Even Maeve, usually the first to break tension with a sarcastic jab, walked with her bow slung and her mouth shut. The village was quieter than usual—fewer calls from vendors, fewer kids underfoot. People were beginning to realize how close they’d come to being overrun.

Rourke’s steps felt heavier than they should. His boots scraped dry against the dirt path, and his mana pool still throbbed like an overdrawn bank account.

Behind him, Tobin trudged in silence, shoulders slumped. Darian hadn’t said a word since the fight. Kara moved like a shadow between rooftops, already scanning for threats even though the danger had passed.

It wasn’t just fatigue. It was weight.

When they reached the small stone building they used for guild meetings—really just an old apothecary they’d claimed—Rourke paused before pushing the door open.

“I need a minute,” he said quietly, eyes flicking to Darian.

The tank stared at him for a beat. Then, with a grunt, he turned and walked around the back to cool off alone.

The others filtered inside without comment.

---

Rourke followed a moment later. The inside smelled of herbs, sweat, and old smoke. A cracked table held maps, ration wrappers, and a few hastily scrawled raid notes.

Kara was already seated in the far corner, silent, fingers absently cleaning a blade. Tobin leaned against the wall, clearly trying to look calm and failing. Maeve dropped into a chair and kicked her boots up on the table with a sigh.

“Well,” she said, popping the “l” lazily. “That sucked.”

Rourke didn’t respond right away. He moved behind the table, leaning forward with both palms pressed flat against the surface. The map under his fingers was starting to tear at the corners from overuse.

“We survived,” he said.

“Sure,” Maeve muttered. “Just don’t ask me to bet on that streak continuing if Tobin forgets how to cast again.”

Tobin flinched. “I didn’t forget—my wrist—”

“Stop.” Rourke’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

Silence settled in.

He let it hang for a moment, then straightened. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, but firmer. “Tobin held. Maybe slower than usual, but he stayed. Kara kept the flank from collapsing. Maeve—your timing saved my ass twice. Darian—”

He stopped. Darian wasn’t back yet. Typical.

“—held the entire front,” Rourke finished. “Barely. But he did.”

Kara looked up. “You were fast,” she said simply. “On the rebound cast. You saved him.”

That was as much as Kara ever gave anyone. Rourke nodded once, grateful.

“I made the call to cast Mass Heal early,” he admitted. “It worked—but it burned through everything. We got lucky the raiders didn’t regroup.”

Maeve snorted. “We’re always lucky until we’re not.”

---

A quiet knock broke the moment.

Elira stepped inside, her robes damp from the morning air. “There’s a runner,” she said softly. “From a nearby farming outpost. They’re asking for help. Said they spotted scout markers—raiders, most likely.”

Of course they did.

Rourke looked at the others. Kara was already standing. Tobin looked like he might be sick. Maeve raised an eyebrow as if to say do we ever get a day off?

“We go,” Rourke said. “But not yet. I want a plan this time.”

Maeve smirked. “You mean we haven’t been winging it this whole time?”

“Not anymore,” Rourke said. “Not with the way things are escalating.”

He met Elira’s gaze. She nodded, the unspoken meaning clear.

The next raid might not come with a warning.

And next time, luck wouldn’t be enough.

---

They gathered around the table again, the same tattered map at the center—stained with spilled tea, oil, and blood from a week-old bandage. Rourke ran a finger along the edge of the region, tracing roads that barely qualified as paths anymore.

“The farm outpost is here,” he said. “Three hours out. If they’ve seen scout markers, that gives us maybe two days before the next push—less if the raiders want to catch us off-guard.”

Maeve leaned in, eyes scanning the terrain. “Open fields. Sparse cover. Not great for ambushes unless we dig in.”

“I can prep traps,” Kara murmured without looking up.

“Good,” Rourke said. “Focus on funneling. I’d rather force a narrow approach than deal with another spread charge like this morning.”

Tobin cleared his throat. “What if we ask for reinforcements? From the allied patrols near Westmark?”

“Too slow,” Rourke said, shaking his head. “By the time they get here, the outpost could be gone.”

Maeve tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. “We’re stretched thin, Ro. You’re thinking like we’re a unit. We’re still a patchwork.”

“I know,” he said, and meant it. “But if we wait for perfect, we’ll never move.”

The door creaked open again, and Darian entered without a word. He took one look at the table, grunted, and walked to the corner where his gear leaned against the wall.

“I assume we’re marching to get stabbed again,” he muttered.

Rourke didn’t rise to the bait. “We’re heading out at dawn. Small party. Light and fast.”

Darian glanced at him as he slung on his chestplate. “Then I’d recommend resting. You look like hell.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rourke said. “But I’m not the only one.”

---

Later, after they’d broken for the night, Rourke lingered near the apothecary window, watching fog roll across the village rooftops. He felt Elira approach before she spoke.

“You can’t carry all of it.”

He didn’t look away. “Feels like I have to.”

“You don’t,” she said softly. “You lead. But we follow because we trust you—not because you never mess up.”

He let the silence stretch between them. “I keep thinking it’s getting easier,” he admitted. “Like if I just get one more heal off, or one more person behind cover in time… but it never is.”

Elira placed a hand gently on his arm. “It’s not supposed to be. That’s what makes it matter.”

Rourke finally turned toward her, just a little. “You always talk like a quest log had a baby with a philosopher.”

Her smile was faint but real. “And you talk like someone who needs sleep. Go rest, Rourke.”

He hesitated—then nodded.

Tomorrow, they’d move again. Another outpost. Another wave. Another chance to fail.

But also—just maybe—another chance to save someone.

And that, for now, would have to be enough.