Trevor turned away again, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Find someone else. I don't take requests."
"You didn't even hear what it was," she shot back, her tone hardening slightly.
"I don't need to. Whatever it is, I'm not interested."
The child Trevor had saved lingered nearby, watching the exchange in the silence. Her face was pale, her small hands gripping the rusted dagger tightly. Trevor's gaze flickered to her, then back to Beatrice.
"Take her with you," he said sharply. "She doesn't belong here either."
Beatrice regarded the girl with a flicker of pity before looking back at Trevor. "And what about you? Where do you belong?"
Beatrice pressed on, her voice softer now. "You're not like the others. Anyone can see that. The monsters you fight, the power you wield… you're not hiding it as well as you think. And trust me when I say this, others will come looking for you, too. Not everyone will ask politely."
He turned, his expression dark. "Is that a threat?"
"No," she said simply, "it's a warning."
The wind whistled through the ruins scattering ash and dust. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Trevor watched her, weighing her words against the ache in his chest, an ache he refused to acknowledge.
Finally, he shook his head. "I don't care. Leave."
Beatrice sighed, looking at the child. "You're not much of a hero, are you?"
"I'm not a hero at all."
"Fine," Beatrice said, her smirk returning. "But I'll give you time to reconsider. I'll be heading to Helmond Canyon tomorrow at dawn. If you're half as skilled as they say, you'll be curious enough to follow. After all, I heard from a little birdie that you were heading there."
"And if I don't?"
"Then the rumors were wrong, and you really are no one."
Trevor's eyes flashed dangerously, but Beatrice was already turning to leave. She gestured for the girl to follow her, murmuring soft words of comfort as they walked toward a distant wagon waiting at the edge of ruins.
Trevor watched them go, his fists clenched at his sides.
***
Trevor sat on a broken wall as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, staining the sky in hues of gold and crimson. His sword lay beside him, its blade catching the dying light.
"Where do you belong?"
Beatrice's words echoed in his mind clawing at the walls he'd built around himself.
He didn't belong anywhere. Not in this world, not among those who had betrayed him. And yet…
Trevor exhaled sharply, running a and through his dark hair. Beatrice had known of his power, his curse and hadn't flinched. Most people would have run screaming.
"Helmond Canyon," he muttered to himself. He'd heard of it from his master, monsters emerging from its depths, growing bolder by the day. A battlefield no sane man would walk into willingly.
Why does she want me?
The question lingered. And no matter how hard he tried to bury it, a flicker of curiosity remained.
Trevor made camp on the outskirts of the ruins, his fire a lonely flicker in the darkness. He leaned back against a fallen tree, staring into the flames. The air was still, save for the distant howls of beasts that prowled the wasteland.
When his eyes finally closed, memories flooded in. He was thirteen again, kneeling before his father in the grand hall of the Astraea Palace. The torches burned bright overhead, but the room felt cold. So cold.
"You are no son of mine," his father's voice thundered, each word a hammer blow. "A Felton with no mana is no Felton at all. Leave this place and never return."
Faces surrounded him, nobles, knights, his younger siblings, all watching in silence as guards dragged him away. He remembered his mother silent and still, refusing to meet his gaze.
The shame. The rage. The loneliness. Voices of the people of Astraea mocking him and the voices of those who abandoned him.
Trevor's eyes snapped open, the fire crackling softly before him. He reached for his sword, gripping the hilt tightly, as though it could anchor him to the present.
"Never again," he muttered.
As the first light of dawn crept over the wasteland, Trevor stood at the edge of his camp staring in the direction Beatrice had gone.
His horse waited nearby, its saddle packed and ready. He hadn't decided to follow her just yet. He could ignore her, let her match to her death in Helmond Canyon. He owed her nothing.
But something gnawed at him.
"You're not much of a hero, are you?"
Trevor smirked bitterly, shaking his head. "I'm not a hero."
He mounted his horse anyway.