I glanced over my shoulder, catching Rina’s steady stride behind me, as she had for eight days. The choice was made—southward, with her. No turning back.

It felt wrong at first, a betrayal of my oath. But the decision had hardened into reality, twisting my resolve like a pin bent by a firm hand. Rina’s dark green eyes, sharp with mystery, held a fire that challenged my purpose.

“It’s alright, boy,” I murmured to my stallion, its hooves steady on the steppe. I’d promised him glory, a chase to end Dakor, each day at the farmer’s stable as I brushed his hide and checked his hooves. “We’ll hunt that snake together,” I’d said, his ears twitching at the name. Now, heading south, I’d broken that vow. This was bigger than he could grasp, bigger than me.
Rina smirked, catching my glance. “You’ll twist your neck if you keep checking me.”
Her audacity—bold, unyielding, wrapped in a frame that should’ve been delicate—was a puzzle I ached to solve. “We’ll have our adventure, boy,” I whispered, patting the stallion’s black crest. “But first, this fire drawing me south.”
The heavens hadn’t been kind. I’d once been their champion, my voice heard, my blade blessed. But they’d abandoned me when I left the Mountain Plains, letting Keiya die like she was nothing. Their anger meant little now; I’d triumph without them, over Dakor, over fate. I needed no gods, no men—only my will.
A breeze swept the steppe, the sky darkening. Night fell too soon, a punishment, perhaps, from those silent gods. Darkness slowed our pace, and we had miles to cover. Fate, that cunning trickster, schemed again, but I’d defy her as always.
Keiya lay buried, her flesh claimed by the earth. I’d sworn justice, yet here I was, charging south with a stranger, not north to Dakor’s blood. Was it selfishness? Or fate’s snare to ruin me? I’d prove it wrong, as I had before. This journey was no mere escort—it was a challenge to the gods, to fate, to preserve my pride.
“We need to stop,” Rina said, her voice weary, cutting through my thoughts. “It’s getting dark. We should camp.”
“We press on,” I said, dismissing her.
“We’ve ridden for hours,” she countered.
“And we’ll ride more,” I said, my tone firm.
“Your journey south will mean nothing if I’m dead from exhaustion,” she snapped.
I grunted. She was right—too often, she was. Swallowing my pride, I sighed. “Fine. We’ll camp there.” I pointed to a sheltered spot, dismounting.

We set to work, shedding saddles and packs. I gathered kindling, coaxing a fire to life with ease, its flicker bold against the night. Rina proved her worth, preparing a meal—lamb from Darah, warmed over the flames, with bread and ale. Her efficiency surprised me, a far cry from the delicate women of Kedrone.

We ate in silence, as we had for four nights. Words felt like surrender for a man like me, pride too heavy to bend—not for gods, not for her. Yet I caught her stolen glances, her eyes glinting in the firelight. I smirked inwardly. Women always broke first.
Her gaze met mine, locking in the fire’s glow. Her frame was striking, her green orbs a mystery that drew me in, equal parts fire and enigma. I wanted to unravel her.

“Where will you go after you deliver me?” she asked, her voice slicing the quiet, a spark of unease beneath her boldness.
I smiled. She’d cracked first, seeking a way to talk. This would be a long, intriguing night.

My choice to journey south wasn’t just for her—it was for the challenge, the defiance of fate’s cruel games. Rodar and Darah’s farewell lingered, their warmth a faint echo as I’d left their hearth. War loomed north, where Dakor’s shadow grew, but for now, I rode with Rina, her mystery a fire I couldn’t resist. The steppe stretched before us, dark and uncertain, but I’d face it as I always had—unbowed, unyielding, Dorack of Dun.