I drew it from somewhere within. I know it. Erith looked dismayed at the stones around him. The flames barely reached beyond their embers and cast a faint shadow of Erith against the trees. I’ve been at this too long. 

Erith got to his feet, kicked dirt into the fire, and grabbed his torch. The night pressed on him heavier than usual. For weeks now, these late-night treks had become his routine once again. There had been comfort in the hush of the late hours, in the solitude they offered, but lately, even that solace felt unreachable. The mental strain he’d relied on to distract himself seemed to drain him more deeply than it ever had before.

The tall trees surrounding Erith thinned out as he moved closer to the camp. Extinguishing his torch, he crept from the forest and slipped back toward the encampment. 

He walked along the edge of the encampment toward his tent at the end of the row. His thoughts lingered on his efforts in the forest until they faltered at the sight of his tent entrance. He stopped, his attention drawn first to the closed flaps, then to the ground beneath them. 

Squinting in the dim light, he scanned the ground until he spotted a thin thread tangled in the grass near the opening. After a brief pause, he crouched, freed the thread, and slipped it into his pocket before stepping inside.

The scent wafting from the meal tent stirred Erith awake. Pale light filtered through the canvas, casting soft shadows on its interior. He lay still for a moment, staring aimlessly at the faint lines of the fabric above. With a sigh, he dressed and stepped out into the brisk morning air, heading down the line of tents toward the rising smoke billowing from the meal tent.

The sun hung pale and veiled behind an overcast sky. To the west, tall pine and oak trees towered over the nearby tents, their needles and bare branches catching faint streaks of green in the morning glow. Erith's gaze fell on one of the barren oaks, its branches speckled with tiny buds as spring breathed life back into the forest.

The day slipped by in a haze from Erith. Time felt stretched, his mind occupied while he moved through the motions around the fire pits. Each task blurred into the next in a rhythm that failed to anchor his wandering mind.

As dusk deepened and the camp shifted its attention toward the meal tent, Erith slipped away from the fire pits toward the camp’s refinery. He moved quietly between rows of gem-like containers filled with Kaida shards.

Above the containers, mirrored panels focused beams of light onto their gem-like surfaces, scattering faint, shifting patterns across the ground. Erith, however, kept his focus straight ahead, his eyes scanning for the locked boxes.

At the center of the refinery, his eyes fell on the final box. Its lid sat slightly ajar. Erith crouched low, glancing over his shoulder to ensure he was alone before carefully easing the lid further open.

Inside, small gemstones lay scattered across the bottom—filling only half the box. Thicker and duller than Kaida shards, the gemstones had rough, clouded surfaces that stood in stark contrast to the radiant glow of the nearby containers.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he plucked one of the gemstones from the box and slipped it into his pocket. Gently, he eased the lid back into place ensuring it looked untouched. With a steady breath and a quick glance over his shoulder, Erith turned and headed toward the meal tent.

As the camp settled for the night, Erith sat in his tent with his eyes closed waiting for the faintest hum of activity to fade entirely. In a moment of pensive thought, Erith rolled the thread tucked in his vest pocket before reaching for his boots.

He stepped out into the night, the tall trees casting long shadows under the faint glow of the moon. Erith moved slowly as he followed his familiar route toward the clearing deep within the forest. He walked more cautiously than usual, his measured pace keeping him far beyond the reach of the ears of the encampment.

With a flick of the striker, Erith lit the torch, its faint glow dancing across the nearby trees. He shifted as if to continue walking, but his steps faltered.

“It’s dangerous to wander alone, even more so this late at night,” Erith softly called out over his shoulder.

“It must be an uneasy feeling, putting your faith in that Kaida blade, with what we’ve seen lately.” Erith’s tone was quiet, almost contemplative, his words hanging in the stillness of the night.

He turned slightly, his torch casting flickering light across the trees, and waited. Moments later, a figure stepped out from the forest shadows, their silhouette gradually taking shape in the torch’s dim glow.

“I’ve not known many to leave their tent at night and return without incident,” The Vice Captain’s words had a quiet edge to them as he walked with steady caution toward Erith, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Especially when we’re this far from any city, but with the Morvathi camped so close, I’ll admit—curiosity has its way of pulling me out, too. Even if it means stepping beyond the safety of the barrier cart.”

Maeric stopped a few steps away, the torchlight revealing the weariness etched into Erith’s face, yet a sharp focus lingered within his eyes. “Curiosity can be a dangerous thing,” he said, his voice measured. “Out here, makes a man wonder what might be worth the risk.”

Erith’s eyes flicked to the blade in Maeric’s hand, his head tilting slightly. “That sword doesn’t look like something they’d hand out to sifters. Keeps you safe from Murasi, sure, but fit for something sharper, wouldn’t you say? Morvathi spies, perhaps?”

Maeric's lips curved into a cautious smirk. “An interesting gamble, though it seems we both know who’s really taking the risk here. You don’t seem the type to sneak out for a chat with the Morvathi.”

His tone grew measured, yet calm. “And if you wanted to kill me, I suspect it would have happened already.” Maeric paused, looking inquisitive at Erith. “Though, I can’t help but wonder—what is this danger that I am already in?”

Their eyes locked in a charged silence, the forest around them almost unnervingly still. Erith’s gaze shifted toward the trees, his expression calm yet purposeful. Maeric followed his line of sight, his eyes narrowing as he made out faintly glowing Murasi, their forms fox-like, moving silently among the shadows of the trees.

“Ah,” Maeric murmured, his voice low, tinged with quiet wonder. “Perhaps curiosity is the danger after all. Still… I must be a fool, because I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting to understand more.”

Slowly, the Vice Captain unstrapped his sword and let it fall between them with a muted thud. He motioned for Erith to take the sword. “Please, allow me to learn—”

“Stop.” Erith’s sharp voice cut Maeric off, halting him mid-motion. His tone carried a weight that made the Vice Captain instinctively step back. “Toss the gem.”

Maeric hesitated, his demeanor shifting ever so slightly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dark gem, holding it between his fingers. “I wasn’t wrong to wonder at you after the Narrows, it seems.”

“Wonder?” Erith’s tone hardened. “Did wonder lead you to check my tent at night?”

Maeric paused, his eyes dropping to the gem between his fingers. “Wonder… Wary… Worry…” A faint smirk grew across Maeric as he lifted his sights back to Erith. “What you did defies odds, and what you survived would break most.”

His voice was measured, but a faint tension ran beneath the surface. “It looks like my curiosity was justified, though. I must have been a hundred paces behind you this entire time. I suspect it doesn’t matter whether I’m holding the gem or not—it won’t protect me from them, will it?” He tossed the gem aside the sword.

His eyes flicked toward the Murasi, lingering for a moment too long. Though his face remained steady, a subtle unease flickered in his gaze, betraying his curiosity with dread.

The Murasi edged closer, their dim glow shifting as they circled slowly.

Erith crouched, picking up the gem first. It was well-polished, smooth in his grip, and about the size of his palm. He turned it briefly in his fingers, the faint light of the Murasi catching on its surface. Then, without a word, he reached for the sword, eyeing Maeric as he crouched toward the ground.

“Go ahead,” he said, tilting his head. “You can walk in front of me.”

For a moment, Maeric stood eyes fixed on Erith, his unease barely masked. But with a small nod, he stepped forward.

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