Elara adjusted the straps of her leather armor, her fingers moving with newfound confidence. Nearby, Esme watched with a quiet smile, offering only the occasional nudge of assistance. Each day, she was learning. Growing more self-reliant. As she buckled her belt, a quiet satisfaction settled within her. What had once seemed daunting now felt natural.

  She straightened, fully geared—but something had changed. The usual easy banter was absent, replaced by a silence that pressed down on the group. It wasn’t immediate, but undeniable. Her gaze flicked to Esme, then Tirn—both unnaturally still, their silence heavy with unspoken tension.

  Ignatius was the one to break the stillness. He stepped forward, deliberate, as though savoring each step. When he bowed toward Esme and Tirn, the gravity of the gesture was unmistakable. His voice wavered with quiet emotion.

  “It has been an honor to fight and travel alongside you both,” he said, each word slow, weighted. His eyes glistened. “Thank you for taking a chance on an old man like me.”

  Esme, usually quick with a joke, didn’t deflect this time. She reached out, resting a hand on Ignatius’s shoulder. “No, Ignatius,” she said, her voice thick with unspoken gratitude. “We should be thanking you—for taking care of us. For putting up with my shit.”

  The usual teasing edge was gone, stripped away to something painfully real.

  Tirn, ever the stoic, nodded. His expression softened, his voice gruff but warm. “You’ve been a good mentor. And a good friend.”

  Elara’s throat tightening. This wasn’t just parting ways—it was a break, a shift in the foundation of something she had only just begun to feel a part of.

  Esme exhaled, a war of emotions playing across her face. “It was inevitable, Ignatius,” she said, voice steady though sorrow lurked beneath. “You’re making the right choice. And who knows? Maybe we’ll meet again. Be a team once more—once your granddaughter’s all grown up.”

  Ignatius let out a deep laugh—joyful, yet laced with something bittersweet. The corners of his eyes crinkled, warmth and sadness woven together.

  “That may be so,” he admitted, a touch of hope in his voice. His laughter faded, replaced by a solemn quiet. His gaze swept over them, lingering as if committing their faces to memory.

  “You are always welcome to visit me,” he continued, his voice warm, inviting. “My door will always be open. A soft bed. A warm meal.”

  It was a promise. A refuge, should they ever need it.

  His eyes found Elara, softening further. “Alira,” he said gently. “Though we haven’t known each other long, you are welcome too. If you ever wish to visit.”

  She swallowed hard. The weight of the moment pressed against her ribs.

  “So this is a goodbye?” she asked, knowing the answer, voice unsteady despite her best efforts.

  Ignatius smiled, resolute. “Yes, it is.”

  No hesitation. No uncertainty.

  “I have family to return to,” he continued. “And I don’t want to put it on hold anymore.”

  Finality settled over him. He wasn’t just leaving—he was returning to a life he had paused for too long. The realization settled like a stone in her chest.

  She couldn’t keep holding back. Not with such an offer given freely to her.

  “My name isn’t Alira,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “It’s Elara.”

  Silence fell.

  Silence fell over the group.

  Confusion flickered across their faces, then surprise.

  Esme was the first to react. A laugh bubbled past her lips—light, teasing. “Elara?” she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You really went with ‘Alira’? That’s barely a disguise!”

  Heat crept up Elara’s neck. She hadn’t expected that reaction. Scrambling to defend herself, she stammered, “I—I thought of it on the spot.” The words rushed out, fueled by embarrassment. “It was close enough that I’d respond to it, and… I thought it sounded nice.”

  Esme shook her head, still chuckling. “A nice name, huh? You really had us fooled.”

  Ignatius sighed, shooting Esme a fond but mildly disapproving look. “Don’t tease the rookie too much, Esme.” His tone was light but firm. Then he turned to Elara, his expression warm with understanding. “Thank you for telling us, Elara. Which name would you prefer we use? In private and in public?”

  She hesitated. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Elara,” she said finally. “But for those who only know me as Alira… please, keep calling me that.”

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  A nod passed through the group. No questions, no judgment. Just quiet acceptance.

  Something inside her uncoiled.

  Tirn met her gaze. “Elara, then,” he said, voice gruff but kind.

  The tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying melted from her shoulders. She had braced for anger, for doubt—for someone to question her. But instead, they had accepted her truth as easily as they accepted a new day, even finding humor in it.

  And in that moment, she understood.

  These people—these adventurers who had taken her in—weren’t just temporary companions.

  They were becoming her friends.

  People she wanted to trust.

  People she could trust.

  Elara inhaled deeply, steadying herself. She met each of their gazes, gathering the courage.

  “What’s the plan now?” she asked, her voice steady. “And how do I fit into it?”

  Ignatius answered first, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’m heading back to Cindermourn,” he said, a hint of nostalgia softening his usual stern demeanor.

  She tilted her head. “Will you go alone?” Concern threaded through her curiosity. The idea of him making the journey by himself felt... off.

  Ignatius nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “My way of travel suits only one,” he explained, his tone gentle but firm. “And I don’t want to slow down.”

  Tirn cleared his throat, drawing the group’s attention. His stance remained solid, voice gruff but certain. “I will return home.”

  Ignatius’s gaze flickered with recognition. “Ah, yes, your siblings,” he mused. “They must be old enough now to start thinking about traveling, no?”

  Tirn nodded, his expression softening at the mention of his family. For the first time in a long while, there was something warm in his gaze—a flicker of pride.

  Elara perked up. “Siblings?” she echoed, interest sparking in her voice.

  Tirn met her gaze, his expression guarded but not unkind. “Five younger siblings.”

  Elara blinked. “Five?” The number caught her off guard. “That’s… a lot.”

  She tried to picture the chaos of a household where the eldest was grown while the youngest was still a child, the shifting family dynamics that came with it.

  Esme, watching with an amused glint, finally chimed in. “Once Tirn hit adulthood and they let him loose, his parents decided to start fresh,” she teased. “They’re all under twenty, so there’s a pretty big gap.”

  Elara took in the information, intrigued. She hadn’t pictured Tirn as the eldest of such a large family. “Where’s home?” she asked.

  Tirn’s expression softened. “Gustuz.”

  The name stirred something in her mind. Kingdom of Gustuz.

  She thought back to the barn, the map she had studied. They were in the eastern part of the Empire—close to the Gustuz border. The pieces clicked into place, and she nodded, understanding settling over her.

  Turning to Esme, she asked, “What about you? What’s your plan?”

  For the first time, Esme hesitated. Her usual energy dimmed, replaced by something more contemplative.

  “I think I’ll take a break from adventuring,” she admitted. There was a weariness in her voice that Elara hadn’t noticed before.

  Esme exhaled, shaking off whatever weighed on her mind. “I might join another group later, but for now, I want to step back.”

  Then, more decisively, she added, “I’ll stay with Krill’s team for a while, lend them a hand. I’ll leave when it feels right.”

  Elara absorbed their words, her thoughts already turning over the weight of their decisions. Each of them had a path ahead, a purpose, a destination.

  And yet, she had none.

  The thought of being left behind—watching them go their separate ways while she remained adrift—unsettled her. Uncertainty settled in her chest, creeping into her expression. Her furrowed brow gave away the turmoil she tried to suppress.

  Esme, ever observant, caught the shift. She leaned forward, her gaze steady, a mix of concern and understanding in her eyes.

  “You know, Elara,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, “you could always join Krill’s team and head toward Heimshore. Or just travel with them until you decide where you want to go.”

  Elara’s eyes widened slightly. Heimshore.

  From what Selly had said, Heimshore sounded dangerous. A place of unseen threats. But… wasn’t that true for much of the world?

  Esme continued. “I’m sure Ignatius could make you a rough map—mark some villages, towns, and cities along the way. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it’d point you in the right direction, maybe even note trade routes.”

  Elara blinked. A map… to the capital?

  Why was Esme set on that destination?

  The question lingered only a moment before the answer clicked into place. She had told them she was from the capital. Naturally, Esme assumed that was where she wanted to go.

  That made sense. Didn’t it?

  And yet, unease settled in her chest.

  What was her goal? Should she be trying to reach the capital? Or should she be finding a way home instead?

  Home.

  The thought came instinctively, as if it should have brought comfort—but when she reached for it, for the people waiting for her, for familiar faces and voices that should have been clear in her mind...

  There was nothing.

  No names. No warmth. No connection.

  Just a cold, empty void.

  Her breath hitched. Panic curled around her chest, squeezing tight. How could she forget? Who was she supposed to return to?

  But before the fear could fully take hold, something inside her shifted—like an unseen hand gently guiding her thoughts away.

  And just like that, the panic faded.

  Yes, she reasoned, a map would be useful. Something tangible, something to navigate this world. That was what mattered right now—a clear direction.

  Everything else could wait.

  Esme, unaware of the storm that had just passed through Elara’s mind, pressed on. “And from Heimshore,” she continued, “you should be able to find a caravan or a group heading toward the capital. If not directly, at least close.”

  Elara exhaled slowly, grounding herself.

  Heimshore could be a stepping stone—a place to gather information, resources, a clearer path forward.

  She met Esme’s gaze. “Thank you, Esme,” she said, sincerity lacing every word. “I think that’s what I’ll do. I’ll join Krill’s team and head to Heimshore. From there, I’ll figure out my next steps.”

  Esme’s smile widened, warmth sparking in her eyes. “I’m glad we’ll be traveling together a bit longer.”

  Elara returned the smile, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest.

  She wasn’t alone. Not yet.

  And that was something to hold onto.

  Excitement took hold, but doubt whispered at the edges of her mind.

  Was this the right decision? Should she be asking them to take her back to the village instead?

  The question lingered—uncertainty tugging at her just long enough to make her hesitate.

  Then, just as quickly, it faded.

  The world stretched wide before her, full of places to see, things to discover. And for now, she had allies—people who could guide her, teach her, protect her.

  One day, she would make her own way.

  But today?

  Today, she was choosing to move forward.

  A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

  This was the right decision.