Mist clung to Verrinport as we woke for the day. The streets were slick with last night’s rain, puddles pooling in dips between the cobblestones. Dawn hadn’t fully broken yet; the sky hung gray and low, the color of forged steel.

  We stood outside the inn, cloaks drawn tight beneath the awning. Water dripped from the eaves in a steady rhythm. Merric grunted as he cinched the strap on his hammer.

  “Still raining,” he muttered. “Starting to think this city’s never seen the sun.”

  Elaria smiled faintly, her arm bound in clean bandages.

  “No need to complain. We should be grateful we’re still standing.”

  The rain pattered harder against the awning, filling the pause between them. The others adjusted their cloaks, the sound of fabric brushing against wet leather.

  He rolled his shoulders, testing the pull of his wound.

  “I’d be more grateful if standing didn’t feel like someone driving a spike through my leg. When can you use your healing sigil again?”

  She flexed her fingers, the motion slow and stiff.

  “A day, maybe two. Once the threads settle.”

  Merric groaned and tipped his head back.

  “By then I’ll be walking sideways,” he muttered. “Maybe that’ll finally make me interesting.”

  Elaria huffed a laugh, the kind that came out more through her nose than her lips.

  “You could’ve gone to the Guild,” I said, smirking. “Paid for a proper healer.”

  “And sell my other leg to cover the cost?” He chuckled, shaking his head. His breath fogged the air before the drizzle swallowed it. “No thanks.”

  Lira stepped past us, tightening the strap on her pack.

  “Then stop whining and move,” she said, her tone light but sharp enough to slice through the morning fog. “If we leave now, we can make good time. Etrielle’s still five days south, and I’d like to beat the next storm.”

  Merric sighed and trudged after her, still muttering. His boots splashed through the puddles, the sound fading as the mist thickened ahead. The city’s noise fell away behind us until there was only rain and breath.

  The road beyond the gate wound east, half-swallowed by mist. Wet branches bowed beneath the weight of rain, droplets sliding down like glass beads. The air smelled of wet stone and moss. For a while, no one spoke—just the muffled thud of boots against softened cobble.

  The rhythm tugged at something in me. The pulse. The faint vibration I hadn’t felt since the ambush. Why hadn’t it returned in the dungeon? Why had it gone silent when I needed it most?

  “Vaelyn.”

  Merric’s voice cut through the haze. When I didn’t answer, it came again, louder.

  “Vaelyn.”

  I blinked, dragging myself back to the present. He waved a hand in front of my face.

  “What?”

  “I called your name three times,” he said. “You good?”

  “Yeah. Just… lost in thought.” A gust stirred the mist, cool against my skin. He studied me for a second, then the edge of concern faded from his face.

  He grinned.

  “Try not to drift off mid-march. Your mother gave you that name so people could call it, not shout it into storms.”

  “Keep talking and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you at all.”

  Merric laughed, the sound rough but genuine.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself just because you’ve got a fancy name. Vaelyn sounds like something a noble would lovingly name their dog.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

  “Bit of both.”

  Lira’s quiet laugh slipped between us, soft as the rain.

  “You’re not entirely wrong,” she said. “Your name does sound noble—or maybe ancient. It shares a root with mine.”

  Merric arched a brow but stayed quiet for once.

  I glanced her way.

  “Vaelyn and Vaelaryn. Never made the connection.”

  “It’s Elven,” she said, voice low. A droplet slid off her hood and caught the faintest glint of light before falling. “Vae means light. Not sunlight—the kind that guides travelers through fog or storm. My mother said it was the light you follow home.”

  Her hood shaded her face, but the curve of her smile showed through the mist.

  “Your mother was Elven?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Yes, she was Kyrelian. My father wasn’t. He used to say I got her name and his bad luck.” Her gaze wandered toward the dripping trees. “People don’t take kindly to halves. Easier to keep quiet about it.”

  The rain filled the space between us, quiet and heavy. I wasn’t sure what to say at first. The words lingered, caught somewhere between pity and understanding. I slowed beside her.

  “My grandmother named me,” I said. “Told me once that names outlast blood—that they remember things even when we don’t.”

  Lira looked up, thoughtful beneath her hood.

  “Then she was wiser than most.”

  “Maybe.” I adjusted my pack, feeling the strap bite into my shoulder. “Feels like we’re all carrying pieces that don’t fit anymore.”

  She nodded once, and the silence returned with the rain.

  The days blurred as we traveled west, stopping only when the light failed. Each morning brought a new shade of rain. Gradually, the mist began to thin, peeling back to reveal a pale strip of silver sky. By the time the city walls of Etrielle rose ahead, the drizzle had softened to a breath.

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  Etrielle stood in the distance as the mist finally cleared. The large stone battlements that loomed over the hills looked small compared to the city they guarded. The road behind us still glistened from the storm. The air smelled of home—baked bread, forged metal, and the faint sweetness of wildflowers that grew along the moat.

  Merric stretched, groaning as his back popped.

  “Thought I’d forgotten what sunlight looked like.”

  Elaria smiled, tugging her hood back.

  “Don’t jinx it. Etrielle’s weather has a cruel sense of humor.”

  The city gates yawned open, the guards waving us through with brief nods. Inside, the streets buzzed with movement—merchants shouting over carts of spices, children darting between stalls, the clang of forges echoing down the lanes. Being home again lifted the weight that had been pressing on our shoulders since Verrinport.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this—the rhythm of the city, the quiet hum of Essence beneath it. It wasn’t peace. But it was familiar.

  We made our way toward the Guild, following the familiar stretch of cobbled street that wound up the western rise. The sigil of the Arcanist’s Guild shimmered above the archway.

  When we reached the steps, Kael was already there—arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

  “Took you long enough,” he said. “I was beginning to think Verrinport had claimed you.”

  Merric let out a low huff.

  “We almost decided to stay—until its dungeon tried to kill us.”

  Kael’s gaze drifted to the bandages on Elaria’s shoulder and the faint tear in Lira’s cloak.

  “I can see that.” His tone softened. “Come inside. You’ve earned a seat before the lecture.”

  The warmth of the Guild Hall wrapped around us as we stepped through the doors. Familiar faces turned as we entered—curious glances, murmured greetings, a few respectful nods. Word of the dungeon must have traveled faster than we had.

  Kael led us upstairs, the boards creaking softly beneath our boots. His office smelled of ink and parchment, sunlight pouring through the tall windows behind his desk. He hesitated a moment before sitting, then gestured for us to do the same.

  “The report from Verrinport came in this morning,” he said. “The Guild’s investigators confirmed the ambush on your party. The attackers were from the Coldren family—acting independently. We suspect they were after the resin.”

  Merric swore under his breath.

  “Those bastards were actually behind it.”

  A quiet unease settled over the room.

  “Before we could move any further,” Kael continued, “the Church intervened. Claimed jurisdiction over the case—called it an ‘affront to divine authority.’”

  Lira frowned.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning,” Kael said, “that the Guild’s hands are tied. The Church will conduct the investigation. We’re to ‘cooperate,’ and nothing more.”

  Elaria’s brow furrowed.

  “But the Coldrens targeted us while we were on Guild business. The Guild should have priority.”

  Kael’s expression darkened.

  “You’re not wrong. But this isn’t the first time they’ve used faith to leash reason. The resin, the ambush, the dungeon—they’re calling all of it divine business now.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “And the dungeon itself is sealed until further notice. No Guild entry without Church oversight.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Outside, the sunlight dimmed as a light drizzle began to tap against the glass.

  Merric broke the quiet first.

  “So we just… let the Church have it?”

  “For now,” Kael said quietly. “Politics isn’t a battlefield I can win.” His gaze lifted, settling on each of us in turn. “But your team—what you managed down there—was exceptional. The Guild board agrees.”

  He reached into his desk, sliding out four new plates, their edges etched in gold.

  “You’ve passed the Guild exam and been awarded Gold Rank for your accomplishments.”

  Merric’s eyes widened.

  “Gold? We’re skipping silver?”

  Kael smirked.

  “And bronze. Consider it a reward for not dying—and for keeping the resin out of the wrong hands. You bested a noble family’s elite; you deserve it.”

  Elaria laughed softly.

  “That’s one way to phrase it. I feel like we just keep scraping by.”

  “You’ve all proven yourselves capable,” Kael said. “If you plan to stay together, I’ll vouch for your party personally. Your paperwork’s already in motion.”

  I glanced at the others—Merric grinning wide, Elaria hiding a proud smile, Lira watching Kael with quiet gratitude. For the first time, we felt less like a frayed alliance and more like an actual team.

  Kael leaned back against his desk.

  “So what now, Vaelyn? Where does the thread lead next?”

  I hesitated, the question tugging at something deeper.

  “I’m going to reach Obsidian Rank,” I said finally. “Join the Alvarian Guard—and prove that sight doesn’t decide strength.”

  Kael’s eyes narrowed, though not unkindly.

  “Your brother’s still in the Guard, isn’t he?”

  I nodded.

  “He is. And I intend to stand beside him one day.”

  For a long moment, Kael studied me. Then he smiled—small but genuine.

  “Then you might be interested in this.”

  He moved to the shelf behind him, retrieving a folded notice marked with the Guild’s seal.

  “The capital is hosting a tournament in two months’ time. The winner advances a full rank. More importantly, it’s where the Alvarian Guard does most of its recruiting.”

  Merric’s grin returned immediately.

  “A tournament? Finally, something straightforward. No dungeons, no politics—just a good fight.”

  Elaria crossed her arms, though her smile betrayed her excitement.

  “The capital… I’ve always wanted to see it.”

  Lira tilted her head, tone measured.

  “It’s not all glory and banners. The Church’s influence is strongest there.”

  Kael chuckled under his breath.

  “You’re not wrong. But influence cuts both ways. The Guild needs eyes in the capital, and I’d rather they belong to people I trust.”

  I met his gaze.

  “Then we’ll go.”

  He nodded.

  “Rest for now. You’ve earned it. I’ll see to your travel forms when you’re ready.”

  As we stepped out of his office, the hall was awash in golden light. The rain had vanished but still clung to the windows, the city beyond gleaming under a clearing sky.

  The storm had passed—but in its wake, the path ahead had never been clearer.

  The air was warm, rich with the scent of rain-soaked stone. People moved through the streets, voices bright, laughter carrying from the market square.

  Merric turned the new gold plate over in his hands, examining its extravagant surface.

  “Gold rank,” he said, almost to himself. “Didn’t think I’d see that before I hit thirty.”

  “Reaching gold before twenty is a huge accomplishment for all of us,” Elaria said, smiling faintly.

  “I’m grateful to Kael—it’s saved me a lot of time as well. I thought it would take at least two years to hit gold rank,” I added, hanging the tag around my neck.

  “It’s all thanks to me. Reckon I’ll start charging extra for saving your lives.” Merric laughed, tucking the plate into his belt and puffing his chest. Lira shot him a look, the corner of her mouth twitching.

  “Extra for all the times you nearly got yourself killed?” Lira asked.

  He pointed at her.

  “Consider it hazard pay.”

  Elaria laughed, the sound light and easy. It was a nice change of pace—the group didn’t feel weighed down by anything. No fog, no dread, no lingering fear. Just us, and the journey ahead.

  We walked in silence for a while, the city slowly giving way to the open road.

  We stopped at the overlook where the western road curved toward the hills. The wind caught Lira’s silver hair as she looked out over the horizon.

  “The capital is a long way from here.”

  “A month by road, if the weather’s kind,” I said. “Maybe two if Merric insists on finding every tavern along the way.”

  Merric grinned.

  “What’s the point of being gold-ranked adventurers if we don’t drink like it?”

  Elaria nudged him with her elbow.

  “Maybe after we survive the tournament.”

  The mention of it still felt surreal—gold rank, the capital, a tournament where ranks could change overnight.

  “You think Kael was serious?” Merric asked. “About vouching for us long-term? With his recommendation, we could get missions other parties only dream of.”

  Lira nodded.

  “He doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.” She looked toward the Guild in the distance, her expression soft. “He’s giving us a chance most people don’t get.”

  “Then we don’t waste it,” I said. “We rest tomorrow, gather supplies the day after, and leave for the capital by dawn the following day.”

  Merric whistled.

  “Barely time to breathe. You ever stop planning, Vaelyn?”

  I shrugged, the weight of the gold tag cold against my chest.

  “Only when I’m forced to.”

  Elaria stretched, her gaze drifting up to the pale blue sky.

  “A day without travel doesn’t sound bad. I’d kill for a proper meal.”

  “Same,” Merric said. “And a real bed.”

  “You’re getting your day,” I said. “Then we move. We should pick up a couple of missions along the way.”

  Lira turned, her blue eyes bright in the sunlight.

  “You sound like Kael already.”

  I laughed under my breath.

  “Let’s hope that’s a good thing.”

  We stood there a while longer, the city humming around us. The storm had scrubbed the air clean, and in the distance, the horizon shimmered faintly where the road bent east toward the capital.

  Merric was the first to start walking again, his hammer strapped to his back.

  “Well, if we’re going to be legends, we might as well start small,” he said. “Drinks on me—gold rank’s gotta be worth something.”

  Elaria raised an eyebrow.

  “You mean the first round?”

  He grinned.

  “Let’s not ruin the moment with details.”

  Lira shook her head, but I caught the smile she tried to hide.

  The four of us descended into the heart of Etrielle, sunlight cutting through the last drops of rain still clinging to the rooftops. The streets glowed like polished glass.

  With yesterday behind us, the path ahead finally felt certain.

  Tomorrow, we’d head for the capital.