In the northwestern section of Karmine, where the stonework shone clean and the streets carried the hush of wealth and order, the company arrived at last.

  The wagon slowed to a halt in front of The Verdant House, nestled in the shadow of flowering trellises and pale stone archways. The building stood with quiet dignity at the edge of the elite quarter, its walls grown over with ivy and medicinal herbs—marjoram, silverleaf, and a touch of ghost lavender climbing up the outer facade. A low wooden sign carved with vines and runes hung just above the door, swaying gently in the breeze.

  The scent of crushed mint and dried flowers wafted from the open windows.

  Sir Edric dismounted first. He turned sharply to the others. “Move carefully,” he ordered. “Harlen and Derren first.”

  The able-bodied guards moved at once. Alden and Garron, joined by two others from the watch, climbed onto the back of the wagon. With practiced hands, they lifted Harlen and Derren—still wrapped in cloaks, breaths shallow but steady—and carried them toward the arched entry.

  The door opened just before they reached it.

  Sasha Virelia, the head of the Verdant House, stood framed in the doorway, clad in flowing green robes marked with silver-threaded sigils. Her hair was pinned back with an amber comb, and a calm sharpness lingered in her eyes.

  “You brought wounded,” she said, already stepping aside. “Bring them in—gently now.”

  Edric gave a short nod. “Two in need of care. One of them barely made it through the night.”

  Sasha's eyes swept over the cloaked forms as they passed through the entry. Her gaze narrowed slightly. “These wounds… they've already been treated.”

  “They’ve already been cleaned. Bandaged properly. Even the salve... this isn’t standard field stock.”

  Edric didn’t answer at first. Then, with a measured breath, he said, “We had help along the way. Someone came to aid us. Gave healing supplies. Helped tend to them.”

  Sasha looked at him, mildly surprised. “A healer?”

  Edric’s expression remained unreadable. “Not exactly. But she knew what she was doing. Without her, we’d have lost one for certain.”

  There was a brief pause as Sasha watched the wounded being laid on the prepared beds. Then she nodded slowly. “Whoever she was… she did well. Their condition could’ve been far worse.”

  A faint smile tugged at Edric’s mouth. “Fair enough.”

  Inside, the Verdant House was cool and serene. Pale sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains. The scent of herbs and tinctures filled the air. Beds lined the east wall, fresh linens already laid. Sasha gave a nod to her aides, who moved quickly to guide the wounded into place.

  Edric turned to the others. “The lightly wounded—get checked and rest here.”

  They nodded and filtered inside under Sasha’s direction.

  “To the rest of you,” Edric added, voice firm, “you’re dismissed. Report to the garrison, clean yourselves up. You’ve earned the day’s rest.”

  He turned to one of the guards still standing near the wagon. “Take the wagon to the garrison yard. Have it inspected—anything left behind, I want it recorded.”

  The guard nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  With murmured acknowledgments, the remaining guards moved off toward the lower quarter, boots echoing against the road, while a pair of them led the wagon away through the winding streets toward the garrison.

  The morning sun had risen higher by the time the knights reached the elite quarter. Their mounts moved at a steady trot beneath the watchful eyes of patrol guards, the streets gradually quieting as they approached the stone-paved lane that led to the Knight’s Hall.

  They dismounted near the stables tucked beside the garrison wall—an open-roofed structure lined with clean stalls and fresh hay. The scent of leather, grain, and morning dew hung in the air. Sir Edric gave a quick pat to his horse’s neck before handing off the reins to a stablehand. Renric and Rheya did the same, exchanging only a nod as the stable boy led their mounts away.

  Boots echoed off stone as they ascended the steps to the Knight’s Hall.

  The doors opened with a heavy groan. Within the high stone walls, Knight-Commander Halric Dorne stood over a wide map table, his hands braced on either side, brow furrowed.

  He looked up as Edric, Renric, and Rheya entered.

  “You’re back,” he said without preamble. “Well?”

  Edric stepped forward, the dust of travel still clinging to his armor. “We found a survivor,” he said. “One of the drivers from the wrecked caravan. Derren. The last wagon was torn apart. Everyone else was gone.”

  Halric’s brow deepened. “Bandits?”

  “No,” Renric said. “He described something else. A creature—flying. Fast. With intent. It wasn’t wild. It wasn’t a beast.”

  “A sentient attacker,” Rheya added, crossing her arms. “It passed over our camp just before dawn—heading straight toward Karmine.”

  “And before that,” Edric said, voice steady, “we were attacked after nightfall. Four dark creatures—fast, coordinated. Not beasts. Not bandits. We don’t know what they were… only that they came with purpose.”

  “Harlen took a deep wound,” Renric said, quieter now. “And several guards were injured, though we held the line. Derren and Harlen are both recovering at the Verdant House.”

  Halric’s jaw tightened. “And this winged creature that passed you—are you certain it was heading here?”

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  “We believe so,” Edric said. “It flew north. Fast. Straight toward Karmine.”

  Halric frowned. “No sightings were reported last night. The patrols and watch at the gates saw nothing.”

  Rheya glanced at Renric. “Then either it wasn’t seen… or it wasn’t meant to be.”

  There was a pause.

  “One more thing,” Renric said. “We had help.”

  Halric looked up. “Help?”

  Rheya nodded. “A woman. She came to our aid—she had supplies, knew what to do. Without her, Derren might not have made it.”

  Halric’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A healer?”

  “Not exactly,” Edric replied. “But skilled. She treated their wounds, gave us salves and potions stronger than what we carry. Her methods were… refined.”

  Halric studied them for a moment. “A guild affiliate?”

  “She didn’t wear their colors,” Renric said. “She even gave us food, didn’t ask anything in return.”

  There was a long pause, the commander’s gaze heavy on Edric.

  Finally, Halric leaned back slightly. “Who was she?”

  Edric met his eyes. “Her name was Elise.”

  Halric raised a brow. “I don’t know the name.”

  “She came and went. But her help made the difference,” Edric said simply.

  Halric didn’t respond immediately. He looked back down at the map, silent for a beat.

  “Well,” he said at last. “Let’s hope the rest of Karmine proves just as lucky.”

  Halric didn’t press further. His gaze dropped back to the map.

  “The driver—Derren,” he said. “We’ll need his statement before the council. If he’s strong enough.”

  “He’s stable,” Renric said. “We’ll check again before the council session.”

  “Good. You’ve done your duty.” Halric finally looked up, voice steady. “Now rest. All three of you. Be ready for the afternoon council.”

  They nodded as one, saluted, and turned to leave the hall.

  Behind them, the Knight-Commander remained still, eyes tracing the lines of the southern roads on the map, a shadow crossing his expression.

  These southern roads are giving us the headache. It’s usually quiet there… why now?

  Back at Luna’s home, Linda had stepped out—mentioning something about picking up a few things from the market while it was still early and quiet. She left with her usual calm grace and a knowing look that said: the house is yours for now.

  Elise had fallen asleep not long after tea, her shoulders finally sinking into the cushions as sleep overtook her. Luna didn’t have the heart to wake her. Instead, she fetched a clean blanket from the shelf and gently draped it over her.

  The house was quiet now, sunlight painting soft gold over the floorboards.

  Luna sat for a while in the low chair across from her, fingers resting in her lap. She watched Elise in silence—the rise and fall of her breath, the way the light touched her face. It was rare to see her like this: still, unguarded. Even in sleep, there was a quiet strength and elegance in the way she held herself.

  A few moments later, Luna rose quietly and began tidying the space—folding the used tea cloths, straightening the cushions, and gathering the empty cups on the tray. Her movements were careful, mindful not to disturb the calm.

  Once everything was in order, she stepped softly to the window and gazed out—watching the rooftops, the winding streets, and the lives that moved beyond them. The town felt calm.

  After a quiet moment, Luna crossed to a small cabinet near the hearth—her own quiet corner, where she kept a few personal things tucked away. From it, she pulled out her journal—a worn leather-bound book, edges curled and well-loved. She sat back down, opened to a fresh page, and began to write—her thoughts flowing in ink as the sunlight shifted slowly across the floor.

  Luna’s pen moved slowly across the page.

  She wrote of the inn—the lunch with her friends, the laughter, and the tension that followed. She wrote about the strange caravan that returned without its driver, the whispers in the square, and the winged creature that flew overhead while the town slept. She wrote of the quiet strength she saw in Elise… how she had arrived at the camp like calm in a storm, how she had helped the wounded. She wrote of her worry, and how she had wondered if Elise was safe and not knowing where she was.

  And now… Elise was here, in their home. Their quiet home.

  Luna paused, the nib of her pen hovering over the page. Her eyes drifted across the room—toward the bundled figure still resting beneath the soft blanket.

  A moment later, Elise stirred.

  It was subtle at first—a shift of breath, a faint twitch of her fingers as she turned onto her side. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the golden light filtering through the window. She blinked once, then again. When her gaze finally settled, it landed on Luna.

  Luna closed the journal gently. “Morning,” she said with a smile.

  Elise blinked at her a moment longer, dazed, then returned the smile—small, warm, and full of something unspoken. “Did I fall asleep on your seat again?” she asked, voice soft with sleep.

  “You earned it,” Luna said, standing. She stepped closer and knelt beside her. “You haven’t rested at all lately.”

  Elise exhaled, her eyes closing again briefly. “I didn’t mean to stay… I only meant to stop by.”

  “Well,” Luna said with a quiet grin, “you stopped beautifully.”

  That drew a faint chuckle from Elise. Her hand reached out, instinctively brushing Luna’s sleeve. “You always say the kindest things.”

  Luna shrugged, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind Elise’s ear. “I just say what’s true.”

  For a long breath, neither of them moved. The room felt suspended in sunlight and silence—soft, sacred.

  Elise’s voice came quieter now. “You’ve grown.”

  “So everyone keeps saying,” Luna replied, leaning her head against the edge of the cushion.

  Elise smiled again—gentle and full. “Good. I hoped you would.”

  There was a beat of quiet before Luna grinned. “You know… you promised you’d teach me something today.”

  Elise blinked. “Did I?”

  “A new spell,” Luna said, nudging her lightly. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

  Elise gave a tired laugh. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dare cross a student so eager.”

  “You’ll rest first,” Luna said, sitting beside her. “Then we’ll begin.”

  Elise smiled, closing her eyes for just a moment longer. “Deal.”

  Her eyes remained closed, her breathing steady. Luna leaned gently against the edge of the cushion where she lay, her head resting just beneath Elise’s shoulder. The room had settled into a golden hush—warm tea cooling, the tray left untouched beside them, the faint breeze from the window stirring the curtains like quiet breath.

  Then, without moving, Elise opened one eye—just a sliver. She glanced past Luna to where the wooden staff rested by the hearth.

  Her fingers, still relaxed on her lap, shifted slightly.

  The staff stirred.

  With a subtle pull of her mana, Elise lifted it from where it stood, quiet and unannounced. It rose, as if called by an invisible thread, hovering gently above the floor. Then, slowly, it glided across the room—drifting like a leaf on calm water.

  Luna blinked.

  Her gaze snapped to the staff… then to Elise… then back again.

  The staff hovered in front of her, still steady in the air.

  Elise’s voice was soft—half-lidded, amused. “Float. The spell is called Float.”

  Luna’s eyes widened, her breath catching somewhere between awe and delight. She looked back at Elise, a grin blooming across her face.

  “You’re cheating,” she whispered.

  Elise’s lips curved faintly. “No. Just teaching with flair.”

  Luna reached out, her fingers brushing the shaft of the staff mid-air before gently guiding it down to her lap. It settled there with a whisper of wood on cloth.

  She held it with both hands, still smiling. “You always make it look easy.”

  Her gaze lingered on the staff, eyes thoughtful. “I saw you do this once… You think I can do that?”

  Elise didn’t open her eyes again—only nodded once, the hint of her smile lingering.

  “I know you can.”

  The moment stretched, warm and full.

  Outside, the day pressed on. People moved through the town, their footsteps echoing softly along the quiet streets that wound past their home. The gentle murmur of the town rose and fell like background music to a world still turning. Their routines unchanged, their voices soft and ordinary. The town seemed at peace, untouched, as if no shadow lingered beyond its walls.

  And yet, it did.

  But within their home, none of that pressed in. Only quiet. Only warmth.

  Luna sat close, her staff resting across her knees, fingers still curled around the wood as if holding onto something more than just a spell.

  “Thank you,” she whispered—not just for the magic, but for the calm, the presence, the steady light Elise always seemed to bring.

  For a little while longer, they simply stayed there—together, in the stillness, beneath a roof that had known both storms and safety.