Lost it,” I said.

  The words settled heavy in my chest. I felt the lie even as it left my mouth, sharp and unwelcome, especially standing in front of people who had feared for my life. I did not look down at the sword. I did not acknowledge it at all.

  It stayed quiet at my side, still and unassuming, as if it had decided this was not the moment to be known.

  For now, I was willing to accept that silence.