Elias stared at the parchment, its edges curling from the damp, the ink slightly smudged. A message. A command. A path that led beyond these walls.
He did not move.
Dain's amusement did not wane. He crouched again, fingers tapping idly against his knee. "I can see you thinking." His voice was smooth, coaxing. "You know what happens if you refuse."
Elias did.
Refusing meant punishment. Beatings. Maybe worse.
But accepting?
His heart beat slower, heavier.
If they were sending him beyond the stronghold, it meant two things: The journey was dangerous, and they didn't care if he came back.
Perhaps they even hoped he wouldn't.
A different kind of war, then. One waged with cold, exhaustion, and whatever waited beyond these walls.
Dain watched him carefully. "You won't get a second offer," he warned, voice soft but firm.
Elias exhaled slowly.
Then, finally, he lifted his gaze.
"I'll go."
---
They didn't give him much.
A cloak, barely thick enough to fend off the worst of the cold. A small satchel, half-filled with dried provisions. No weapon.
Dain himself escorted him to the gate, the guards there shifting with idle curiosity as Elias stepped onto the frozen path. The world beyond the stronghold stretched white and endless, the trees dusted with frost, the road ahead barely visible beneath the snow.
Dain adjusted the reins of his horse, looking down at him with that same unreadable smirk. "Follow the northern pass. Deliver the message at the outpost." A pause. "If you try to run, you won't get far."
Elias did not respond.
Dain chuckled. "Good. I'd hate to have to track you down."
With that, the gates groaned open.
The wind rushed in, sharp and biting.
Elias stepped forward.
Beyond these walls, beyond this stronghold, something waited.
Perhaps death.
Perhaps something else.
Either way, he was moving.
And for the first time in a long while, he wasn't just enduring.
He was leaving.