Derek didn't have much time left—and he knew it.
He paced his room restlessly, boots scraping softly against the wooden floor. The dirty, blood-crusted bandage wrapped around his upper-arm had done a decent job fooling the others, but it wouldn't hold up another day.
"Can't drag it out more somehow, can I?" he muttered with a resigned sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Well… all good things must come to an end."
He shivered.
"Gah—can't believe I just said something my mother would say." He grimaced in disgust, just as a knock came at his door.
"Hey, Carver!" Lennix's voice rang through. "We're heading out! Get your butt out here, mate!"
Derek moved to the door and pulled it open, greeting the vampire with a flat look. "Yes, don't worry. I'll be right with you."
Lennix grinned and gave him a thumbs up. "Then hurry it up already. Think we're all getting a bit tired of being stuck in this village."
Derek nodded, following Lennix down the narrow staircase into the tavern.
Clarissa, Mari, and Karin were gathered near the corner table. Well—sort of together. Karin kept her usual distance, arms crossed, eyes on the wall. Clarissa sat straight-backed and silent, while Mari leaned over the table enthusiastically rambling about something none of them seemed to be listening to. Clarisse was, but no one would be able to tell either way.
By the tavern doors stood the black knight, arms folded.
"Finally out of your room?" he called, giving Derek a nod.
Derek deadpanned, "No, I'm still in it. This is just an illusion. Or maybe I'm hallucinating. Honestly, either's possible."
Lennix chuckled beside him, and Mari let out a small laugh. The black knight just shook his head, amused.
"That question was rhetorical, and you know it."
"Was that what you were doing all day?" Lennix asked, clapping Derek on the shoulder. "Coming up with sarcastic replies?"
"If you three are done being idiots," Clarissa cut in, voice emotionless as ever.
Then she paused. A beat.
"Excuse me. If you three are done being you, could you go close the portal so we can finally leave?"
Lennix gave her a confused look. "Why'd you correct yourself?"
Clarissa didn't blink. "Because I've realized calling you three 'idiots' is an insult to idiocy. You fall even further below that."
The three of them blinked at once.
"You know," Derek said slowly, "if your words could do damage, you'd be out there slaying dragons by yourself."
Clarissa didn't respond. She just stared, unblinking, waiting.
"Alright, alright. Point taken," the black knight said, raising a hand in mock surrender as he stepped toward the door.
"Be careful! Don't get hurt again!" Mari called after them brightly.
"Don't worry! We'll… hopefully be fine!" Lennix replied, glancing over his shoulder with a grin.
And with that, the three of them stepped out through the tavern doors.
---
"So, do you have any siblings? Or are you an only child?" Winter asked cheerfully, walking beside the dirt road as the sky above dimmed into the faint blue of early evening. His tone was light—almost sing-song. "I was an only child myself! Well, sort of. My family had three different lines, so technically I had a ton of cousins my age. Felt like siblings sometimes. Anyway, could you tell me?"
Weeping Phantom trudged beside him with all the grace of someone fantasizing about shoving her head into a wasp nest. Every word out of his mouth felt like a dagger pressed against her patience. Her fists clenched. Her teeth ground.
"I could tell you," she muttered through her jaw, "but I don't want to. Happy with that answer, Chosen One?"
"Oh, Weepy—"
"Don't call me that."
"You really don't realize just how stubborn I am," Winter said with a light laugh, unfazed. Then he started again. "Do you have any siblings? Or are you an only child?"
"Winter—"
"Do you have any siblings? Or are—"
"FINE!" she snapped, throwing her hands up. Her voice was sharp enough to startle a flock of birds from a nearby tree. "Fine! I'm an only child! I have no siblings! No fake siblings! No honorary siblings! My father's dead! My mother's dead! I'm an orphan! Happy!?!" she shouted, stopping in her tracks and glaring at him.
Then she huffed and looked away.
"By Michael… you are the absolute worst."
Winter blinked, wincing like someone had slapped him across the soul. "Okay, now I feel bad for asking..." he muttered, then tentatively slung an arm around her shoulder.
"Don't worry," he said in that same chipper, oblivious tone. "You'll make friends here, princess! All you have to do is try!"
She exhaled hard through her nose, rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful, and shrugged his arm off as if it were a wet rag. Arms folded, she marched a few steps ahead of him.
"We're pulling up to a village," she muttered flatly, not bothering to look back. "Do with that what you will."
The road curved slightly, opening into a modest but active settlement. Small wooden homes and well-tended farmland surrounded them. Goats bleated in the distance. Children ran laughing down the paths. Smoke curled from chimneys. It was peaceful—too peaceful, almost.
Winter scanned the village. "Let's find the tavern," he suggested. "Could be nice to have a real meal instead of, you know, randomly foraged mushrooms."
"Whatever," Weeping Phantom replied, deadpan.
They walked until they found a weathered sign reading Spring Rooster, the painted bird faded but cheerful. The tavern itself was simple—worn wooden floors, the warm glow of lanternlight, voices buzzing with local chatter.
They stepped inside. The scent of stew and old ale hit them at once. A few heads turned but quickly returned to their drinks. Outsiders weren't exactly rare here.
The two of them slid into a table near the wall. Winter leaned back in his chair and waved casually. "Hey! We'd like to order some food, please?"
A barmaid bustled over to take their order with a tired smile.
Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the shadowed corner.
A girl sat cloaked, hood pulled just low enough to obscure most of her face. Her chin rested on her palm, fingers tapping slowly against the table. Gray eyes narrowed from beneath the hood, fixed sharply on the pair.
Her gaze lingered on Winter.
"…Those two look like trouble," she muttered to herself. Her eyes sharpened. "Especially him… I can't read his thoughts."