The gates of Eldwyn creaked closed behind them as the village guards returned to their posts.
Liora walked briskly, cutting through the dusty paths with practiced familiarity. Reynar followed, each step heavier than the last. His body was still aching from the battle, and the potion could only do so much. Exhaustion gnawed at him.
"We're here," Liora said at last, stopping in front of a modest stone-and-wood home tucked near the village's edge. A vine-covered fence surrounded a small herb garden. The place was quiet — too quiet.
She pushed the door open. "Inside. You'll rest here."
Reynar nodded, barely managing to thank her before stumbling through the doorway.
The room was warm. Wooden floors. A small hearth, cold but clean. Shelves of worn books and weapons lined one wall. A single bed sat in the corner with a thick wool blanket already laid out.
Liora pointed. "That's yours for now. Don't bleed on it."
Reynar collapsed onto the mattress and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
He woke sometime later to the scent of stew and the clinking of dishes.
The pain was dull now. The potion had worked, though he still felt bruised to his bones.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and found Liora at the small dining table, eating silently.
She glanced at him. "You survived the night. Good."
He shuffled over, and she handed him a bowl.
"Thanks," he said quietly, then took a bite.
They ate in silence for a while, the room lit by a lantern swinging gently from the ceiling beam.
After the meal, Liora stood and grabbed a map from a nearby shelf, spreading it across the table.
"If you're going to survive here, you need to understand where you are."
She pointed to a forested area on the map.
"This is where we found the Direfang Panther. Borderland woods. Not too dangerous unless you're stupid or unlucky."
Her finger moved southeast, to a small circle marked in faded ink.
"This is Eldwyn. Neutral village. We don't belong to any of the three great factions, and we aim to keep it that way."
Reynar leaned closer. "What happens if one of them tries to take control?"
"They have," Liora said flatly. "Not everyone who grew up here… still lives here."
A silence fell over them, heavier than before.
She continued, her tone more formal now. "The Imperium of Astra controls the east — magic academies, nobles, strict law and brutal punishments. The Voldrak Clans control the north — warbands, strength, glory, honor in battle. And the Ardent Flame Pact… well, they control nothing, but they burn everything. Rebels and pyromancers, mostly."
Reynar raised an eyebrow. "And what about you? Which faction do you like?"
Liora gave a bitter smile. "I like the kind that leaves people alone."
They cleared the table, and Liora lit the fireplace. Shadows danced across the walls as the flames grew.
Reynar looked around, finally speaking the question on his mind. "You said you came here when you were thirteen. Were you from another village?"
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes were fixed on the fire.
"…The mountains," she said at last, her voice distant. "North of here. My family lived high up — isolated, but happy."
She turned away, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"My parents were researchers. They studied… old things. Forbidden things."
Reynar leaned forward. "Like what?"
Liora's eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in thought.
"Things best left buried," she said quietly. "They were good people. Too good."
He sensed the edge in her voice — the weight behind those words.
Before he could ask more, she stood.
"I'll teach you how to fight tomorrow," she said. "System or not, if you can't wield a blade, you won't last."
Reynar nodded slowly, his thoughts still caught on what she said… and what she didn't.
That night, as he lay under her roof, warm for the first time in days, he couldn't stop thinking about her story.
There was grief behind her eyes. But something else too — rage, barely restrained.
Someone took everything from her, he thought. And she's still standing.