The death of the Shapeshifter has left its mark. The rest of the journey is made in a state of heightened vigilance. We no longer trust isolated inns, preferring to camp under the stars, taking turns on watch. Paradoxically, this shared mistrust brings us closer. The hierarchical barriers imposed by the King are beginning to erode, replaced by a camaraderie born of danger.
On the sixth day, we reach a region of lush forests and crystal-clear rivers. It is a welcome respite after the Graylands. We follow the tracks left by the royal army—wagon ruts and abandoned campsites—that lead us ever closer to the Frontier.
We decide to take a longer break near a small waterfall that flows into a peaceful lake. The water is clear and cool. The opportunity to wash, to rid ourselves of the dirt and fatigue of the road, is too good to ignore.
Elian and I bathe first, keeping our weapons within reach on the shore. The icy water is a shock, but it washes away the weariness and clears the mind. We speak little, enjoying the quiet. I watch him practice cleaving the water with his sword, his movements fluid and powerful. He was born to be a knight.
Then, it is Roxis's turn. Elian and I move away to give her privacy, standing guard further down the path.
I sit on a rock, my back against a tree, and clean my dagger. The silence is broken only by the birdsong and the distant sound of the waterfall.
"She likes you, you know."
Elian's voice makes me jump. He sat down next to me without me hearing him.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, my tone sharper than I intended.
"Roxis," he says with a small smile. "I've known her since I started my training. I've never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you. Not with pity, like at the beginning. With... something else. Admiration, maybe."
I don't reply, focusing on polishing my blade. Admitting my own feelings is one thing. To imagine they could be reciprocated is a dangerous absurdity.
"She's not like the other nobles," Elian continues. "She truly believes in justice, in protecting the weak. That's why she helped you. You represented everything she swore to defend."
After a moment, it is my turn to stand guard near the lake while Elian patrols the surroundings. I find a vantage point on a small cliff overlooking the water. I don't look directly. It would be disrespectful. I just scan the area, my ears alert.
"You can turn around, Reinhardt. I'm dressed."
Roxis's voice comes up from the base of the cliff. I turn. She is sitting on a rock at the water's edge, combing her long silver hair with her fingers. She has traded her armor for a simple travel tunic. Without the steel and the prestige of her rank, she looks younger, more... approachable.
I climb down to join her.
"Thanks for keeping watch," she says, a slight smile on her lips.
"It's my role."
We sit in silence for a moment, looking at our reflections in the perfectly still water of the lake. I see our two figures, so close and yet so different. The shadow and the light.
"Elian told me you came from the same orphanage as him," she says softly, breaking the silence.
"That's right."
"He doesn't talk much about his past. But he said it was hard."
"That's an understatement."
She turns to me, her blue eyes intense. "I grew up in a cage, too. A gilded one, to be sure, but a cage nonetheless." She sighs. "I am the only daughter of House Heart. My father is a good man, but he is a traditionalist. To him, a noblewoman's role is to make a good marriage, to manage an estate. When I announced I wanted to become a Holy Knight, he thought I had lost my mind."
This is the first time she has told me about herself. I listen, captivated.
"I had to fight," she continues. "Not with a sword, but with words, with stubbornness. I had to be twice as good as all the male aspirants just to be taken seriously. I had to prove, every single day, that my place was on the battlefield, not in a drawing room." She looks at her reflection in the water. "Sometimes, I wonder if I fought for the right reasons. For justice... or simply to escape the life that was chosen for me."
"The two are not mutually exclusive," I say. "Maybe the best way to change the world is to refuse the place it assigns you."
My own words surprise me. It is the closest thing to a philosophy I have ever articulated.
She smiles at me, a real smile, tinged with a hint of melancholy. "You are wiser than you look, Reinhardt."
The moment is intimate, fragile. The space between us seems to shrink. My heart beats faster. I feel an irrepressible urge to tell her how I feel, to confess that her light is the only thing that gives meaning to my struggle in the shadows.
But I don't. The words get stuck in my throat. I am a monster who feeds on death. To confess my feelings to her would be to defile her, to bind her to my darkness. It is a burden she does not deserve.
"We should get going," I finally say, my voice hoarser than usual. "The Frontier is only a day's march away."
She seems disappointed by my change of subject, but she nods. "You're right."
We rejoin Elian and get back on the road. But the atmosphere has changed. The moment of shared vulnerability has woven a new bond between Roxis and me. A dangerous bond, full of promise and potential sorrow.
As we ride, I sometimes catch her looking at me. And in her gaze, I no longer see just admiration or pity. I see the same reflection as in the lake water. The reflection of a soul that recognizes another soul in a cage.
And for the first time, I allow myself to hope. A fragile, terrifying glimmer. The hope that, maybe, once this mission is over, once I have proven my worth, the shadow and the light might be able to stop facing each other, and walk side by side.
That was my mistake. The mistake of a seventeen-year-old boy who had forgotten a fundamental lesson.
In this world, hope is the cruelest of all poisons.