The walk back wasn''t long.

    But it stretched anyway.

    Late afternoon meant long shadows and colder wind. Hearthrun wasn''t loud, but it wasn''t dead either. Smoke rose from chimneys like lazy punctuation, and the occasional villager gave him a once-over before going back to whatever deeply suspicious peasant things they were doing.

    Ashwing kept close. For once, no bounding or tail-chasing. Just silent steps and the occasional huff of warm air against Lindarion''s boots.

    ''...He knows something''s wrong.''

    Or maybe the dragon was just tired. It was hard to tell. Lindarion still hadn''t found the manual for emotionally complicated reptiles.

    He stopped just before the inn door. Let the cold sit a bit longer.

    Inside was noise. Warmth. The group.

    Outside was quiet. Solitude. Suspicion.

    His hand hovered over the handle a second too long.

    Ashwing nudged it with his nose.

    Lindarion sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I''m going."

    The door creaked open.

    Same room. Same bench. Slightly different energy.

    Meren was upside down on the couch. Not accidentally. Just on purpose, like gravity personally offended him. Ren was sharpening a dagger on a fork, which probably wasn''t effective but definitely looked cool. Ardan leaned in the corner like he had paid rent for that exact square of space.

    And Lira?

    Lira was at the window.

    She hadn''t heard the door. Or maybe she had and didn''t move anyway. Her cloak was off, folded too neatly on the nearby chair. She stood with one arm crossed, the other lightly braced on the windowsill, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the street.

    She didn''t look tense.

    But she never did.

    Ren noticed first. "You live."

    "Briefly," Lindarion said. "Depends on whether I collapse face-first or side-first."

    "Go for side," Meren offered from upside-down. "Less tragic."

    Ashwing hopped inside behind him, gave a tiny burp, and immediately beelined for the leftover bread on the table.

    "No," Lindarion said flatly.

    The dragon paused.

    Then kept going.

    Ren chuckled. "He''s learning."

    "He''s learning mutiny."

    Ashwing bit the corner of a roll and looked smug.

    Lindarion let the scarf drop from his shoulders and moved toward the table. His coat was warm again. Not from fire. Just being indoors long enough to feel like a person.

    He glanced toward Lira.

    Still watching the window. Not ignoring him. Just... distant.

    ''She''s thinking too loud again.''

    He didn''t push. He never did.

    He sat. Folded his arms across the table. Let Ashwing eat his bread out of spite.

    Ren watched the bread tragedy unfold with open amusement. "So, warden meeting?"

    "Productive."

    "You say that like you got assigned homework."

    He didn''t answer.

    He didn''t need to.

    Meren twisted around, somehow still on the couch. "Did he ask you to save the town again?"

    Lindarion looked at him. "Define again."

    "He did," Ren said, like it was already obvious. "Let me guess. Weird magical something in the mines? Cursed relic? Possibly a talking beetle?"

    Lindarion reached into his coat, pulled the folded parchment from his pocket, and slid it across the table without ceremony.

    Meren stared.

    Ren didn''t even touch it. Just squinted. "That''s not ominous at all."

    Lindarion sat back. "Looks like it was part of a seal. Found near the Hollowcarver site. Miners started getting mana sickness after touching it."

    Ardan stepped closer, finally.

    Lira turned from the window.

    He didn''t look up at her.

    But he felt her attention like a thread tightening.

    Ashwing gave up on the bread and settled under the table again. Tired now. Or pretending to be.

    Ren tapped the parchment with one finger. "This the part where you say we''re not going to investigate it until we''re sure it''s safe?"

    "This the part where I say we wait two days for the snow to melt," Lindarion said.

    "And then?"

    "And then we do something extremely stupid."

    Ren smiled. "Perfect."

    Meren groaned. "You all have terrible survival instincts."

    "No," Ren said. "We have excellent teamwork. And very few options."

    The room fell quiet for a breath.

    Lira finally moved to the table. Sat across from Lindarion without speaking.

    He looked at her once.

    She nodded, just barely.

    ''...Alright. She''s in.''

    That was enough for now.

    No grand plans. No dramatic speeches.

    Just a table, a dragon underfoot, and a slowly unraveling mystery nobody had signed up for but everyone kept volunteering to solve anyway.

    Lindarion leaned back and closed his eyes.

    ''Two more days.''

    He could make that work.

    —

    They left before sunrise.

    Not because they were noble.

    But because Meren snored like a collapsing shrine and Ren talked in her sleep.

    Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack for the hundredth time as the village faded behind them. Hearthrun''s rooftops were little triangles now, folded under a sky still smudged with sleep. Most of the world was blue and white and too quiet for comfort.

    Lira didn''t say much.

    Shocking.

    She walked half a step ahead, her cloak dragging faint lines in the snow. Her hair, silver in the cold light, stayed pinned back like it didn''t dare misbehave. A small part of Lindarion respected that hair. Another part kind of hated it.

    Ashwing had been left behind, curled up on Ren''s lap like a smug kettle.

    Lindarion tried not to feel abandoned.

    They followed the trail east until it stopped pretending to be a trail. Then climbed over a ridge that did its best impression of a broken staircase. Then found the cave.

    "Here," Lira said, voice clipped but not unkind.

    Lindarion squinted at the entrance.

    It wasn''t a cave so much as a sulking hole in the cliff face. Just wide enough to walk in. Just low enough to insult tall people. It smelled like old air and very mild regret.

    He stepped inside second.

    Because letting the person with the darkness affinity go first was just common sense.

    The air shifted.

    Cool. Still.

    And definitely holding its breath.

    Lira raised one hand. A soft glow sparked around her fingers, not flame. Something colder. A pale outline that lit the tunnel like moonlight under ice.

    ''...Of course her magic''s dramatic. Can''t just use a torch like the rest of us.''