The morning sun warmed my face. After days in the ruins’ damp chill, the heat felt like a forgotten promise of life. I closed my eyes, absorbing the sensation. Liora moved quietly beside me, her usual liveliness subdued by their recent ordeal. I spoke first. “Liora, care to talk for a while?”

Her face brightened, a smile chasing the remaining shadows and crinkling her eye corners. “I’d like that.” She inhaled deeply, as if expelling the last of their confinement’s staleness. “Truly, I am so relieved to be out of that ruin.”

“I understand completely,” I concurred, a lighter note in my voice. “So, your time alone with Finnian? I trust you valued the quiet moments.”

Her gaze touched the path, a hint of shyness on her features before she met my look again. “It was… surprisingly calming, considering. Almost like our childhood hiding games. And honestly, the relief of no longer running once I found him… that was significant.”

The rumble of wheels and hoofbeats grew louder. We moved to the verge as a wagon approached. It halted with a creak, and an older man, his face deeply lined and sun-browned, peered down. “Where are you heading?” he asked, his voice raspy but kind. “It’s dangerous to travel by foot here.”

“We’re going to Glens Crossing,” Noctis replied, inclining his head politely.

“Glens Crossing? A long journey. There’s room in the back, under the canvas. I can take you near town.” The man grinned, his weathered eyes crinkling.

“That would be a great help. We appreciate it, thank you,” Noctis said.

“Climb aboard then, let’s get moving.”

We clambered into the wagon. A thick, dusty canvas stretched over a wooden frame covered the bed. The still air inside carried scents of old fabric, dry wood, and faint hay. Last up, the only spot was beside Adrix. As I settled, my arm brushed his. Not an accidental bump, but a slide of fabric that sent a sharp, unexpected sensation through me. Heat rose in my cheeks, a blush I hoped the dimness would hide. My gaze dropped to the floorboards, finding the wood grain suddenly absorbing—anything to avoid his intense violet eyes. The space was tight, filled with crates and bundled items, offering little comfort.

“Are you alright, Lyra? You seem unsettled,” Adrix observed, his low voice drawing my attention, renewing the feeling where our arms touched.

“I’m fine,” I managed, hoping my voice was steady despite the warmth in my face. “It’s just constricted.” My flush must have been visible; his striking eyes assessed me with soft concern.

“Very well, if you’re sure,” he murmured, a slight smile on his lips. He leaned his head against a wooden beam, dark hair falling from his forehead, giving me a clearer profile in the dimness.

“Giddyup!” the driver called, his tone cheerful. With a groan of wood and a sharp jolt, the wagon moved. The ride was instantly punishing. Each rut in the path sent tremors through the cart, jostling us. Crates pressed into our backs; shaken dust filled the air.

“Lyra, wake up. We’re almost there,” Adrix’s voice gently pierced my hazy state. My eyelids fluttered. Warmth and comfort lingered before I realized: my head rested on Adrix’s shoulder. I sat bolt upright, my cheeks instantly hot. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” I stammered, looking at him, mortified.

A low chuckle came from his chest. His violet gaze remained on my flustered face, warm and perhaps amused. “Relax,” he said softly. “Consider it… a moment of shared quiet. Though,” he added, a lighthearted smile touching his lips, “I wouldn’t have minded a little longer.”

My eyes widened. “You said we’re nearly there? How much further?” My attention shifted to the front, eager to move past my embarrassing nap.

“Any moment,” Adrix confirmed, amusement in his tone. As he spoke, the wagon slowed, the wheels’ creaking louder until it stopped. “Alright folks, your stop!” the driver called.

We disembarked, stretching stiff limbs. Before we left, Noctis gave the driver two gold coins. “Thank you for bringing us safely,” Noctis said sincerely.

The man’s eyes widened, then shone with gratitude. “No, thank you,” he replied, bowing his head.

Two guards, their expressions impassive, their armor scuffed, watched the weathered gates. “State your business,” one commanded, hand on his sword hilt, eyes narrowed.

“We seek rest for the night,” Noctis stated calmly, his gaze steady.

“You may pass.” The guard nodded, his posture relaxing slightly as he gestured inward.

Inside the gates, Glens Crossing appeared, showing its endurance. Though visible damage from the past remained—uneven cobblestones, darkened timbers—a lively energy filled its streets. Sunlight glinted from new windowpanes, reflecting bustling activity. Freshly cut pine scented the air around new doors that replaced splintered ones. The sounds of hammers, trowels, and determined voices mingled.

Figures in uniform—black pants, boots, white shirts, sheathed swords—worked throughout the town. Some hoisted materials; others repaired structures. One man, concentrating as he secured a beam, noticed Noctis. He straightened, recognition in his eyes, approached, and bowed. “Sir,” he said, his voice clear above the rebuilding sounds.

Noctis straightened, his shoulders squaring. “Yes?” he responded, his tone losing its ease, becoming crisp and authoritative.

“We estimate two more weeks for completion. Roofing is nearly done; market square paving is progressing.”

“Good. Maintain this pace,” Noctis replied, his cooler tone softening with satisfaction. The man bowed again and returned to his work, his hammer striking wood as he restored a damaged building.

Watching Noctis oversee repairs, his focus as sharp on a mended roof as on any defense, a warmth grew in me. He was more than a leader; he was a guardian, tending the town’s wounds with a quiet dedication that showed his care for its people. I was glad the town was recovering. Everyone seemed lighter.

“We’ll go to the inn we used before,” Noctis announced, his gaze sweeping the town with pride.

Through busy streets, we took the familiar path to the inn. The couple’s house, cleared of debris but scarred by destruction—a blackened wall, a warped window frame—came into view. A new stone foundation marked their rebuilding. Inside the inn, the aroma of woodsmoke and stew welcomed us.

“Hello again!” the innkeeper said, her face showing recognition. “I have four rooms, if that’s suitable. Kurtis and Anya still have one.”

“How is the couple?” Noctis asked, his tone concerned.

“They’re managing, considering,” she answered, sadness in her voice. The couple from across the street, I realized.

“How many nights this time?” she asked, looking at our group.

“Uncertain. Definitely tonight,” Noctis confirmed.

“That’s fine.”

“What is the charge for the rooms?” Noctis enquired.

“No charge. It’s the least I can do for your help here,” she insisted, her eyes sincere. “We truly appreciate it. I’m Emilia,” she added, with a heartfelt smile.

“Thank you for your generosity, Emilia,” Noctis acknowledged, a rare, soft smile on his lips.

“I’ll room with Lyra!” Liora declared, her energy restored. “If she agrees.” She looked at me, expectant.

“Fine by me. I don’t mind sharing,” I replied with a small smile.

“Settled then,” Noctis observed, amused.

Emilia reappeared. “Dinner shortly, if you’d like to freshen up.”

“Washing up sounds wonderful,” I murmured, eager to rinse off travel dust. I followed Liora up the creaking stairs.

“This one?” she asked, stopping at a door.

“Seems fine,” I shrugged, indifferent to the room.

She opened the door; I followed. The room was small but clean, one narrow bed against the far wall. “I can take the floor,” I offered.

“No need! We can share,” she countered.

“The bed’s too small for two. If it were larger, I would,” I said, sitting on a stool to unlace my boots. “Wash up first if you like. I want to rest my feet.”

“Okay, I’ll be quick!” she said, closing the door.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the cool stone wall. I urgently needed this quiet. Recent days were a tumult of danger, discovery, and emotion. So much happened so quickly; I hadn’t processed it. The accumulated stress was a heavy burden, a dull ache behind my eyes. One good night’s rest, without constant vigilance. Deep gratitude filled me for this small, safe room.

Liora returned and dropped onto the bed, stretching. “Your turn to wash,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. “So glad to be clean… now I’ll just rest a while,” she added, eyelids drooping.

I left, glancing at Liora. Her breathing was deep and even; she was exhausted. I quietly closed the door and went to the washroom.

Small and candlelit, the washroom offered respite from travel grime. Cool water in the basin, faintly scented with lye soap, soothed my skin. I splashed it on my face and neck, washing away grit. The rough towel, though not soft, was welcome. In the cracked mirror, dark circles of exhaustion remained under my eyes, but I felt cleaner. Muffled voices drifted from downstairs, a reminder that life continued.

Walking back, Finnian peered from a doorway. “Is the washroom free?” he asked hopefully.

“Go ahead,” I confirmed. “I just finished; Liora’s done.”

A wide grin appeared on Finnian’s face. “Excellent!” he said, stepping out. He headed to the washroom, eager to wash off journey dust.

Not wanting to return to the quiet room yet, and my stomach growling, I went downstairs toward the food’s aroma.

Emilia, holding a steaming bowl, set it before Adrix at a table. “Ah, Lyra, join us,” she said warmly. “I’ll get your bowl.”

I sat opposite Adrix, who ate stew with satisfaction. The rich scent made my stomach rumble louder. “Here you are,” Emilia said, placing a generous bowl before me. “Want more, let me know. I made plenty.”

I picked up my spoon and ate quickly, eagerly. Warmth spread through me, dispelling the road’s chill and my weariness. Across the table, Adrix paused, his violet eyes widening with surprise and amusement at my hunger.

“Sorry,” I mumbled between bites, cheeks warming, “but the dried beef was nothing like this.” I took another large spoonful.

Adrix chuckled, a pleasant sound. He leaned back slightly, clearly amused. “Indeed,” he agreed, his gaze softening as he watched me. “A significant improvement.”

I nodded, taking another bite. “Absolutely. This is incredible. I could eat it daily.” Adrix had finished and watched me with a gentle, almost fond look. He pushed back from the table. “I’ll go clean up. Sounds like Finnian is done. See you in the morning, Lyra. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Adrix,” I replied, a soft smile on my lips. “You too.”

He nodded, his striking eyes meeting mine briefly, before he turned and went upstairs.

Finishing my meal, I brought my bowl to Emilia. “Excuse me, Emilia, could I get another bowl to take upstairs?”

“Certainly, dear,” she responded. She went to the kitchen and returned with a fresh, warm bowl. “Thank you,” I said gratefully.

Back in our room, Liora was asleep, curled on her side. I set the bowl on the stool and knelt beside her. “Hey,” I whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. “Wake up and eat.” She mumbled and turned over, hiding her face. I tried again, more insistently. “Liora, wake up. I brought Emilia’s stew.”

She stirred reluctantly, groaning as she sat up, eyes mostly closed. I gave her the bowl. She fumbled for the spoon and began to eat, barely awake. “Mmmhm,” she murmured after a few spoonfuls. “This is delicious.”

Her last spoonful gone, Liora put the bowl on the floor and curled up again, her breathing soon evening out. I settled on the floor, pulling my cloak around me, sighing with relief and exhaustion. The hard ground wasn’t comfortable, but the inn felt secure—a welcome change from recent peril. Tired gratitude filled me as I closed my eyes, the inn’s quiet hum and Liora’s soft breathing lulling me to sleep. Tonight, we were sheltered. That was enough.