"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.

Snapping out of his daze, Erith’s 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, he was going for Maeric, and you stopped him. You kept us safe."

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.

"Put another log on the fire." Rin pushed up on his sword and limped past Erith. He traded the folded blanket propping Maeric's leg for a pillow. 

Kneeling by the blood-soaked floor, Rin laid the blanket beside the intruder, and emptied his pockets. He lifted the dagger, turning the blade over in his hand, then cut the shirt open.

A clean, round hole bled steadily from the chest.

He folded the blanket over the body and dropped back into his chair.

For a while, the room remained silent.

"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 wielder when we got to the camp. They could wield Mura—Nothing else could've cut through Kaida containers that fast."

Rin's focus drifted back to the blade. "Maeric mentioned rumors from Loradun... Wielding Mura—the power of Murasi in human hands. Is that what you did to him?"

"Rin, I don't know—"

"Erith," Rin groaned as he slouched 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." 

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 sure I locked—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 suppose 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 you away from trouble."

"Well, he was—until a horse fell on him." Rin raised a hand as Tal approached. "Check Maeric first. I'll be fine."

She opened her mouth to speak, surveying the blood seeping from his side, but the words never formed.

"Do yourself a favor and lie flat, Rin,” she said, already angling toward Maeric. “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. "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." He shifted the body forward, examining the wound on his back tracing the walls before settling on the splintered wood near the doorframe.

"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 wound.

"He got this in here?" she asked, confusion flashing across her face as she glanced between Rin and Erith, taking him in fully for the first time.

Heat crept up Erith's 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."

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