We left the temple, and there was no ceremony. Selem didn’t see us off again even once. Nael cleaned up the tea he’d been drinking along the way, Ren didn’t say anything, and I made myself not look back. Elthariel remained there behind the trees, as if it had never existed in the first place, as if the three of us were simply walking down an ordinary road and we weren’t leaving anything important behind.

  But that wasn’t true. And I knew it.

  The bell hanging from Ren’s belt didn’t ring, but I could feel its weight. I was aware of it. And what made me think the most was this: I was starting, little by little, to understand what it really meant.

  We kept walking for hours. We didn’t talk much. The forest would open up sometimes, then close again, like the forest itself couldn’t decide whether it should let us pass. Around the time the sun was starting to sink, Nael spoke first.

  “Over there. That light. We can’t go any farther today. Want to set up camp?”

  Ren nodded.

  I didn’t.

  “Before that. I want to train again.”

  Nael turned around like he’d misheard me. “Train? You, Sera? Now?”

  “Yes. Close-quarters. Using the body.”

  Ren didn’t say anything. He stared at me. His eyes weren’t criticizing me, but he looked uncertain—like he didn’t know whether he should refuse, or what he was supposed to do. Then, for some reason, he looked at Nael.

  Nael folded his arms and shook his head. “I can’t keep treating you every night because you train with your chest wide open. Maybe you should rely on your ‘resonating conduit’ instead.”

  “That’s not it. I want to avoid ending up behind you again. Like that time… Depending on the fight, there are situations where we can’t create distance.”

  Ren let out a small sigh, hand brushing his side. He was still bandaged there—the one Nael reinforced this morning.

  “That’s not your role. If there’s something to restrain, that’s my job. I give it structure. That’s what Selem said.”

  Ren said it like that should settle it. To him, “structure” was probably nothing more than a wall, an obstacle. I held his gaze. Ren exhaled softly, then said, “You’re stubborn.”

  “Then show me how much that structure can take.”

  I held out my hand. Ren hesitated for a moment, then his hand settled over mine.

  Nothing glowed. Nothing shook. But the air changed. That was enough.

  A mark surfaced on each of us. In my palm, I felt something like fine pressure—an invisible circular imprint. I knew it was there. Ren’s hand was beside mine, and I could feel his mark resonating with mine.

  I stood in front of him. Low stance. Weight split. Arms up, ready to stop him. Not perfect, but not my first time.

  Back at the castle, between lessons on politics and etiquette, there had been an instructor who didn’t ignore me.

  “Who taught you the basics?” Ren asked.

  “A palace instructor. Back when people still thought I might be useful.”

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  “You are useful. But your back is a little too straight. Your rear leg isn’t supporting you properly.”

  I threw my first strike without warning. A short step, a sweep, an open palm. I didn’t hold back the force.

  Neither did he.

  Ren blocked with his forearm, twisted his body, and moved away. He didn’t touch me.

  But he didn’t ignore me, either.

  “Don’t dodge. Respond.”

  “If I respond, you won’t be able to stay on your feet.”

  Without thinking, I launched a two-hit combo—knee high, elbow low. Ren blocked with his elbow and caught my wrist with his shoulder. The contact was real. There was no tremor. It wasn’t about strength. It was about making a point.

  “Sera has power,” Nael said. “But when she attacks, she opens herself up too much.”

  “Ren, are you still not going to attack?”

  “Then stop treating me like I’m fragile and learn the correction.”

  I pulled back. Not roughly—just a little. I changed my stance and took three steps back.

  We both exhaled, without meaning to.

  I attacked at full force. A horizontal swing, a low turn, driving with my heel. Ren didn’t dodge. This time, he countered.

  His hand caught my shoulder, his leg stopped my leg. The rotation was smooth, like it had been measured. And the world tilted.

  I didn’t fall.

  But my back came close to the trunk of a tree, and his arm marked the limit.

  It didn’t hurt.

  But as long as he didn’t allow it, I couldn’t move.

  “So that was part of training.”

  “That’s something I should have restrained more.”

  “Since when did you get so good?”

  “My old man taught me. He wasn’t the kind of grandpa who talked the way you’re imagining.”

  Silence held for a moment, then he let me go.

  I straightened my posture. Not out of pride—out of habit. He took two steps back, and I didn’t move.

  Behind us, the fire crackled.

  And I thought: which heat was stronger, the heat I felt inside my body, or the heat pressing in from outside—no, that wasn’t it.

  …This might actually be getting fun.

  Nael served soup with the seriousness of a ritual, using a makeshift spoon carved from a stump, placing a bowl for each of us near the fire.

  “It’s not the best soup, but it’s not rotten. So you won’t die.”

  I ate slowly. The flavor was strange, but I didn’t dislike it. It was from supplies prepared at Elthariel’s temple. They’d given us enough for months—dried herbs, grains, preserved food. Even when Nael cooked something quick, it was still properly edible.

  Ren ate too. He chewed slowly, gaze lowered. Like he didn’t want anyone to see, he touched his side a few times.

  Ren touched his side three times.

  I saw it three times.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Nael went to sleep early. He lay close to us with his back turned, wrapped in his cloak. His breathing still wasn’t completely steady, but he didn’t say anything anymore. Maybe he wanted to give us space. Or maybe he was just tired.

  Ren was looking at the bell he’d received from Mr. Beld, turning it slowly between his fingers. It made no sound. Firelight reflected off it, like it was helping him think.

  I moved closer and walked up to him. I didn’t ask permission.

  “Let me see.”

  Ren lifted his face. There was a small pause.

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Then it doesn’t hurt. But you were touching your side earlier.”

  He didn’t answer. But when I knelt beside him, he didn’t move away.

  I lifted the cloth slowly. It was warm— not feverish heat, just the warmth of old bandages pressed against skin for too long. The herbs Nael used had stopped working. I could see a little redness where it had been compressed.

  I brushed my fingers over it, lightly. Not because it was him, but because Nael had said I should rely on my “resonating conduit.” That was me. It didn’t mean I understood healing, but I could at least see what was happening.

  I carefully unwrapped the bandage. The knot was tight and messy. He’d probably adjusted it himself, forcing it into place.

  So I had to fix it.

  That was my role right now. Nothing else.

  When I went to wrap a fresh bandage, my fingers trembled a little.

  Not from fear.

  From the heat of his skin.

  From the heat of the fire.

  And from the feeling that something was tying the two of us together.

  Ren didn’t say anything, but when I was almost finished, he spoke.

  “Isn’t that a little tight?”

  I didn’t look at him.

  “Then endure it. If you don’t want to ask Nael.”

  A short silence.

  “No. You’re fine.”

  My hands didn’t stop, but I froze for a few seconds. I could hear his breathing. Mine too. Something sat between the two of us.

  But I didn’t put it into words.

  I just stood up and went back to the fire.

  Nael was already asleep. Or pretending to be. Either way, I didn’t care.

  Before I climbed into my sleeping bag, I looked up at the sky for a moment. After a while, I closed my eyes again, facing west—toward Veredyn.

  Tomorrow we’d start walking again. At the latest, we should be able to cross the border in two days.

  But for this one night, the world stayed quiet.