Their banter had drawn the attention of the merchant leader, who approached with a wide grin and two mugs.

"A drink for our saviors," he said, handing the mugs to Ana and Caden. His eyes shone with delight, his energy infectious amidst the cheerful clamor. "The finest plum wine this side of Tundral—and plum juice for the young warrior!"

Ana took a cautious sip, savoring the sweet tang on her tongue. Caden tasted his as well, his uncertainty giving way to a grin as he drained it in one go.

"Name's Garin," the merchant declared, sweeping an arm to encompass the bustling scene around them. "And these are my merry men! We're caravaners, yes, but something grander than that today." his accent rolling and guttural, words flowing like desert sand.

"We're a group with spirit, surviving to trade another day!" Garin added with a laugh. "And now, we're bound for the tournament!"

Ana scrutinizes the merchant, assessing his type: plump, boastful, with fingers that reveal how swiftly he counts your money. He has a salesman's confidence, lacking the sharpness of genuine hunger. She nods towards Caden—a young teen, scuffed, eyes wide despite his practiced scowl—and introduces, "I'm Ana, and this here is Caden. He's my apprentice. Don't get too attached." Her words linger with a touch of irony, unsure if she's making a joke, issuing a warning, or secretly hoping for it.

"An apprentice! That's amusing. Training him for the League?" His gaze shifts to Caden, then back to Ana, an untrustworthy glint in his right eye. "Or is he just a burden you can't shake off?"

Ana shrugs, keeping it vague. "Call him what you will. He picks fewer fights than I do." She's not about to share the full story: the boy sticks to her side—it's the only place that doesn't reek of home. The less people know about Caden, the fewer targets on his back.

"The League won't take him until his voice changes," Garin remarks, popping a rice ball into his mouth. "But the tournament—that's a different matter." He leans in, as if revealing a secret. "Word is, fighters from everywhere. Heroes, villains, maybe."

Caden's eyes brightened, his curiosity rushing out in a jumble of words. "What kind of tournament?"

Garin's face split into an even wider grin as he launched into an enthusiastic explanation. "The grandest contest sout east of the Dragons Kingdom, admidst the grand hub of mages. Eldrath!" he said, spinning a tale with sweeping gestures that seemed to paint pictures in the air. "Warriors, mages, and craftsmen from all corners flock to it, their sights set on fame and glory! The city blooms with excitement and gold flows like water!"

Caden leaned forward, his enthusiasm barely contained. "Have you been there before? Did you see the tournament?" His questions came in a flood, and Garin beamed at the boy's eagerness.

"I was there thirty years ago," Garin replied, his voice rising above the din with storyteller flair. He savored the memory like a sweet fruit. "The winner—a wild card, if ever there was one! A half-blood nobody heard of before or after. Fought with fierce skill and sheer audacity."

Ana listened with feigned disinterest, but her eyes flicked to Garin as he spoke.

"The winner was a mystery," he began, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper that drew even more listeners. "A masked warrior who appeared from nowhere and claimed victory over the kingdom's mightiest."

"The word is, the King's own people may have been behind a scheme," Garin added, his voice dropping to a hushed tone that pulled everyone closer. "Rumor has it the champion was part of the King's closest—and some say the prize was decided before the first clash even began."

An uneasy murmur rippled through the group, merchants exchanging glances filled with intrigue and skepticism. Ana stiffened at the implication, her attention now fully captured by Garin's tale.

Caden frowned, his young mind grappling with the complexity of such deceit. "But why would they do that?"

Garin shrugged with exaggerated flair. "Some say to secure the King's position. Others? A mere gamble for even greater power." His eyes shifted to Ana, curiosity gleaming as he caught her unease. "Your fighting style," Garin ventured, tilting his head thoughtfully, "reminds me of that champion."

Ana stiffened further, a shadow crossing her face.

Caden jumped in before she could respond, his words tumbling over each other. "What happened to this champion?" he asked eagerly. "Where is he now?"

Garin chuckled at Caden's relentless curiosity. "Vanished like smoke after the victory," he said with a dramatic flourish. "Not a trace left behind—"

A hush fell over the group as Garin's story cast its spell. Caden was transfixed, hanging on every word like a lifeline to some buried truth.

Ana was grateful for the distraction of food, her appetite kindled by long-forgotten flavors and Garin's unsettling tale. She speared a skewer of roasted meat glazed with sweet sauce, savoring the rich taste that melted across her tongue. Spicy pickles added a tangy kick, their sharpness cutting through her thoughts with welcome distraction.

Caden shifted closer to Garin, hardly noticing as Ana tucked into a dish of fiery noodles dotted with crisp vegetables. Ana twirled the noodles around her chopsticks, mesmerized by their deep red gleam. Steam carried the sharp bite of garlic and fermented chili to her nose. She took a bite, and heat bloomed across her tongue—familiar, dangerous, and oddly comforting.

"It's coming back to me now," Ethan's voice cut through the camp like a dagger, tinged with smug amusement. He appeared beside Ana with uncanny suddenness, savoring the chaos he caused with his mere presence. "That tournament? I might have attended."

Ana mumbled "Shut up," under her breath, her words almost swallowed by the clamor of Garin's tale. No one turned to look at her—they couldn't see Ethan's spectral form hovering at her shoulder, his face a twisted mockery of concern. She watched a merchant pass his arm through Ethan's incorporeal chest while reaching for more wine, completely oblivious to the phantom that only her eyes could perceive.

Ana's reaction did not escape Garin's notice. His eyes narrowed, a new layer of interest sparking within them. "What say you?" he asked, an intrigued lilt to his voice. "What could this champion have done after he vanished?"

Ana's grip on her chopsticks tightened for a moment, then relaxed as she forced a chuckle. "Maybe," she said, the words carrying an undertone that spoke volumes, "he just wanted to be alone."

Garin nodded slowly, as if digesting more than just her answer. A knowing smile touched his lips before he turned back to entertain the rest of the crew with more speculative tales.

"Oh he knows, he is good, Ana!" he continued, brutally mocking.

Ana raised her mug to her lips and took a long drink, the plum wine a welcome burn against Ethan's presence.

She took a long gulp, letting the sweet burn race through her veins, diluting Ethan's presence to a faint whisper. The wine went down too easily, and she took another swig, determined to drown out his taunts with drink and laughter.

"Yes! A toast!" Garin exclaimed, raising his own mug high. "To Ana and Caden—our heroes!"

The merchants cheered, raising their mugs in raucous celebration.

The camp remained alight with revelry long into the night, laughter and clinking mugs echoing beneath a sky littered with stars. Flames cackled in the firepit as Garin's men swapped stories and songs, their voices lifting in a joyful chorus that mingled with the sweet aroma of roasting chestnuts. Caden relished it all—his mouth stained red from pickled plums and his cheeks flushed with excitement.

Ana stood at the outskirts, watching Caden spin around the fire as one of the merchants filled the air with a lively flute tune. His steps were clumsy but joyous.

The chill crept in as the hours wore on, but the camp remained alive with warmth and spirit. Garin's merry band huddled closer to the fire, their songs turning to laughter-laden whispers.

"Not used to such celebration?" Garin's voice broke Ana's reverie. He appeared with a warm, fur-lined cloak draped over one arm and a steaming cup in hand.

She accepted both, the tea's fragrant steam enveloping her face in soothing warmth. "Drachenmelisse?" she questioned, sniffing at the golden brew.

"The very best," he confirmed with a proud nod. "And just what you need."

Ana took them both, surprised by the gesture. "Thanks," she replied, awkwardness creeping into her gratitude. She opened her mouth to insist it wasn't necessary, but Garin cut her off.

"No need to say more," he chuckled, clapping her lightly on the back.

"Whether you wandered here by fortune or fate, it seems there's a reason you're with us," Garin mused, his eyes flicking to Ana with a spark of certainty. "I have a feeling this time, the champion won't vanish."

Ana almost choked on her tea. She covered the moment with a laugh that felt thin and brittle in her own ears.

Caden's voice floated towards them, breathless and exhilarated. "Ana! Did you hear them? They said it was just like old times!"

She hid a wince behind her mug, the weight of Garin's words settling over her like a cloak a size too large to wear.

"You should sleep," Ana called to Caden, her voice carrying the undertone of a protective parent rather than a commander.

But Caden was too caught up in the moment to heed any suggestion of rest. "Maybe tomorrow," he called back, his voice bright as his steps.

The flute's lively tunes picked up speed, matching Caden's buoyant leaps as he twirled around the fire. Laughter burst from him like fireworks. Then, as if a shadow crossed the sun, the joy dimmed within him. Caden slowed, his heart tapping out a different rhythm. He felt it before he saw it—a shift in the air that settled over him like cold ash. His steps faltered, his breath caught, and he looked to Ana.

She stood apart, her gaze fixed on Caden. The night seemed to press in around her, a silent aura forming and expanding with every heartbeat.

"O-or maybe now," Caden stammered, feeling the weight of her eyes. "Good—good night everyone." He vanished awkwardly into the tent the merchants had set up for them, the flap sealing his retreating back, cheeks burning with embarrassment. The silence hung for a moment, almost tangible, before Garin and the others erupted with laughter, clinking their mugs in boisterous celebration.

Ana grunted, feeling the tension slough off her shoulders. The aura that had wrapped around her dissipated into the night as she allowed herself to soften and ease into the festive spirit.

"Good lad," Garin called after Caden, his voice carrying kindness beneath its mirthful tone. "He knows when he's beat!"

Ana stifled a reluctant smile, huddling deeper into her cloak as she dared to embrace the warmth of it.