The morning air was sharp and cold, thick with the promise of rain. Grinholt looked quieter than usual under the grey sky, its crooked rooftops shrouded in mist.
Reid stood outside the inn, his white stallion saddled and still. The black pouch was tied securely to his belt, light in weight but heavy in presence.
A few passersby gave him odd glances, but no one lingered. Most avoided his eyes altogether.
Word had spread.
Behind him, the door to the inn swung open with a creak.
"Ready!" Tarron's voice was far too bright for the hour.
The boy had a spring in his step, a canvas pack slung across his back. He had traded his patched tunic for a sturdier vest, and his belt now carried a small dagger—more decorative than practical, but the pride in the boy's face made it seem like a knight's sword.
Reid eyed the boy curiously as they started down the dirt path leading out of Grinholt.
"So, tell me," he said, adjusting the strap of his pack, "Why does a boy with coin and a good horse need an escort? Are all errands in Aldor so well paid?"
Tarron glanced over with a grin, reins slipping slightly through his fingers before he caught them. "Not all errands. But this one's… important."
"Important enough to hire muscle?" Reid arched a brow. "I killed a man in the pit for less than what you're paying."
Tarron laughed, almost embarrassed. "Arena cheated you. A fight like that would easily pay over a fifty. Moreover, I'm not paying for muscle. I'm paying for survival."
Reid shrugged, thinking he had to learn fast how coin actually worked in this system. "Still sounds like a bad bargain."
"Depends on the company," Tarron said, grinning again.
Then he sobered slightly, tapping the satchel at his side. "I'm carrying a piece of jewellery—custom order. It may not be worth much to the robber but the Noble wants a secure and on time delivery. My father even crafted it himself. He's a goldsmith, one of the few left who still forges by hand.'
'How else then other crafts?'
'Spells.' Tarron deadpanned and Reid swore under his breath.
'The lord insisted that no cheap spells should touch it. It should be done the old fashioned way and then someone had to deliver it personally."
"And he sent you?" Reid asked, mildly incredulous.
Tarron shrugged. "I insisted. My first trip outside Grinholt. Father wasn't happy, but… I wanted to see something beyond the forge. Such opportunities don't come often."
Reid didn't say anything for a moment. He looked ahead at the road winding into the grey horizon. He understood that too.
The wind picked up slightly, brushing past his ear with a whisper.
It wasn't the wind.
A cold hiss slithered along the edge of his hearing—sharp and quick, like breath drawn through fangs.
Reid stiffened. His hand moved instinctively toward his side, where the dagger rested in its sheath.
But when he looked, there was nothing there.
Just trees. Stones. The road. The boy.
This was not the same presence as that tiny beast. It carried a tinge of malevolence.
"You alright?" Tarron asked, noticing the shift in his posture.
Reid straightened, giving a tight nod. "Yeah. Just… thought I heard something."
"Bandits?" Tarron's eyes lit up with more excitement than concern.
"No." Reid's gaze stayed on the trees a moment longer. "Worse."
Tarron laughed nervously. "You're joking, right?"
Reid didn't answer. He kicked his horse gently forward, voice quiet as he said, "Let's just keep moving."
They moved through the outlying farmlands first, the stone fences and wooden sheds slowly giving way to hills, untamed brush, and sloping meadows. The morning chill clung to them for the first hour, but once the sun crested behind the grey clouds, the world warmed just enough to thaw their hands.
It was quiet. Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
He glanced behind him for the fifth time.
Nothing.
Tarron noticed again, fiddling in his saddle he asked, "You expecting someone?"
"No," Reid said, keeping his voice low. "Just not used to being followed."
Tarron looked tensed. "We are being followed then."
"Sort of."
They rode on, the hoofbeats steady and rhythmical.
They made camp by dusk, stopping near a broken stone wall that looked like it once belonged to a farmhouse. The fire was small but warm. Tarron talked endlessly, swapping stories he'd heard from traders and travelers. Reid listened, mostly quiet, half his attention still lingering on the trees.
The stars blinked to life as night swallowed the road behind them.
Reid took the first watch.
He sat near the fire, legs crossed, the dagger from the fight resting across his knees. It gleamed in the firelight, edges clean, unbloodied—for now.
Something moved in the dark.
He turned slowly.
There, not five paces from the fire, stood the black creature. Elk. This was the first time he was seeing it clearly. It had a lean body covered in dark midnight scales that reflected the moonlight, large eyes that shimmered like polished stone, and small horn on his snout. Its long tail curled slightly, twitching like it was thinking.
"You show up finally, huh?" Reid asked.
The elk crept forward. It was barely the size of a loaf of bread. Almost cute—if it hadn't been staring into his soul, stirring something he didn't even know was there.
"You waiting for something? Take your time."
It didn't answer. Just stared.
Then it padded forward, stopping at Reid's boot. It sniffed once. Then again. Then, without warning, it jumped onto his leg and climbed to his lap like a cat claiming its throne.
Reid froze.
It pressed a paw to his chest.
"What the—?"
The elk closed its eyes. A warm pulse of energy rushed through Reid's chest, like lightning without pain. His vision blurred. A name flashed behind his eyes.
Not the elk's.
His.
Tzeryn.
He gasped.
The elk stayed unfazed and then curled up beside him like it had always belonged there.
You know me
The creature seemed to whisper, though its mouth never moved.
He might.
Reid thought as he sat still for a long time, one hand resting on the small creature curled beside him. Its breathing was slow, rhythmic—too calm for something that had just jolted his soul awake. The fire crackled and popped, but the night beyond remained unnaturally quiet, as if even the woods were listening in.
He looked down at the elk. It looked back, silent as ever, then gently closed his eyes.
"Guess I've got company now," he murmured.
Reid didn't sleep for a long time.
But when he finally did, the creature opened his eyes, staying by his side. Watching.