The cool breeze rippled through the grass sea, carrying the morning scents as daybreak painted the horizon in blood orange and deep blue. Birds chirped softly, their songs breaking the night's silence.
Lily nudged Diomede gently. "Wake up, old man. Dawn approaches, and the smell of town lingers on the wind."
Diomede groaned and pulled himself free from under his bear skin, grunting in response. Clayton stood beside the wagon, inspecting the wheels and harnesses. Lily shook Kira awake, who stretched and moaned softly. Francisco stirred, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"I do miss Mrs. Walters' beds," Francisco said with a smile. "Like sleeping on a cloud."
Kira laughed softly. "I prefer the dry flat dirt. It makes me feel one with the great mother."
Soon the group was packed and ready to move.
"After we get the new horses, we should make it to Kinga just before sunset," Diomede said.
"If everything goes well," Clayton replied cautiously. "The last two times we've been in towns together haven't been the best."
Lily nodded in agreement. "Seems you all draw attention to yourselves."
Francisco chuckled. "What do you expect? Five strangers from different walks of life, bound together by a mission set before us by the gods."
The group paused at that, the weight of the thought lingering.
"Do you really believe that?" Kira asked quietly.
"Absolutely," Francisco said warmly. "Your quest will become a tale told to children before bedtime. I would know."
Diomede allowed himself a brief nod, agreeing silently. Too long had he seen the same stories repeat, but maybe this time it would be different.
"Well, either way, we should start headin—"
Suddenly, an arrow slammed into the side of the wagon with a sharp thwack.
Diomede's voice rang out sharp and commanding as he threw his bear skin over Kira, pulling her low and nearly beneath the wagon's shadow. "Stay down and under the skin." His greatsword slid free with a heavy, satisfying rasp. "FRANCISCO, STAY CLOSE TO KIRA! LILY, GET TO THE OTHER SIDE AND BE READY!" The air crackled with urgency. "CLAYTON, GRAB THE HORSES BEFORE THEY DO!"
Clayton sprinted toward the horses, heart pounding, hands reaching for the reins—but from the tall grass behind him, four men clad in dark leather lunged with raised swords. The clash was instant.
Clayton dropped the reins, drawing his blade with fluid precision. The first bandit swung fiercely, but Clayton parried and, with brutal efficiency, stabbed into the side of the man's neck. Blood gushed onto the earth as Clayton twisted, severing the throat with a clean cut. The second bandit swung wide; Clayton stepped inside the arc, slicing through the attacker's arm, the limb falling useless to the ground. Using the fallen bandit as cover, Clayton shoved him into the third assailant charging in. He twisted, swinging his sword upward in a deadly arc, carving through the fourth bandit's face and body in one swift motion.
Turning back, Clayton saw the third bandit pull his wounded comrade into the grass. Their screams mingled with the clang of metal—battle echoed all around.
Lily was a whirlwind of deadly grace. Her axe swung in a brutal arc, splitting a bandit clean in two at the waist. Flowing seamlessly, she parried the thrusts of two spear-wielding enemies, slicing off the spearheads with fierce precision. Without missing a beat, she decapitated another attacker.
Suddenly, a larger bandit burst forth, hurling a javelin at Lily. Before it could strike, the shimmering image of Chief Conrad the Unbreakable, Lily's father, manifested—solid and resolute. The ghostly figure caught the javelin midair and hurled it back with devastating force. It tore through the bandit's upper back, splintering bone and sinew between his shoulder blades. The body collapsed with a heavy thud.
Three more bandits surged over the fallen giant, curved swords flashing as they roared their battle cries. Lily reared back and threw her bloodied axe with unerring accuracy. It plunged deep into the back of the foremost bandit, his agonized scream choked off as blood flooded his throat.
Conrad's spectral form flowed along the tether to Lily's axe, pulling her forward with fierce determination. She landed atop the dying bandit, wrenching the axe free, then launched herself upward and forward with lethal intent. Her blade cleaved another attacker from left shoulder to right hip, the man crumpling with a pained whimper.
The last bandit stood frozen, trembling as the metallic rattle of his weapons and coins betrayed his fear. Lily advanced silently, axe raised, then delivered a swift, merciless strike—removing his head cleanly from his shoulders. The severed head bounced across the dirt, the final cry swallowed by the heavy silence of the battlefield.
Lily barely had time to steady herself before a shadow lunged from behind— a bandit's curved sword aimed to pierce her back. But a heavy arm crashed into the attacker's head, sending him sprawling to the dirt. Lily whirled to see Diomede standing tall, smeared in blood, surrounded by a dozen dismembered bandits. His greatsword gleamed with fresh crimson as he powered through the fray, ramming into two assailants—one meeting him head-on, the other retreating with fear etched on his face. With a fierce spin, Diomede flung the dead bodies into the tall grass.
Clayton and Lily rushed to Diomede's side, blades drawn and eyes sharp, bracing for the next wave of foes. Francisco stood protectively over Kira, one arm shielding her while the other stretched out, fingers poised to weave magic if needed. The trio stood dripping with enemy blood, scanning the swaying grass for any sign of movement.
But all that greeted them was the soft dance of wind through blades of grass.
"I'm not seeing any more," Lily growled, voice thick with suspicion.
Diomede breathed deep, mimicking the calming breaths he had taken the day before. "They're gone. For now, at least."
Clayton stooped, pulling a bloodstained scrap of cloth from a fallen bandit and wiping his blade clean. As he sheathed his sword, an unfamiliar lightness coursed through his limbs—his movements quicker, his mind razor-sharp, thoughts snapping into focus. The world felt slower around him, as if he had slipped into another rhythm.
Diomede wiped the gore from his greatsword and shrugged off his bearskin cloak to reveal Kira's face beneath—damp with sweat and streaked with tears.
"Their fear and pain... I felt it all," Kira said through clenched teeth, voice trembling.
Diomede lifted her gently to her feet. "I know. But you must push those feelings aside. We have to move before they return with more."
Together with Clayton, Diomede reattached the horses to the wagon. Lily and Francisco helped Kira settle back onto the crates, the bear cloak draped protectively over her shoulders.
The wagon jolted forward, racing down the road.
"How much further?" Francisco called, struggling to keep balance atop the crates.
Diomede didn't answer, his eyes locked on the grass's edge, every muscle taut.
"At this pace, we should reach the town in an hour or so," Clayton called back confidently.
Lily clung to the wagon's rear, her gaze flickering side to side, searching for the slightest hint of movement hidden in the waving grass.
Diomede snapped the reins sharply; the horses neighed and quickened their pace.
"Don't push them too hard," Clayton warned. "These horses can't carry this weight and speed much longer."
"We need speed," Diomede shot back with a glare. "They're going to try and block us further up the road."
Clayton's voice rose with concern. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because those men back there weren't trying to kill all of us—just enough to scare everyone into rushing down the road," Diomede said, his voice steady.
"But they weren't expecting us to fight back like we did. Most of those bandits were green, only used to scaring folks," he continued, eyes narrowing.
"I'm guessing their veterans are going to be waiting for us on the road." Clayton tightened his grip on his sword's hilt and turned to the others. "Get ready—we're not stopping until we reach the town!"
Lily and Francisco nodded sharply in agreement. Kira pulled the bearskin cloak tighter over her face, the weight of the bandits' fear and pain still echoing inside her mind. Their screams haunted her, twisted with guilt and sorrow. She knew they weren't innocent, but a life is a life, no matter how tainted by sin.
She fought to push the emotions away, but it was difficult. Then her father's voice entered her thoughts—steady, grounding.
"Do not drown, little one, in the great sea of emotions, whether they are yours or your enemies'."
Kira repeated the words quietly, almost feeling her father's large hand resting gently across her back, just like when she was a child.
Suddenly, an arrow zipped past the wagon.
Kira pulled the bearskin over her head and peered out from beneath it.
Forty bandits stood blocking the road ahead—two at the front with bows drawn. One had just released the arrow, the other held his bow taut, ready to fire.
"I SUGGEST YOU STOP OR RISK CRASHING INTO US!" a harsh voice rang out from the crowd.
Diomede braced himself, snapping the reins sharply. The horses neighed loudly and surged forward into a full sprint.
The wagon jolted violently as it bounced down the uneven road. The crates, tightly lashed, shifted and groaned under the strain. The ropes stretched, the wood creaked under the weight and motion.
Clayton drew his sword, muscles tense, ready to meet whatever awaited.
"FRANCISCO! IF YOU'VE GOT ANYTHING THAT CAN HELP, NOW'S THE TIME TO USE IT!" Lily shouted urgently.
Francisco's mind raced. What can I do? What can I do?
Then, an idea sparked. He plunged his hand into his bag, digging swiftly.
The wagon thundered forward, the bandits standing firm, unmoving.
"Hold steady, lads," said a bandit wearing a curved hat, voice calm but sharp. "They always stop."
The wagon dipped low as it crested a curve in the road. Then, lifted briefly off the ground before slamming down hard.
The group was tossed about, the wagon groaning beneath them, barely held together by its rusted metal fittings.
From this closer distance, the bandits came into sharper focus—armed with spears, bows, and swords, clad in leather armor interwoven with rings. Most were human, but four hulking Oxkeen wore crude iron helmets wrapped crudely around their horned heads.
Francisco tightened his grip on the object he'd found just as the wagon closed to twenty feet from the bandits—ready for what came next.
The Nesfundur bard lifted his horn and blew with all his might. From its mouth burst a violent wave of force, sweeping down the road and toppling everything—and everyone—in the group's path. The sound was deafening, rattling the very air, a blast so piercing it seemed to make even thought fall silent.
The wagon thundered forward, racing past the sprawled and dazed bandits.
The man in the curved hat staggered to his feet, clutching the side of his head. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Lily—and in that instant, she flashed him a hand gesture that needed no translation.
A slow, devilish smile spread across his face.