Darkness clung to my eyelids like wet cloth.
For a moment, I thought I was still at home—face pressed to the floor, lungs torn raw from crying. But the air didn't smell like stew smoke and old blankets.
It smelled clean.
Soap. Polished wood. Ink—sharp and bitter, like fresh paperwork.
And underneath it… metal. Oiled steel.
I opened my eyes.
The ceiling wasn't ours.
No cracked planks. No crooked moon-stain Myrina used to point at and call my "guardian spirit."
These boards were smooth and dark, fitted so neatly they looked expensive.
Even the shadows felt… organized.
My chest tightened.
I lifted my hand to my forehead and pain snapped across my brow like a whip.
Bandage.
Clean. Tight. Professional.
Memory slammed into me.
Fruit. Rot. The table edge biting my skin. My knees hitting the floor. The sound I made when my body finally stopped pretending it could hold grief inside.
And then—
Nothing.
My throat locked so hard it hurt.
"Myrina," I whispered.
Her name broke halfway, like dry wood splitting.
I swallowed and tried again, like saying it twice could summon her through the door.
"Myrina…"
The room didn't move.
No boots kicked off by the entrance.
No stupid grin.
No, Pup, you should've seen the other guy.
The emptiness didn't just sit there.
It watched.
And then I started crying.
Not quiet tears.
Not polite ones.
The kind that stole air from my lungs and left me choking on my ribs.
"My— Myrina," I rasped, and her name scraped my throat raw.
A knock came at the door.
Soft.
Careful.
Not Barrek's fist. Not a soldier's bark.
Just a hesitant tap—like whoever stood outside was asking permission to step into my pain.
"Trey?"
Nerissa.
My chest hitched.
The handle turned slowly, like a question.
Warm lamplight spilled in.
Nerissa stepped through, holding a small oil lamp with both hands, cradling it like the world could shatter if she carried it wrong. The moment she saw me sitting up, relief and worry collided across her face so hard her shoulders dropped.
"Oh," she breathed, like she'd been holding her own breath for hours.
She shut the door behind her. The room didn't get warmer from heat.
It got warmer because someone real was here.
Nerissa set the lamp down, and the glow revealed the space: a narrow dresser, a chair tucked neatly under it, a folded blanket placed like nobody had ever touched it.
A guest room.
For important people.
Not for me.
Shame rose like bile.
Nerissa leaned in, scanning me the way healers did—bandage, eyes, the trembling in my shoulders.
"You're awake," she said, like she didn't trust the word.
My throat tasted like old tears.
"Where…" My voice came out rough. "Where am I?"
"Second floor," she said gently. "The guild's guest room."
Guild.
Second floor.
Guest.
Each word landed like a stone.
"I'm…" I tried to swallow the rest, but it spilled anyway. "I'm causing trouble again."
Nerissa's brows tightened—not angry. Sharp. Protective.
"Trey."
Just my name. Quiet. Steady. Like a hand pulling me back from a cliff.
I stared at my hands instead of her face. They were shaking—not from cold.
From everything.
Nerissa nudged a cup of water closer. "Drink."
I drank because my mouth needed something to do besides fall apart. The water was cool, clean, useless—and somehow it helped me breathe for a second.
Nerissa stayed close. Her voice softened, like she was afraid the wrong word would snap whatever thread was keeping me together.
"Barrek brought you here," she said.
My fingers tightened around the cup. "Barrek?"
She nodded. "Barrek and the other veterans. They were outside your house. They heard you… and then everything went quiet." Her jaw tightened. "Barrek pushed the door open and found you collapsed."
My stomach twisted at the image.
Barrek seeing me like that.
Small.
Broken.
Embarrassing.
"He carried you," Nerissa continued, and something like disbelief slipped into her tone. "He ran. I've never seen him run like that."
Barrek.
Running.
For me.
It didn't make sense.
And somehow that made my chest ache worse.
My fingers found the cord under my shirt.
My emblem.
Cold iron against my skin.
The one thing that said I belonged somewhere.
My hand curled around it like it could stop my heart from sliding out.
And my throat broke again.
"She…" I swallowed hard. "She promised me a souvenir."
Nerissa's face softened, and that softness made the tears burn hotter.
"She said she'd bring me a dungeon rock," I whispered. "She said she'd carve I survived on it."
My voice wobbled. "She laughed when she said it."
A laugh slipped out of me too—one short, broken sound with no humor in it.
"And… and that platinum coin."
The word tasted wrong now.
Not bright.
Not noble.
Just a number tied to blood and a cart I couldn't find her on.
"She said she wanted to make my life better," I said, voice thinning. "Fix the roof. Move somewhere safer. Real school for me."
My chest tightened until it felt like my ribs were shrinking.
"And I didn't even ask for that," I whispered.
Tears blurred the lamp's glow.
"I was already happy."
The truth stabbed so deep I almost choked on it.
"I already had everything…" My voice cracked. "But now I lost everything."
Nerissa didn't hesitate.
She sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
Not crushing.
Holding.
I let my forehead fall against her shoulder. The bandage tugged. Pain flared.
I didn't care.
Her voice brushed my ear.
"Please don't hate your sister," Nerissa said.
I froze.
Nerissa tightened her arms slightly, like she felt my whole body lock.
"She was always like this," she continued, softer. "Reckless. Stubborn. The kind of person who jumps first and argues with gravity later."
Something tried to lift in me.
A tiny, awful smile.
It didn't make it all the way.
But it tried.
"She always found a way out," Nerissa said. "She always survived."
I swallowed hard.
Nerissa breathed in, choosing her next words like they were stepping stones over deep water.
"She's probably still out there somewhere."
The line struck like flint.
Not hope.
Hope was too big. Too fragile.
This was smaller.
A spark.
My tears slowed for half a breath.
The soldier hadn't said she was dead.
No body. No name. No confirmation.
Just silence, and "last cart."
Myrina didn't belong to silence.
She belonged to noise.
Boots on stairs.
Bad jokes that refused to die.
I pulled back just enough to look at Nerissa's shoulder instead of her eyes.
"Still out there…" I whispered, like the words would vanish if I spoke them too loudly.
Nerissa nodded once. "We don't know," she said. "And until we know—"
My lungs shook as I inhaled.
The spark caught.
It didn't become comfort.
It became direction.
If she was out there…
Then I couldn't stay small.
I couldn't stay a boy who flinched at loud voices and stared at hands because faces were too much.
I wiped my face hard with my sleeve. My eyes burned. My chest still hurt.
But now the pain had teeth.
"I have to be strong," I said.
The words surprised me—steady, clear.
Nerissa blinked, like she expected me to collapse again.
My hands trembled less.
"I need to be powerful," I whispered.
My jaw clenched.
"I need to be stronger than her."
Nerissa stared at me like I'd become someone else in front of her.
"I'll find her," I said. "I'll go into that dungeon. I don't care if I have to go to the edge of the world."
The fire wasn't warm.
It was sharp.
It burned away the part of me that wanted to curl up and disappear.
Nerissa exhaled slowly.
Then her voice shifted.
Less receptionist.
More guild.
"If you want strength," she said, "there is a way."
My fingers tightened around my emblem. "A way?"
She nodded. "But it won't be pleasant. Not 'work hard and you'll grow' hard."
Her eyes sharpened.
"More like… pain. Time. Humiliation."
My throat tightened.
"A test," she continued. "A risk."
Her voice dropped lower, like the walls had ears.
"And it might cost you your childhood entirely."
Those words should've scared me.
They didn't.
They tasted like a price.
"I'll do anything," I said too fast.
Then I forced myself to breathe and said it again, slower—so she'd know I meant it.
"I'll do everything. As fast as I can."
Nerissa studied me, something heavy and sad flickering behind her eyes.
"All right," she said quietly.
She stood and pointed to a small meal on the dresser—bread and a bowl of something thin but warm.
"Eat," she ordered. "Drink. Then don't move. I'm going to call someone."
I nodded—caught myself halfway—awkward, like my body didn't know how to agree without flinching.
Nerissa noticed and a tired smile tugged at her mouth. "Good effort."
Then she slipped out.
The door clicked shut.
I sat holding bread that smelled like the guild kitchen—stew smoke and busy lives and a world that kept moving even when yours stopped.
I ate anyway.
Because if I was going to chase Myrina into the dark…
I couldn't do it on an empty stomach.
Footsteps thundered in the hall.
Heavy.
Fast.
A voice shouted, "Sir, you can't go there!"
Another voice barked back, offended like rules were a personal insult.
"I can go anywhere I want!"
Barrek.