Ira watched as Kaelen grew smaller and smaller, until he wasn't just out of reach—he was out of sight.
The square, once crowded, slowly emptied. Silence pressed in where voices had been.
She turned toward home, walking slowly, watching her steps, clutching her shoulders as if holding herself together.
When she reached the door, she opened it and just… stood there.
The kitchen smelled of bread and herbs—warm and comforting. Outside, the village had settled into quiet, frogs croaking softly in the dark.
Emilia, her mother, was calmly scrubbing dishes.
"The stars are nice tonight, aren't they?" she said gently.
Ira didn't answer. Her head stayed lowered, eyes fixed on her feet.
Emilia took a slow breath.
"Please come in. It's cold out there," she said calmly. "And there have been rumors lately… people going missing."
That did it.
Ira stepped inside and sank into a wooden chair, the worn seat pressing into her legs.
The rhythmic clink of plates and cups filled the room—steady, almost peaceful.
"I heard some of what happened in the square."
Ira's hands clenched around her knees. Her chest tightened.
"I…" she whispered. Then, louder, breaking, "I don't even know where to start."
Tears welled. Her voice stumbled.
"I should have… I shouldn't have…"
She swallowed hard. "I acted like an idiot. And Kaelen—he… he didn't even react."
Her voice shrank.
"He doesn't care about me… does he?"
Emilia turned, drying her hands, and sat across from her—face calm as still air.
"Slow down, Ira. Breathe. Tell me everything."
Ira shook her head, tears spilling freely.
"I don't know how! Everything feels too much!"
Her hands flew to her face.
"I yelled at him. I shoved him away. And I—I hated him for leaving me there."
Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Kaelen… I didn't mean any of it. Please come home. It's cold outside… please come back."
Emilia reached out, resting a hand on Ira's arm.
"It's okay," she said softly. "Feelings are messy. That doesn't make you bad—it makes you human."
Ira let out a shaky laugh, shaking her head.
"No… it's more than that."
She buried her face in her hands.
"I like him. I like him so much, and I don't even know if he'll ever notice me. And that scares me."
Her voice cracked.
"I'm tired of feeling invisible. Tired of living in shadows. Maybe if I became someone… he'd see me."
She cried freely now—anger, fear, longing spilling out all at once.
Emilia stayed quiet, letting it pass.
Finally, Ira whispered, exhausted,
"I just want him to know… that I'm here. That I care. That I…"
She faltered.
"I love him. Maybe I'm too young. Too stupid."
Emilia leaned forward, brushing a damp strand of hair from Ira's face.
"Love isn't about age," she said gently. "It's about what's real in your heart. And what you feel is real."
Ira looked up, eyes red, and for the first time since the square, she felt calm.
"I'm sorry, Kaelen," she whispered. "Please come home soon. I hope you're okay."
Emilia stood behind her, hands resting on her shoulders.
"He'll be fine," she murmured. "Knowing him, he'll probably say—"
She deepened her voice dramatically.
"Magic or no magic, I'll pull through! Ha!"
Ira laughed, finally, her chest lighter.
"That's not how he talks, Mom."
Emilia leaned closer, cradling Ira's face from behind, winking.
"Hmm. I see you like the quiet, confident type."
She smiled. "Better act fast—or I might take him for myself."
**Chapter 2 — Closing**
The warmth of the cabin did not follow Kaelen.
Beyond the village's lanterns, the wind sharpened into something cruel. Cold pressed against his chest as he stood at the mountain's edge. The air here felt wrong—unwelcoming, heavy, aware.
A lone lantern burned ahead, its amber flame swaying violently.
Beneath it stood an old man wrapped in layered coats, posture straight despite his age. His eyes never left the darkness beyond the trail.
"You're late," the man said without turning.
Kaelen stopped a few steps away, his voice steady despite the cold.
"You didn't give a time."
A thin smile creased the old man's face.
"Sharp. That's what we need."
He turned and stepped closer. Lantern light crawled across Kaelen's face—then lingered at his chest, where the faint outline of a rune slept beneath cloth.
Kaelen shifted, brushing past the light.
"Spit it," he said flatly. "Why am I here?"
"I've been watching you," the old man said. "A boy with a rune that doesn't answer—yet refuses to break."
Kaelen glanced back, only halfway.
"Yeah. And?"
"There's something in the mountains," the man said, walking beside him. "South ridge. Used to be a shrine. The people who tended it are gone."
He lit a cigarette, smoke unraveling into the night.
"Livestock started disappearing. Then two villagers. One man. One woman."
Kaelen's gaze never left the mountain.
"And you want me to fetch them."
"No," the man corrected. "I want you to survive."
Kaelen finally turned.
"This is a test," the old man continued. "And a job. Prove your training wasn't wasted. Prove you can claw your way forward."
A pause.
"And you'll be paid."
Kaelen fell silent.
The sword.
The old knight's manual.
Years of training without magic.
"Any bodies found?"
The man shook his head.
"None. Which means they may still be alive."
Then his expression darkened.
"But something is guarding them."
Kaelen's eyes widened—for a breath.
"A Warden?"
"Yes."
He exhaled, calm returning.
"Figures."
Kaelen stepped forward, boots crunching against frost-covered stone.
"Fine by me."
The old man caught his arm and pressed a sealed jar into his palm.
"Drain the mana once it's dead and seal it immediately."
Kaelen drew his sword from his back, steel singing softly. A grin split his face.
"Noted."
He lifted the blade, pointing it toward the mountain path.
"Let's see what I'm made of."
The wind howled in response.
And somewhere beyond the ridge,
something answered.