Morning came cold.

  Not the sharp kind that wakes a man up, but the sort that settles in first and waits. I noticed it in my hands before anything else. They felt stiff, clumsy, like they belonged to someone. Master Omni pressed the jug into my hand. Juga. The steam smelled bitter and medicinal, and for a moment I thought it might actually help.

  The street looked longer than I remembered. Or maybe it was the same length, and I was simply slower. I could not tell which, and that annoyed me more than the pain did. I focused on putting one foot where the other had been and tried not to think about how much effort that suddenly required.

  The villagers were already watching us.

  I noticed it when the street narrowed, and there was nowhere to look that was not a face. Hands reached out as we passed. One caught my forearm, fingers tight and warm. Another pulled me in close enough that I could smell smoke and old wool on their clothes. Someone clapped my shoulder harder than necessary, and the jolt sent a sharp complaint through my side that I bit back.

  I did not know where to put my breath. Every smile pressed in, every nod closed the space a little more. I nodded back because that seemed expected. I let myself be pulled and held because stopping would have taken more effort than I had to spare. For a moment, an uncharitable thought crossed my mind that if they were so grateful, they could at least keep their hands to themselves. I let it go as quickly as it came. It was not their fault I felt like this.

  Between faces, something else kept intruding. A flash of silver hair. A half-remembered snarl. Beiru’s absence showed up where it did not belong, slipping into the gaps between strangers as it had always been there. I pushed it away and focused on the next step, then the next.

  By the time Nadrin’s stables came into view, my arms ached from being grabbed, and my chest felt tight. I was relieved to see the yard, and more relieved that there was finally space enough to stand without someone reaching for me again.

  “Captain Nadrin,” I said, angling toward the big man in the yard and hoping my limp looked less dramatic than it felt. Each step came with its own argument, and I was losing most of them.

  He turned, eyes widening as he took me in. The look lingered a beat too long, then vanished.

  “Ah. Master West. Lord Omni. Tyrus,” Nadrin said, his grin settling into place. “Did not expect to see you here this morning.”

  Neither did I.

  “I am only a spectator, Captain,” I said. I kept my tone light, or tried to. “Thought I would spend a little time with you and the men.”

  His face shifted, the grin easing into something looser. A nod followed. I took that as a good sign, though I could not have said why. Maybe he liked being noticed. Maybe he liked that I was standing there at all.

  Nadrin struck me as the sort of man who carried his thoughts close to the surface. At least, that was how it looked in the moment. The way he watched me, the easy nod, the lack of questions. I told myself three horses would not be an issue. I told myself he had already decided to help.

  I might have been wrong. I did not bother too check.

  “Master West.”

  Nadrin’s hand touched my shoulder. Right where the bruise pinched. My breath caught before I looked up.

  “Yes?” The word came out slower than I meant it to. It took effort to focus on his face.

  “I asked you a question.”

  I pulled my mouth into something that might pass for a grin. It tugged at my cheek in a way that felt wrong. “Then you caught me at a bad time. The Juga is doing more wandering than helping.”

  He made a low sound in his throat. Not irritation. Something closer to acknowledgment. “Do you need a thicker coat? The cold will settle in once the sun climbs.”

  Cold. I had not noticed it until he said it, and then it was everywhere. Along my ribs. Down my arms. Sitting heavy behind my eyes.

  Nadrin turned without waiting for my answer and crossed the yard. His pace did not change. Each step landed where it meant to, like he had already measured the distance. I told myself it was habit. Rank. Nothing more. Men like him moved this way because they always had. It did not mean anything. It certainly was not my concern.

  “That would help,” I said, though the words scraped on the way out.

  The chest protested when he opened it. Wood on wood, slow and complaining. He reached inside and pulled free a black coat. It looked worn in the way useful things are worn, softened at the seams, heavy where it mattered.

  When he set it over me, the weight pushed down hard enough that my knees almost locked. The fabric pressed into my ribs and forced a sharp breath from my lungs before the warmth followed. It smelled of smoke and old leather and something sour underneath. I shifted once, then again, until the worst of the pressure eased into a steady ache. It was too big, swallowing me in the wool.

  I did not look at him. I told myself it was just a coat. Just something to keep the cold off while we settled horses and spoke of practical things. I adjusted the collar and focused on getting my arms through without flinching.

  This was not my problem. It was not a moment. It would pass like everything else.

  Before I could say anything at all, Master Omni stepped forward.

  “Captain Nadrin, if I may,” Master Omni said. “I was hoping to begin tending to Beiru’s injury this morning.”

  The name landed wrong. I felt it before I thought it. Something tightened just under my ribs, sharp enough that my breath hitched, and I had to shift my weight to keep from showing it.

  Nadrin’s face changed. Not much. Enough. His jaw set, and his eyes narrowed by a fraction, like someone adjusting a sight. He rubbed his brow once, quick, and the smile that followed looked practiced.

  “Lord Omni,” he said. His voice stayed level. “I do not doubt your intentions. But Beiru has earned very little kindness in this place.”

  He stepped closer. Not toward me. Toward Master Omni. The movement was small, but it pushed the air aside. I found myself thinking, unhelpfully, that Nadrin could have moved a crowd the same way if he wanted.

  “I will not stop you from doing your duty,” he continued. “So long as you respect mine.”

  Master Omni inclined his head. “Of course.”

  “Wallo,” Nadrin said.

  The name cracked through the yard without him raising his voice.

  Wallo appeared at once, bowing. “Yes, Captain.”

  “If you would escort Lord Omni to the crypt.” Nadrin pressed a key into his hand. Iron, old, heavy enough that I could see Wallo adjust his grip. “He wishes to see our guest.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wallo turned, offering Master Omni another bow. “When you are ready, lord.”

  They left together, the key catching the light once before disappearing between bodies and tack.

  I stayed where I was and turned to Tyrus. He was watching me, or maybe he wasn’t. Something shifted in his shoulders; tightened, maybe loosened? I blinked. Probably tightened. Nadrin had stiffened too when Beiru’s name passed his lips. Or had that been the wind? I gave Tyrus a nod. He returned it. Or maybe it was later, or earlier. Assurance, I think.

  “Wallo,” Nadrin’s voice cut through the yard, sharp and even, stopping them before they reached the edge. “Make sure you stay close to Lord Omni.”

  The words landed like a weight on my ribs. Firm. Calm. Certain. Not repeated. Eyes that could hold someone still. Wallo froze under them…or maybe he didn’t. I wasn’t entirely sure what I saw.

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  “Understood, Captain,” Wallo said. Bow low, careful, measured. Precise. Every move calculated. I thought I noticed the faint twitch of his fingers, or maybe that was me.

  Master Omni turned back to us, smooth, steady, unshaken. “Enjoy the hunt, gentlemen. West,” he said, looking at me. Or through me. Hard to tell with this fog in my head. “Take care not to strain yourself. We will be leaving Dagavia soon.”

  He raised a hand. Walked away. Light caught the iron key in Wallo’s palm. The yard was quiet. Too quiet. The weight of all of it pressed somewhere deep, or maybe that was just my ribs again.

  I lifted the jug of Juga tea, letting the thick bitterness coat my tongue. Warmth spread across my chest for a moment, then slipped away, leaving my legs heavy and my abdomen twitching with every heartbeat. The stable walls leaned in and out with the shadows, the floor tilting beneath my boots.

  “Master West,” Nadrin said, voice steady and calm now, “let us find you a horse.”

  I followed him deeper, each step sharp in my ribs. Hooves clattered, straw shifted, and the air smelled of hay and horses. Large animals pressed against my senses. I froze, imagining the pain of mounting any of them.

  “Do any of them speak to you?” Nadrin asked, eyes tracking the faint tremor in my hands.

  I scanned, blinked, then jabbed a finger. “The ass.”

  He blinked, a faint crease between his brows. “You want…the donkey?”

  “Yes,” I said, tipping the jug once more. It burned in my throat.

  “Such a beast is hardly fitting for a man of your reputation,” Nadrin said quietly.

  “Nonsense,” I muttered, voice rough. “He’s beautiful.” My abdomen flared. Sharp. I stopped thinking.

  Nadrin studied me, calm, measured, then simply shrugged. He saddled the donkey with ease, the leather creaking under his practiced hands. When he offered the lift, I took it without words.

  The donkey shifted beneath me, slow, warm, alive in a way that hurt less than a horse would have. I grunted, adjusted, and let him lead. Slow was fine. I did not need more.

  Nadrin and his nine men finished preparations without hesitation. Quivers were checked, nets folded, ropes coiled. Everything aligned, orderly and precise. When they were ready, we left the village and entered the jungle.

  The green swallowed us at once. Leaves slapped my face, damp earth pressed against my boots, and the scent of rot and rain clung to my coat. The donkey moved with uneven steps, each one rattling dull shocks through my abdomen. Good. A full horse would have been faster and risked too much.

  I realized the jug was empty before I even thought to check. I had drunk it too fast, chasing warmth that had already faded. My legs felt heavy, disconnected, and each breath required a small effort. The haze remained, thick and unreliable, making the shadows twitch where they might not even exist.

  Nadrin led, steady and deliberate, moving through the green as if he belonged to it. I stayed at the rear, letting the donkey set the pace. His men slid through the undergrowth, breaking away and returning, alert to every movement I would have missed.

  I told myself this was the practical choice. The donkey was slow, the path predictable. Less strain, less chance of disaster. I had made the right call. Still, a flicker of doubt wormed in. Was I avoiding more than the pain? That part I would not name, not yet.

  The hours passed in a haze. Leaves brushed my arms again and again. Birds called somewhere, sharp and sudden, and for a second I thought I saw something move against the shadows. Maybe it was a scout, maybe a trick of the light. My head throbbed, and I could not decide.

  This was fine. It had to be fine. The jungle pressed in from all sides, green and noisy and suffocating, and I let the donkey carry me forward. It would get me there. That was enough.

  Once you have seen an hour of the jungle, the next few rarely offer anything new. Green pressed in from all sides. Vines tangled over themselves. Leaves slick with dew brushed my arms and face, and I flinched every time a droplet slid down to sting my skin. The constant chorus of insects and hidden creatures burrowed into my skull, steady, sharp, and unrelenting.

  Nadrin drifted back toward me, boots sinking softly into the wet soil. “Are you falling asleep, Master West?”

  “Can you blame me, Captain?” I muttered, wincing as a jolt of pain stabbed across my abdomen. “We have not seen so much as a bug.”

  He laughed, low and steady, but it carried a weight I could not place. “Perhaps. But there is always a bright side.”

  “And that would be?”

  His arm lifted, steady. Eyes scanning the canopy like he was reading the trees themselves. “No sign of the Canaries. No traps, no scouts, no markings. They have finally left our lands.”

  Relief trembled in his voice. I caught it, felt it flare in his chest. His battles had clearly dug deep, leaving hollows I could not touch. And somehow he credited me. My chest tightened, a dull pressure that made my ribs ache more than the duel had.

  He looked at me again. “Because of you.”

  The words hit like water spilling over stones. I swallowed, unsure where to look. “Because of you,” he whispered, softer this time. His voice shook, faint, almost too quick to notice before the mask slid back into place.

  I had no words. My throat was tight. My hands curled against the damp leaves at my sides, and I wanted the conversation to end. Anything else would mean moving muscles I could not trust.

  “Boar!” a voice cut through the undergrowth. The scream jarred my balance, sharp and raw. Nets rustled, arrows twanged, men shouted. The jungle answered with a high-pitched squeal that ended suddenly, leaving a ringing in my ears.

  Nadrin stayed close, calm, untouchable. “Excellent work!” he called. His voice carried satisfaction, pride, something I could not place and did not want to name.

  “We have another!” came a second shout, closer this time, followed by scuffling through the underbrush. My vision tilted for a moment. A branch or a man—hard to tell—and I blinked. Juga made the edges shimmer. Maybe it had been a shadow. Maybe not.

  Nadrin turned back, grin easy and wide. “Things are finally looking better!”

  I nodded, stiffly, trying to absorb the scene, but the jungle had already closed around me. Silence returned, and yet the echo of hunting cries lingered in my chest. Pressure, heat, the slight taste of sweat on my tongue. Choices lay there too, sticky and awkward, tangled in my stomach.

  I decided then there was no better moment to ask.

  “Captain,” I said, trying to straighten. Pain flared in my abdomen, sharp, insistent, twisting into my ribs before I could stop it. “I do not wish to force your hand or suggest payment. I never meant to create a debt when I accepted the duel. In truth, it was negotiated for me, but I am not saying you…”

  The sentence broke, tangled in breath and ribs.

  Nadrin raised a hand. Calm, open. No impatience, only waiting.

  “Master West,” he said. “What is it you are trying to tell me?”

  Juga muddled my tongue and my thoughts. My mind stumbled. I drew a slow breath, tasted bitterness, warmth, fatigue, and pressed words together as best I could.

  “I would like to take three of your horses,” I managed to say. “So we may continue east.”

  He did not hesitate. Struck his chest once, firm. “It would be my honor. I would give you every horse in Dagavia if you asked. I will never be able to repay what you have done for us.”

  The words pressed on me. Something stirred, unnameable. I looked down, touched a leaf, watched dew gather. Did it drip from the branch, or was it my own sweat?

  “Thank you, Nadrin,” I muttered, lowering my head.

  He paused, counting fingers. “Three horses. For you, Lord Omni, and Tyrus.”

  Then his eyes flicked. “And your slave, Beiru?”

  The question lodged somewhere between ribs and throat. Not a moral question, not a decision yet. Just a thing I had to carry.

  “And what of your slave?” Nadrin asked quietly. “Beiru.”

  The words landed in my chest, sharp and impossible to ignore. A slave, and now I was asked to decide the fate of another. The Juga dulled the pain stabbing through my abdomen, but it did nothing to quiet the scramble in my mind. Advising Master Omni had been easy. Standing here, letting the decision sit on my shoulders, was another matter entirely.

  “Do not let the good in your heart blind you,” Nadrin warned. His voice was even, unflinching. “Beiru is young, but he is not innocent. He has made many orphans in Dagavia.”

  He nudged his horse ahead of the donkey. I forced my eyes to meet his, trying not to blink.

  “I respect you too much to destroy what is yours,” he continued. “But granting Beiru a second chance is not the mercy you believe it to be.”

  He moved aside, letting the words hang there like thick humidity, and we continued forward.

  “Captain,” I said, my throat dry, my lips stiff.

  “I will trust your judgment,” I managed finally. “I will not kill Beiru. But I will allow you to enslave him. I will deliver him to you.”

  The words landed awkwardly, like stones tossed into a forgotten pool. My chest ached, but the ache was nothing new.

  Nadrin nodded once. “Then it is decided.”

  We made camp soon after. Horses were tied, quivers checked, nets folded. Men drifted into the shadows of the jungle in small groups, their movements light but purposeful. I was left with the animals, the night pressing down with a weight that made each breath deliberate. My body refused to obey, heavy and reluctant, every muscle throbbed in dull insistence.

  The fire crackled weakly, sending thin, trembling pools of light across the clearing. Smoke clung to the damp earth, mingling with the pungent odor of horses and sweat. Insects whispered insistently in the trees, punctuated by distant, unsteady cries of nocturnal birds. The chorus should have been comforting. Instead, it pressed against me, sharp and intrusive, as if the forest itself were listening.

  Questions circled like vultures. Had I done enough? Was my absence a trap for failure? Could any choice made today hold tomorrow? My mind tried to flee, but the Juga fog forced it back, a slow, warm drag that blurred the edges of reality.

  My body finally surrendered. Limbs went slack, the ache receding into a soft background hum. My eyelids drooped, heavy curtains I could no longer fight. Sleep seeped in, and the world dissolved into shifting shadows. But even as darkness claimed me, the decisions I had made clung like insects in the folds of my consciousness.

  The forest murmured around me. Leaves scraped against each other, and dew fell on the canvas of the fire’s light. A horse snorted close, too close, or perhaps too far…I could not tell. Somewhere, a branch snapped sharply, and I flinched awake in the same moment, only to drift again. The night pressed against me with the intimacy of a predator. Choices, consequences, and the faint, unplaceable memory of Beiru’s face pressed against the fog of my mind.

  And just before sleep pulled me fully under, the world flickered with one last, disjointed sound. A scream, high and jagged, or perhaps a whisper of leaves. I could not be certain. But my muscles tensed anyway. My body reacted before my brain had caught up.

  The forest waited. The shadows shifted. And I could not let go.