Upon arriving at their destination, Ria was given a chance to clean up and freshen herself. The village chief had invited her to meet him in his tent, a modest but comfortable space adorned with woven mats and simple furnishings. They both settled onto a woven mat, the soft rustling of the fabric beneath them providing a subtle comfort.
The village chief poured himself a cup of herbal tea, its fragrant steam curling upward. He took a sip, his demeanor calm and composed. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he addressed Ria with a question that caught her off guard.
"So, have you already decided on your next move, Miss Ria?"
Ria stiffened at the mention of her name, her surprise evident. "How did you—?"
The chief's gaze remained steady as he replied, "I happened to visit the Nightwing sect some years ago during a supply run. I overheard a few names along the way."
Ria's eyes widened. "So you knew all along?"
The chief nodded, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I simply chose to observe first before taking any action."
He paused for a moment, giving Ria time to absorb his words before continuing. "Will you be staying with us, or do you plan to continue your journey?"
Ria's resolve was clear as she spoke. "I've decided to venture on to the nearest sect despite the imminent danger. I need to keep moving."
The village chief respected her decision, though his expression was one of concern. "Very well. I would advise you to wait until morning. The woods are safer in the daylight."
The next morning, the entire village gathered to see Ria off. They offered her a new set of clothing—durable and suited for travel. The garments were practical and designed to withstand the rigors of her journey, a far cry from the worn clothes she had arrived in.
With her new attire and a renewed sense of purpose, Ria prepared to leave. As she bid farewell to the villagers, she felt a sense of gratitude for their hospitality and the brief respite they had provided. Her journey was far from over, but the kindness of the village had given her the strength to face whatever lay ahead.
Days later, at the Nightwing sect, a tense atmosphere pervaded the halls where Will was being kept. Tate walked through the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing softly. A male worker walked beside him, his expression grave.
"How is he?" Tate asked, his tone laced with concern.
"Not that well, sir," the man replied. "His injuries have slowly recovered, but—"
"But what?" Tate pressed, his brows furrowing.
The man hesitated before continuing. "He hasn't really been responding well to being kept in hiding all this while."
They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. Tate looked at the man, who met his gaze with a worried expression.
"How bad is it?" Tate asked.
"I think you should just see for yourself," the man said, gesturing towards the door.
Tate sighed and slowly opened the door. His reflexes were sharp, and he dodged a flying shoe that came hurtling towards him. Stepping into the room, he took in the chaotic scene before him.
Will was in the midst of a heated argument with the nurses, his face flushed with anger. He had refused to take his medicine and was demanding to be set free.
"But sir—" one of the nurses started to say.
"I see you're still causing a fit," Tate remarked, leaning casually against the doorframe.
The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him. The nurses and servants bowed respectfully. "Sir," they murmured in unison.
"You can leave us now," Tate instructed.
"As you wish, sir," the head nurse replied, and the servants quickly exited the room, leaving Tate and Will alone.
Tate watched Will, his demeanor calm despite the tension in the room. "Mind telling me what got you so worked up to make you cause such a ruckus?"
"Why didn't you tell me Ria had been sentenced to exile?" Will demanded, his eyes blazing with anger.
Tate's expression remained impassive. "I didn't think it was that relevant at the time."
"Not relevant enough?!" Will's voice rose, incredulous. "How can you even say that? She is one of us. A friend for a lifetime. And you just let her go to exile?!"
"I didn't have a choice," Tate replied, his tone flat. "You think I'd willingly let her go just like that?"
Will took a step towards the door, his face contorted with frustration. "You had as much of a choice as I did going into hiding. If you really cared, you wouldn't have let her go so easily."
He stormed towards the exit, and Tate made no move to stop him. The servants at the door tried to intervene.
"Move, now," Will snarled, his voice low and dangerous. The servants hesitated, looking to Tate for guidance, but Will's fury was unmistakable.
" I, said, move," Will said coldly, his eyes flashing with anger. The servants, terrified, stepped aside, allowing him to pass.
As the door slammed shut behind Will, Tate stood in the empty room, the tension still lingering in the air. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflict hung heavily between them, a stark reminder of the choices and sacrifices that had brought them to this moment.
🥴
👘❣️ Manesta.