Rowan almost laughed at the offer.
From everything he had learned, joining the Companions' inner circle meant accepting the same curse they carried—power, yes, but shackled to restless nights, shortened lives, and a transformation that never truly left you. Strength bought at that price wasn't appealing.
He glanced at Camilla."Thanks for the concern. I'm not planning anything stupid. If it turns ugly, I'll walk away."
As they passed a narrow side street, Rowan noticed a familiar trio—the same street toughs from the day before. They had cornered a young girl, leaning in far too close for comfort.
Rowan bent slightly, plucked a leaf from a nearby branch, and held it between his fingers.
Camilla frowned. "What are you—"
His wrist flicked.
The leaf disappeared.
A heartbeat later—
"AAAH!""MY ARM!""WHAT—"
Three screams tore through the street at once. The leaf cut the air like a razor, slashing across each man's forearm before embedding itself deep in the wooden wall behind them. Blood spattered the stones. None of the men were dead, but their injuries were severe—arms mangled badly enough that they wouldn't be causing trouble again anytime soon.
Rowan hadn't used magic.No supernatural trick.Only control.
Camilla stared. "That was… a leaf."
Rowan gave a small shrug. "Spend enough time surviving, you pick up a few habits."
Her expression shifted as she studied him again—no armor, no visible weapons, yet capable of crippling three grown men in a blink. Perhaps he couldn't conquer Bleak Falls Barrow alone, but helpless he certainly wasn't.
She stopped arguing after that and led him toward the northern exit of town.
Curiosity soon got the better of her. "Where have you traveled before?"
Rowan improvised easily, weaving together stories drawn from scattered memories—cities half-buried beneath endless dunes, underground halls humming with ancient machines, caverns where pale hunters prowled the dark. He spoke as though recounting old campaigns, shaping fragments of imagination into believable journeys.
Camilla listened like someone hearing legends for the first time.
At the bridge outside town, she finally slowed. "Cross here. Follow the mountain trail northwest. When you reach a watchtower, turn right—the path will take you straight to Bleak Falls Barrow."
She hesitated, then added quietly, "May the Eight watch over you."
Rowan inclined his head. "Thank you, Camilla."
He crossed the bridge and disappeared into the forest.
Camilla lingered for several seconds before suddenly smacking her forehead."I forgot to tell him to bring food… water… warmer clothes…"
She sighed. "He'll probably turn back once he sees how bad the climb is."
Reassured by that thought, she headed back toward town.
What she didn't know was that, by the time she reached the gates, Rowan had already arrived at the bandit watchtower.
Running uphill or across flat ground made little difference to him.
A long howl echoed through the rocks ahead. Several massive tundra wolves sprang from cover, teeth bared as they blocked the trail.
Rowan didn't slow.
He stepped forward and kicked.
Each wolf launched backward like a fired cannonball, slamming into the wooden structure with crushing force. The impact shook the tower violently. The archer posted above barely had time to look up before a tumbling mass of fur and bone smashed into him, splintering wood and sending debris cascading downward.
Bandits inside shouted in confusion and rushed outside, scrambling for weapons.
Rowan crouched, scooped up a handful of small stones, and flicked his fingers.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
The pebbles became streaks of invisible force. Each one struck with perfect precision, punching through an exposed eye or temple. One after another, the bandits collapsed before they could even raise their blades.
Silence returned quickly.
When the echoes faded, Rowan stood alone before the shattered watchtower. Bodies lay scattered across the ground, and not a single bandit remained standing.
....
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