The air in the town felt thick and cold, haunted by the ghosts of its prosperity. Shuttered windows flanked the uneven cobblestones like eyes that refused to see, but Ana felt their presence all the same, the pressure of observation buried beneath caution and dread.

  A pair of children peered out from behind a crumbling wall before vanishing like timid phantoms.The atmosphere hummed with secrets as Ana and Caden stepped off the creaking cart, their feet finding purchase on the ground that had waited too long for their return.

  The village stretched out in front of them, its narrow lanes woven with the shadows of weariness and neglect. Every step further revealed the extent of its decay—a forgotten place on the verge of being lost entirely. Ana scanned the streets, taking in the cracked stones and chipped paint. Her memory filled in the gaps where life and color had once thrived, and she could almost hear the distant echoes of laughter and trade.

  "Not exactly a welcoming committee," Caden muttered, keeping close to Ana's side. His gaze darted around the desolate square, catching on the few figures that lingered cautiously in doorways.

  "Nothing says 'trustworthy visitors' like an oversized sword and pointy ears," Ana replied, the smug lilt in her voice failing to mask the tension beneath. She tugged the hood of her cloak lower over her brow, though she doubted it would change much.

  The people were scarce, their hesitation more telling than if the streets had been crowded. A hunched old woman scurried away from them, pulling a thin shawl tighter as if to ward off the newcomers. The distinct unease of the town enveloped Ana, and she felt the weight of history pressing down on her chest.

  "Is it always this lively?" Caden asked, glancing sideways at Ana. The question hung between them, an unspoken request for clarity amid the ambiguity of their surroundings.

  Ana hesitated, searching for the right words. "It used to be different," she finally said, her tone suggesting more to it. The reluctance in her voice lingered as she remembered the town's vibrancy. "A—long time ago."

  Before Caden could press her further, movement at the edge of the square drew their attention. A gaunt, older man broke from the shadows of an alley, his posture stooped but his pace quick. He moved toward them with purpose, a note of desperation in the urgency of his steps.

  Ana's eyes narrowed as she recognized him. "Don't look now," she murmured, "but I think we've been spotted."

  Caden followed her gaze, watching as the man closed the distance. His clothes were worn but once well-made, the kind that suggested authority or at least the memory of it. He approached with a cautious hopefulness, as though afraid his destination might vanish before he reached it.

  "Caden," Ana barked, giving his forehead a sharp flick with her finger.

  "Ow!" Caden protested, rubbing the spot with irritation.

  "I told you not to look right away."

  "Lady Ana," the man called, his voice cracked but steady. His eyes, sunken and haunted, met hers with an intensity that made Ana's heart skip.

  She stood still, bracing for the encounter. The world around her seemed to tighten, pulling her into a moment she had not prepared to face. The past, like the man himself, loomed larger with every step.

  "Lady Ana, please," he implored, stopping before her with his hands clasped in front of him. The plea in his voice was palpable, heavy with years of waiting. "We need you."

  Ana took a step back, the suddenness of his words striking her with a force that was rather familiar. The raw, naked plea in the man's expression told her all she needed to know.

  Caden glanced between them, the confusion and curiosity on his young face impossible to miss. "Who is this?" he asked, his tone expectant but patient.

  Ana exhaled slowly, drawing out the silence until it nearly fractured. Her gaze lingered on the man's weathered face, tracing lines etched by time and hardship. "I... helped him once," she said at last, the words carrying the weight of unsaid truths. "A long time ago, when I was still Kingsguard."

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  Her admission hung in the air, an uninvited guest among them. The old man's presence seemed to press further upon her, each second daring her to turn away from the call to her past. Her fingers tightened around her arms, knuckles white beneath the leather gloves.

  Caden's eyes widened, and he looked back to the old man, his expression a blend of wonder and suspicion. "He knows who you are?"

  "Seems like it," Ana replied tersely. She didn't know whether to feel anger or guilt, knowing it was likely both.

  "Does that mean you know my master A—ow!" Caden yelped as Ana pinched him sharply in the arm, his question cut short by her impatience. He glared at her, rubbing the spot where she'd twisted his skin.

  "We can't help you," Ana said, turning back to the old man with a finality that left no room for argument.

  The man's eyes widened with disbelief, frailty giving way to a simmering desperation. "Please, you don't understand," he insisted, voice fraught with urgency. "It's not just an attack. They're tearing us apart!"

  Ana's jaw tightened, a muscle flickering at her temple.

  The old man took a step closer, a glimmer of hope igniting in his gaze. "We didn't think you'd ever return. When we heard... I didn't—I don't know who else to turn to. Even the kingdom has abandoned us to our fate. The barons, too. They say it's not worth the cost for a waystation town like ours." His voice trembled with bitterness, the weight of the town's doom all but breaking him.

  "You thought that we'd come running when no one else did?" Ana's voice cut through the man's despair, her tone sharp and unforgiving.

  The old man flinched at her words, lowering his gaze. "I thought... perhaps you would remember. You saved us once, Lady Ana. Before."

  Ana turned away, her eyes catching on the emptiness that stretched across the town—a reflection of what she had left behind. Her cloak billowed as she moved toward the caravan, her reluctance a palpable force that threatened to pull her back at any moment. She leaned against the horse mount, tinkering with the harness as if it were the only thing demanding her attention.

  Caden shuffled awkwardly beside her, his eyes flicking between Ana and the old man whose hope seemed to crumble with each passing second. Dirt pooled in the road's low places, reflecting the grim gray of a sky that loomed like an accusation over the empty street. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, its lonely echo swallowed by silence.

  Ana's hands worked methodically as she fastened the buckles, her resolve tightening along with them.

  "Mortal problems," she said softly, just loud enough for Caden to hear. "Not my problems."

  The old man stood on the opposite end of the street. Everything felt suspended between them—two ends of an unraveling thread pulled taut across a muddy expanse. He was still, waiting for Ana to turn back.

  Ana threw a glance at Caden. The weight of unspoken commitments bore down on her, stretching the moment into something that tormented. Her lips quirked in a bitter smirk, eyebrows knitting together in defiance and doubt.

  The horse shifted beneath Ana's touch, its restless movement a mirror to her own internal discord. She fastened the last strap with a sharp tug, as if sealing the decision off from her heart.

  The sound of Caden's soft, shuffling feet and the look on his face clawed at Ana's resolve like a half-drowned kitten. Her fingers hesitated over the buckle, her resistance fraying as she endured the unwavering assault of his innocent, expectant eyes.

  "Fine," she sighed at last, directing an exasperated glance at her apprentice. "We'll hear them out."

  Caden's lips curled into a triumphant smile, and Ana shook her head, muttering something about gullibility being contagious. She turned back toward the old man, who lifted his gaze slowly, disbelief and renewed hope chasing each other across his gaunt face.

  Ana forced herself to hold his gaze, though the effort cut deep. "I didn't know there was anything left to return to," she said, a hard edge sharpening her voice. She couldn't ignore the tug of the past nor the pull of his plea.

  "Things changed after you left. The townsfolk—many of them still believe. You're our only chance, Ana. Please, we need you to protect us."

  Ana flinched, the words striking a nerve she had long thought buried. The old man's insistence reverberated within her, awakening a part of herself she'd tried to silence.

  Caden, sensing her turmoil, leaned in. "What do you want to do?" he asked, his voice soft but urgent. The concern in his eyes was genuine, free from the weight of the past that bound Ana so tightly.

  She didn't answer immediately. The choice lay before her, stark and demanding. Every instinct told her to walk away, to leave this ghost of her former life behind. But another voice, quieter yet unyielding, whispered for her to stay.

  "I'm not making any promises." she said at last, her reluctance barely concealed.

  The old man nodded, his relief almost palpable. "That's more than we hoped for," he said, his gratitude evident even in his ragged voice.

  Ana allowed herself a measured sigh, feeling the weight of commitment settle on her shoulders.

  Caden fell into step beside her as they followed the old man, his expression a mix of admiration and curiosity. "You left a lot out of your life story, you know," he said, attempting a smile.

  Ana shook her head, her thoughts tangled with past and present. "You have no idea." she replied.