Eis woke before she needed to.

  The room was still dim, the city outside only beginning to stir. Pale morning light crept in through the shutters, tracing thin lines across the floor and the edge of the table. Somewhere below, a door opened. Footsteps passed. Lumaire was waking—but slowly.

  She sat up, already alert.

  There was time.

  Eis rose quietly and crossed the small room, setting her gear aside with care. The space was familiar now: a narrow bed against the wall, a small table and single chair opposite it. Clean. Unadorned. Enough.

  She sat and closed her eyes.

  The warmth beneath her sternum answered at once—steady, patient, waiting.

  Eis drew a slow breath and shaped the image with care.

  Three silver bracelets.

  Simple. Durable. Each etched with faint runic lines, understated enough not to draw attention. They were not weapons. Not tools for victory.

  They had one purpose.

  If the wearer suffered a fatal wound, the bracelet would fracture its core crystal—

  —pulling the wearer out of danger in an instant,

  —returning them to the Guild in Lumaire,

  —alive, stabilized, safe.

  Single use.

  Break upon activation.

  The intent settled.

  Mana gathered like cool mist around her hands. The air shimmered, tightened, then folded inward.

  Three bracelets lay on the table.

  The cost followed immediately.

  Her vision dimmed, edges closing in until the room narrowed to shadow. Strength drained from her limbs all at once—sudden, total. Eis slid down to one knee, fingers scraping against the table until she caught the edge and held fast.

  Pressure built behind her eyes, heavy and unyielding, as if the world had tipped and refused to settle back.

  She stayed where she was.

  Breathing.

  Slow. Measured.

  It took long moments before the darkness eased. Longer still before her strength returned enough to trust her legs. When she finally straightened, it was carefully—every movement deliberate, controlled.

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  Only then did she let go of the table.

  Eis wrapped each bracelet in parchment and wrote the names with steady precision:

  Ronan.

  Lira.

  Kael.

  She set them aside and allowed the warmth within her to quiet.

  Only then did she let the exhaustion reach her—heavy, thorough, almost reassuring. There were still a few hours before she needed to reach the north gate.

  Eis lay back on the bed.

  Sleep took her quickly.

  The common room of the Blue Lantern Inn was nearly empty when Eis descended the stairs. Dawn had barely broken; sunlight streamed in soft gold through the narrow windows, warming the wooden floors and catching on the dust motes drifting lazily in the air.

  Her steps were silent, but the innkeeper still looked up from her ledger, smiling with a motherly warmth.

  “I wish you a safe trip, Miss Eis.”

  Eis offered a small nod.

  “Thank you.”

  The innkeeper’s eyes softened with concern but she didn’t pry. She simply packed a small bundle of travel rations, pressed them into Eis’s hand. Eis tucked the bundle into her cloak, then stepped out into the crisp, waking city.

  When Eis entered the guild lounge, the sunrise through the tall windows painted the marble floor in melted gold. Team Argent was already waiting — Ronan checking straps on a pack, Kael adjusting his vambrace, and Lira yawning into her tea.

  They all straightened when they saw her.

  Without a word, Eis stepped forward and opened her palm. Three faintly glowing bracelets rested there.

  “Before we go,” she said evenly, “take these.”

  Kael’s brows rose.

  “What do they do?”

  “Protection,” Eis answered simply. “Wear them. Don’t take them off.”

  Ronan turned his bracelet over, feeling its weight, its subtle thrum of mana.

  “Enchanted?”

  “A little.”

  He nodded, trusting without pressing.

  Kael slid his on beneath his glove.

  Lira twirled hers between two fingers, a slow grin forming.

  “You always give the best presents.”

  Eis’s expression softened — almost a smile.

  They left through the northern gates, the city still wrapped in morning mist. Merchants lifted shutters; children dashed across cobblestones; and the canals glimmered with first light.

  Waiting at the gate was the Archmage caravan — two rune-tuned wagons, two leybred mounts, and a robed guide holding a glowing compass.

  “Team Argent,” he called. “Three week’s travel. Stay on the ley road; the Frostline Pass is… unforgiving.”

  Ronan accepted the compass with a nod.

  Lira pulled up her hood.

  “Remind me why adventure always starts cold.”

  Kael smirked faintly.

  “Because warmth is for people who aren’t us.”

  Eis glanced back at Lumaire one last time — towers bright against the rising sun, banners flickering like silent wings.

  It felt like she was leaving something behind.

  Or stepping toward something she could no longer avoid.

  She adjusted her cloak.

  “Let’s go.”

  With that, Team Argent headed north — toward the Frostline, toward the Sun Vault, and toward whatever Vauren was building in the dark.