The fire flickered low, casting long shadows over the group as they sat in silence. Harlan's grave was a fresh scar on the landscape, a reminder of the cost they had already paid. Kael stared at the ground, the weight of loss heavy on his chest, but his mind was elsewhere,on Kerric, alive and weak, but full of secrets.
Kerric sat propped against a tree, his body frail from captivity, but his eyes still held a sharpness that Kael couldn't ignore. He had spoken little since they rescued him, but that silence only deepened Kael's suspicions.
"We need to know what we're dealing with," Veyron muttered, breaking the silence. He glanced at Kerric, distrust flickering in his eyes. "Why were they hunting you?"
Kerric shifted slightly, wincing as he adjusted his position. He sighed, his voice low and hoarse. "The Iron Circle is after something, a relic. They think it's hidden in the north, buried under an old fortress. If they find it, it'll tip the balance of power in their favor."
Kael's brow furrowed. "A relic? What kind of relic?"
Kerric's eyes darted between Kael and Veyron, but there was a hesitation there, as if he was weighing his words carefully. "I don't know all the details. Just that it's something ancient, something powerful enough to control the outcome of wars."
Kael didn't trust that. Kerric knew more than he was saying. His eyes, his tone, it all felt rehearsed. This wasn't the full truth, and Kael's instincts told him Kerric was hiding something.
"You expect us to believe that?" Veyron said, his voice filled with skepticism. "After everything we've been through, you're telling us you don't know more?"
Kerric's face remained calm, but there was something cold in his gaze. "I'm telling you what I can. The Iron Circle captured me because they think I have the key to finding the relic. I escaped before they could get anything out of me."
Kael stared hard at Kerric. He didn't trust him, not anymore. Something about this didn't add up, and Kael had learned long ago to trust his instincts.
As the night stretched on, the group sat in tense silence. The loss of Harlan weighed heavily on them all. They had followed Kael through every battle, every betrayal, but now, with Kerric's return, things felt... different.
One of the younger mercenaries, a boy barely out of his teens, spoke up hesitantly. "What's the point of chasing this relic? We're down to half our number, and the Iron Circle's still hunting us. Maybe it's time we cut our losses and disappear."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and Kael felt the weight of their exhaustion pressing down on him. They had been fighting for survival for so long, and now, with Kerric's vague story hanging over them, some of them were ready to give up.
But Kael couldn't. Not yet.
"We can't disappear," Kael said firmly, standing to address the group. His voice was steady, but there was a fire behind his eyes. "The Iron Circle won't stop hunting us. They know we're a threat."
"And what then?" the boy shot back, frustration in his voice. "We keep fighting until we're all dead?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. He understood their weariness, their desire to escape this endless cycle of violence. But he also knew the truth, that the Iron Circle wouldn't let them go, no matter how far they ran. The only way out was through.
"We push on," Kael said finally, his voice hard. "We find this relic or whatever it is before the Iron Circle does. We use it against them, if we have to."
The group fell silent, but the doubt lingered. Veyron stood beside Kael, his eyes locked on Kerric. "What aren't you telling us?"
Kerric's expression didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something cold, calculating. "I've told you what you need to know. If we don't find that relic, the Iron Circle will."
Later that night, as the others rested, Kael approached Veyron, who sat on watch near the fire. "He's lying," Kael said quietly, his eyes fixed on Kerric's sleeping form.
Veyron nodded grimly. "I know. But what do we do? We need him, for now."
Kael's jaw clenched. He hated this, hated relying on someone. But Veyron was right. They were in no position to throw away whatever advantage Kerric's knowledge might offer.
"For now," Kael repeated, his voice cold. "But we watch him closely. If he tries anything, we end it."
The next morning, as they prepared to move out, Kerric approached Kael. His face was calm, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that Kael hadn't seen before.
"You're suspicious of me," Kerric said quietly, his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear.
Kael didn't deny it. "Should I be?"
Kerric gave a faint smile. "You've always been sharp, Kael. But remember this, I've kept you alive this long. If we're going to survive what's coming, you'll need me."
Kael stared at him, his hand unconsciously tightening around the hilt of his sword. Kerric's words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"I'll need you," Kael said slowly. "But I don't have to trust you."
Kerric's smile faded, but he said nothing more. As they set off toward the north, Kael's mind was filled with doubts.