When Raven next awoke, the air was different.

  The steady hum of the infirmary, with its distant voices and shuffling footsteps, was gone. In its place, quiet stillness pressed against his ears, broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric and the faint clink of something against wood.

  His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to soft, ambient light. Gone were the high ceilings and rows of beds—now, a low wooden ceiling stretched above him, painted a warm cream color.

  A window loomed behind his bed, tall and narrow, framed with heavy drapes. It was shut tight, but thin streaks of daylight peeked through, casting a golden glow across the wooden floor. The room was warm, thanks to the gentle hum of a heater built into the far wall.

  The walls were painted with delicate floral patterns, their muted colors giving the space a quiet charm. Though it wasn’t extravagant, it was meant for comfort rather than sterility.

  His limbs felt heavy. When he tried to shift, he realized why—thick bandages wrapped his arms and legs, soaked through with a medicinal salve. The faint scent of herbs hung in the air, and beneath the warmth of the blankets, his skin tingled. The salve must have been doing its work, slowly drawing out the damage left by the frost.

  Beside his bed, a simple but well-crafted wooden cabinet stood within easy reach. A pitcher of water and a small cup rested on top, along with neatly folded cloths.

  To his left, a wooden table sat near the wall, where two figures in white and blue sat, playing cards. Their clothing was similar to the healers from before, but their posture, their gear—everything about them screamed discipline.

  One of them idly flicked a card onto the table, eyes briefly glancing at Raven before returning to the game. The other, a broad-shouldered woman with her sleeves rolled up, let out a low hum of amusement before responding with her own play.

  Beyond them, two doorways marked the exits—one leading back to the infirmary, the other to a private bathing chamber. Through the open door, he caught sight of a basin with running water, polished brass fixtures gleaming in the dim light.

  Before he could dwell on it, movement caught his eye.

  One of the medics had noticed his waking state. Setting their cards down, the broad-shouldered woman stood, approaching the bed with measured steps. Her expression was calm, unreadable—but not unkind.

  She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she reached for a nearby metal canister, lifting it slightly so he could see. It had a narrow pipe attached to the lid, a feeding spout.

  She tapped the container, then pointed to her mouth, then her stomach.

  The scent of broth drifted faintly from the container—rich, warm, unmistakable.

  Raven hesitated. His throat was dry, and he wasn’t sure if his stomach would handle food, but... he nodded.

  The medic gave a small nod in return, then sat beside him, tilting the container slightly. She watched carefully as Raven took his first hesitant sip.

  Warmth spread through him, slow and steady.

  His body still ached, his limbs still burned beneath the salve, and exhaustion clung to him like a weight.

  And with that thought, his eyes drifted shut once more.

  The next day just as Raven was gathering his thoughts, the door creaked open.

  Two women entered the room.

  One of them is Aira, she had dark hair braided into a single cord, golden eyes sharp as a hawk’s, and an air of rigid discipline. Her elegant, long, dark military tunic was embroidered with golden patterns, fitted perfectly over layered lighter-colored trousers tucked into high brown boots.

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  On her belt, a longsword and a narrow knife rested against her hip. She looked near her thirties—weathered by battle, but unwavering.

  She wore brown gloves, and in her right hand, she held a stack of documents. In her left was a weapon Raven recognized instantly.

  Shadebinder.

  The second woman, shorter and younger, around Raven’s age, had a strikingly different presence. Her red hair was tied into two low braids, green eyes warm and curious, freckles dusting her fair skin. She wore a long, layered forest-green dress, belted at the waist, with high boots peeking from beneath the hem.

  Unlike Aira’s gloves, her own bore intricate markings along the palms and backs—symbols Raven didn’t recognize.

  Aira strode forward first, speaking in a commanding tone in her foreign tongue. The nurses in the room bowed their heads slightly before leaving without hesitation.

  Then, Aira turned back toward Raven. Without a word, she gently touched the pommel of Shadebinder against his cheek.

  A warm, familiar voice rang in his mind, soft and almost bubbly with excitement.

  We finally meet again, my brave knight.

  A slow breath escaped Raven’s lips. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that voice.

  "It is good to hear you again, Shadebinder."

  Aira, satisfied, placed Shadebinder on the small table beside Raven’s bed and pulled up a chair. Mary did the same, moving one of the nurses' chairs closer.

  Raven’s gaze flicked between them before finally settling on Shadebinder.

  He cleared his throat. "So... what’s with Aira touching your pommel against people’s cheeks?"

  Shadebinder chuckled in his mind.

  I can only speak with people who physically touch me.

  Raven frowned. "But didn’t we talk before?"

  Yes, but we were too far apart, and the link broke.

  A thought struck him, and he hesitated. "...Wait. When was the first time I physically touched you?"

  There was a pause before Shadebinder answered cheekily.

  Luckily your glove had a tear in the Wilds.

  Raven exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Figures."

  Mary finally spoke, drawing his attention. "I suppose introductions are in order," she said with a warm smile. "I’m Mary Iceflower, and this is Knight-Commander Aira Wintermane. I imagine you’re confused, so let me explain."

  Raven was surprised to realize he could understand her.

  Aira, unfazed, had already started flipping through the documents she brought, scanning them with a sharp, focused gaze.

  Mary continued. "You are in Stormhold, the great fortress of Everfrost, standing strong against the Northern Wilds."

  Raven’s brow furrowed. "So we’re... not in Mornhollow?"

  "Oh! No, you are," Mary corrected, nodding quickly. "But you’re in the northernmost region of Mornhollow."

  Raven let out a small, weak sigh. "I see."

  Mary hesitated for a moment before tilting her head. "Can I ask... do you really not remember where you came from?"

  Raven glanced at her cautiously. "...How do you know?"

  Shadebinder’s voice chimed in.

  I mentioned it to them.

  Mary nodded. "We believe you are a Lumerian."

  Raven blinked. "A what?"

  Mary’s expression turned solemn. "Lumeria was an empire that abused magic. Their greed and recklessness caused much of the known world to fall into chaos, overrun with monsters. We call those ruined lands the Wilds now. Mornhollow is one of the last true safe havens."

  Raven struggled to find words. "...That’s… awful. But how do you know I’m Lumerian?"

  Shadebinder’s voice softened.

  Your eyes. Lumerians had red eyes.

  Mary added. "And you speak Lumerian."

  Raven’s stomach tightened.

  Aira sighed, finishing her documents, then casually glanced toward the corner of the room where the nurses had left their card game. She picked up a few of the cards, checked who was winning, and set them back down.

  Mary, however, focused back on Raven. "I don’t want to be insensitive, but... you don’t have anywhere to go, do you?"

  Raven exhaled slowly. "That’s... one way to put it."

  Mary leaned forward slightly. "Then stay here. Aira has arranged for you to learn our language—and how to wield Shadebinder properly."

  Raven frowned. He appreciated the offer, but something about it felt off.

  "...Not that I’m not grateful," he said slowly, "but I doubt she’s doing this out of the kindness of her heart. What does she gain by helping a stranger like me?"

  Mary blinked at him, clearly not expecting the question. She turned to Aira, who had now shifted her attention to checking the condition of her knife.

  Mary spoke to her in their language.

  Aira finished her inspection, then leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. Her golden eyes met Raven’s, sharp and unwavering.

  Then, she spoke.

  Her voice was calm, but there was something almost… ominous about it. A wry smile tugged at her lips.

  Mary, however, looked utterly baffled by whatever Aira had just said. She turned back to Raven. "She said, 'Because you will help me achieve something important. And this is my down payment.'"

  Raven’s breath hitched slightly.

  Before he could respond, Aira stood up. She said something to Mary, her tone curt.

  Mary let out a small sigh and turned back to Raven. "Seems like we’re busy. Please think about the offer with Shadebinder. Until next time."

  Beside him, Shadebinder hummed thoughtfully.

  Well, that was interesting.

  With that, the two women turned and exited the room, leaving Raven and Shadebinder alone to make sense of it all.