“The door. Erith, lock the door. Erith.”

Rin’s words barely registered.

Erith stared at the lifeless eyes of the man sprawled on the ground.

“Erith!” Rin’s voice cracked as he clutched his stomach, propped up weakly against the side of the chair.

Erith snapped out of his daze, his eyes darted toward Rin and then to the side of his shirt, saturated with blood.

“Rin you’re—”

“Lock it.” Rin tossed the door key at him, cutting off his words.

Erith stumbled to the door, trembling. The key slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. He crouched, nausea rising, and jammed it into the lock with unsteady fingers.

“Erith,” Rin said softly, though his voice was hoarse. “Erith, that man was going for Maeric, and you stopped him. You’ve made us safe. Try to focus on your breathing.”

Rin pulled off his shirt, revealing a deep cut on his right side. Blood streaked down his torso as he wrapped the shirt around his waist, wincing at the pressure. With a sharp breath, he tied it tightly and used his sword to push himself to his feet.

“Put another log on the fire.” Rin limped past Erith toward the bed. He swapped the folded blanket propping Maeric’s leg with a pillow, careful not to jostle the injured limb. Maeric stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before he groaned and fell back into unconsciousness.

Kneeling by the blood-soaked floor, Rin spread the blanket beside the man’s body. He checked the man’s pockets before reaching for the dagger on the floor. Turning it over in his hand, he inspected the blade briefly, then cut through the man’s shirt and pants.

Rin inspected the man’s wound, rolling the body onto the blanket. He checked for any signs of who the man might be before he folded the edges over and returned to his chair.

Silence, only broken by the crackling fire, settled heavily over the room.

“I… I’ve been practicing how far I can sense Kaida.” Erith’s voice wavered, barely steady. Rin lifted his attention from the dagger he had been turning over in the firelight.

“I felt another Kaida wielder when we got to the camp. They had to be wielding Mura. Nothing else could’ve cut through Kaida containers that fast.”

Rin’s gaze drifted back to the blade. “Maeric mentioned rumors from Loradun... Wielding Mura—the power of Murasi in human hands.”

“Rin, I don’t know—”

“Erith,” Rin groaned as he leaned forward in the chair, a pained smile flickering against the glow of the fire. “The only thing I’m sure of is that you know even less about what’s going on than I do—and I’m clueless.” He let out an exasperated sigh, holding his side as he sunk back into the chair.

The swing of a door opening could be heard from downstairs. Footsteps followed, each one growing louder up the stairwell.

Rin tightened his grip on the dagger and pulled himself up from the chair. The floorboards creaked as the footsteps came to a stop outside the bedroom door. A soft knock broke the stillness.

“Rin?” A hushed voice called.

“Moonsie?”

“I guess that’s refreshing to hear.” Relief colored Amun’s voice as the lock clicked, and the door opened. Amun stepped into the room, crossbow resting loosely at his side. Behind him, a woman followed, bag in one hand, blade in the other. She set the bag down and lifted her cloak from her head.

“The door downstairs wasn’t locked. I was—what the hell?” Amun’s eyes swept from Rin’s injuries to the blood-soaked blanket.

“So you had a guest.”

“We did, Amun,” Rin said flatly, his weak smile directed at the woman entering. “How are you, Tal?”

Amun pointed toward the blanket. “And I presume that’s them, dead under there?”

“They weren’t exactly great company, Moonsie.”

“Moons, get the sutures out of my bag.” Tal’s tone was sharp, her eyes narrowing at Rin. “Rin, I thought Maeric was supposed to be keeping away from trouble.”

“Well, he was—until a horse fell on him.” Rin raised a hand as Tal approached, surveying the blood seeping from his side. “Check Maeric first. I’ll be fine.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but paused, letting out a slow breath before turning toward  Maeric. “Do yourself a favor and lay flat, Rin. You’ve outdone yourself this time. Care to explain what any of this is about?”

“We met with the Morvath in their camp this morning. It was ambushed by Murasi. The Captain… Didn’t make it. I don’t think many others did either.” Rin’s voice faltered for a moment before he continued. “You’ll have your hands full soon enough, Tal.”

Tal’s hands moved with precision up Maeric’s leg, pressing gently to assess the break. Though her darker hair set them apart, her features mirrored Rin’s thin face. “I don’t suppose the guest under the blanket is a Murasi,” she muttered, her focus remaining on Maeric’s leg.

Across the room, Amun peeked under the edge of the blood-soaked blanket, studying the man’s face. “I think I’ve seen him before…”

Rin’s eyes shot up at Amun. “That’s something. Got any idea why?”

“Not sure, but he’s been in the Spindle recently.” Amun's gaze fixed on the man’s chest wound. He hesitated, then tilted the body forward slightly, examining the exit wound on his back before his eyes shifted around the room, settling on the splintered wood on the wall.

“His leg’s in bad shape. I’ll need to set it. He’ll need pins to keep it stable.” Tal stood back up, giving one more look across his leg. “He’ll need time, but he should heal well enough to walk.” As she turned to Rin, Amun motioned her toward the body, pointing toward the chest.

“He got this in here?” she asked, pointing to the wound, confusion flashed across her face as she glanced between Rin and Erith, taking him in fully for the first time.

Erith felt heat rise to his face, the beat of his heart pounding under the unwanted attention.

Rin raised a hand to cut her off. “Let’s not make this any more complicated.”

Tal sighed and turned back to Maeric’s leg. “Fine. Moons, handle Rin. I’ll need duskroot for Maeric. He’ll need to be under for this—grab it from my bag.”

As Amun rummaged through the supplies, Maeric stirred, his head tilting toward Erith. “No… no… dusk…” His voice was faint, almost a whisper.

The group exchanged uneasy glances before Maeric’s eyes fluttered open, locking on Erith.

“Droplet…” His words were strained, yet resolute. “There’s no pain… only the path.”

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦