The rains returned that week, light at first, then steady, soaking the timber scaffolds and turning Greyrest's streets into muddy veins. Yet the wall-building didn't halt. It adapted. Workers laid straw. Tools were oiled. Fires burned longer into the evening.
And in the heart of town, beneath the spreading boughs of the Ember Tree, the ancient red-leaved oak older than any stone around it, Ethan found a rare moment of stillness.
He sat on the edge of the circular stone planter built around its roots. His coat hung beside him, wet and heavy. Boots streaked with soil. He looked up through the branches as droplets fell, glowing faintly red in the dying light.
"You've got that look again," said a voice.
Elen appeared at his side, as quiet as the mist. She carried a folded cloak and a satchel.
"The look that says you're here… but also somewhere else."
Ethan exhaled. "Just thinking how fast things change. And how quickly people forget what came before."
She handed him the cloak. "Then remind them."
He took it, then paused. "Have you seen Lina today?"
Elen smiled. "Actually, yes. She's at the apothecary."
"Is she alright?"
"She's better than alright." Elen sat beside him. "Turns out she's been helping Mearve with the supply records, memorizing names and numbers faster than the scribes can write. The girl's got a head for patterns. And a stubborn streak."
Ethan blinked. "Mearve hates interruptions."
"She doesn't mind this one. Said Lina might even be apprentice-worthy."
Ethan smiled faintly, warmth blooming in his chest despite the chill. "That little spark…"
"She's turning into a flame," Elen said. "And she's not the only one."
The next morning, the council received news from the outposts, two guards wounded near the north ridge. The attackers hadn't struck to kill. They'd struck to sabotage. They'd tampered with scaffolding, stolen schematics… then vanished.
"Murn?" Gerran asked in the council hall, fists clenched on the table.
"No proof," Steward Halric muttered. "But too coordinated for common bandits."
Ethan stood slowly, scanning the gathered group. "No proof yet. But the lines we've drawn... someone's testing them."
"Then we tighten the circle," Elen said.
"And protect those outside it," Ethan added. "Especially the ones who didn't ask to be part of this."
He was thinking of Lina.
She was part of it now, not just because she ran messages or memorized ledgers, but because she believed. And belief, when nurtured in the young, became legacy.
That evening, Ethan stood at the gate again, the same place he'd first seen her sprint across the mud, scrolls in hand.
Now, Lina stood beside him. Arms crossed. Hair tied in a messy braid.
"I heard there was an attack," she said.
"There was."
"Was it Murn?"
He looked at her. The question was too sharp for her age. But her eyes didn't flinch.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
Lina nodded. "If he comes for the wall, I want to help."
"You already are," Ethan said, kneeling beside her. "But you'll help more by learning. Growing. You're not a soldier yet, Lina."
"I don't want to be a soldier," she said. "I want to be the one who decides what gets protected."
Ethan stared.
That spark Elen had spoken of, it was already kindling.
As the stars re-emerged behind a fading veil of clouds, Ethan returned to his quarters and lit a single candle beside his desk.
He pulled out a map, not of Greyrest, but of the surrounding territories. Roads. Rivers. Settlements. And in one corner, circled faintly in red, a name he had never seen, only heard in whispers: Blackmere.
It was time to look outward.
Because while Greyrest's walls rose higher, the shadows were shifting, not just within… but far beyond.
And Ethan, once a stranger in a broken world, now had something worth guarding.
Not just a city.
But its future.