As they rode closer to the cottage, faint smoke curled lazily into the sky. The stench of char and ash stung their nostrils. Darius felt a chill run down his spine. Favian had been right, the house had been burned.
They halted their horses behind a cluster of trees and watched in silence for several moments, scanning for movement. The woods were still; safe for the remains of what had once been a home.
"No one's here," Favian murmured, his eyes narrowing. "But stay alert."
They dismounted and approached cautiously. The ground was scattered with blackened timber and shards of pottery, the air still warm from the smouldering ruin. Favian veered off toward what remained of his own room, while Darius slipped inside through the half-collapsed doorway, coughing as he went.
Ash drifted through the air like fine dust, settling on his shoulders as he picked his way over the debris. His heart tightened as he reached the corner where his armour had been kept. Miraculously, though covered in soot, it remained mostly intact.
He knelt, wiping grime from the metal plates, trying to steady his breathing. That was when the sensation hit him— an unease creeping down his neck, like unseen eyes boring into him. Slowly, he turned toward the window.
A cloaked figure stood there; still as a shadow.
Their eyes met for the briefest second before the figure darted away into the trees.
Darius' heart lurched. He took the armour, spun on his heel, and sprinted toward Favian's room. "Favian!" he shouted. "Someone's outside— a cloaked figure! Watching me through the window!"
Favian's head snapped up. "What?" he hissed, grabbing his bow from the charred wall. "A spy, no doubt. One of the Valiant."
He stormed past Darius, his movements marked with anger. "Come on!"
They raced out of the ruin, mounted their horses, and tore into the woods. Branches whipped at their cloaks as they charged through the undergrowt.
"There!" Darius shouted, pointing ahead. Through the trees, the cloaked figure fled on foot, stumbling over roots and fallen logs.
Favian drew an arrow in one smooth motion and took aim. The bowstring sang—
Thwip!
The arrow struck true, grazing the figure's arm. The cloaked stranger cried out and tumbled to the forest floor.
Favian pulled his horse to a stop, leaping down with his bow already notched for another shot. Darius followed, sword drawn, his pulse pounding in his ears.
They advanced cautiously. The figure writhed in the leaves, clutching their wounded arm.
"Turn around," Favian ordered coldly, with a low, commanding voice. "Slowly."
The figure hesitated, then obeyed, turning to face them.
Darius froze, eyes widening. Beneath the shadow of the hood was the face of a young woman—pale, frightened, and streaked with dirt.
Favian blinked, his bow lowering just slightly. "A woman?" he muttered under his breath.
Darius exchanged a stunned look with him, his sword still hovering in the air.
The woman groaned softly, clutching the wound on her arm where Favian's arrow had struck. Her hood had fallen back, revealing tangled auburn hair and a face streaked with soot and fear.
Favian lowered his bow slightly, though his expression remained hard. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The woman flinched at the sound of his tone but did not answer. Her wide eyes darted between them, then to the sword gleaming in Darius's hand.
"Speak!" Favian barked, taking a step closer.
"I–I mean no harm!" she stammered, her voice trembling. "Please… don't kill me!"
Darius glanced at Favian, his sword still poised but uncertain. "She doesn't look like one of the Valiant," he murmured.
Favian frowned. "Then why was she spying on us?"
"I wasn't spying," the woman cried, tears welling in her eyes. "I was hiding! I saw what they did in Orlan—the soldiers, the fire. I thought you were one of them who came to finish the rest of us!"
Favian's expression softened a little. "Who are you?" he asked again, quieter this time.
"My name is Tessa," she replied, breathing heavily. "I lived on the edge of the market square… before they came."
Darius knelt beside her, studying her face. She was no older than him, perhaps younger, and her hands bore the calluses of a worker. "You said 'the rest of us'... who did you mean?"
"The Truthers," she said weakly. "Those who survived. Some escaped the raids and fled into the forest. I was running to find them when I saw your horses by the old cottage."
Favian's eyes narrowed. "You know where they are?"
Tessa nodded faintly. "Not far. Deep within the woods, by the old waterway. They've built a camp there. But…" She looked down at her wounded arm, grimacing. "I can't go back alone."
Darius turned to Favian. "We were going to search for the others anyway. She can lead us."
Favian exhaled, lowering his bow completely. "You're lucky, girl," he muttered, kneeling to break the arrow's shaft cleanly and pulling the head out with swift precision. Tessa winced but bit back a cry.
"Can you ride?" he asked.
She nodded, though her voice quavered. "If I must."
Favian quickly tore a strip of cloth from his cloak. "Hold still," he said, wrapping the cloth tightly around her arm. The woman winced but made no sound, her lips pressed into a firm line.
"There," he said, tugging the knot into place. "You'll live."
He mounted his horse, then helped her onto it, mounting her behind himself, while he took the reins. Darius followed closely, his gaze lingering with curiosity.
As they rode through the forest, the woman spoke soft and steady. "Keep east," she said. "The others will be at the hideout before dawn. I can take you there."
Favian's tone hardened as he asked, "Why were you alone? Why stray so far from your group?"
She hesitated for a heartbeat before answering. "I went back," she said quietly. "Back to the village where I was staying. I wanted to see what became of the family who sheltered me. The Valiant raided the place two nights ago. The family fled before they could be caught."
Darius' eyes softened. "So you returned, even with the risk of being captured?"
The woman nodded faintly. "They gave me food and a roof when no one else would. I couldn't just leave without knowing." Her voice trembled briefly, but she steadied herself. "Then, at the square, I saw you two."
Favian shot her a sidelong glance. "So you followed us."
"I wasn't certain you were Truthers," she admitted. "Not until I saw how you moved through the crowd. The Valiant don't walk with such purpose."
A faint smirk tugged at Favian's lips. "You should've called out instead of stalking us through the ruins."
"Would you have answered?" she countered dryly.
He chuckled under his breath. "Fair enough."
Then Favian asked, "What are the others planning? Where do you all intend to go?"
The woman straightened slightly. "To Ardet," she said. "The Valiant hold little sway there, and Lord Vince of Ardet is said to have a mind of his own. The Truthers are gathering there; those who survived, at least. We mean to rebuild, to train again."
Favian nodded thoughtfully. "That's wise. Orlan has fallen to the Valiant's lies. Ardet may yet hold a chance."
Darius, who had been quietly listening, suddenly leaned forward. "Favian couldn't tell your name," he said. "He could tell mine the moment he saw me—why not yours?"
Favian cast him a look, amused. "She's masking it," he said. "Using the [Hide Identity] command. It conceals a Truther's true name and essence from others like us."
Darius blinked, amazed. "You can do that?"
Tessa turned slightly with a smile playing on her lips. "Of course. It's one of the first things we learn."
"So that's why I couldn't sense you," Favian murmured.
Tessa tilted her head. "When did you say you arrived in this world?" she asked Darius suddenly, her tone almost teasing.
"Last night," he replied.
Her eyebrows rose. "Last night?" She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Then you've much to learn, Darius. A lot."
Favian gave a faint grin. "She's not wrong. The Unknown doesn't send fools to this world, but it does send the unready."
The three rode until the sun stood high in the sky. Darius's eyes were heavy from fatigue, his thoughts drifting, when suddenly Tessa raised a hand.
"Veer off the path," she said sharply.
Favian gave her a quick, questioning glance but obeyed. They turned their horses into the thick of the forest. After a few minutes of winding through the trees, they entered a small clearing.
A faint curl of smoke rose from what looked like a recently extinguished fire. Around it were scattered packs, bedrolls, and the remnants of a rough camp. Five men moved about the site, all armed, their eyes sharp with caution.
When they noticed the riders emerging from the trees, they froze. One of the men— broad-shouldered, with a thick beard— drew his sword in a single motion, his voice ringing out across the clearing. "Stay where you are!"
Tessa immediately slid down from Favian's horse, raising both hands. "Easy! They're Truthers… same as us!"
Her words made them hesitate. The bearded man lowered his blade slightly, eyes narrowing. "Tessa?" he called in disbelief.
"It's me," she said, stepping closer.
When he saw the bandage around her arm, his expression changed from suspicion to concern. He rushed forward. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing grave," Tessa said, a faint smile on her lips. "A stray arrow caught me. I'll live."
The man frowned but reached into his satchel, pulling out a small glass vial shaped like a cone. Within it swirled a green mist that shimmered faintly in the light. He uncorked it and held it beneath her nose. "Breathe in."
Tessa inhaled deeply. The green vapour curled into her nostrils like enchanted smoke. Almost instantly, her face eased, the pain fading from her gaze. She unwound the bandage, revealing smooth, unbroken skin where the wound had been.
Darius blinked in astonishment. "By the heavens…" he murmured.
Favian smirked slightly. "Potion of Mend," he said quietly. "Rare among our kind. I haven't seen one used before."
The bearded man turned his gaze upon Favian and Darius, his eyes still sharp with scrutiny. "You brought company," he said. "Who are they?"
"Tessa's friends," Favian answered evenly, dismounting. "Truthers, like you. We escaped Orlan before the Valiants could finish what they started."
The man studied them for a moment longer, then sheathed his blade with a soft sigh. "Then you're welcome here," he said. "Though welcome is a scarce word these days."
He extended a hand to Favian. "I'm Roder," he said. "Leader of this sorry band."
Favian clasped his hand firmly. "Favian. And this is Kriger."
Darius nodded, still glancing at the now-empty vial in Roder's hand. "That… potion," he said. "How did you—?"
Roder gave a short laugh. "Trade secret. The old temple may have fallen, but some of its relics still serve us well."
Favian and Darius raised their brows at the mention of The Fallen Temple.
Tessa smiled faintly at Darius' expression. "You'll learn, newcomer," she said. "The world of the Truthers is full of wonders, and even greater dangers."
Favian looked around at the small camp, his expression growing sombre. "Five men," he said. "Is this all that remains of your group?"
Roder's jaw tightened. "For now. The others were scattered or taken. But we'll gather again. The road to Ardet is long and it's safer to travel light."
Favian gave a slow nod, though his gaze drifted toward the west in the direction of Orlan.
Darius followed his stare,in silence. The truth was clear. They had escaped death, but the war had just begun.
Roder turned to the fireplace. "Well, you're just in time," he said with a grin. "We've only just finished cooking our morning soup. Come, have a meal with us before it gets cold."
Favian gave a polite nod. "That's kind of you, Roder. We've been riding since dawn."
"Then all the more reason to eat," Roder replied, motioning them closer to the put out campfire. "It's rabbit… caught it myself.
They sat in a loose circle around the crackling fire, bowls of steaming rabbit soup passed from hand to hand. Tessa sat close beside Roder, smiling softly as he draped an arm across her shoulders. Favian and Darius exchanged a brief glance. There was no mistaking the affection between the two.
Between sips of soup, Favian leaned forward. "You mentioned the Fallen Temple earlier," he said. "You were trained there?"
Roder nodded with pride in his dark eyes. "Aye. I did. I spun there when I first arrived. Iwas trained by Serge himself. A strict man, that one, but he had a good heart. He taught me discipline, purpose."
Favian smiled faintly. "That sounds like Serge," he said, almost fondly.
Darius nodded, spoon in hand. "He was fair, too," he added, but as he spoke, his voice wavered. A strange fog began to cloud his thoughts. His head swayed slightly, his eyelids felt heavy and his body sluggish.
Roder's tone shifted. "Serge taught me more than most. He said the world of the Truthers is cruel. That to survive, you must be cunning and unflinching." He set his bowl down and leaned back, a sharp smile cutting across his face. "Even if it means getting rid of your own kind."
Favian froze mid-bite, his gaze snapping up. "What?" he breathed.
Roder's grin deepened with cruelty.
Favian turned quickly toward Darius, just in time to see the boy's bowl slip from his fingers and crash to the ground. Darius' head lulled to one side, eyes rolling back as he collapsed in a heap beside the fireplace.
"Darius!" Favian surged to his feet, but the motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing through him.
He staggered to his knees, but immediately crashed to the ground too.
The last thing he saw was Roder's face. Smiling faintly through the haze, as the world turned black.