When Eis opened her eyes again, the light in the room had warmed. Morning proper. Her body felt steadier—just enough to move.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Eis,” Ronan called. “We’re set to move. Lira’s packing the last of the bread. Meet us downstairs when you’re ready.”

  His footsteps faded down the hall.

  Eis sat up and took a slow breath. A familiar warmth stirred beneath her breastbone—steady, contained—letting her know the strain from the night before had finally eased.

  She focused on something practical.

  A small leather pouch. Soft but durable. Drawstring top.

  And inside it—silver coins.

  Not ornate. Not new. The kind that had already passed through many hands. About fifty of them. Enough to matter. Not enough to draw attention.

  The warmth gathered briefly, precise and restrained.

  Then released.

  The pouch rested in her palm, leather worn smooth, its weight immediately reassuring. She loosened the drawstring and glanced inside. The coins caught the low light—cool-toned silver, edges softened by use, each stamped with the familiar crest she had already seen in circulation.

  Convincing. Ordinary.

  Eis tied the pouch closed and slipped it into her pack.

  Preparation finished, she swung her legs off the bed and stood, feeling clear-headed and ready

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Outside, she heard Kael tightening a saddle strap, Lira’s bright laugh, Ronan’s measured instructions.

  She strapped on her pack, secured her crossbow, and clipped her pouch of spell-cards to her belt. One last glance around the room—the neatly made bed, the single silver coin glinting on the desk—and she stepped out.

  Downstairs, the inn buzzed with morning energy. The scent of fresh bread and brewed tea mingled with the chatter of travelers. Near the door, Ronan, Lira, and Kael were finishing their preparations.

  Ronan spotted her first and nodded.

  “Right on time. I was beginning to think you’d vanish before dawn.”

  Lira turned, bright and energized.

  “Good morning, Eis! You look… surprisingly refreshed.”

  She grinned. “Nothing wears you down, does it?”

  Kael smirked as he slung his bow across his back.

  “Maybe she sleeps standing up.”

  Eis offered a faint smile—small, controlled, but unmistakably real.

  “I’ve had enough rest.”

  Lira laughed softly. “Impossible to read, as always.”

  The innkeeper waved as the group stepped outside. The morning air was crisp and clean. Briarstead’s cobblestones glistened under the sun, smoke curling gently from chimneys. Beyond the palisade, the road stretched wide and golden beneath the rising light.

  Four horses and a mule waited at the gate.

  Ronan checked one last strap.

  “We follow the main road north and take the ridge pass. Weather holds, we reach Lumaire by tomorrow’s sunset. Stay aware—the roads won’t stay quiet forever.”

  Kael glanced at Eis as he mounted.

  “You any good with a blade on horseback?”

  Eis met his gaze.

  “I have some experience.”

  He grinned, satisfied.

  The gates creaked open.

  Four figures rode out beneath the rising sun. Dew sparkled across the fields; birds scattered from the hedgerows; Briarstead’s morning bell tolled behind them—a farewell or a warning.

  Eis didn’t look back.