The winds carried the scent of burning pine down from the northern slopes, brushing past Eryndor Vale as he crouched beside the edge of the ravine. The firelight of the distant village flickered like a beacon in the growing dusk, but he made no move to approach.
Not yet.
His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, wrapped in faded cloth to disguise the black runes etched into the blade. The arm beneath his cloak ached—a slow, familiar throb that came and went like the tide. He flexed his fingers, watching faint blue embers dance along his wrist before fading into nothing.
"The curse is restless tonight," he muttered.
A soft crunch of leaves behind him made him tense.
"You talk to your arm often?"
Eryndor's grip tightened, but he didn't draw his sword. He knew the voice.
Kaelith Moren stepped into view, her silhouette slender against the dim sky. Strands of dark hair framed her pale face, and her eyes shimmered faintly—a sign she'd been channeling magic not long ago.
"I find it listens better than most people," Eryndor replied without looking at her.
Kaelith smirked, leaning against a tree with one hand resting casually on her curved dagger. "You keep lingering near villages, Eryndor. That's not the behavior of someone trying to stay forgotten."
"I'm not here for company."
"Good," she said, pushing away from the tree. "Because there won't be any left by morning."
His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Kaelith stepped closer, her expression darkening. "The King's Blades are moving through this region. They're tracking relic hunters. The village down there?" She nodded toward the faint glow in the distance. "Rumor is one of the farmers dug up something they shouldn't have."
Eryndor's cursed arm throbbed again, as if responding to her words.
"Relic or not, they'll burn the place to the ground if they think there's a threat," Kaelith added, lowering her voice.
Eryndor turned his gaze back to the village.
It would be easy to walk away. He had done it before.
But something about the flames felt wrong—like an omen.
"Where are they now?" he asked.
Kaelith studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "South ridge. Five of them."
He rose to his feet, tightening the straps of his cloak.
"Tell me you're not planning to fight them."
Eryndor shook his head. "No. Just watching."
Kaelith crossed her arms. "You always say that. Then there's a trail of bodies behind you."
Eryndor glanced at her over his shoulder. "Only if they deserve it."
He disappeared into the trees, leaving Kaelith to stare after him with a frown.
"One of these days," she whispered to herself, "you'll stop pretending you're not a hero."