Daman blinked hard, trying to steady the tremor in his hand.
"I'm… not following," he said, voice rough. "What did you witness?"
Thalorian leaned back slightly, gathering the words with care.
"That earth‑rumbling quake the caravan experience earlier," he said. "It was from Meisha."
Daman froze.
Then he leaned back in his chair, disbelief washing over his face like a cold wave.
"That—no. That can't be."
Thalorian didn't soften the truth.
"Nydia called for me with urgency from the healer's carriage. It was exactly as you witnessed when you arrived… but before you entered, she told me the toxins from the suppression bracelet weren't responding to the usual treatment."
Daman's eyes narrowed, listening with the intensity of a man who needed every detail.
Thalorian continued.
"She informed my son of the situation, but Kaydence refused to accept it. He began siphoning as much of the toxin out of her as he could."
He took another gulp of ale, the memory still sharp.
"Nydia said what he did worked. Because soon after… the surge happened. And it evaporated the poison within her."
Thalorian informed his friend.
"I witnessed the blaze as well, along with the general's lieutenant. Her flame burned with the brightness of a garrison torch signal. I have no doubt it was seen by patrolling soldiers — and the townspeople of Duskmere."
The lieutenant straightened and nodded.
Marcellis leaned forward, brows drawn.
"I've read many texts and scrolls on the People of the Flame. From what you two are describing — and from what I witnessed in the healer's carriage with Master Daman — this doesn't sound like a normal ember caster."
Daman shook his head slowly.
"That's not possible. Alyra's flame was strong, yes, but Meisha—she never showed—"
He stopped.
A memory flickered behind his eyes.
A small girl. A fever. A room too warm for comfort.
Thalorian watched the realization settle.
"You've seen signs before," he said softly.
Daman didn't deny it.
He stared down at the table, voice barely above a whisper.
"When she was five… she came to me in the middle of the night looking for Alyra. But Alyra had gone into town to help deliver a baby."
He finished the rest of his ale in one swallow, then reached for the pitcher to refill his mug.
"Meisha was crying," he continued. "Saying she was hot. But she wasn't showing any signs of a fever."
He took a sip, leaning back in his chair as the memory unfolded.
"What did you do to calm her down?" Marcellis asked.
"It was the changing of the seasons — fall into winter. So naturally, I felt the sensible thing do was to take her outside." Daman exhaled. "And when I did… she calmed down."
Thalorian's voice was gentle but probing.
"And what was Alyra's response when you told her?"
Daman stared into his mug.
"Alyra told me it was nothing. That it was probably the start of a fever. She said to keep the window open in her room from then on."
He swallowed hard.
"And I believed her."
Thalorian's brows drew together, not in anger but in quiet insistence.
"You speak as if she would deliberately hide this from you," he said. "And you and I both know that isn't Alyra's character. She was always honest."
Daman nodded slowly. "Yes… you are correct. But how does this correlate with King Burruk wanting to investigate her death?"
The ale had finally settled into their bodies — loosening shoulders, softening edges, making the truth easier to speak. The four men sat in a more relaxed posture now, though the air remained taut with unspoken weight.
Thalorian exhaled, rubbing a thumb along the rim of his mug.
"The investigation itself was to be carried out in secrecy at first. Until…"
He stopped.
His eyes unfocused — reliving the moment Kaydence fought for his life, the moment Meisha's flame erupted, the moment everything changed.
Daman leaned forward, urgency sharpening his tone.
"Until what, Thalorian?"
Thalorian's gaze snapped back to him.
"Until it was reported that Kaydence's squadron was hit in a night raid… and scattered from the southern border."
Daman's breath caught.
Pharis listened. Marcellis set his mug down slowly.
Thalorian continued, voice low and steady.
"Before the attack, the king and I were trying to devise a reason to visit the human lands. We needed a pretext — something that wouldn't raise suspicion."
He lifted a hand, counting off the ideas.
"A gauntlet. An exchange program. A festival. Anything that would allow us to move freely and execute our agenda."
"And that's when the raid hit," Daman said, drawing the conclusion himself.
"Yes." Thalorian nodded. "And naturally, King Burruk granted me permission to go to my son's aid."
He leaned back, remembering.
"By the time I arrived at the southern border, his squadron had mostly regrouped, and one of the culprits from the raid captured. His lieutenant informed me she discovered his whereabouts in Duskmere. She had made contact with someone who made claims to have found him and that he was safe. She was heading out to make contact with them."
"And Meisha was the someone who found him," Daman said quietly.
Thalorian nodded.
"Yes."
He continued, voice steady but heavy.
"I gave the order for his lieutenant to relay the message that Alyra's death was being investigated. I made the conscious decision to wait to report this to the king until she had returned."
He paused, the memory still sharp.
"And when she did… she revealed news that Alyra had given birth to a child — a child being held captive with a suppression bracelet by Lord Varrick."
Daman's breath hitched.
Thalorian reached deeper into memory.
"She handed me the letter Kaydence wrote to her. Meisha gave her the letter and his crest for confirmation of identity."
A small smile tugged at Daman's lips — soft, proud, aching.
"My little girl is just as efficient as her mother."
"Indeed, she is," Thalorian agreed, warmth threading through his tone.
Daman leaned forward.
"So… what was stated in the letter Kaydence wrote?"
Thalorian's expression shifted — not darker, but sharper.
"Everything we needed," he said. "And more… to execute our plans."
Thalorian rested his elbows on the table, the ale softening his posture but not his clarity.
"Well," he began, "the first passage of Kaydence's letter confirmed that your wife had indeed given birth. And the other…" He paused, letting the weight of it settle. "The other revealed that Alyra had fought with Goblin King Adle in the Garrow Forest."
Daman's brow furrowed. "Why would those two details matter?"
Pharis and Marcellis exchanged a glance, both men listening intently, making their own silent inferences.
Thalorian leaned forward.
"You forget dear comrade that Alyra's origin of residency is of the demon continent. Have you forgotten that she and I were exchange students at the Adventure's University."
"Yes, I remember." Daman confirmed.
Thalorian's tone sharpened slightly.
"What does the peace treaty state about women born of the demon continent who take up residency in the human lands?"
Daman recited it from memory, though confusion creased his brow.
"That if any woman born of demon origin were to give birth to a child, that it is by royal decree to uphold ordinance of the peace treaty, that the birth of that child be reported to the demon capitol census bureau. And vice versa for the human census bureau."
He paused for a second.
"So, Meisha's birth was never documented."
"This can't be true. I completed those documents and turned them in myself." Daman confessed.
Thalorian reached out, placing a steady hand on Daman's forearm.
"I believe you, my friend. But the bureau's census records show no such report. And…"
He hesitated, then added,
"Alyra's whereabouts were never reported either. Only that she entered into fierce battle with King Adle… and won but did not survive."
Daman was stunned by the revelation.
He withdrew his hand and continued.
"For the second detail. Do you not recall the time we had to journey through goblin territory; to complete that request we had taken on, to slay the grand salamander in Enario Village?"
Daman threw his head back with a groan, rubbing his temples as the memory resurfaced.
"Ugh. How could I forget? The quickest route was through his domain. We couldn't cross through his territory unless one of us challenged him in a duel."
Thalorian nodded.
"The challenge was meant for the both of us — but not Alyra."
Pharis tilted his head, curiosity piqued.
"Why not, Commander?"
Thalorian leaned back, releasing a sigh of annoyance.
"Because King Adle stated women were weak and only meant to satiate their desires and breeding purposes. And if one of us lost the duel, we would have to hand over Alyra as his prize."
Marcellis and Pharis's eyes grew wide from shock.
Daman picked up where Thalorian left off, voice low and edged with memory.
"His reason infuriated Alyra to the point she forced him into a challenge with her — through an onslaught of high‑level ember casting."
Thalorian huffed a breath, half‑laugh, half‑grimace.
"She didn't even give him time to finish his insult. She unleashed a barrage so fierce it scorched half the clearing."
Daman nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the heaviness of the moment.
"She beat him so thoroughly it was rumored that he was incapacitated for two weeks."
Marcellis blinked. "She defeated King Adle. Alone?"
Thalorian nodded.
"And humiliated him. Publicly. In front of his own warriors."
Pharis let out a low whistle.
"That would give him motive," he murmured.
Thalorian's gaze hardened.
"Exactly. And Kaydence's letter stated Alyra encountered him again — but in Garrow Forest. Far beyond the Ashen Vale. Far beyond where he should have been."
Daman let the statement settle, the implications threading together in his mind.
"So, the sudden attack at the southern border gave reason for you to investigate the lands of Duskmere legitimately on Alyra's behalf... with the truthful guise of being in search of your son.
"That is correct." Thalorian replied.
He drew in a slow breath, the ale warming his blood but sharpening his focus.
"I am glad," he said, "that I trusted my intuition to wait."
Daman lifted his gaze, eyes still rimmed with the heaviness of memory.
Thalorian continued.
"The newly discovered information gave us grounds to receive an official order to search his land and property. To have a barrier placed over your land and Alyra's burial site. Signed by both King Burruk and King Es'coff."
He spread his hands slightly.
"Which brings us to now."
Pharis took a long swig of his ale, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"So now the question is," he said, "how did King Adle trek the journey from the far east of the demon continent into human lands without being detected?"
Marcellis leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"Master Daman… is there anything you can tell us about that day that might be of use?"
Daman pressed his fingertips to his temples, rewinding the moments of that dreadful morning. His breath grew shallow as he sifted through memory — until something struck him like a blow.
"There is," he whispered.
The three men straightened.
"I remember Alyra asking where Meisha was that morning," Daman said slowly, "as I was prepping items to sell in town. I told her Meisha went foraging in the forest. She had left before dawn."
He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps in deep thought.
"Damn it," he muttered. "I should have gone with her."
Thalorian watched him from his seat, concern tightening his features.
"What is it that you remember?"
Daman swallowed hard, voice trembling.
"I remember Alyra saying something about the forest being… restless."
Pharis and Marcellis exchanged a sharp glance.
"I told her I would go find Meisha," Daman continued, "but she told me no. That I needed to get to town."
His voice cracked.
Tears surged, unbidden, heavy with realization.
"I should have gone with her," he whispered. "I should have been by her side. She shouldn't have had to protect our daughter alone."
Thalorian rose from his seat and crossed the space between them in two strides. He placed both hands on Daman's shoulders, grounding him.
"No one," Thalorian said firmly, "could have predicted this outcome."
Daman's breath shuddered, but he nodded.
Thalorian released him gently, then rested one steady hand on his shoulder.
"I think that is enough truths for the night. Everyone should get some rest. I want all of you in top condition for the journey to the border of the Ashen Vale. Once there, we'll use the teleportation portal to reach the capital."
He turned.
"Marcellis."
He stood immediately. "Yes, my lord."
"Escort Master Daman to a tent for proper rest."
Marcellis bowed his head and moved to Daman's side, guiding him gently toward the tent flaps. Daman didn't resist — exhaustion, grief, and revelation weighing down each step.
When they disappeared into the night, the tent fell quiet.
Pharis approached Thalorian.
"What are your orders, sir?"
Thalorian folded his arms, eyes narrowing in thought.
"More of a question than an order."
Pharis straightened. "Yes, sir."
Thalorian turned to him fully.
"When you separated Kaydence and Warren… were you able to gauge his power?"
Pharis didn't answer immediately. He drew in a slow breath, the kind a soldier takes when he knows the truth will complicate everything.
"When I separated Kaydence and Warren," he began, "I… struggled a bit when my sword made impact."
Thalorian's brows lifted. "How so?"
Pharis stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Even though it seemed like Kaydence had the upper hand… the impact against Warren's blade told a different story."
Thalorian's posture shifted — not alarmed, but alert.
"Explain."
Pharis nodded.
"Warren blocked Kaydence's strike at the last second. On purpose."
Thalorian's eyes narrowed. "Really?"
"Yes, sir," Pharis said firmly. "Warren is strong. Far stronger than he lets on. And he's definitely hiding something."
A long, heavy silence settled between them.
Thalorian let out a deep sigh — the kind that carried irritation, exhaustion, and the weight of a thousand political knots tightening at once. He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers digging into the tension there.
"This crap," he muttered, "is going to age me by centuries by the time it's sorted out."
Pharis allowed himself a faint, humorless smile.
"Respectfully, sir… I think it already has."
Thalorian huffed, half a laugh, half a growl — the sound of a man who knew tomorrow's problems were already waiting at the door.
Outside, the night wind shifted, brushing against the tent walls like a warning.
Inside, the truth hung between them:
Warren was far more dangerous than he appeared.
Pharis stood at attention, the last of his report hanging in the air between them. The tent felt quieter now, as if even the lanternlight had dimmed to listen.
"Is there anything else you are in need of, Commander?" Pharis asked, voice steady but softened by the late hour.
Thalorian shook his head, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to loosen.
"No, Lieutenant. There's nothing more." He exhaled, long and weary. "You're dismissed for the rest of the evening."
Pharis bowed his head in acknowledgment.
"Yes, sir."
He turned and slipped through the tent flaps, the canvas falling closed behind him with a soft whisper — leaving Thalorian alone in the stillness.
For a moment, Thalorian simply stood there, letting the silence settle. The weight of the night — the truths uncovered, the dangers revealed, the responsibilities waiting at dawn — pressed against him like a second cloak.
He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering under his breath.
"Centuries, Alyra… this is going to age me by centuries."
The lantern flickered, casting long shadows across the tent walls. Thalorian finally moved toward his cot, the exhaustion of leadership settling into his bones.
Tomorrow, the Ashen Vale awaited. Tomorrow, the capital. Tomorrow, answers — or more questions.
But tonight, he allowed himself the rare luxury of rest.
The first light of morning filtered through the canvas walls of the healer's tent, soft and muted. Kaydence's eyes opened slowly, his breath catching as he realized he was no longer on the forest floor, no longer fighting for consciousness.
He was lying on a cot.
A healer's tent.
And it was quiet.
Too quiet.
He pushed himself upright, ignoring the dull ache in his limbs. His gaze swept the tent — and then he saw her.
Meisha.
Still. Resting. Breathing.
The world narrowed to a single point.
Kaydence moved before he even realized he'd stood. He crossed the space in two strides and dropped to his knees beside her, her name leaving him in a whisper.
"Meisha…"
He reached for her hand, lifting it gently and pressing the back of it against his cheek. His eyes closed as he activated his ability, letting his senses sink into the rhythm of her body.
Her pulse. Her breath. Her warmth.
Everything was steady. Everything was normal. Everything was safe.
His shoulders slumped with relief, the tension draining from him all at once.
Outside, the camp was stirring — voices, footsteps, the clatter of crates — but Kaydence heard none of it. He sat at her side, watching her, guarding her, the world beyond her fading into nothing.
Finally, he spoke, voice low and tender.
"I kept my vow to you, Meisha." His thumb brushed a coiled strand of hair away from her face. "Now all you have to do is wake up… so you can see and hug your father again."
The tent flap rustled.
Nydia entered carrying a wooden crate stacked with vials and folded cloths. She paused when she saw him kneeling beside Meisha.
"General Kaydence," she said with a respectful bow. "You're finally up. How are you feeling?"
Kaydence didn't look away from Meisha.
"I am fine," he said quietly. "How long was I out?"
"Only for a couple of hours," Nydia replied, already moving to her medical station to pack the last of her supplies.
Kaydence's voice sharpened with urgency.
"How is Meisha? Has she woken at all today?"
Nydia didn't pause in her work.
"The lady will live. The toxins were evaporated out of her system."
Kaydence's head snapped up.
"Evaporated out of her?"
Nydia stopped mid‑step, giving him a half‑turn.
"As much as I would love to go into detail about what took place during the night, I am unable to. Everyone is under orders to pack up and move out so we can reach the border of the Vale and use the teleportation portal to get to the capital."
She adjusted the crate in her arms.
"But to give you a brief summary: a magical surge erupted from Lady Meisha last night, after you siphoned some of the poison out. The flames engulfed her — and you as well. She has been unconscious ever since."
Her brows furrowed as she added her own conclusion.
"My guess is her body is extremely exhausted from such a massive release of mystical buildup."
She shifted the crate again, preparing to leave.
"If you want to know anything else, your father would be the one to ask."
With that, she exited the tent, leaving Kaydence alone with Meisha once more — and with the truth that her flame had awakened in a way no one had anticipated.
The morning light warmed the canvas walls, turning them a soft gold. Kaydence remained kneeling beside Meisha, her hand still held gently in his. The quiet between them felt sacred — a fragile peace after a night of chaos.
He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, letting the steady rhythm of her pulse reassure him again and again.
Outside, the camp was waking. Inside, time felt suspended.
Kaydence leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm right here, Meisha. I'm not leaving your side."
The tent flap rustled again — this time more firmly.
Nydia re‑entered, her arms now empty, her expression brisk and focused. She paused when she saw Kaydence still kneeling exactly where she'd left him.
"General Kaydence," she said, her tone softening just a fraction. "You should prepare yourself as well. We'll be moving out shortly."
Kaydence didn't look away from Meisha.
"I will. After she wakes."
Nydia hesitated — a rare crack in her usual composure.
"General… she may not wake for several hours. Her body is recovering from an immense expenditure of power."
Kaydence finally lifted his gaze, meeting hers.
"I'm aware. And I'm staying."
Nydia exhaled through her nose, half exasperated, half understanding.
"Very well. But don't push yourself. You were engulfed in that surge too."
Kaydence's jaw tightened.
"I'm fine."
Nydia gave him a look that said she didn't believe him for a second — but she didn't argue. Instead, she stepped closer to Meisha, checking her pulse, her temperature, the faint glow still lingering beneath her skin.
"She's stabilizing," Nydia murmured. "Her flame is… quiet now."
Kaydence's grip on Meisha's hand tightened.
"Good."
Nydia straightened, brushing off her hands.
"I'll return once the caravan is ready to depart. If she wakes, call for me immediately."
Kaydence nodded.
Nydia slipped out of the tent, leaving him alone once more.
Kaydence leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against the back of Meisha's hand.
"You're safe," he whispered. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Outside, the camp continued its preparations — the clatter of armor, the murmur of voices, the distant call of orders.
Inside, Kaydence stayed perfectly still, guarding Meisha with a devotion that needed no words.
Kaydence didn't stir when the tent curtain rustled open again.
He assumed it was Nydia returning for something she'd forgotten — a vial, a cloth, another crate.
He didn't bother to look up.
His fingers remained wrapped around Meisha's hand, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles in a steady, protective rhythm.
Then someone cleared their throat.
Kaydence exhaled, still not turning.
"As I've stated before, Nydia… I'm not moving from this spot until it's time for us to move out."
A familiar voice answered.
"Not even for your old man?"
Kaydence froze.
His head snapped up.
"Father."
He immediately — almost instinctively — placed Meisha's hand gently at her side and rose to his feet. Despite the lingering ache in his body, he stood at full attention, posture straight, shoulders squared, every inch the disciplined general Thalorian had raised him to be.
Thalorian stepped fully into the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him. The morning light caught the silver in his hair; the lines of worry etched into his face from the night before.
His gaze flicked from his son… to Meisha… then back to his son.
"You don't have to stand on ceremony with me," Thalorian said quietly, though there was a faint warmth in his tone — the kind reserved only for Kaydence.
Kaydence didn't relax.
Not yet.
Not until he knew why his father was here.
Thalorian took a slow step forward, his eyes softening as he looked at Meisha's resting form.
"I see she's stable," he murmured.
Kaydence nodded once.
"She is."
"And you?" Thalorian asked, his voice low but firm. "Are you stable?"
Kaydence hesitated — just long enough for Thalorian to notice.
But he answered.
"Yes, Father."
Thalorian's brow lifted slightly, unconvinced.
But he didn't press. Not yet.
Instead, he moved closer, stopping beside his son, both of them standing over Meisha like twin sentinels.
"She's strong," Thalorian said. "Maybe even stronger than Alyra was."
Kaydence's jaw tightened.
"I know."
Thalorian studied him for a long moment — the exhaustion in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way he hovered protectively over Meisha even while standing at attention.
"At ease, my son."
Kaydence obeyed immediately, his shoulders lowering, his posture softening.
And the moment his defenses dropped, Thalorian reached out, bracing the back of Kaydence's neck and pulling him into a firm, sudden embrace.
"I thought your mother, brother, and I had lost you," Thalorian said, voice thick with emotion he rarely showed.
Kaydence returned the embrace without hesitation.
"If it wasn't for Meisha… you would have."
They released each other and turned their attention to the resting Meisha.
"I see, and you won't leave her side," Thalorian observed.
Kaydence didn't deny it.
"No," he said simply. "I made a vow to her to return. I want to be by her side till she wakes"
Thalorian nodded once — a gesture of understanding and approval.
"Well."
He glanced around the tent, spotting two unused chairs in the corner. He crossed the space, retrieved them, and brought them back to Meisha's bedside.
"Since you won't leave her side until it's time to depart," he said, setting the chairs down, "I can bring you up to speed while we wait."
Thalorian took the chair on the left. Kaydence sat on the right — closest to Meisha's head.
Kaydence and his father sat in the healer's tent, the morning light soft against the canvas walls. Meisha rested between them, her breathing steady, her presence grounding the moment even in her unconscious state.
Thalorian folded his hands, leaning forward slightly.
"Let me bring you up to speed," he began. "Alyra's death was investigated in secrecy for a reason. The king didn't want panic, nor did he want to alert anyone who might have been involved. But once my findings aligned with the information in your letter… we finally had grounds to bring her death into the open."
Kaydence listened intently, jaw set, eyes flicking to Meisha every few seconds as if to reassure himself she was still there.
Thalorian continued.
"The peace‑treaty violations. The missing census report. The unrecorded battle with King Adle. All of it pointed to foul play. And once we had enough evidence, King Burruk addressed it to King Es'coff, and the two signed the order to investigate publicly."
Kaydence nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of it.
Thalorian shifted slightly in his chair.
"We were also able to retrieve Meisha's father," he said. "He's traveling with us now."
Kaydence's eyes widened a fraction — relief, surprise, and something like gratitude flickering across his face.
"That will mean everything to her," he murmured.
Thalorian gave a small nod of agreement.
"And now," he said, "you tell me what happened on your end. What led to you being found in the woods?"
Kaydence inhaled deeply, steadying himself.
"It started with a night raid," he said. "A coordinated one. They struck our position hard — too hard for it to be random. Meisha found me in the Nykon woods after I was separated from the others."
Thalorian's expression darkened, the lines around his eyes tightening.
"Go on."
Kaydence's gaze drifted to Meisha again, his voice lowering.
"She saved my life. More than once."
Thalorian didn't interrupt. He let his son speak, let the truth settle between them like a shared burden.
Kaydence continued.
"I was injured. Poisoned. Barely conscious. She dragged me through the forest, hid me, protected me."
Thalorian's jaw clenched, but he remained silent, letting the weight of his son's words sink in.
Kaydence exhaled slowly.
"That's what led us here. That's how she found me."
Thalorian leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to Meisha's resting form.
"Then she is even more her mother's daughter than I realized."
Kaydence didn't disagree.
The two men sat in quiet understanding, the morning light warming their faces, the truth of the night before still settling around them.
Kaydence and Thalorian sat in the healer's tent, briefing each other in low, steady voices. Meisha rested between them, her breathing soft and even.
The tent flap rustled.
Both men turned as Daman stepped inside, intending to check on his daughter and inform Thalorian that the caravan was ready for departure.
He stopped short when he realized Thalorian and Kaydence were already seated at her bedside.
Kaydence saw his father rise to greet the man who had entered — but Kaydence himself remained seated, unaware of who stood before him.
"Kaydence," Thalorian called, his tone carrying the unmistakable command of a superior officer.
Kaydence stood immediately, positioning himself beside his father.
Thalorian gestured toward the man.
"Allow me to introduce you. This is Daman Zekiel — Meisha's father."
The name struck Kaydence like a bolt.
"Daman Zekiel?" he repeated. "The famous adventurer sword master Daman Zekiel?"
Thalorian gave a proud nod, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"The one and only. And we've been best friends for years."
Kaydence and Daman clasped forearms in a warrior's greeting. Kaydence's eyes shone with admiration as he pointed subtly from Daman to Meisha.
"You're her father?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.
"Yes," Daman replied with a soft chuckle. "Hard to believe someone like me could produce such a remarkable young lady."
As their handshake ended, Kaydence suddenly realized how his words might have sounded. His eyes widened.
"My apologies, Master Daman. I meant no disrespect. It was simply unknown to me that Lady Meisha shared the blood of not just one, but two greatly respected adventurers. I am honored to be in your presence."
Daman glanced at Thalorian with an impressed look.
"Whew… Thalorian, my friend. You've raised one hell of a respectful young man."
Thalorian crossed his arms, nodding with pride.
"And a respected general — second in command to King Burruk's army. But I can't take all the credit. Most of it goes to Sienna."
Kaydence stood there as the two older men talked about him as if he weren't present.
He cleared his throat.
"Um."
Both men looked at him.
"As much as I would love to hear the two of you chat about me as if I'm not standing right here… need I remind you this is the healer's tent, and there is literally someone recovering."
He gestured toward Meisha.
"If we aren't ready for departure, I request that you continue your conversation elsewhere."
With that, Kaydence sat back down at Meisha's side, reclaiming her hand with quiet protectiveness.
Thalorian and Daman stared at him, bewildered.
"Did your son just order us to leave over my daughter?" Daman asked.
"He indeed did," Thalorian replied, not even attempting to hide his amusement.
"Well," Daman said, straightening, "before I dismiss myself on your son's orders, I came to inform you that the caravan is ready for departure — and to see how my Meisha is doing. All that's left is the healer's tent."
Thalorian placed a hand on Daman's shoulder.
"Thank you for the message, my friend."
He turned to his son.
"Did you hear that, General? The caravan is ready to move out on my orders. Nydia's attendants will be in shortly for Lady Meisha."
"Yes, Father," Kaydence replied, his attention returning fully to Meisha.
Thalorian exited the tent, leaving Daman and Kaydence alone with her.
Daman walked around to the opposite side of the cot, knelt, and gently stroked the top of Meisha's head.
"I'm sorry I let the loss of your mother destroy me to the point where I couldn't properly protect you," he whispered. "I hope you can forgive me someday."
He looked up at Kaydence. Their eyes met.
"Thank you," Daman said quietly. "For doing what I was unable to do."
Kaydence shook his head.
"As much as I would love to take credit for your gratitude, I cannot. It was Lady Meisha's doing."
He glanced down at her, his voice softening.
"For what it's worth… she doesn't harbor resentment toward you. During the time I spent in her care, you were the first person she said she wanted to see once she was free of Lord Varrick's estate."
Emotion welled in Daman's eyes — relief, grief, and gratitude all tangled together.
He stood slowly.
"I'll leave you with her, then."
The two men exchanged a respectful nod.
Daman slipped out of the tent, leaving Kaydence alone once more at Meisha's side.
He sat quietly beside her the tent now emptied of everyone except the two of them. The morning light filtered through the canvas, warm and gentle, casting a soft glow across her resting face.
He leaned closer, brushing his thumb along the back of her hand.
"You need to wake up," he whispered, voice low and earnest. "I want to hear your voice again… see your smile again."
His gaze softened, lingering on her features.
"Your father is here," he murmured. "Waiting to see you. To hold you."
A moment passed — quiet, still, sacred.
Then the tent flap opened, and two of Nydia's attendants entered with purposeful steps. They bowed their heads respectfully before moving toward Meisha's cot.
Kaydence didn't move at first. He simply watched them approach.
When the two attendants bent down to lift the cot, Kaydence's voice cut through the air.
"Stop."
Both froze immediately.
One of them spoke carefully, respectfully.
"Um… General. We were given orders to move out."
Kaydence rose from his chair and stepped back to the cot. Without hesitation, he slid his arms beneath Meisha's body and lifted her gently against his chest.
"I'll take her to the healer's carriage," he said. "Everyone can resume their duties."
The attendants exchanged a quick glance, then bowed deeply.
"Yes, General."
They immediately returned to breaking down the healer's tent.
Kaydence adjusted his hold on Meisha, ensuring her head rested securely against his shoulder. Her hair brushed against his collarbone, and he tightened his grip just slightly — protective, steady, unyielding.
With Meisha now in his arms, he turned toward the tent entrance.
He lifted the flap and stepped out into the sunlight.
The morning air met him with warmth, the camp bustling with movement — soldiers preparing mounts, attendants loading supplies, the low hum of a caravan ready to depart.
But Kaydence saw none of it.
His entire world was the woman he carried.
And he walked forward with purpose, heading toward the healer's carriage — toward the next step of their journey.
Kaydence stepped out of the healer's tent with Meisha held securely in his arms, the sunlight washing over them both. The camp around him fell into a hush — not out of shock, but out of understanding.
Every soldier, every attendant, every healer paused.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
Nichelle, standing near the supply wagons, caught sight of her general. Her breath hitched, but she knew better than to approach. The look on his face — the quiet determination, the protective hold — told her everything she needed to know.
She bowed her head respectfully and returned to her duties.
Kaydence carried Meisha to the healer's carriage with unwavering focus, stepping up into the wagon and settling her gently onto the prepared cot inside. He remained beside her, one hand resting over hers, as the last of the camp was broken down.
Outside, the final crates were loaded. The last tents were folded. The caravan stood ready.
Thalorian raised his hand.
"Move out!"
The command echoed across the clearing.
And with that, the caravan began its departure toward the Ashen Vale.