Lyra had succeeded in finally capturing him and clearly took great satisfaction from the fact. A deep, simmering embarrassment settled in Korie’s chest, growing heavier with every step he took. His wrists were bound tightly behind his back, the rough rope biting into his skin, a humiliating restraint, reserved for common criminals. He did not complain about the binds; making a scene while so powerless felt even more embarrassing than the current situation.

  They reached the heart of the town, where the streets widened into a bustling market square. Stalls lined the cobbled road, vendors calling out their wares - fresh bread, dried meats, baskets of fruit glistening under the morning sun. The scent of roasted spices and baking pastries wove through the air, mingling with the ever-present chime of the town’s bells. Lyra loosened her grip on Korie’s arm just enough to manoeuvre him forward, though she didn’t let go.

  Whoever they passed by gave them careful glances, shifted their posture and their conversations briefly quieted before picking up again in hushed whispers. Zephyr Hollow was not a town impressive in size, so news about the dark elf horse thief had traveled quickly, as it appeared.

  It only got worse as they neared the heart of the market. The streets widened, bustling with vendors and shoppers, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread, spiced meats, and the faint, earthy musk of livestock. A beautiful, constant melody flowed through the streets from the combination of the bells and the windchimes, music peaceful and serene. The townsfolk matched that same energy, slow moving but calm, even at the sight of a man who was being escorted by a royal guard.

  She gripped his arm firmly, guiding him through the street with the steady, unwavering confidence of a guardian escorting a noble. There was no force in her hold, no need for it, his bound hands made sure of that, but her grip alone was enough to keep him from running off again. Worse still, there was an ease to the way she held him, as if she had done this before, as if parading around a captured man was just another part of her day.

  Korie swallowed hard, resisting the urge to duck his head, but the lights across his cheeks betrayed him. How many people had already heard the rumors? His jaw clenched. He wasn’t a thief, damn it. Not like that, anyway, and not anymore... Though he had been about to rob the Low Lantern only yesterday, he'd only been planning on taking what he was owed for his work. Okay, yeah, maybe he was a thief. He was just not accustomed to this part. The guards must've been informed of the horse situation somehow, because as soon as he'd arrived into town he'd been stopped and taken away to be locked up.

  He still had no idea what was so important about a damn horse. It was not as though Luar himself had dropped from the skies to bless it.

  As they passed the stalls, the warm scent of bread and pastries filled the air. Fresh rolls, sugared buns, and fruit-filled tarts still warm from the oven. A baker dusted sugar over a tray of sweet buns, while another stacked golden loaves, their crusts still warm. Korie’s stomach twisted with hunger, nearly drooling at the sight as he realized his hunger. He hadn't had the time to get himself dinner the night before.

  "Are you hungry?" Lyra asked him, scanning the stalls with a keen eye.

  She must've read his mind. "Starving," Korie answered quietly, his voice lacking its usual sharpness.

  The hunger gnawed at him, making it hard to focus on anything else. If it weren't for the sharp ache pestering him he’d be badgering her with questions. Why was she there? Why was she hunting him down? In what way was Tarek involved in all of it?

  Oh well, it could wait. They could talk about it all after a pastry or two, in a more private setting.

  Lyra steered Korie toward a stall where the scent of warm pastries drifted into the crisp morning air, mingling with the ever-present chime of the town’s bells. The baker, a man with broad shoulders and flour-dusted hands, was arranging his wares when he noticed them. His gaze flickered toward Korie first, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of his bound arms. He hesitated for only a second before looking toward Lyra - and that was when everything shifted.

  His gaze landed on the armband, on the insignia stitched in silver, and his posture changed instantly. Shoulders straightening, chin lifting ever so slightly - not quite a bow, but close enough to be familiar. "Milady," he greeted smoothly, respectful, as if addressing someone who still held power. "You’ve had a long morning, I expect. Take what you like, on the house."

  Lyra stilled, her fingers flexing slightly against the bag she held.

  A different version of herself - one that had buried her name, her rank, her past - might have politely refused, tossed a few coins onto the counter to maintain the careful anonymity she had been living with. Having said that, that self wouldn't be wearing the armband and would have never been offered. However, this version of herself - the one that had stood before nobles and kings, the one that had once spoken and been obeyed without question - wanted to hold onto this feeling a little longer.

  She had spent a long time avoiding it, swallowing the weight of her name, letting it fade into the forgotten corners of distant taverns and unimportant roads. Out here, she had been able to exist outside of her past. She had been able to disappear. Now, after speaking her true name again, after feeling the way the title settled over her like something familiar, something deserved - she wanted to keep it. Just for a little while.

  So she inclined her head, a subtle, practiced nod, a gesture she had once given freely in courtrooms and war councils alike.

  "Much appreciated," she said, accepting the free pastries without protest.

  For a moment, she let herself pretend.

  She let herself imagine that when she turned her head, she wouldn’t find Korie standing beside her, bound and starving, but someone else. Someone whose presence had once defined entire rooms. Someone of higher status. Someone worthy of deference.

  She let herself picture silver-white hair, gleaming in the lantern light of a grand hall. Skin like ice-kissed marble, cool and smooth, untouched by time. And eyes - eyes the colour of frozen lakes, sharp with intellect and edged with something softer, something just for her.

  A phantom memory. A presence she had spent years trying to forget, but had never truly let go. Lyra swallowed, jaw tightening as the warmth in her chest turned to something sharp. The illusion cracked, reality bleeding through the edges. No matter how much she wanted to pretend, the truth would not be ignored. She glanced at Korie, lips pressed into a thin line. There was unfinished business here.

  They needed somewhere private. Somewhere no one would interfere.

  Lyra scanned the market square, eyes moving past the stalls and the shifting crowd, seeking a place to stop. Her gaze settled on a stone building just beyond the busy street - a church, modest but well-kept, its wooden double doors slightly ajar.

  That would do.

  She nudged Korie forward, fingers tightening on his arm as she started to move towards it. “Come on.”

  He nodded silently as she led him up the stairs towards the church. The stone building was weathered down but clearly well-loved; there was not a piece of litter in sight around it, kept entirely tidy. The stone bricks appeared weathered, ivy growing on a part of the outer wall. Above, the church bells hung in their tower, silently hanging. They appeared well polished from the distance, the reflection of the sun shining on them. The wind chimes created a beautiful tune to go along with the serene sight.

  They stepped in through the doors, the immediate heavy scent of incense in the air filling their senses. Church incense held far too many emotions and memories to recollect. His reflexes spoke of home. His thoughts remembered pain. Despite it all, the interior appeared to be empty of other people, which made it the perfect spot to talk about all that's happened.

  "You've got to untie me," Korie huffed, turning to look at her. He was damn hungry at this rate, and all he could bring himself to care about was the smell of those warm pastries in her hands.

  Lyra considered Korie’s words, eyes narrowing slightly as she turned the situation over in her mind.

  He wasn’t wrong - it was problematic for him to eat with his hands bound behind his back but she also wasn’t eager to free him, not after everything he had put her through. The last time she had let him slip away, he had led her on a chase across half the countryside, forcing her to push Orion to his limits. Now, here he was, expecting her to untie him like they were just two weary travellers sharing breakfast.

  She clenched her jaw, exhaling slowly. Still, his current predicament was working in her favour.

  He might have landed himself in trouble by stealing the horse, but that trouble had saved her the effort of hunting him down. If he tried to run now, there would be an entire town’s worth of people outside the church doors who would recognise him as the infamous horse thief. They would chase him. They would stop him.

  If that happened, she doubted she’d be able to spring him from a jail cell a second time. She had pulled rank once - that wouldn’t work again if it was her own mistake that led to his escape. It was lucky they weren't on the mainland - it wouldn't have worked the first time.

  Her gaze flicked back to Korie, weighing her options.

  She could keep him bound. Let him figure out some clever way to eat without his hands.

  Or… she could feed him herself.

  Lyra grimaced. No. Absolutely not.

  A flicker of annoyance crossed her face as she made her decision. Fine. She would untie him - but not without warning.

  She reached for the dagger at her belt, pulling it free in one swift motion. The polished steel caught the morning light as she turned it toward him, the tip hovering just a little too close to his face.

  "I’ll free you," she said, her voice sharp as the blade itself, "but if you try to run, you won’t make it far. I think I’ve made it clear by now that I will hunt you down."

  She let that sink in, let him see the conviction in her eyes. Lyra didn’t trust him. Not for a second.

  She gave him another hard look before moving behind him, pressing the dagger against the bindings at his wrists. With a quick, clean slice, the rope fell away. Lyra slid the dagger back into her belt, watching him closely.

  He was free. For now. But if he made one wrong move, she’d put him right back in binds.

  Lyra didn’t take her eyes off Korie as she passed him the bag of pastries the baker had so generously offered, letting him have first pick of the selection. She wasn’t particularly choosy about what she ate. Food was fuel. She had her preferences, of course (and there was a vague hope that he wouldn't choose the one topped with strawberries), but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter what ended up in her hands. Whichever pastries were left after he made his selection would be fine.

  "Take two, if you like," she muttered to him, tearing her eyes away from him and moving to take a seat in one of the wooden pews of the church.

  Korie didn't hesitate, focused on the bag of pastries as he took it gently from her hand, at least for a starved man. He held it with one hand, looking through with the other. There was a variety of pastries, both sweet and savory, and currently Korie was craving a proper meal. He fished out one of the savory cheese pastries first, the outer shell of it crumbling in his hands as he held it carefully. He set the bag back down with plans to grab another, after he was done eating his current one.

  He bit into the pastry, mindful of the delicate layers of filo that threatened to flake apart with each bite. The first taste hit him harder than expected; warm, buttery, and perfectly savoury, causing his empty stomach to ache for more. After going so long without a proper meal, the simple pastry felt like the best thing he’d ever eaten. He chewed slowly as he savored it, resisting the urge to tear into the rest too quickly. This was a sacred space, after all; the last thing he wanted was to leave a mess and risk offending some watchful deity. He chewed slowly, using the moment to take in his surroundings.

  The interior of the church was modest but well-maintained. A wooden confessional stood to one side, its door slightly ajar, as if waiting for the next soul in need of absolution. Near the front, a simple podium held a lectern, upon which an open book rested, its pages gently curled at the edges from use. Korie’s gaze lingered on it, curiosity stirring. Which god did these people worship, if not Sol and Luar?

  Clearly, their god had something to do with all those bells and wind chimes. The constant tinkling of chimes, beautiful to his ears, felt as though it served a higher purpose. They even had them placed inside the church, hanging delicately above the front doorway. As the doors had opened when they'd made their way inside, a gust of air had caused them to jingle, sending a soft ripple of sound through the space. Korie could still hear it now, faint but persistent, the chimes’ gentle motions slowly settling as they calmed from the disturbance. It was a soothing sound, that much he could understand, even if he didn't understand the nuances of it. All the bells and wind chimes suggested that their god was tied to the wind or sky, but he couldn’t say for certain.

  He looked at Lyra then, whose eyes were focused on the pastry she was chewing on. She was not particularly well mannered for a royal guard, what with the way she munched on the food carelessly, powdered sugar smeared across her fingers. Not to mention the way she had lounged at the Low Lantern, feet spread as she'd sunk into her seat against the wall. She was certainly a weird one.

  Lyra lounged against the wooden pew, posture entirely at odds with the solemnity of the church around her. Lady Lysandra Selvorin might have sat straighter, feet planted properly on the ground, a picture of poise and respect but Lyra? Lyra slouched, stretching her legs out in front of her as far as they could go, one ankle casually crossed over the other. She balanced the half-eaten pastry in her hand, savoring the sweetness of ripe strawberries mixed with the delicate crumble of golden crust. It was the kind of thing she hadn’t allowed herself, too accustomed to rations and campfire meals. She took her time. Anyway, why shouldn't she?

  For a few moments, he wasn’t sure how to form his next words. He swallowed, making sure no stray crumbs lingered in his mouth before he spoke. It should have been simple to just open his mouth and say something. Anything. Yet, as the moment stretched between them, Korie hesitated. Now that they finally had a chance for a proper conversation, the weight of it settled uncomfortably on his shoulders.

  He knew where this would eventually lead. No matter how carefully he chose his words, no matter how much he tried to steer the discussion elsewhere, it would all circle back to him. To Tarek. Korie exhaled slowly, forcing his expression to remain neutral. He would avoid the subject for as long as possible, but deep down, he knew it was inevitable.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  "So... you're a royal guard," Korie started talking. He was going to have to be careful not to mention any, hm, unlawful activities he may have been involved in, in the past. "What does a... First sword... whatever, want with me? I don't understand. How did you even hear of me?"

  She had traversed the mainland, the seas and Brimmond, following little more than vague clues and rumours, then chased Korie across the countryside, had to pull rank just to keep him from rotting in a cell - and now he wanted answers? He was irritating. Korie, for his part, was watching her, his expression carefully neutral. But she could feel it - he knew where this conversation would eventually lead. He was stalling and that was the purpose of the question.

  Lyra chewed slowly, savoring another bite before responding.

  "First Blade," she corrected automatically, voice slightly muffled from the mouthful of pastry. She swallowed, finally glancing at him. She knew what he was doing. Dancing around the real question. Fine. If he wanted to keep playing this game, she'd let him - for now.

  She exhaled through her nose, tapping her fingers lightly against the flaky remnants of her pastry before flicking a few crumbs off her gloved hand.

  "First Blade means exactly what it sounds like," she said, voice casual but not lacking weight. "The sword of the royal family. Their enforcer. The one sent in when negotiations fail, when the Crown wants something handled quickly, quietly, or permanently."

  She shifted slightly, stretching her arms behind her head, her voice carrying just a hint of amusement.

  "And Third Sentinel? That’s rank. Three sentinels oversee the Royal Guard - each with their own division. The First leads the palace guard, the Second commands the city, and the Third—" she let the words settle for a beat, "—handles matters beyond the capital. The kind of work that can’t be assigned to just anyone."

  Her gaze flicked to him, watching how the words settled over him.

  Korie absorbed the new information quietly, slowly nodding along to her explanation. Lyra was... far more important than he had realized. People like her, who were born into nobility and shaped for it, raised with manners and taught by the greatest teachers of the capital, had a solid future with a solid career set out for them for the rest of their lives. They would be supported by the royal family itself, not to mention how the common folk were obligated to serve them however was asked of them, much like the baker at the stall earlier.

  They were people who didn't have to worry about tomorrow's meal. Sure, they put their lives on the line in cases of danger, but they had a soft mattress to sleep on and a warm meal to enjoy at the end of the day, far different from hay bedding and slices of hard bread with cheese that the unfortunate souls would eat by the side of the road.

  There was no pride in her tone. No boastfulness. Just fact. First Blade. Third Sentinel. It had once meant something unshakable. It had once meant that when she walked into a room, people listened. Now? Here? She was sitting in a church she didn't care for, across from an elf she perhaps should have left to rot, stretching out on a pew as if the gods who supposedly watched over this place meant nothing.

  Because they didn’t.

  Because no deity had intervened when a good life had been taken.

  Wasn’t that the whole promise? That they were supposed to be all-loving? That they were supposed to care?

  She scoffed quietly, taking another bite of her pastry.

  Whatever divine forces ruled over this world, she had nothing left to say to them.

  Lyra finished the last bite of her pastry, chewing slowly as she let her words settle between them. There was no urgency in her movements, no need to fill the silence that followed. Licking the last trace of sweetness from her lips, she dusted off her gloves with little care, sending a light fall of powdered sugar cascading onto the stone floor beneath her boots. It vanished into the cracks between the tiles, forgotten as quickly as it had landed. She didn’t spare it a second thought.

  She exhaled through her nose, resting her arm against the back of the pew as she looked at Korie before saying:

  "The one who fled is stained with black magic. He knows the way to the bloodied halls, and he remembers his own. Find him in the shadow of the low lantern."

  He continued to eat in silence until Lyra spoke again. Stained with black magic. The words sent an icy jolt through him, his stomach twisting even as he swallowed his last bite. His eyes widened for a split second, flicking up to meet hers, sharp with unease.

  She paused for a moment, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him. "Stained with black magic. That's you, isn't it?"

  A nervous energy settled in his limbs, his fingers tensing slightly against the flaky remnants of his pastry. His eyebrows furrowed, confusion and shock crossing his expression.

  Lyra could have only gotten this information from Tarek.

  The acolytes, the ones that had formed him and shaped him like rotten clay, had sworn a silent oath in devotion. There were no witnesses, no outside observers, nobody who truly knew of what had been done to him. And yet, Lyra mentioned it as though she were commenting on the weather, her tone light and unbothered. The casual tone of it made his skin prickle, his stomach twisting with nerves. Did she not understand the weight of what she was saying? Did she not know what had been done to him?

  His fingers twitched slightly as he fought the urge to react. He wanted to ask, how much do you know? but the words got tangled in his throat. Instead, he studied her face, searching for any sign that she grasped the gravity of her own statement.

  "Who told you that," He spoke, his tone cold and greatly unsettled. Quiet, meek. Afraid.

  Lyra's jaw tightened as something in Korie’s tone changed. It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t measured. It wasn’t even guarded. It was cold. Unsettled. Not the voice of a man trying to dance around trouble, but of someone who had just felt its hand close around his throat. Her narrowed gaze locked onto Korie, watching the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered - not toward her, but inward. Thinking. Weighing. Worrying. She could hear the distrust coiled in those words.

  Lyra wasn’t sure what answer he was hoping for. Did he think she was working with Tarek? That she had been sent? The thought made her scoff internally. Tarek Nocturne was, no - is - a murderer. That was a fact. As undeniable as the title she had once worn, as real as the blood that had already been spilled by his hands and no matter what else Korie thought, she and Tarek were nothing alike and she certainly would never work with such a repulsive being.

  That didn’t mean Lyra had never killed. She had. Countless times. Her duty as a royal guard had demanded it. She had driven her sword into enemies of the Crown, had ended threats before they could ever reach the royal family but never without cause.

  Never without reason.

  Every life she had taken had been for protection, for duty, for honour. Even in death, she had given respect. Even to her enemies, she had ensured that their passing was clean, that their bodies were not left to rot like carrion.

  Tarek Nocturne? He was none of those things. He did not kill for duty. He did not kill for justice. He killed because he could. Lyra had seen his work. Had seen the carnage he left behind - bodies discarded like broken chess pieces in his pursuit of power.

  She sat up a little straighter, fixing Korie with a pointed stare. "Does it matter?" she said sharply, her voice leaving no room for negotiation. His questions were pointless. Useless. They weren’t getting her what she needed.

  She leaned forward slightly, her gaze drilling into him. "You know something, Korie," she continued, her tone hard and unyielding. "Something that can help me find Tarek Nocturne. That’s all I care about."

  Korie looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, nibbling on his bottom lip in thought. She wanted to find him, then. Sure. And what was Korie meant to do, just tell her? He could practically feel her stare burning onto his face, his cheeks flaring up a cold blue as he went deep in thought in consideration.

  He couldn't reveal anything, no. He wasn’t that reckless.

  He had spent too long staying in the shadows, covering his tracks, ensuring that no one, no one, could follow the trail back to him. Ten years of running and sacrificing a normal, social lifestyle in order for him to stay under Tarek's radar, living in constant paranoia that he would come for him.

  And now she sat before him, asking him to undo all of it.

  If he told her where to find him, it wouldn’t just be her problem anymore. If she was caught, if she slipped up, if she let the wrong words fall from her lips in the presence of the wrong ears, she could lead them straight to him. She would become a liability. Maybe she would even tell Tarek willingly about Korie's whereabouts, so long as she got what she wanted from the tyrant. All Tarek would need is to find the right people, those Korie used to come in frequent contact with, and he could easily track him from there.

  Was Lyra the type to put herself first, uncaring of whom she was putting at risk as long as it got her what she so stubbornly seeked? It wouldn't come as a surprise from his current impression of her...

  Korie exhaled slowly, masking his unease behind a carefully blank expression. He wasn’t about to risk everything just because she was desperate for answers. A dark plot began to form in his head, slowly piecing itself together.

  You could kill her. Here and now.

  That little voice in his head, always piping in to offer dark, unsolicited advice, called out to him. He had killed humans in his past, while serving the will of Tarek Nocturne. He'd slaughtered in his name, both out of his own will and by force. His hesitation in killing another person was nonexistent; he'd no qualms about taking another life; it would not be his first. Lyra hadn't told him anything about herself, so really, he had no attachment to her or her life. And yet he hesitated.

  It was easy to kill when the victim was nothing more than a nameless, faceless figure. A stranger. A body without a story. There were no lingering thoughts, no burdensome guilt, no restless nights spent wondering about the life that had been snuffed out. No history to consider, no attachments to untangle, just a swift and clean end. A simple action, nothing more.

  But Lyra was not a false existence. She was real; real in the way she breathed, spoke, demanded. She had a past, royal guard that she was, and she was important to the kingdom as well. Even if it weren’t for her status making it difficult, the little contact they’d had was enough for him to feel a cold guilt settle at the thought of her corpse, her blood in his hands.

  Either way, he could not simply let her go. She would remember him and his face. If Tarek were to torture information out of her... If it found her first… No. He had to monitor her, to keep track of her. He had to--

  "I will take you to him," He spoke, a spur of the moment decision which should've probably been thought out a little better. What was he thinking? This was infinitely worse.

  But maybe if he got to know her better, he could convince her to stop this insanity and quit pursuing him. To save both of their lives.

  And if he couldn't convince her... If it truly came to that… A blade could silence her in an instant.

  "I won't tell you where you could find him, no, but I know the way to one of his... locations."

  Tarek had learned to thrive in the underworld, moving between various criminal camps, each one steeped in darkness and inhabited by the worst of society. But there was one place that held a particular significance, one that ran deeper than just his work. The place that had reshaped him, twisted him using poisons of the void. The place of his rebirth.

  He would not allow their journey to progress that far.

  Lyra barely kept her expression neutral as Korie spoke, but inside, satisfaction curled through her like a slow-burning flame. Finally. Months - long, gruelling months - of searching, of dead ends, of chasing whispers and rumours, and at last, she had something real. Not a vague lead. Not speculation. A location. A place where Tarek had been, where he might still be. It was more than she had had in a long time.

  Did it matter that she hadn’t told Korie the whole truth? That he still believed she was acting under the orders of the royal family? No.

  Whether she was still part of the Royal Guard or not wouldn’t change her ambition. Wouldn’t change her need to find Tarek, to stop him before his list of victims grew any longer. She had sworn an oath once, and even if that oath had long since lost its official weight, it still meant something to her. She had her lead. Now, she had to prepare.

  Lyra’s mind shifted into practicality, already making a list of what they would need. Food - enough for the road, for both her and Korie. Supplies for Orion - grain, maybe an oat mash if she could find it. He would need proper feeding before they left. Equipment for tending to Orion - a new brush, fresh wraps for his legs, and a second waterskin to keep him hydrated. She’d pushed him hard these past few days; she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Thinking of Orion made her pause, her gaze flickering toward Korie.

  The elf didn’t have a horse. The last mount he’d had, he'd stolen, and there was no way in hell he was going to get it back now. She doubted Zephyr Hollow’s stable master would be inclined to loan him one either. Which meant...

  He would have to ride with her.

  Lyra stiffened at the thought, an uncomfortable shiver running down her spine.

  It wasn’t about Orion - he could handle the weight of them both with ease but the idea of sharing the saddle, of having Korie close behind her, was a prospect she did not relish. The thought of anyone riding with her made her skin prickle.

  She had grown used to solitude. The rhythm of the ride, the quiet companionship of her horse, the feeling of being entirely in control of her own movements. Having Korie pressed against her back, moving with her, sharing every shift of the ride—

  No. She didn’t like it.

  But it was a bridge to cross when they came to it.

  For now, they needed supplies.

  Lyra exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she stood, stretching out her legs from where they had been lazily draped across the pew. She shot Korie a look, something sharp but satisfied.

  "Come on, then. We need supplies," she told him. She had waited long enough. Now, it was time to move. "We shall leave soon."

  "I've not finished eating," Korie complained, raising an eyebrow at her obvious eagerness to get moving. He'd take his sweet time if he wanted to. Plus, he needed to consider their next moves.

  The satisfaction in Lyra's expression was palpable. She probably felt like a true winner just then, getting what she had wanted out of Korie in the first place. Her confidence and trust that he would lead her where she wanted to be instead of towards her demise, solely because she had commanded so... Arrogance, he wished to believe. Still, there was a part of him, one he always tried to stifle, that burned with guilt. He burrowed that deep within him. He’d convince her, he had to. There was no need for mourning just yet.

  They would have to leave soon, and he needed to think carefully about what supplies they would need for the journey. He had not packed for extended travel, and if neither of them had a horse, the road ahead would be slow and difficult. Considering the horse he'd stolen had been a damn celebrity, apparently, he supposed it would be difficult to reacquire it again. He was uncertain if its owner had come to collect it from the local stables, but it would not hurt to check.

  He considered the essentials, thinking through each necessity with care. They would need sturdy camping gear to endure the nights, enough dried and preserved food to last them until they reached the next town, and perhaps extra water if the route lacked reliable sources. The central road would guide them forward, but the journey would not be so easy if the weather decided to turn on them and begin to rain.

  Korie finished up, taking his sweet time despite Lyra's growing impatience. They stood to move towards the door, but Korie paused before stepping outside, casting a slow glance around the church one final time. The worn stone walls and the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows caught his attention. It hadn’t been anything special, but the church had given him a quiet space to think and plan without distractions. It had served its purpose. He would miss this quiet; he suspected that his future would soon be filled with complicated situations that would bother him during his late night trance. He took a breath and stepped out into the world beyond.