"I’d expect nothing less."
The threat is fair. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Gathering my belongings takes only an hour. Walking away from the only home I’ve known since childhood feels momentous regardless of how few items I carry.
Krath waits for me outside the gates. When I emerge with my pack and a small trunk of books, his expression carries quiet pride.
"How do you feel?"
"Terrified," I admit. "Free. Both at once."
He takes my hand. "That’s a good sign. Fear means you understand the weight of choice. Freedom means you’re brave enough to make it anyway."
We walk in silence for a while. Eventually, practical concerns intrude.
"Where do we go now? We can’t just wander aimlessly."
"Why not?" His tone carries amusement. "We have no obligations, no duties, no one directing our steps. We could go anywhere."
The possibilities are overwhelming and exhilarating. "I’ve wanted to study at the Archives of Methran. They have texts dating back to before the Veil War."
"Then we go to Methran." He makes it sound simple.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." He stops, turning to face me on the forest path. "Rhea, we destroyed a threat that had plagued this region for centuries. We’ve earned the right to do whatever we want with our lives."
Put that way, studying at the archives seems perfectly reasonable. "What will you do while I’m buried in dusty tomes?"
"Find work that matters." He considers seriously. "Use my abilities to protect people who can’t defend themselves. There’s need for someone willing to stand between the innocent and those who’d hurt them."
"We’ll need coin for travel and lodging."
"Then we work for it." He resumes walking. "Take contracts, solve problems, build a reputation as people who can handle situations others can’t."
Over the following month, that’s exactly what we do. We take on work that matches our abilities—clearing out a nest of shadow-spawn in a farming village, protecting a merchant caravan through dangerous territory, investigating mysterious disappearances in a mining town.
Each contract builds our reputation and our confidence. We learn to work as a team without the desperate urgency that defined our flight. He handles direct confrontations while I provide magical support, but we’re equals in planning and decision-making.
But it’s not without challenges.
Our first real argument happens during a contract to clear wyverns from a mountain pass. We’re pinned down behind rocks, the creatures circling above with hungry cries.
"I can draw them off," he says, preparing to charge into the open. "You hit them with fire while they’re focused on me."
"That’s suicide." I grab his arm. "They’ll shred you before I can bring them down."
"I can take it?—"
"I have a better plan." I sketch it quickly—using illusion magic to create false targets while we flank from two sides.
"Illusion won’t fool them for long."
"It doesn’t need to. Just long enough."
He hesitates, and I see the moment he wants to override my plan with his own instinct to take the dangerous role himself.
"Trust me," I say firmly. "Please."
