By the time they left the market, sweat and dust clung to their clothes.Ethan groaned, tugging at his grimy tunic collar. "If we go back like this, Seres will think we rolled in the stables for fun and then wrestled a pig."
Ardyn chuckled, the sound rough in his dry throat. Together, they diverted from the main path, cutting through the trees toward the familiar rush of the river. They didn't hesitate, wading into the cool, clear current fully clothed. The water was a shock, then a blessing, washing away the grime and stink of the day. It soaked through the fabric, soothing the deep ache in Ardyn's ribs and the protest in their tired muscles. They scrubbed at their arms and faces, letting the current carry away the smell of stables, the sweat of lifting crates, and the faint, lingering scent of fish from the cat chase.
They arrived back at the ruins damp but clean, their hair plastered to their foreheads but smelling of nothing but fresh water and pine. Seres and Mia were still out, giving them a precious window. They quickly stowed the practical supplies—the sack of barley, the bundle of salt, the spools of thread—in their usual storage nook. The small, carefully wrapped parcel containing the hairpin was set apart from the rest, tucked gently behind a loose stone in the wall, a place of honor awaiting the celebration.
With time to spare, they joined the frantic, hushed efforts of the others. Kai was directing Nico on the best way to drape faded cloth streamers. Luna was arranging a circle of smooth river stones around the fire pit. They worked quickly, a sense of giddy conspiracy filling the air. The usual starkness of the ruins was softening, transforming into something warmer, a place ready for a party.
Ethan was in the middle of a whispered joke about how Seres would scold them for using too many candles when Mia's voice, bright and clear, cut through from outside.
"We're back!"
Panic was instant and absolute. In a flurry of silent motion, half-finished decorations were snatched down. Garlands were balled up and shoved into baskets. The river stones were kicked back toward the bank. Ardyn's heart leapt into his throat as he lunged for the hairpin, secreting it deep within his own damp bedroll just as Seres' shadow fell across the entrance.
By the time she stepped fully inside, the ruins looked perfectly ordinary. Or at least, it looked as ordinary as a home made of ancient stone and scavenged hope ever could. The only evidence of their conspiracy was their slightly too-casual poses and the shared, breathless look of triumph hidden behind their carefully neutral faces. They had pulled it off. The secret was still safe.
Seres and Mia returned, their baskets overflowing with fragrant herbs, the air around them carrying the fresh, green scent of the deep forest. The children immediately swarmed them, creating a cheerful chaos as they helped unload the greenery and began preparing the evening meal together in the makeshift kitchen.
Seeing his chance, Ardyn approached Seres, his tone carefully casual. "Your knowledge of the plants is impressive," he began, gesturing to the bounty around them. "Maybe tomorrow you could take me further out? I want to see where you find them, learn how you tell them apart." The request was honest on the surface, a genuine interest in her craft. But beneath it lay the simple, crucial mission: to keep her occupied and far from the ruins, giving the others the time and space they needed to finish preparing her surprise.
The warm smell of broth filled the ruins, softening the usual scent of stone and dried herbs. Seres moved quietly at the hearth, her hands chopping roots and sprinkling seasonings into the large pot. Around her, the children made a cheerful noise, setting out bowls and clattering spoons, their excitement for the secret celebration hidden beneath their everyday chores.
Ardyn sat on a low stool near the table, a bundle of the day's gathered herbs lying before him. He picked up a sprig, turning it over in his fingers as if deep in study. He waited for a lull in the activity, when Seres paused to taste the broth.
"I've been curious," he began, his voice casual, pulling her attention. He held up the herb. "The forest is full of plants, and I know so few of them. It feels… strange not to know what grows around the place I'm staying." He gestured vaguely toward the world outside. "Would you show me more of them tomorrow? The ones you use for healing, for… everything?"
Seres wiped her hands on her apron, her pale eyes studying him. She saw the genuine interest there, the desire to understand his new world, and her expression softened into one of approval. A student wishing to learn her craft was a request she would never deny. "Of course," she said, her tone warmer than usual. "We will go at first light. It will do you good to learn."
As she turned back to her cooking, Ardyn's eyes met Ethan's across the room. Behind Seres' back, the children exchanged a series of quick, relieved glances and subtle smiles. Ardyn's distraction, layered with truth, had been perfectly pitched. He had given them the entire next day. The plan was secure.
The forest at first light was a world apart from the crowded market or the crumbling ruins. Sunlight, pale and new, filtered through the high canopy, casting shifting patterns of gold and shadow on the soft, mossy floor. Ardyn walked carefully behind Seres, his senses heightened. Every rustle of a creature in the undergrowth, every chirp and call of a waking bird, the rich, damp scent of earth and the faint, sweet perfume of hidden blooms—it all washed over him, a symphony of peaceful, ancient life.
Seres moved ahead of him, her steps silent and confident on the familiar path. Her white hair seemed to glow in the dim light, a beacon he was content to follow. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, were already scanning the forest floor, reading a language of leaf and stem that was entirely foreign to him.
She paused without warning, kneeling beside a low plant with broad, veined leaves. Ardyn crouched beside her.
"Firra," she said softly, touching a leaf with reverence. "For pain. The roots, crushed." She then pointed to a different part of the plant. "The flower… for sleep. But too much…" She made a gentle snoring motion, then a cut-throat gesture, making him smile. She demonstrated how to carefully pluck a few leaves without damaging the main plant, her fingers precise and gentle.
They moved on. Each stop was a new lesson. She showed him Liss, a bitter green whose sap could draw out infection. Valla-root, which could thicken stews and settle a sick stomach. A delicate, blue-flowered plant called Sylvain that she would only collect at the full moon for "strong dreams."
Ardyn watched, utterly fascinated. He tried to imitate her movements, his own hands feeling large and clumsy compared to her deft precision. He asked questions, stumbling over the names, pointing to similar-looking plants to confirm they were different.
"This one?" he asked, pointing to a small, white-flowered weed.
Seres shook her head. "That one… bellyache." She pantomimed being violently ill, and he quickly pulled his hand back.
He realized he would have walked right past every single one of these plants, dismissing them as mere greenery. Now, he saw each one as a individual, a quiet storehouse of power and purpose. He was not just learning about herbs; he was learning to see the forest through Seres' eyes, and it was more complex and beautiful than he had ever imagined.
They reached a small, sun-dappled clearing where a solitary plant with silver-speckled leaves thrived. Ardyn paused, drawn to its unique appearance. "This one?" he asked.
Seres offered a faint, rare smile. "Moonveil," she explained, her voice soft in the quiet space. "Very rare. Calms fevers that other herbs cannot touch." She let him carefully examine the delicate leaves.
Hours slipped by as they wandered, Seres sharing knowledge and Ardyn absorbing it all with eager questions. They collected samples of common herbs, their basket filling slowly. By the time they turned for home, the sun was high, and a comfortable, shared silence had settled between them, the morning's journey a quiet success.
The walk back was quieter, the pace slower. The basket of herbs hung between them, a tangible result of their shared morning. The forest seemed to watch their return, the air still and respectful. As the ruins came into view through the trees, Seres paused, placing a hand on the rough bark of an ancient oak.
She turned to Ardyn, her expression solemn. "Always thank the wood," she instructed, her voice low but clear. "The spirits give their gifts. We must show gratitude. Or next time… they may not provide."
She bowed her head slightly toward the tree, a gesture of deep respect. After a moment's hesitation, Ardyn mimicked the action, a strange sense of reverence settling over him. It was a simple rule, yet it felt as fundamental as any she had taught him about the plants themselves.
As they neared the ruins, the familiar outline of the crumbling stone walls a welcome sight, Ardyn decided to play his part in the conspiracy. "We're home!" he called out, his voice echoing a little too loudly through the quiet trees.
The effect was instantaneous. From within the ruins, there was a frantic scramble of hushed whispers, the soft rustle of cloth, and the faint thump of something being hastily stowed away. Seres glanced at him, her pale eyes narrowing slightly, but the look was more amused than suspicious.
"Next time," she said, her voice light and dry as a fallen leaf, "shout louder, and a bit earlier—like Mia does. You'll give them a chance to hide everything properly."
Ardyn felt a flush of embarrassment, but it was quickly replaced by a shared sense of the game. She knew. Of course she knew.
She paused at the very edge of the ruins, just before stepping out of the tree line and into the open space around their home. Her gaze swept over the scene—a garland of dried flowers peeking out from behind a water barrel, a strip of brightly dyed cloth hastily tossed over a stack of firewood, the distinct, fresh-scrubbed look of a patch of stone floor that was usually dusty.
"You do know I'm not blind, right?" she said, her tone impossibly gentle. A faint, real smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I live here too. I know every crack in these walls." She gestured with her chin toward the clumsily concealed decorations. "They are a bit obvious."
She turned to face him fully, her expression softening into something fond and patient. "But please—keep it a surprise from the children. They always try so hard. They think they are so clever." There was a deep warmth in her voice, a genuine affection for their efforts. She wasn't asking him to lie; she was inviting him into the secret, to appreciate the love behind the clumsy concealment.
She glanced at him, a silent understanding passing between them, then gestured for him to follow. "Come. Let's see what they've managed to burn for lunch while we were gone."
Together, they stepped out of the forest and into the sunlight, walking toward the entrance. The ruins looked, to any casual observer, perfectly normal. But now, Ardyn saw what Seres saw: the love hidden in plain sight, the celebration waiting to burst forth, and the beautiful, open secret they would all pretend was perfectly concealed until the right moment arrived.
The next morning, a palpable excitement hung in the air the moment Seres and Ethan departed for their herb-gathering trip. It was the third day—Seres' birthday. The ruins, usually a place of shared work, now buzzed with the secret energy of preparation.
Nico sighed dramatically, stirring a pot of plain porridge. "A real cake," he lamented, his voice full of longing. "With honey and nuts on top. We never have a proper cake."
Money was, as always, too tight for such luxuries. But Ardyn, watching the boy's disappointed face, felt a plan click into place. He remembered the baker's daughter, her flour-dusted cheeks and the way she'd blushed when he'd returned her cat. Perhaps gratitude could be traded for sugar.
"I have an idea," he said, drawing the children's attention. He pointed in the direction of the town. "The baker. Maybe… work for cake."
Nico's eyes went wide with hope. Mia immediately stepped forward, her expression determined. "I will come," she announced, already grabbing a small basket. "I can carry things. And I know the way better than you."
Together, they set off for the city market, leaving Kai, Luna, and Nico to continue their clandestine decorating. Mia chattered beside him, pointing out shortcuts and naming birds, her presence a cheerful counterpoint to Ardyn's focused mission. He wasn't sure what chores a baker might need done, but he was strong and willing. For Nico's dream of a proper cake, and for Seres, he would scrub a thousand floors.
At the city gate, Ardyn and Mia joined the short line of visitors waiting to enter. When their turn came, Ardyn carefully counted out the required copper coins—the entry fee for those who didn't live within Velsharra's walls and lacked an adventurer's guild token.
Mia leaned close with a mischievous grin. "Looks like we're paying the 'outsider tax,'" she whispered.
Ardyn chuckled softly, though his attention was drawn to the main guard. The man's eyes—sharp and assessing—lingered on him a moment longer than necessary. He was the same guard who had been on duty when Seres had brought Ardyn through days before; recognition flickered in his gaze, followed by wary curiosity. Ardyn gave a slight, polite nod, which the guard returned almost imperceptibly before waving them through.
Inside, the familiar bustle of the market enveloped them. But as they moved through the crowded streets, Ardyn couldn't ignore the lingering stares. Townsfolk, merchants, and off-duty adventurers alike glanced his way, their eyes tracing the lines of his face, the unusual gold of his hair. Murmurs and quiet whispers trailed in their wake like ripples in water. He kept his gaze fixed forward, following Mia's lead, doing his best to appear oblivious to the attention his presence invariably drew.