As the tavern door creaked open, Caden felt the warmth of drink and smoke envelop him like a heady cloak. It took only a moment for his eyes to find her—Ana, slumped over the table like a marionette cut free of its strings. The bitter perfume of ale clung to her in an accusatory embrace, and he moved toward her with the steadfastness of a sailor navigating familiar yet treacherous waters.

  “Ana,” he called, his voice rising above the din. She stirred, an elf in an uncharacteristic stupor, and raised her head with the pained effort of a sunken ship struggling to breach the surface. “There you are,” she slurred, a snarky edge weaving through the alcohol-soaked syllables. “Come to join the drowning party?” He drew closer, his resolve solid as the flagstones beneath their feet. “It's worse than we thought,” he said, the earnestness of his tone a lifeline tossed to the depths. But his words bounced off her inebriated haze like rain on slate. She blinked at him, the realisation of the whom it is that is talking to her, finally slicing through the fog. Her eyes cleared with painful slowness, the sting of urgency rousing her from the depths. “Get up,” Caden insisted, hauling her to her feet. “We need to figure this out—together.”

  Patrons jostled around him, their laughter and shouted orders a strange harmony to the concern that gnawed at his core. Smoke curled lazily from the hearth, mingling with the rich aroma of ale to thicken the air in a fragrant shroud. Ana, awash in the hazy glow of drink, was an island unto herself amid the clamor. Caden's presence disrupted her solitude, a ripple of urgency that could not be ignored.

  He stood before her, young eyes wide with sincerity and worry. “Ana!” His call cut through the din with more volume than he'd intended. Her gaze lifted to meet his, unfocused and glassy, a sailor's glass reflecting troubled skies.

  “Didn't know I was missing,” she replied, the words stretched and slow with the languor of too much drink. Her attempt at a grin was as lopsided as her posture. “You should have left me that way.”

  Caden pulled up a chair with the gravity. He leaned forward, the urgency in his voice a counterpoint to the lassitude in hers. “The town's in trouble. Demon attacks everywhere. We have to—”

  Ana’s hand waved dismissively, the motion careless and loose. “The world’s always ending,” she murmured, her chin slipping from the precarious perch of her palm. “What’s one more apocalypse?”

  His patience was a deep well. He drew from it, undeterred. “And the Crimson Syndicate,” he added, the words like a stone tossed into still waters. Ana's head snapped up, the impact of the name cutting through her stupor with surgical precision.

  “The what?” The sharpness of her voice was at odds with the slow drag of her eyelids, the fog of inebriation retreating with reluctant steps. Caden seized the moment, pressing on with renewed vigor.

  Ana blinked, the haze lifting to reveal the keen edge of awareness beneath. She rubbed her temples, wincing as the pieces of Caden’s news snapped into place with jarring clarity.

  Caden watched the transformation with relief, her sharpened focus as heartening as the fading effects of drink. He reached across the table, his hand a tangible bridge between her weariness and his resolve. “We can't just sit here. We need a plan.”

  She met his earnest gaze, the lines of her features hardening. There was an echo of humor in her voice, but it was tempered now. “Dragging me back into the land of the living, are you? I'd forgotten how insistent you can be.”

  “I'm not letting you rot here,” he replied, a fierceness in his young voice that belied his years. Ana's lips quirked into something resembling a smile, the ghost of her earlier irony now a silent.

  “You have a way of complicating things,” she said, rising from the table with effort and Caden's assistance. Her legs wobbled like those of a newborn fawn, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders to steady her.

  “The complicated things are worth it,” Caden retorted, his support as steady as his conviction. They moved toward the door, Ana's steps gaining confidence with each stride and Caden's unwavering presence a quiet testament to their shared path.

  The chill night air was a bracing slap as they stumbled from the tavern's warm cocoon. Stars flickered overhead, distant and indifferent to the urgency that pulsed through them. Ana breathed deeply, the crispness clearing the lingering cobwebs from her mind and driving home the immediacy of their situation.

  She squinted into the dark, her eyes scanning for signs of imminent disaster. “The way you were carrying on, I figured there’d be demons tearing this place to shreds.”

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  Ana's steps faltered, the creeping sobriety magnifying her irritation. “And I was fool enough to believe it? You've got me chasing shadows.”

  Caden hesitated, taken aback by the sharpness in her tone. “We can’t ignore the risk, Ana. People are scared, and—”

  She cut him off with her hand connected with his cheek before he could react. The force took him by surprise, a starburst of pain that spun him around and sent him tumbling down the tavern's steps. He landed hard in the mud, breathless and stunned.

  Ana staggered as if the slap had jarred her own balance. She lurched forward, dropping to her knees. The town's urgency was a drumbeat in her mind, but the world swirled around her as she retched, the ale and frustration mingling on the sodden street.

  Caden blinked up at the swirling blur of the village lights, breath ragged and heart pounding. A sharpness twisted in his chest, a new kind of pain mingling with the sting on his face. He scrambled to his feet with wild energy, heedless of the mud that coated him like an accusation.

  He lunged forward, fists clutching her collar with desperate resolve. She swayed, her bright eyes narrowing to focus on his in an achingly clear moment.

  Why?” The single word escaped him, a plea and an accusation wrapped in ragged breath. “Why are you doing this?”

  He let go, the force of his words leaving him unsteady. He wanted to run, to leave her to the ale, but he stood rooted to the spot.

  Ana wiped her mouth with a trembling hand, anger warring with remorse across the planes of her face. “I didn’t ask for your help,” she said, defiant and broken in equal measure.

  Caden's breath came in sharp bursts, the night air biting at his resolve. “What if you don’t wake up?” he choked out, the desperation raw in his voice. “What if everyone’s dead by then?”

  Ana flinched as if the words were blows, but her jaw set with stubborn defiance. “Then I suppose I’ll have one hell of a hangover,” she said coolly, her indifference a brittle mask.

  He backed away, the distance between them as wide as her indifference was cold. Her answer hung between them, a weight that threatened to crush his resolve.

  With a ragged breath, Caden’s fist hit Ana in her face, the impact exploding with a force that left them both reeling. She crumpled back into the mud, shock and pain stark against her features. Caden stood over her, breathing hard, anger mixed with disbelief at his own actions.

  Ana clutched her jaw, the sting keenly cutting through any lingering haze. For a long moment, she lay still, staring up at the sky as if it held answers to the boy’s outburst. Then, with slow deliberation, she began to laugh—a raw, unguarded sound that sent shivers through Caden more than any scorn could have.

  “Got that out of your system?” She spat blood, the red stark against the mud. Her laughter subsided into a breathy tremor, her eyes finding Caden's with a terrible clarity.

  He staggered back, his anger spent and leaving him empty, vulnerable. Ana hauled herself to a sitting position, wiping more blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Her sore smile was grim and knowing. “Guess I've taught you something after all.”

  Caden didn't know whether to laugh or scream. “You think this is a joke?” The words were thick in his throat, clogged with anger and confusion.

  “If it wasn't so tragic, then it might be,” Ana replied, the words hanging like a fragile thread between them. Caden’s fists clenched, his face an open map of fury and hurt.

  With a sudden shout, he charged forward. He collided with her, fists swinging in desperate arcs. The first blow was driven by raw anger, connecting with a jarring force that forced her a step back. She didn't resist as he came at her again, adding bruise to bruise with each hit. But as his rage burned through, each swing lost its fire. His fists grew dull and heavy, like his heart.

  Ana made no move to stop him, watching him through glassy eyes, each swing stripping away another layer of her own detachment. “Make it count,” she said in a low voice, too soft to hold any real malice.

  He kept at it until his knuckles were scraped raw and his rage fled, leaving a hollow sadness in its wake. His blows grew weaker, no more than a child's rebellion against an uncaring world. Finally, he slumped forward, defeated.

  Ana caught him as he fell against her, her arms wrapping around him with fierce understanding. Her grip was strong and steady—a lifeline in the storm he'd unleashed. They sank together onto the muddy street, her hand holding Caden’s head against her chest as he sagged into her embrace, his body wracked with the tremors of a grief too raw to hold in. Muffled sobs cut through the chill night air, each one a dagger that carved into Ana, deeper than any bruise. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, a wordless promise that she was still here.

  The town around them was a ghostly hum, distant and unreal against the immediacy of Caden’s anguish. She rocked him gently, her own breath catching as his pain soaked through to her bones. Each shudder of his shoulders felt like retribution for the years of bitterness she’d swaddled herself in, a penance that was long overdue. The minutes stretched into something eternal, and when he finally pulled away, his eyes were red-rimmed and searching.

  His grasp on her was firm but pleading.

  Something in Ana’s chest cracked and shifted. She gave a long, shuddering sigh.

  She cast a sideways glance at the boy in front of her, his earnestness as fierce and unyielding as any weapon she could wield. "You did good today, you know," she slurred, her tone rough but laced with an unmistakable pride.

  Caden's cheeks flushed with the warmth of her rare approval, and he offered her a quick, relieved smile. "Wasn't too hard, really. Just had to be more stubborn than you."

  Ana's laughter spilled out, a raw, honest sound that echoed through the stillness, tinged with the unsteadiness of her inebriation.