The river came upon us without warning.
One moment we were threading through thinning pines, the ground rising gently beneath our boots; the next, the trees parted and there it was—a wide, fast-moving ribbon of gray-green water cutting across our path like a scar. Rain had swollen it overnight. The current roared, white foam curling over half-submerged rocks. On the far bank the forest continued, darker and denser, promising deeper cover from any pursuit.
Elara stopped beside me, breath fogging in the chill morning air.
"We can't go around," she said, voice low. "It curves east for miles. We'd lose half a day, maybe more."
I scanned the surface.
No obvious ford.
No fallen log wide enough to cross safely.
"Swim?" I asked.
She gave me a look that said you're joking.
"In this?" She gestured at the churning water. "We'd be swept downstream before we got halfway. And there are things in rivers like this—things that like warm blood."
I nodded.
She wasn't wrong.
I crouched, touched the bank, let a thread of mana sink into the soil.
The earth answered—damp, unstable, but willing.
Crimson Dominion could pull moisture from the ground, but it wouldn't help here.
What I needed was something to bridge the gap.
I stood.
"Stay here."
I walked upstream twenty paces, found a cluster of young birch saplings growing close to the edge.
With Silent Step I moved without sound, blade flashing once, twice.
Four clean cuts.
The saplings fell in a neat pile.
Elara watched as I dragged them to the bank.
"You're making a raft?"
"Something like that."
I lashed them together with vines stripped from nearby trees—quick, efficient knots learned from Swordsmanship (A) and Blade Saint Candidate (S).
It wasn't pretty, but it floated.
Barely.
I pushed the makeshift raft into the shallows.
"Get on."
She hesitated.
"It'll sink."
"Then we swim fast."
She gave a short, nervous laugh.
"You're insane."
"Probably."
She stepped onto the raft first—careful, testing her weight.
It dipped, water sloshing over the edges, but held.
I stepped on behind her.
The raft rocked violently.
We both crouched low, gripping the bound logs.
I pushed off with one foot.
The current caught us immediately.
It yanked us downstream like a living thing.
Elara yelped—small, involuntary.
I leaned forward, using mana to compress water beneath the raft, giving us a tiny boost of stability.
It wasn't much, but it kept us from flipping instantly.
Halfway across, the raft struck a submerged rock.
The impact threw us sideways.
Elara lost her balance.
She pitched forward, arms windmilling.
I lunged without thinking.
One arm hooked around her waist, the other under her knees.
I pulled her against my chest in a full princess carry—instinct, reflex, nothing more.
She froze.
Her face ended up pressed to the hollow of my throat.
I felt her heartbeat against my collarbone—fast, frantic, like a trapped bird.
The raft spun, bucking under us.
I tightened my grip, planting my feet wide for balance.
Her arms came up instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of my cloak over my shoulders.
For three heartbeats neither of us moved.
The river roared around us.
Her breath was warm against my neck.
She smelled like forest rain and something softer—wildflowers maybe, crushed underfoot days ago.
I swallowed.
"Hold on," I muttered.
She nodded—tiny, against my skin.
I shifted my weight, used Crimson Dominion to pull a thin film of water up the sides of the raft like walls, giving us a few more seconds of stability.
The far bank rushed closer.
I jumped.
The raft shattered behind us as we hit the shallows.
I landed hard in knee-deep water, Elara still cradled against me.
The impact jarred my knees, but I didn't drop her.
We stood there a moment—water swirling around us, breath coming in short gasps.
Then she whispered:
"You can… put me down now."
Her voice was small.
Face flaming red.
Eyes fixed on my collar instead of my face.
I set her down carefully.
She stepped back quickly, arms crossing over her chest like armor.
I looked away first.
"Watch your footing next time," I said, voice rougher than I intended.
She nodded—too fast.
"Right. Sorry."
We both turned upstream, pretending to scan for threats.
The silence was louder than the river.
We didn't speak again until we found dry ground and collapsed behind a fallen log to catch our breath.
Elara sat with her knees drawn up, cheeks still pink.
I pretended to check my sword for water damage.
After a long minute she spoke.
"Thanks. For… catching me."
I grunted.
"Didn't do it for thanks."
"I know."
Another pause.
She hugged her knees tighter.
"I'm not used to people catching me," she said quietly. "Back when I was training, falling meant punishment. No one ever… softened it."
I glanced at her.
"You're not training anymore."
"No." She gave a small, crooked smile. "I'm just following a monster who steals talents and kills dukes."
I snorted.
"Flattering."
She looked at me then—really looked.
"You're not a monster, Ren. Not really. You just… act like one because it's easier."
I met her gaze.
"Maybe."
She looked away first this time.
We moved on.
The rest of the day passed in uneasy quiet.
The forest thinned as we climbed higher ground.
The air grew colder, sharper.
By late afternoon we reached a ridge overlooking a narrow valley.
Below us, a small stream wound through meadows gone gold with autumn grass.
No sign of pursuit.
No patrols.
Just wild land stretching north.
We descended carefully, picking our way down a rocky slope.
Halfway down Elara slipped again—this time on loose gravel.
She slid a meter before I caught her wrist.
Pulled her back up.
She stumbled into me—chest bumping mine, hands braced against my shoulders.
We froze.
Again.
Her face was inches from mine.
Breath mingling.
Her eyes were wide—storm-gray, flecked with gold in the dying light.
I felt her heartbeat through her palms.
Fast.
Unsteady.
Mine answered—unexpected, unwelcome.
She blushed so hard the color crept down her neck.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered. "I keep—"
I released her wrist.
Stepped back.
"Trail's narrow. Walk behind me."
She nodded—too quickly—and fell into step.
We reached the valley floor just as the sun disappeared behind the ridge.
The stream was shallow here, clear enough to see smooth stones at the bottom.
We followed it upstream until we found a sheltered overhang—rock shelf forming a natural roof, dry moss for bedding.
I built the same smokeless fire as before.
Elara gathered more twigs, moving carefully, avoiding looking at me.
We sat on opposite sides of the flames.
The silence stretched.
She broke it first.
"Does it ever get easier?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Stealing. Killing. Being… this."
I stared into the fire.
"No.
It gets quieter.
That's all."
She hugged her knees again.
"I thought freedom would feel different.
Lighter."
"It doesn't?"
She shook her head.
"It feels… empty.
Like I left part of myself behind when you took the talent.
And I'm still looking for the piece that fits."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I said nothing.
She glanced at me sideways.
"You ever feel empty?"
I thought about Earth.
The apartment.
The silence after the truck.
"Always did."
She nodded slowly.
"Then maybe we're both looking for the same thing."
The fire crackled.
A log shifted, sending sparks upward.
She shivered—once, small.
I noticed.
Without thinking I pulled my cloak off and draped it over her shoulders.
She stiffened.
Then relaxed.
The cloak was too big on her—swallowed her frame.
She pulled it tighter.
Smelled it—subtly.
Then blushed again.
I pretended not to see.
We sat like that for a long time.
Fire.
Silence.
Her in my cloak.
Eventually her breathing slowed.
Head dipped.
She fell asleep sitting up, chin on her knees.
I watched the flames.
Watched her.
And for the first time since waking in that stone chamber,
I didn't feel completely alone.
It scared me.
Because attachments were weaknesses.
And weaknesses got you killed.
But I didn't move her.
I didn't take the cloak back.
I just sat there, sword across my lap,
listening to her breathe,
and wondering how long it would take before the world forced me to choose between power and whatever this was starting to become.