The village faded behind them as they crossed the cracked plain. Ana moved silently, her auburn hair catching the morning light. "Watch me," she instructed. "Move with purpose."

Caden's attempts were clumsy but determined. Ana circled him, feet barely disturbing the dust. "Wider stance. Eyes ahead. Lower—engage your core." Their movements gradually aligned—her fluid grace against his earnest effort. Sweat beaded on his brow as he matched his breath to his steps.

"Don't stop," she murmured. "Embrace the burn."

He nodded, jaw set.

"Better," she acknowledged as they crested a rise. "Your body must obey your mind."

By afternoon, Ashenheart was just a smudge of smoke on the horizon. Ana noticed Caden's movements flowing more smoothly despite his labored breathing. "You're slowing."

"I'm not!" He quickened his pace, maintaining the silence.

She allowed herself a small smile. "Then keep the rhythm."

Caden nodded, accepting the half-truth. Just then, a string of merchant wagons appeared on the horizon, winding like pearls along the dusty track. The promise of supplies and respite should have lightened her chest—but instead her muscles tensed, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the scene.

"What is it?" Caden asked, catching the shift in her demeanor.

"A caravan," Ana replied, voice low. "Could be trouble."

They quickened their step, hearts racing. As they closed the distance, ragged silhouettes came into focus, ringed around the wagons—and Ana's instincts screamed that danger lay ahead.

Wheels creaked beneath sagging wagons as the merchant caravan huddled by the roadside. Horses snorted and pawed at the dirt while tattered flags snapped overhead. Five bandits—all scarred faces and patchwork armor—crowded a merchant whose shoulders hunched beneath his expensive coat. "Your money or your blood," growled the tallest, jabbing forward with a notched blade. Ana's fingers closed around Caden's wrist. "This isn't our problem," she murmured, but Caden had already slipped from her grasp. His sword whispered from its sheath as he launched himself between the merchant and his attackers. Metal rang against metal. The bandit stumbled backward, eyes wide with surprise. His companions whirled toward the interruption, but Caden was already dancing among them, deflecting a clumsy attack before planting his foot squarely in one man's sternum. Ana's breath hissed between her teeth as she watched her student's blade catch the fading light, moving with a precision she taught him.

Wagons tilted like drunken sailors, spilling sacks of grain and bolts of cloth across the rutted road. Merchants pressed themselves against wagon wheels, eyes downcast as bandits prowled between them. The largest bandit, his face a map of old scars, jabbed a notched sword at a silk merchant's throat while his companions ransacked the caravan's bounty.

Ana's fingers tightened around her flask. Every instinct urged her forward and away, past this trouble that wasn't hers to solve. She'd buried enough bodies—bandit and innocent alike—to last several lifetimes. The whiskey burned down her throat as she muttered, "Keep walking." Then came that familiar voice at her shoulder, unwelcome as winter rain. "The boy fights like you used to," Ethan observed. Ana didn't turn. "Haunt someone else," she growled, eyes fixed on Caden's distant form weaving between attackers.

Ethan ignored the warning, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "Remember when you used to be this eager?" he taunted.

Ana's fists clenched, the words digging under her skin like barbs. She shot him a look filled with raw disdain. "What do you want, Ethan?"

His eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was an edge to them, sharp and cutting. "Isn't it obvious, Ana? I'm here to pick up the pieces when you run away again."

Her jaw tightened, each of his jabs striking with practiced precision.

Ana felt her stomach churn as she took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the chaos happening before her instead of Ethan's jeers. Her eyes focused on Caden, who moved with intense focus amid the turmoil.

The boy was tenacious, each swing of his sword fueled by a fierce determination that seemed out of place in his slight frame but was undeniable. He ducked under an oncoming strike, rising to send another bandit staggering back with a clumsy yet effective counterattack.

Caden's earlier fatigue was forgotten in the face of this new challenge. The boy who had struggled through training now struck with precision and intent.

As she watched the scene unfold, Ana felt a mix of anxiety, pride, and frustration. Caden was good, better than she had dared to hope, but these were no mere training dummies.

Caden dodged a wild swing, his small frame weaving easily between the larger bandits. With a swift pivot, he caught another blade and deflected it, the movement smooth and assured. Ana's grip tightened on her own sword, her instincts clashing with the need to let him prove himself.

The bandits, briefly caught off guard, regrouped with angry curses, their numbers a threat that could easily overpower.

Ana sensed Ethan's presence close beside her, his voice a whisper in her ear. "Why don't you help him?" he taunted, his tone smooth and darkly amused. "Or are you just going to let him suffer?"

Her eyes burned with anger, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she watched as Caden parried another attack, his breath coming in ragged gasps now. Sweat shimmered on his forehead.

"He's only a boy," Ethan pressed, circling around her like a predator toying with its prey. "Do you want him to die?"

Around them, scattered crates and overturned barrels made footing treacherous.

"Just like we practiced," she whispered, the words swallowed by the clash and chaos surrounding them.

The young warrior began to show signs of faltering. His relentless energy waned, his actions slowed as exhaustion took its toll. The bandits' resolve strengthened, sensing his vulnerability and seizing the upper hand.

One of them, eyes gleaming with malice, came up behind Caden and swung hard, the rusted pommel catching him across the back. Caden staggered, his mouth opening in a gasp of surprise and pain.

Before he could react further, the attacker lurched forward, a sharp laugh escaping his lips. His mirth was cut brutally short as a slender hand seized his head and slammed it with terrifying force into the side of a wagon. The wood splintered and broke under the impact, just as easily as bone; the bandit's skull caved sickeningly, his body crumpling to the ground like a doll. Ana stood above him, her yellow eyes smoldering.

A terrible silence fell. The bandits wavered, caught in the shadow of her presence, their faces reflecting a fear that had nothing to do with Caden or his sword.

Caden found himself frozen, his breath catching in his throat. The suddenness of Ana's intervention left him speechless and shaken. He'd seen her fight before, but this was different—feral and unrestrained, something monstrous that sent a shiver through his spine.

"Don't touch the boy," Ana ordered, chin raised defiantly.

A grizzled figure tightened his grip on a rusted sword, sensing victory as he closed in on Caden. Time became a trickle.

The bandit leader didn't even have time to scream before his head was severed from his body. Ana stood behind the falling corpse, her blade an extension of her will, casting a shadow of terror over the remaining band.

The sight was enough. Panic erupted as they turned tail and fled, weapons forgotten in their haste. The merchants huddled together, shock mingling with relief as their attackers vanished down the road.

Ana's aura softened, the hard edges of her presence fading as she turned to Caden. Her eyes met his, momentarily unguarded, and something in her expression shifted—concern and a glimmer of the vulnerability she so rarely showed.

Caden blinked, feeling the knot in his chest loosen. Relief washed over him with an intensity that left him dizzy. He stood straighter, trying to mask the lingering pain from the blow he'd taken. "I had it under control," he insisted, though his voice wavered.

"Right," Ana said, a flicker of amusement touching her lips.

Caden, panting with mixed emotions of fury and disbelief. "I could have fought them off without killing," he snapped, frustration evident in his voice.

Ana returned his intense stare with a firm gaze and said, "This is the real world, not a story. Caden, you need to think!" The atmosphere was heavy with the remnants of their conflict, dust lingering as Caden absorbed the reality of her statement.