The sky had slipped into its evening robe — a deep Persian blue stitched with the faint shimmer of stars. Wisps of silver clouds drifted lazily across it, catching what little remained of the sun's warmth. The air smelled faintly of pine sap and woodsmoke, carrying the low murmur of merchants closing shop and the distant crackle of campfires.
Thrynn and Mivara lay side by side on the coarse sheet Coachman Soryn had lent them, spread neatly over the cool, dry grass. The ground beneath still held a trace of the day's heat, seeping up through the fabric in a slow, comforting wave. A lantern flickered nearby, its orange glow painting soft lines across their faces.
Their tent stood a short distance from the crowded camp — far enough for the laughter and clatter of dishes to fade into a soft, harmless hum.
"Peace," Thrynn sighed, her voice quiet, content.
"It won't last," Mivara murmured, her tone lazy but edged with knowing.
Thrynn turned her head slightly, a faint smile on her lips. "Then we enjoy it until it ends."
The world seemed to agree with her. A soft breeze drifted through the trees, carrying with it the earthy scent of moss and dew. Somewhere in the distance, a nightbird let out a low, throaty call, answered by the chirr of crickets starting their nightly rhythm. The torches along the inner wall burned lower, their light bowing to the first true darkness of night.
The camp's energy dulled to a hush — footsteps slowed, voices turned to whispers, and even the horses seemed to settle, their tails flicking lazily in the dim glow.
For a moment, it felt like the world itself was pausing.
Then—
"What are you people doing outside the tent?"
Riven's voice broke the calm. He stood at the edge of the light, rubbing one eye while the other faintly shimmered blue in the dark. His hair was a tangled mess, sticking out in every direction like he'd wrestled his blanket and lost.
Thrynn and Mivara lifted their heads just enough to see him.
"Oh, it's you…" Mivara muttered, squinting. "Uh—your name was…"
"Riven," Thrynn said, saving her.
"Yeah. Riven," Mivara echoed, waving a hand.
Thrynn raised an eyebrow. "We could ask you the same question."
Riven yawned, voice thick with sleep. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd Walk a bit. What about you?"
"Same," Thrynn said, lying back down again, eyes on the stars. "Except instead of walking, we're looking at the sky."
Riven followed her gaze, his expression softening. The heavens stretched endlessly above — stars glinting like dust scattered by a careless god. The moon's light brushed the forest edge in silver, quieting even the crickets for a heartbeat.
"Wow… it's beautiful. Can I join you?"
"No. Go sleep inside," Mivara said flatly.
"Yes, why not," Thrynn replied at the same time.
Before Mivara could protest, Riven grinned and dropped down between them. The grass whispered under his weight.
"Hey—!" Mivara started, glaring at him.
He ignored her, hands folded behind his head, gaze lost in the constellations. "You know… I've never really looked at the sky this long."
"Then don't blink," Thrynn murmured.
The three of them lay there — still and half-dreaming. The night wrapped around them, soft and deep. There was only the rhythm of breathing, the low hum of insects, and the distant creak of trees swaying.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" Thrynn asked softly.
"I… I'm scared," Riven said after a pause.
"Oh?" Thrynn turned her head toward him. "And what are you scared of?"
✦✦✦
Bang!
"What are you scared of?"
The voice wasn't just heard — it vibrated. It sank through the air, crawled into the skull, and whispered against the bones as if it wanted to live there.
The prisoner didn't even flinch.
Not when the man slammed his boot beside his head.
"Nothing," he sighed.
"See? You've gone from a crybaby to a gentleman who screams no more."
"I—"
"You talk when I say."
sharp hissing sound hissssssss, followed by a sudden movement
The crack of glass echoed.
"Yes, Master," the prisoner muttered.
"That's more like it. A calm, obedient person."
Footsteps approached — slow, deliberate.
Warm breath fanned across his face. The man was close now, so close their air mingled.
"You know what I fear?" the man whispered.
The prisoner felt the breathing quicken.
"No, Master," he answered.
"I fear people," the man said. "Their unpredictable nature. Once they agree on something, there's no telling when they'll turn their backs. One day they're with you and—"
He blew a low whistle, almost playful.
"—just like that, they switch sides. They only see their interests. Their needs. Their greed."
"Are you like that, Master?" the prisoner asked quietly.
"I just said something earlier."
"Sorry, Master."
"I'll let it slide this time."
"Thank you, Master."
"As for your question… No. I'm not like them. Yes, I'm unpredictable. But I stay true to my words."
✦✦✦
"…What if something goes wrong during the binding ritual?" Riven asked.
Thrynn and Mivara looked at him, the fear in his tone subtle but real