“Alaric,” Morgan said, her voice edged with impatience. “Are you certain we’re going the right way?”

They had been walking for days, and not a single town had appeared on the horizon. By now, Morgan had expected at least a small village—anything to break the monotony of trees and dirt roads.

“Yes, Morgan. We’re headed in the right direction,” Alaric replied, rolling his eyes. “If we had horses, we’d have been there already.”

His words were confident, but his pace had slowed. The truth was, he was beginning to doubt himself as well.

By the time the sun began to sink beneath the treeline, they were both tired and irritable. Morgan lit a fire, settling cross-legged before it with a sigh. She stared into the flickering flames, her thoughts spiraling toward the same grim inevitability that had haunted her since the start. This journey would not end with her safe return. Her life—strange and imperfect as it had been—was still hers, and every day brought her closer to losing it.

She glanced at Alaric, who was busying himself with unpacking their meager supplies. His life had been gilded in ways hers never was, even with the shadow of an absent father. He had learned what he wanted, dabbled in what he didn’t, and had it all stripped away in a single night. She still didn’t understand what truly fueled his so-called quest.

“Alaric,” she asked, “are you sure we’re not lost?”

He chuckled softly. “We might be… just a little. But isn’t it fun?”

Morgan gave him a look that could have frozen the fire between them.

“All adventurers only find their way after getting lost,” he added with a grin, turning his gaze to the darkening sky.

Alaric realized then that their reasons for traveling couldn’t be more different. For him, this was the adventure of a lifetime—finally living the stories he had once only read. For Morgan, it was a road to an unavoidable end. Being lost didn’t just waste time—it meant less time for her to live.

“When we get back to the road,” Alaric said more carefully, “we should ask the next person who passes where the nearest town is.”

Morgan gave a weary smile and nodded.

The next morning, they made their way back to the main road. A couple of hours passed before the distant clatter of hooves reached them. As the sound grew louder, a carriage appeared over the rise, drawn by a pair of sleek black horses.

Alaric stepped forward, waving to flag it down. The driver slowed, guiding the carriage to a halt, and eyed them from his perch before stepping down.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

Alaric immediately noticed the polished wood, the silver inlay, and the rich embroidery on the driver’s coat. Whoever owned this carriage was wealthy. He kept his words quick and polite.

“Sorry to trouble you, sir. We’ve been walking for days and aren’t certain how far the next town is. Could you point us in the right direction?”

The man thought for a moment. “On foot? Two days’ journey, maybe more, if you keep the pace you’re on.”

Alaric glanced at Morgan. They both nodded. “Thank you for your help. Safe travels,” he said, stepping back.

The driver climbed up to his seat and flicked the reins. As the carriage rolled past, Alaric caught sight of the crest painted on its side—two interlocked diamonds with a dragon coiled between them. His stomach dropped.

The Dawnhide family.

He turned his face sharply away from the carriage, tugging his hood lower. Morgan caught the sudden tension in his posture.

“Well, we have our directions. Let’s move,” Alaric muttered.

Before she could question him, he was already striding quickly down the road.

“Hey, wait!” Morgan called, jogging to catch up. “What’s going on? You’re practically running.”

Alaric didn’t slow until she grabbed his shoulder. He spun around, eyes hard.

“Those people are not good, Morgan. If they saw me, they’d probably kill me.” His voice was low but fierce. “The Dawnhides have been interfering with my family for generations. They’d know about what happened… and they’d want both swords.”

Morgan’s expression softened. She didn’t press for more, just gave a small nod and fell into step behind him.

They walked until the road vanished behind them and the forest thickened on either side.

“Let’s stop here,” Morgan said with a yawn. “We’ve been walking all day.”

Alaric hesitated, staring into the dark woods. He hated the idea of stopping so soon after crossing paths with the Dawnhides, but they couldn’t keep going forever.

“Alright,” he said finally. “But rest properly tonight.”

They moved deeper into the forest, far enough to be hidden from the road. Morgan lay on her makeshift pillow, staring up through the gaps in the canopy at the stars. Counting them one by one slowly pulled her into sleep, leaving Alaric alone in the stillness.

Every sound set him on edge—the rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig, the chorus of insects. His hand stayed near the hilt of his sword all night.

Somewhere in the darkness, a branch cracked.

Alaric froze, scanning the shadows. Nothing moved… but the silence that followed felt too heavy, too deliberate.

He didn’t sleep at all.

By the time the first pale light of dawn crept through the trees, Morgan stirred, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “How long have you been up?” she asked, stretching.

“I didn’t sleep,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened. “What? Why not?”

“I was keeping watch,” he said, already gathering his things. “Just in case.”

Morgan still looked unsettled, but she didn’t argue. If Alaric said not to worry, she would try not to.

As they stepped back onto the road, Alaric glanced over his shoulder one last time. The forest looked still and empty.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere behind them… someone was following.