Castle Nérou loomed behind them as Dimiour and Rose made their way toward the captain's quarters. The stone walls, worn and ancient, bore witness to centuries of war and whispered secrets. Rain had begun to fall—soft at first, then harder—drumming against the windows like a steady heartbeat.
Rose's boots left damp prints on the worn stone as they approached the heavy door. She paused, hand on the cold iron handle, memories flooding her like a sudden tide. This was where she'd earned her name. Where Thaddeus had taught her that strength wasn't just about steel and fire, but about never letting the world take the fight from you.
Dimiour noticed her hesitation. "You alright?" he asked, voice quiet, respectful. He'd learned long ago to give her space to breathe.
She nodded once, but the door blurred before her eyes. "Just… memories," she said, her voice rough with more than rain. She pushed the door open.
Inside, Thaddeus's quarters were exactly as she remembered: chaotic, cluttered, lived-in. Weapons were scattered across tables, training dummies patched with new leather and old scars. An enchanted crystal hummed softly on a shelf, casting a pale glow that barely fought the gloom. A battered mug still held the remains of old coffee, cold and bitter.
On the far wall, a small painting—a girl with bright eyes and a man whose smile seemed almost too rare to be real. Rose's heart clenched. She'd never asked about it. She'd been too afraid to pry into the captain's private pain.
Dimiour moved slowly through the room, hands behind his back. His eyes caught every detail—every scratch on the sword rack, every torn parchment. "He trained us here," he said, almost to himself. "Every scar on this floor—some of them are ours."
Rose reached out to the wooden post she'd struck a thousand times, fingertips tracing the grooves. "I thought he'd kill me that first day," she murmured. "But he just… smiled. That rare smile. I didn't know his face could even do that."
She felt the tears building but forced them back. Thaddeus had never stood for weakness. And she wouldn't dishonor him now.
A low growl rose from the shadows near the hearth. Dimiour tensed, but Rose just smiled. "It's alright," she said. "Blue, it's us."
An old albino wolf padded forward, his eyes bright blue even in the dim light. His white fur was streaked with age, scars crisscrossing his muzzle and flanks. He moved with a slow dignity, tail wagging faintly as he recognized them. He pressed his head into Rose's hand.
"He looks older," Dimiour said softly.
Rose scratched behind Blue's ear. "He's seen too much. Just like us."
Blue huffed a sigh, then circled near the hearth and settled into a comfortable sprawl. Dimiour's gaze lingered on the wolf, and something in his eyes softened. "I remember that night he wouldn't leave your side," he said. "After the Crelins. He wouldn't let anyone near you until Thaddeus himself gave the word."
"He's family," Rose replied simply.
Outside, the rain thickened. It pattered against the roof like a funeral drum.
Dimiour turned to the battered desk, where scrolls lay scattered like dead leaves. He lifted one, the edges burned. "Adventuring contracts," he muttered. "Some of them months old. He was planning something."
"Always was," Rose replied. "Couldn't sit still if you tied him down." She moved closer, brushing her fingers over a worn strip of leather wrapped around the hilt of a dagger. "He hated seeing us idle. Hated it even more when we gave up on ourselves."
Dimiour's eyes found hers. "He's more than a captain to us," he said. "He's… he's the reason we're still standing."
Rose nodded, jaw set. "Then we bring him home."
Dimiour reached for his spellbook, the leather cover worn by years of use. He flipped it open, fingers trailing over the runes. "Alteration tome," he whispered. "Enhance senses."
Rose's brow furrowed. "That's dangerous."
He met her gaze, unwavering. "So is this."
He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Mana gathered around him, threads of energy weaving through the air, binding to every stone, every drop of water. The room faded as his senses expanded—he felt the rain on the castle walls, the echoes of footsteps on the stone, the faintest tremors in the wood beams above.
Then he felt it—a mana signature, rough and stubborn, marked by the scars of countless battles. Thaddeus's. It shone like a beacon in the darkness. But there was another—fresh, sharp, an edge honed by duty. A knight loyal to the king, waiting in the barracks.
Dimiour's eyes snapped open, a thin line of blood trickling from his nose.
"Dimiour!" Rose caught his arm, steadying him.
He drew a shaky breath. "He's alive," he said. "And we're not the only ones looking for him. A messenger knight—someone with the king's seal."
Rose's jaw tightened. "Then that's where we go."
Dimiour's knees buckled. Rose caught him, guiding him to Thaddeus's old chair. "You push too hard," she muttered, but her touch was gentle, a warrior's hand holding something precious.
Dimiour leaned back, eyes closing. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one raging in his chest. "Rose," he whispered. "What if I can't do this? What if I can't bring her home? Or save this kingdom? I'm powerful, but I'm still… still just one man."
Rose crouched in front of him, her eyes steady, the same eyes that had stared down dragons and nightmares. "You're Dimiour of Nérou," she said. "The one who stood beside me when no one else would. The one who saved me from the darkness more times than I can count. You made me a knight when I was nothing but rage and bones. If you fall, I'll carry you. That's my promise."
His throat tightened. "Even if I'm not enough?"
"Especially then," she said, her voice a soft vow.
Blue huffed once, as if adding his own oath to theirs.
Outside, the rain softened, a hush before the next storm.
Together, they would face whatever darkness waited beyond the castle walls.