Rodar watched me pace, my boots stirring dust, his silence heavy with expectation. Darah and the woman—Rina, they called her—mirrored his unease, their faces etched with anxiety I couldn’t fully grasp.

“How far is it?” Darah asked, voice trembling. “A month?”
“Less,” Rodar said, wincing. “If all goes well.” His tone carried the weight of dread. An army crossing their lands promised profit—food sales to hungry soldiers—but also peril. In times like these, the worst was never far.

My own turmoil was different, a gnawing torment. Dakor’s 700-strong cavalry wasn’t just a threat to Kedrone—it was a resurrection of my enemy’s power. Once, his forces seemed unstoppable. Now, with Amlyxone’s houses backing him, he could rise again, sack Hamdire, raze villages, and reclaim his dominion. The thought of Dakor wielding power again was a blade in my gut.

“We should leave,” Calous, the cloaked messenger, said, rising. “Flee the village for a few days, wait for the army to pass, then return.”
“No,” Darah snapped, her face torn between fear and defiance. “Where would we go?”
“Finding a destination isn’t our greatest hurdle,” Calous said. “Leaving is.”
“How can we abandon this?” Darah’s voice cracked, her hands gesturing to the fields.
“Calous is right,” Rodar cut in, his tone firm, unyielding. “We can’t stay while that host marches through. They aim to bring calamity to Kedrone.” He nodded darkly. “We’ll gather the workers, their families, and food for a season.”
“Where to?” Darah asked, worry creasing her brow.
“The capital, perhaps,” Rodar said. “It’s the safest for now.”
“The capital will be flooded,” Darah countered. “Everyone’s fleeing there.”
“Then we leave soon,” Calous said.
“Or you could go south,” Rina’s voice broke through, low and airy, silencing the room. “The capital will be their next target if they gain ground. My home is untouched by war, ready to shelter you all.”

I knew nothing of her or her home. Her words hung in the air, untested. I stayed silent, neither endorsing nor opposing her. Who was she, really?
“Are you sure?” Darah asked, her eyes searching Rina’s.
“Certain,” Rina replied, her voice steady.
“Then prepare to return home,” Rodar said, his gaze warm but pained. “With my family.”
“And you?” Rina asked, her pout sharp with challenge.
“I can’t leave the North,” Rodar said, distress flickering. “My roots are here.”
“You could always come back,” I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. Something in her suggestion—safety, escape—pricked me.
“My dear,” Rodar said, clasping my hands, “I wish you understood.” His smile was dry, weary.
“Then I’ll stay too,” Darah said, rising with resolve.
“And I,” Calous added, thumping his chest.
“What?” Rina’s voice rose, incredulous. She turned to me, her green eyes blazing. “Tell them this is war. They’re gambling their lives on the hope the enemy’s crushed.”
“It’s deeper than you know,” Rodar said, moving to her, his voice soft with regret. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“Then I’ll go south alone,” she said, her tone heavy with disappointment.
“Not alone,” Rodar said, his eyes snapping to me. “Dorack, what’s your path?”

His piercing gaze demanded an answer. I sighed, the weight of my choice crushing. “I thought coming to Kedrone was my curse. I’ll have no peace until Dakor’s dead. I’m joining this fight to end him.”
Rina’s eyes widened, surprise flashing before settling into a frown.

“You’re cursed only if you choose it,” Rodar said, gripping my shoulder. “Leave the North. Leave Dakor. He’ll die eventually if that’s what you seek.”

His words echoed his tale of Pean, but my heart was sealed. “You don’t have to fight, Dorack,” Darah said, her eyes brimming with concern. “Stay.”

“You’re torn, brother,” Calous said, arms wide. “North or south? What’s your answer?”
“Rina can’t go south alone,” Darah said, taking her hand. “She needs an escort—someone road-wise, skilled.”
“I want to help, but…” I started, searching for an apology, but Rina cut me off.

“I’ll go south, with or without you,” she said, her voice dark, enticing. “But come with me, Dorack. You won’t forget the journey.” She leaned closer, her words a lure. “I’ll pay in full—three hundred silver shekels.”