Alec, Zoe and Zua were now only a few dozen kilometres away from the city gates now, Zoe was already fantasising about sleeping in an actual bed for the first time in weeks when familiar shapes rose from the tall grass surrounding them.
The bandits had caught up again, because of course they had, jeering at Alec, catcalling at Zoe and Zua, enjoying their own filthiness a little too much. Alec stepped forward, jaw clenched, ready to throw himself into a fight he knew they couldn't win, not this time, they were too exhausted from last time.
And then the ground shook, a sound that shuddered the ground like an earthquake. It shut every mouth immediately. Even the trees seemed to flinch, their leaves trembling in sudden, terrified silence. For a heartbeat, moved. Then the trees exploded.
A man shot out of the forest, sword in hand, slamming into the midst of the bandits. Bodies scattered like birds. The impact caused a man-sized crater in the soft soil, sending up a shower of dirt, grass and fallen leaves, and the stranger rolled to his feet with effortless grace, as if landing from a fall of fifty feet were as mundane as stepping off a curb.
The ground trembled with heavy, dragging footfalls. Out of the shadowed canopy stepped a cyclops, like a walking mountain, its single eye blazing with murderous rage. It wielded an entire tree like a club, each swing ripping up clods of earth the size of boulders. Birds took frantic flight in every direction. A small fox bolted from a bush, tail puffed, disappearing into the undergrowth, and somewhere, a distant deer screamed and vanished.
The stranger didn't flinch. He squared his shoulders as if the cyclops had personally insulted his mother and charged.
The beast swung its makeshift club down, the force enough to flatten a wagon and crush a horse. But the swordsman was gone, already sprinting up the creature's arm in a blur of impossible speed, with one swift swing of his great sword, the cyclops' head slid clean off.
Its body stood stupidly upright for a moment before collapsing with a bone-rattling crash. Dirt and leaves spiralled into the air like a storm.
Then the bandits panicked screaming, trampling each other in their desperate flight, vanishing into the trees like shadows fleeing a nightmare. Their earlier arrogance dissolved into sheer terror.
Alec, Zoe, and Zua stood frozen, mouths open, brains refusing to process what they had just witnessed. Time itself seemed suspended, the memory of the cyclops' eye staring down at them burned into their minds.
The swordsman wiped sweat from his brow, sheathed his blade with casual ease, and turned toward them. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-worn skin and short dark hair slicked with grey at the temples. A faint, knowing grin tugged at his lips, the kind that suggested he had survived far worse and found it almost amusing.
"Name's Roderik," he said, offering his hand to Alec first, then the others. His voice was rough, a seasoned warrior, the kind that came from shouting orders on battlefields and through storms of blood and mud.
Alec shook his hand numbly. "Alec. And uh... Zoe and Zua."
Roderik nodded. "Pleasure. You three look like hell dragged through a river backwards."
He glanced at the cyclops' corpse and sighed, like this was just another Tuesday.
"Monsters've been crawling outta every hole lately. King sent me to clear the roads, keep caravans from getting eaten. Or at least die slower."
Zoe crossed her arms. "A demon horde burned our village to the ground. We barely made it out."
Roderik paused, eyes softening, jaw tightening. For the first time in what felt like forever, his bravado cracked.
"Well, hell," he muttered. "Looks like I'm babysittin' again."
He gave their mud-soaked clothes a once-over.
"We need to get you new outfits before the guards assume you crawled out of a sewer. Come on."
He led them to an old but sturdy cart hitched to a horse that looked far older than Rodrik. Somehow, it still moved when Roderik clicked his tongue, pulling them toward the capital. Along the way. He kept a watchful eye on the forest edges, hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. The trees seemed alive, eyes in the shadows, whispering of dangers that Alec couldn't yet name.
At the gates, guards straightened immediately. One recognized Roderik and waved them through without a word, only a subtle nod acknowledging the swordsman.
"Welcome to New Caparsha, kids!" Roderik declared as the city unfurled before them, sprawling streets, glittering towers, crowds thicker than any festival Alec had ever seen. Noise, smells, life everywhere: the clang of hammers, the shout of merchants, the faint scent of roasted meats mingling with smoke. A minstrel played a lively tune on a lute near a fountain, sending coins jingling into its waters.
Zoe blinked. "New Caparsha? What happened to the old one?"
Roderik's expression darkened. Shadows flickered over his face as he remembered the fate of Old Capita.
"Old Caparsha was burned down a looong time ago. Strongest Dragon seen in history wiped it off the map. Rumour has it that some idiot killed its child. City burned for weeks. What's left is northeast, tourist trap now, if you can believe that. Some of the old folks just pretend nothin happened and live out what little lives they have left."
They fell quiet after that. Even the bustle of the city seemed to fade around them.
Soon they arrived at the castle gates and were immediately turned away by armoured guards. Roderik cursed, a low, rolling sound that vibrated with annoyance and exasperation. Turning the cart around, he drove them into the poorer quarter.
Narrow alleys lined with squat buildings and merchants hawking wares of uncertain quality. The inn he found wasn't luxurious, but it was warm, busy, and safe. A sanctuary as far as Alec was concerned.
"Don't get comfortable," Roderik muttered. "We stay here till the king's envoy decides we're worthy of breathing his lordship's air."
The trio found a table while Roderik spoke with the barkeep. The inn buzzed with life. Laughter, clashing tankards, meat roasting on skewers over open flames. For a moment, Alec felt a pang of nostalgia, both painful and comforting, this place reminded him of his village tavern. Before the flames, the demons... The slaughter... The smell of roasting meat reminded him of home; the sound of voices reminded him of people who cared.
Zoe noticed. She squeezed his shoulder gently, grounding him. Roderik returned with four mugs, foam spilling over the edges. He set them down with a heavy hand.
"We've got maybe a week before the nobles call us to their belle demeure," he said with theatrical disgust.
"What's that?" Zua asked, eyes wide.
"Fancy house," Zoe translated.
Roderik grinned. "Smart girl."
They drank. They ate. For the first time in months, they felt almost human again, tasting something other than fear and ashes. Alec caught sight of a long scar stretching from Roderik's eye to his jaw jagged, uneven.
"How'd you get that?" Alec asked, tongue moving faster than his wits.
Roderik smirked, but there was a shadow in his eyes. "Ebon Bear. Northern woods. Big as a wagon, twice as mean. Took me down twice before I finally cut it down. Some scars just stick around to remind you what's out there."
Zua shivered slightly at the thought, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
Roderik's grin softened, almost human now. "hmm, seems one of you already knows what it is... you survived hell. Not something most get to live to brag about."
They ate in silence for a while, the noise of the inn wrapping around them like a protective cloak. Outside, the city carried on, unaware of the tiny, miraculous bubble of life that had just taken root inside the inn. In that moment, with full stomachs and warm mugs, the horrors of the world outside those doors seemed so distant, like a faded memory.
Yet Alec knew they hadn't truly escaped. The world outside still waited, still dangerous, unpredictable, and hungry for mistakes.
But for now, they had warmth, food, and someone who could fight monsters without breaking a sweat. That alone was enough to make tomorrow seem possible.