The swinging lantern didn't get closer. It just… stayed there, rocking back and forth, like it was waiting for them to decide.
Letha slowed her steps. "That's creepy."
Ashen kept walking. "It's deliberate."
"Meaning?" she asked, half hoping he wouldn't answer.
"Meaning whoever's holding it knows we see them… and wants us to."
The path narrowed into a stretch of uneven stones. Grass grew high on either side, bending under the breeze. Somewhere far off, a night bird gave a low, hollow call.
Letha touched the hilt of her knife again. "So we just walk up to it?"
Ashen's voice was calm, but it had that undercurrent that made her uneasy. "We don't walk up to it. We let it walk to us."
He stopped. She stopped with him. The lantern kept swinging.
It took almost a full minute before the figure stepped forward from the dark. A tall man, wrapped in a coat that had seen too many winters. The hood covered most of his face, but the jawline was sharp, pale against the shadows.
The man stopped ten paces away. The lantern's light lit half his face, enough to see the small, crooked smile.
"Rudra," he said, like the name was something heavy.
Letha's head snapped toward Ashen. "He just—"
"I heard," Ashen said flatly.
The man's gaze flicked to her. "Your friend knows nothing. Best she keeps it that way."
Letha stiffened. "I can speak for myself, thanks."
Ashen's eyes didn't leave the stranger. "Why are you here?"
The man tilted the lantern slightly, making the shadows stretch long. "To see if the stories are true."
"You're wasting your time."
"Am I?" The man took a slow step forward. "They say the Wanderer walks again. That he wears another face, another name. That he hides from what's owed."
Letha's fingers tightened on her knife. "Ashen, who—"
"Quiet," Ashen said, sharper this time.
The man chuckled under his breath. "You've lost some of it. The weight. The way you used to stand."
"Things change," Ashen replied.
"Some don't," the man said, and his smile grew colder. "Some things follow you until they're done."
Ashen's stance shifted, barely, but Letha caught it — that tiny adjustment that meant he was ready for something.
"What do you want?" Ashen asked.
The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch, the lantern swaying in his grip. Finally, he said, "A message."
"From who?"
The man's smile faded. "From the ones you left behind."
Letha glanced between them. "Left behind where?"
Neither of them looked at her.
The man stepped closer. Now the lantern light caught the faint scar running from his temple to his cheek. His voice lowered. "They're coming, Rudra. And when they do… it won't matter who you're pretending to be."
Ashen didn't move. His expression was unreadable, but his voice had a weight to it now. "Then I'll be ready."
The man gave a small nod, as if that was the answer he'd expected. "I hope so. For your sake."
He took a step back, then another. The shadows swallowed him as quickly as they had given him shape. In moments, the lantern light was gone, and with it, the sound of his footsteps.
Letha let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "You wanna explain that?"
"No."
"No?"
He started walking again, the path lit only by the thin moonlight.
"That guy called you Rudra, same as that… thing earlier," she said, falling into step beside him. "And you're telling me nothing?"
"Not yet."
Her voice rose. "Not yet? You think maybe I'd like to know if I'm walking into something that wants to kill you? Or both of us?"
"You already know that much," he said without looking at her.
Letha groaned. "You're impossible."
They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds the crunch of gravel and the whisper of grass in the wind. But Letha's mind wasn't quiet. She kept replaying the man's voice, the way he'd said the name Rudra, like it belonged to something bigger than Ashen… and heavier.
By the time the first faint outline of rooftops appeared ahead, she'd decided two things — she didn't trust strangers with lanterns, and she trusted Ashen even less when he said "not yet."