"You traveled the world with him? That sounds wonderful," Rya said with a soft laugh, reaching for the last piece of fruit on the plate. She popped it into her mouth and chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness.
Aeloria stood up from the bench, picking up the bowl of water. "It wasn't quite that simple," she replied with a smile. "We ran into some misfortune early on, which kept us from going as far as we planned."
"Misfortune?" Rya sat up straighter, curiosity flashing across her face. "What kind of—"
Before she could finish, the door creaked open. Little Enoch shuffled out, barefoot on the ground, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"Mom… big sister…" he mumbled, his voice thick and drowsy as he blinked against the late afternoon light.
"Come here, darling." Aeloria set the bowl down after tossing away the water into a nearby bush and opened her arms wide. Enoch padded over slowly, dragging his feet a little, and let her pull him into a gentle hug. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and ran her fingers through his tangled hair, smoothing it down.
"How's my brave son feeling now?" she asked, pulling back just enough to look at his face.
Enoch gave her a small, tired smile. "I'm better, Mom."
"That's what I like to hear." She reached for the small plate she'd kept aside—piled with slices of fruits. "I saved these for you."
His eyes lit up instantly. He took the plate with both hands, careful not to drop it. "Thank you!"
"Go eat inside where it's cooler, okay?" Aeloria said, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Mom and big sister are just finishing our talk."
"Okay." He turned and started toward the door, but halfway there he stopped right next to Rya's. Looking up at her with those big, hopeful eyes, he held the plate a little higher. "Big sister… do you want some?"
Rya smiled warmly and shook her head. "No thank you, I've already eaten way too much."
Enoch's bottom lip pushed out just a bit, his shoulders drooping. "Oh… okay."
Rya couldn't resist. She leaned forward and plucked a single bright red berry from the pile. "But you know? One more piece wouldn't hurt."
Enoch's face broke into a huge, sunny grin. He watched her pop the berry into her mouth, beaming with pride, then skipped the rest of the way inside. The door clicked shut behind him.
Rya chewed thoughtfully, then turned back to Aeloria, who was already gathering the empty plates and the small paring knife into the wash bowl.
"You know," Aeloria said, straightening up and meeting Rya's gaze, "this story of mine isn't a short one. It's going to take some time. You sure you're ready?"
Rya settled back again, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. "I have nowhere else to be. I'm ready."
Aeloria nodded once. She glanced up at the sky—soft white clouds drifting lazily westward while the sun dipped lower, turning the edges of everything golden and warm.
"Back then," she began, her voice even, "I agreed to travel with Hanon. The whole idea of it—seeing new towns, new cultures, places I'd never even imagined—felt exciting. Like something out of a dream I didn't know I had."
...
Just like most mornings, Aeloria found herself alone in the small inn room again. Hanon had slipped out a few hours earlier, saying he had a quick errand to run. The quiet pressed in after a while, thick and boring.
She lay on her back on the bed, tossing the pillow into the air over and over—up high, catch it, flip it, toss again. Sometimes she spun it, sometimes she let it drop close to her face before snatching it at the last second. Anything to make the time pass faster.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. The door swung open without warning.
The pillow sailed down and landed with a soft thump right on Hanon's head.
He stopped dead in the doorway, the pillow sliding slowly down his face until it rested against his chest. He blinked once, then looked over at her with a completely puzzled expression—one eyebrow raised, mouth twitching like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or ask what was going on.
Aeloria sat up fast, heat rushing to her cheeks. "I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to hit you. I was just… playing around."
Hanon let out a quiet laugh and brushed the pillow off. It landed on the floor with a muffled thud. "It's fine. I'm so tough it didn't even hurt." He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and walked to the small table in the corner. He picked up his worn leather gloves and started pulling them on, finger by finger.
Then he turned to her, that familiar calm look on his face. "You ready to step out?"
Aeloria swung her legs off the bed and stood, brushing a few stray feathers from her sleeve. She'd put on the simple purple gown earlier—the one that matched the color of her eyes almost perfectly. It was light and easy to move in, perfect for travel. On her left wrist she wore the plain silver bracer Hanon had handed her a few days ago. It felt cool against her skin, solid and reassuring.
She gave him a quick smile. "Yes. I'm prepared."
Hanon's mouth curved into a matching smile—small, but real. Something warm flickered in his eyes for just a second. "Good."
He held the door open for her, and she stepped past him into the narrow hallway. Their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm as they walked side by side down the corridor, the wooden floor creaking faintly under their weight.
At the top of the stairs, the noise from below drifted up—clinking mugs, low conversations, bursts of laughter, the rich smells of roasted meat, fresh bread, and stewed vegetables filling the air. The inn's eatery was already busy even though it was still early afternoon. Travelers, locals, merchants—all enjoying themselves.
Aeloria paused at the top step for a moment, taking it all in. This was it—the start of leaving Runevale behind for good. A mix of nerves and excitement fluttered in her stomach.
Hanon glanced at her. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Just… ready."
He gave a small nod back, then started down the stairs. She followed close behind, the noise and warmth of the room below growing louder with every step.
More than a few pairs of eyes turned their way as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
At a table near the hearth, two men deep in their cups leaned toward each other.
"Hey, look over there," the first one said, elbowing his friend. He clutched a half-empty jug of swamp wine, some of it sloshing onto his sleeve. "Didn't know this place had a maiden that fine staying here."
His companion glanced up from the chicken thigh he was gnawing, grease shining on his chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of a dirty hand and let out a low whistle. "She's beautiful, alright. Curves like that… I'd trade a whole purse of silver for one night." His gaze shifted to Hanon, who walked beside her with an easy, quiet smile. "But looks like she's already taken."
"And it has to be that plain-looking fellow," the first muttered sourly. They both stared after the pair with narrowed eyes, envy plain on their faces.
Aeloria followed Hanon through the crowd without slowing. Whispers trailed them like smoke. A few men straightened in their seats; one even half-rose before his friend pulled him back down with a laugh.
Hanon paid the looks no mind. He guided her straight to the long wooden counter at the far end of the room, where the inn's overseer stood polishing tankards with a rag.
"Pardon me," Hanon said, stepping up and holding out the iron room key. "Where would you like this returned?"
The woman looked up, lines crinkling around her eyes as she offered a warm, practiced smile. Her gray hair was pulled back in a neat knot, and her apron bore the faint stains of years of service. "Right here on the counter is fine, sir." She took the key and flipped open a thick ledger beside her. Her finger traced down a column of names and numbers. "Hanon, isn't it?"
"That's right."
She nodded. "Everything checks out. You've paid in full for the room and all meals taken. No debts remaining. You're welcome to leave whenever you please." Her smile widened a little. "And we'd be happy to have you back anytime your road brings you this way again."
Hanon inclined his head politely. "I'll keep that in mind. My thanks."
With pleasantries done, they turned toward the open doorway. Sunlight spilled in from outside, bright and inviting after the dim interior. A man sat alone at a table beside the window, watching Hanon with disgust.
'Even that scrawny fellow was able to grab a maiden of the royal level for himself, just what more do I need to do?' He thought in frustration as he gulped down the rest of his wine.
A few more lingering glances followed them out—some curious, some openly admiring but no one spoke or barred their path.
They stepped outside, and the noise of the common room faded behind them. The town bustled under a clear morning sky: carts rumbled over packed dirt, merchants shouted their wares from colorful stalls, children darted between legs, and the clang of a smith's hammer rang from a nearby forge.
Aeloria adjusted the small pack on her shoulder and fell into step beside Hanon. She glanced at him, curiosity finally winning out.
"So," she asked, "where exactly are we going?"
Hanon kept his eyes on the road stretching ahead, past the last buildings and into the open. "Norco," he said simply. "Three days' walk if the weather holds. There's someone I need to meet there."
She nodded, accepting the short answer for now. He wasn't one to spill everything at once; she'd learned that much over the months. Still, the name Norco tugged at something in her memory—a trading town, larger than this one, sitting at the crossroads of several kingdoms. Busy. Full of strangers.
'Three days.' It felt both too short and impossibly long.
...
Meanwhile, far off in Runevale, Orin sat alone in his high-backed chair inside the war rooom of the Royal training ground.
The seat across his own—usually claimed by Aeloria, where she would sprawl with lazy grace, making sharp comments or simply watching the chaos with those unsettling eyes—remained coldly vacant.
The heavy doors opened with a groan after a guard announced an arrival. Ramius strode in, his boots almost silent on the floor, a faint smirk already playing on his lips.
"It's almost no fun tormenting you anymore," he said, pulling out the nearest chair with a scrape and dropping into it. "That miserable look on your already ugly face doesn't leave me much to work with."
Orin didn't turn, he didn't even blink. "What do you want, Ramius? Did the queen send you?"
Ramius studied him a moment longer. Normally Orin would have fired back an insult, called his face worse, maybe even thrown a punch just to start something. Today he only stared out over the empty grounds.
"I'm leaving for Norco tomorrow," Ramius said, tone shifting to something more neutral. "Personal business—nothing concerning the kingdom. I've already informed Lady Nyxelene. Figured you should know as well."
He rose from his seat and headed back toward the door. When no reply came, he paused with one hand on the frame.
"That expression of yours is starting to grate on me," he added. "Word is you've had every village near the Lonorith River searched for the cannibal. Top to bottom."
Orin's head turned at last, his eyes narrowing. "Yes. And?"
Ramius leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "She took grievous wounds from King Draven. Even for someone like her, that kind of damage takes time to mend. She couldn't have traveled far alone right after. If your men turned up nothing near the river…" He shrugged. "There's a good chance she reached Norco. It's the nearest large town with decent healers and places to lie low."
Orin straightened slightly in his chair, the first spark of life breaking through the gloom that had settled over him for weeks.
"I'll be in Norco long enough to look around properly," Ramius continued. "If she's there, I'll find her. Maybe even learn why she hasn't come back." He pushed off the frame, ready to leave. "So wipe that wretched look off your face. It's tiresome."
His fingers were already closing around the door handle when Orin's voice stopped him—low, rough, but unmistakable.
"Thank you."
Ramius froze mid-step. Orin thanking him instead of snarling or threatening violence was so far outside the ordinary that real concern twisted in his gut. He didn't reply, only gave a short nod and stepped through the doors, pulling them closed behind him. 'I didn't know the tyrant cared for the cannibal that much.'