The dazzling, utterly pure holy rounds blossomed into purifying flame across the wraith's body, as if they were going to wash it clean from the inside out.
Seeing that, Lucian went completely slack-jawed.
Every Sentinel of Light had a relic weapon of their own—holy armaments that naturally countered darkness.
When darkness was born into this world, the Sentinels rose with it.
This ancient order had, since time immemorial, dedicated itself to preserving peace across Runeterra and fighting back the forces of shadow.
But becoming a Sentinel was never something just anyone could do.
The entry requirements were so harsh that, through the long river of history, the Sentinels remained a mysterious organization known to very few.
To join, aside from those born with the right temperament, you needed talent far beyond the average person—and an unshakable resolve to stand against the dark.
In other words, if you didn't meet the requirements, you simply couldn't use the relics.
Before today, only one non-member had ever successfully fired a Sentinel relic weapon—Lucian himself.
It had been his father's relic, which had ended up in his hands by sheer chance. When the person he loved—and he himself—were in mortal danger, he'd forced out a single shot of light.
Because of his father, Lucian had already known about the Sentinels.
And with her return… he'd come to understand even more about what they were.
Even so, he'd only succeeded that one time.
Yet this Demacian prince—without any training, without any knowledge—had just used a relic weapon like it was nothing.
And judging by how pure that shot had been, his spiritual strength was terrifyingly strong.
Bang!
While Lucian was still staring in a daze, another gunshot cracked through the cavern.
A second shot?
Someone with zero professional training could fire twice in a row?
His pupils tightened.
Bang!
A third shot rang out.
Lucian felt numb.
Luke gripped the exquisitely crafted, elegant pistol. A faint coolness seeped from the barrel into his palm. He hadn't even found a trigger.
But that didn't matter.
This gun didn't need one.
The moment it settled in his hand, Luke felt as if he'd merged with it—his intent surging like flame, burning through his mind.
Yellow fire flickered at the muzzle, then got swallowed by a bright white glare. The two lights fused into a single radiant round that tore toward the wraith.
Bang!
The fourth shot.
Four heavy blasts of light punched into the creature, nearly boring clean holes through its massive frame. Its hulking body staggered back four full steps.
But in the next second, those wounds sealed shut as it sucked nearby lesser wraiths into itself.
"Hrrrk—"
Bang!
The wraith opened a fanged maw, trying to unleash a furious roar at Luke.
A gunshot answered instead—purifying light slammed straight into its mouth, turning the roar into a howl of pain.
Luke felt a thrill spark in his chest. His willpower was at the Fearless tier, which meant the rounds he fired carried that same weight.
After taking five shots back-to-back, the wraith looked momentarily stunned. A flash of caution surfaced in its blood-red eyes—then got drowned by rage. Its face knit itself back together, and it lunged.
Lucian finally snapped out of it. He glanced at the pistol in his left hand, the one marked with an "S," and something complicated flickered through his eyes.
This was the only thing his beloved had ever left him.
Before today, he'd never allowed anyone to even touch it.
But right now, he didn't have the luxury to hesitate.
Having made his decision, Lucian suddenly hurled the pistol toward Luke and shouted, "Use this!"
Luke caught the second relic pistol cleanly. It was smaller—sleeker, even more graceful—like it belonged in his left hand.
He raised both pistols, sighting the raging wraith charging him, and a cruel smile curled at his mouth.
"I've been sick of you for a while now!"
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
In the next heartbeat, both muzzles erupted—streams of pure, radiant rounds pouring out in a relentless barrage.
Holy firelight flooded the entire cave, turning it bright as day.
The wraith's enormous body kept getting driven backward as countless bursts of light detonated across it.
And the man in front of it was letting it all out—fully, wildly, without restraint.
Vayne and Frey both stared, spellbound.
Lucian's arm hung limp at his side. Watching that scene, his expression turned even more complicated.
For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that Luke handled those two pistols more naturally than he ever did.
It sat wrong in his gut.
If Luke had only had one gun before, he'd only been able to suppress it.
But now, with twin pistols in hand, he'd truly begun to purify.
Even as the mid-tier wraith kept absorbing lesser wraiths around it, every freshly healed wound was immediately devoured by another burst of light.
"ROAAAR—!!!"
Its body blossomed with countless points of radiance. With a final, unwilling scream that shook the entire cavern, it dissolved into purifying flame.
The remaining lesser wraiths around them, as if they'd lost their spine, instantly broke into chaos.
That didn't change their fate.
By the time the last wraith was cleansed, sweat was pouring off Luke's forehead. He looked drained, both pistols smoking lightly at the muzzles.
But his expression?
Pure satisfaction.
Swords, knives… none of it felt as good as two guns that actually worked.
Luke couldn't help thinking: if we'd done this from the start, wouldn't this have ended ages ago?
Of course, ordinary pistols didn't do this. Once the rush faded, Luke realized the "ammo" was his mental power.
That whole torrent of shots had burned through a lot of it.
Still, with the cave finally quiet, Lucian pushed himself off the ground and walked over, grimacing through the pain.
"Give me my guns back."
Luke turned, not reluctant at all. He handed them over with an easy grin, still savoring the feeling.
"Those two guns of yours are amazing."
Lucian: …
He took the pistols, glancing up at them. The metal still held the warmth of Luke's palms, and the chambers were faintly hot from the sheer volume of fire.
For some reason, hearing that line made him feel like something was… off.
But he couldn't put his finger on what.
So he holstered them and changed the subject.
"Do you know about the Sentinels of Light?"
Luke replied, "I know of them."
By then, Yurna, Vayne, and Frey had also come over. After the battle, all three looked exhausted.
Even Vayne felt like her adrenaline had overshot its limit.
"Let's get outside first," Luke said.
The cave was too cold, too bleak. After a quick check to make sure no one was critically injured, he decided they could talk once they were out in the open.
They nodded and headed for the exit.
On the way out, they didn't need to take the path they'd come from. They simply followed the tunnel Lucian had used to enter.
After walking for a while—
A thin line of light appeared ahead. A little farther, and they finally emerged.
It was already afternoon. After being trapped in that grim cave for so long, stepping into the sunlight felt like someone had scrubbed the dark out of their lungs.
It was… nice.
Luke began checking everyone's injuries.
None were light, but none were catastrophic either.
Lucian had taken a rake from the wraith's claws—several long gashes across his lower back. His Sentinel outfit was torn open, blood seeping through.
On the road, Luke had already used healing powder to stop the bleeding.
Even so, thin strands of black mist still leaked from the wound.
Luke didn't have a solution for that. According to Lucian, it was foul corruption from the wraith—weak minds could be infected by it, becoming agitated and losing their reason.
But for someone like Lucian—tough, fearless, and steady—it clearly wasn't doing much.
Frey had taken a direct heavy hit, then got hurled into Vayne, making them collide hard.
Vayne took the brunt of the impact against the wall, so her back had suffered a nasty shock.
Teacher and student both had internal injuries to varying degrees.
Yurna had been thrown twice and spat blood. Her clothes were intact, so she likely had no external wounds.
Luke, thanks to quick footwork, hadn't been hurt at all. But he'd fired so hard that his mental power was drained, his head swimming like he'd just gotten carsick.
After running through the mid-tier mantra for mental spirit power a few times, the dizziness eased.
Luke had brought plenty of medicine—salves and powders for both internal and external injuries, plus a few rarer things.
He rummaged through his bag, took a few pills from a stoppered vial, and handed one to each of them.
These pills promoted blood flow, reduced bruising, restored stamina, eased internal injuries, and did a whole lot more besides.
They were far more expensive than the salve and powder.
Yurna didn't react much.
The other three nearly went cross-eyed from how bitter it was.
"Yeah, it tastes awful," Luke said lightly. "Swallow it anyway. It works."
Vayne frowned. The moment the pill hit her mouth, that explosive bitterness flooded her tongue. And it was dry—no water—so it didn't go down easily.
It was like being tortured nonstop.
She looked at Luke and couldn't help asking, "Have you actually tasted this stuff yourself?"
Luke replied casually, "I'm not injured. Why would I randomly eat it?"
"I really suggest you try it sometime," Vayne muttered, forcing it down.
A warm heat rose in her stomach almost immediately, flushing her cheeks.
The pain in her back eased on the spot.
The effect surprised her.
No matter what—ignoring the taste—his medicine hit like a hammer.
Frey and Lucian felt the same, but before they could even process the relief, the bitterness clogged their mouths and noses so badly that breathing felt harder.
This pill…
It was something else.
If they had a choice, they never wanted to eat it again in their lives.
Vayne thought she was good at enduring hardship. On her journey to Freljord, she'd been battered by misery more times than she could count.
But today, a single tiny pill made her realize she'd been naive.
There really were things in the world that could taste this bitter.
"If I'm ever hurt, I'll try it," Luke said with a chuckle.
Watching them grimace like this—after they'd faced a life-or-death fight without flinching—put him in a strangely good mood.
He'd made these himself. Of course he knew how bitter they were.
He could've added flavoring to mask it.
But to keep the potency pure, he'd added nothing at all. The whole point was simple: take the medicine, fix the problem.
Honestly, doctors like him were rare these days.
The three of them found a clean water source nearby, rinsed their mouths, and finally felt a little better.
Once Lucian stood, he looked at their faces and spoke as if making a decision.
"Then this is where we part ways. I take back what I said earlier—without you today, I'd have gone down in that cave."
Remembering what he'd said before entering, he swallowed his pride and retracted it.
After losing the person he loved, he hadn't fought alongside anyone in a long time. He'd grown used to facing monsters alone.
But today, Luke and the others made him feel that old sensation again—fighting shoulder to shoulder.
He was grateful.
As for what happened next with the Wraith Cave, Lucian believed he didn't need to worry. Luke and the others would handle it.
Luke smiled. "Help goes both ways. Without you, we might not have survived that situation either."
Those relic pistols had made the difference. Without them, that wraith might not have been killable at all.
Lucian also smiled. Looking at Luke, he found he didn't dislike this prince at all.
If anything, Luke reminded him—just a little—of what it had felt like to fight beside Senna.
Lucian's gaze hinted he still had more to say.
Luke caught it. "I'll walk with you."
Lucian nodded, and the two of them headed down a small path side by side.
"I'll just call you Luke," Lucian said, eyes forward. "How much do you actually know about the Sentinels of Light?"
Luke kept his gaze ahead too. "Honestly? I only know the name."
Lucian went quiet for a moment.
He could tell Luke wasn't lying—and had no reason to.
Luke's understanding really did stop at the name.
And yet he'd used Sentinel relics with instinctive ease, and with frightening proficiency.
If that was true, then Luke was very likely the kind of person born to be a Sentinel.
For someone like that to never join…
It would be a waste.
"The Sentinels of Light are an organization that fights darkness. Across Runeterra, you'll find our footprints."
After that brief explanation, Lucian turned to Luke and made his invitation with solemn sincerity.
"I am a Sentinel of Light. Luke, on behalf of Sentinel headquarters, I formally invite you to join us."
"Your talent is beyond anything I've ever seen. It's as if you were born for this. I truly hope you'll accept."
Facing Lucian's honest eyes, Luke simply smiled and shook his head.
"I can only thank you for the invitation."
"I see." Lucian wasn't surprised at how quickly he was refused. He sighed with a wry smile. "You may not understand just how rare your talent is among Sentinels. No one—no one—uses relics the way you did, with no training at all."
Even before asking, he'd known there was a strong chance Luke would reject him. Luke was a Demacian prince.
Someone like that had no reason to join an organization he barely understood.
"It's not that I don't want to join because I don't know enough," Luke said, reading Lucian's thoughts with an easy grin. "It's just… I'm used to taking it easy."
"I don't think I can live the way you do—dusty roads, constant travel, always chasing danger. But I'll remember your invitation. Maybe one day, when I'm ready, I'll come looking to become one of you."
As someone with knowledge of what was to come, Luke did understand the Sentinels.
The organization wasn't a problem—and in the future, it would matter a great deal.
Crossing paths with them had always been part of his plans.
He just hadn't expected to meet Lucian today, of all days.
Or to end up using those twin pistols by accident.
The real point was the pistols.
Thinking about it that way, Luke had to admit… maybe he really did have what it took to be a Sentinel.
But joining now?
No chance.
He'd only just started enjoying a few comfortable days. Then that old woman sent him out to investigate some village, and he'd ended up exhausted like this.
And looking at Lucian—weathered, worn thin by the road—Luke could already picture what his own life would become if he joined.
Pure self-inflicted suffering.
So, obviously, he was going to keep living comfortably.
Hearing that, Lucian laughed, looking into Luke's clear eyes. He offered his hand.
"As long as you're willing, the doors of the Sentinels of Light will always be open to you."
Being able to use a relic was itself a screening test.
Those with evil in their hearts couldn't wield holy power.
That much was absolute.
So with Luke—who had used the relics as if he'd been born for them—Lucian felt he could trust him enough to share certain things.
They'd fought together today, nearly dying side by side.
Lucian already considered the prince a friend.
Luke reached out as well.
When their hands met, there was nothing more that needed to be said.
"Take these," Luke said, producing three medicine bottles and handing them over. "You might need them later. Two are topical—one for internal injury, one for external. You don't need much each time. Just a little."
"And these pills… you already know what they do."
Luke could produce these in bulk. They were expensive, sure, but he clearly wasn't short on money.
And considering he'd gotten to enjoy himself with Lucian's twin pistols, he figured three bottles of medicine was a fair "nice meeting you" gift.
"Alright. I'll take them." Lucian didn't refuse. He'd felt their effects firsthand.
For someone constantly fighting in danger, this medicine would help a lot.
As a return gift, Lucian pulled out a silver-white object shaped like a shell and placed it in Luke's hand.
"Keep this."
"What is it?" Luke asked, curious.
Lucian said, "Think of it as a Sentinel token. It can help you sense nearby Sentinels of Light—and it lets nearby Sentinels sense you."
"It represents the Sentinels' goodwill. If someday you decide you want to join, but I'm not there… you can use this to find other Sentinels."
He saw Luke as a friend—and also as someone perfectly suited to become a Sentinel.
But with the hatred he carried, Lucian didn't know if, after they parted, he would ever see this prince again.
With this token, Luke would have a better way to find him.
And if Lucian wasn't alive by then, Luke could still find other Sentinels—people who could guide him.
Lucian wore a light smile as he said it.
But Luke saw something in his eyes—an acceptance of death, as if the man didn't fear it nearly as much as most would.
Luke couldn't help feeling a deeper respect.
He'd always respected people like this—people who did what he couldn't, people who took risks without hesitation.
They guarded the world, throwing themselves forward without flinching.
Luke tucked the token away and spoke with rare seriousness.
"I'll keep it safe."
"Then I'll leave you here," Lucian said, stopping.
He turned, giving Luke one last look.
Ahead was a fork.
One road was wide, warmly sunlit, bright and open.
The other was a narrow shadow-path, thorn-choked, untouched by sunlight.
"Take care," Luke said.
"You too," Lucian replied, turning away.
He walked down the shadowed path, alone—yet his solitary back carried a stubborn, unwavering resolve. He didn't hesitate even once.
A Sentinel of Light's journey continued on.
He would keep fighting in places no one ever saw.
At 3:00 p.m., Luke, Vayne, Frey, and Yurna returned to Kerr Village.
Ander and the villagers, who had been waiting the whole time, saw how battered the group looked—like they'd just survived a brutal battle—and worry rippled across their faces.
"Your Highness, are you all alright?" Ander stepped forward, bowing deeply, openly anxious.
His eyes swept over the four of them. Strangely, Luke looked the cleanest—no dust, not even a smear.
Compared to him, the other three looked like they'd crawled out of a nightmare: their once-clean clothes were coated in grime, dotted with dried blood. Even their posture seemed affected.
"A little hurt, but nothing serious," Luke said, without humor this time. "Did you notify Edessa?"
Ander nodded immediately. "As soon as you went after them, I sent people to Edessa to request support."
Luke was satisfied.
"That bloodthirsty demon has already been dealt with," Luke announced, calming the villagers when he saw their terrified faces. "You don't need to worry."
The villagers erupted at once.
"As expected of the prince!"
"Even something that dangerous got taken care of?"
"Then we're safe!"
"Ben and the others… were they attacked by that thing?"
People began guessing whether the village's three missing residents had been taken by the demon.
Luke didn't explain further. Anything he said now would still be speculation.
To confirm the truth, they'd need a more thorough investigation.
Because the trip had taken so long, it wasn't long after they returned that a commotion stirred outside.
When they went out, they saw a large unit of soldiers arriving from the direction of Edessa—around three hundred in number.
At the head was a sharp-looking young woman who made people look twice.
She wore a full suit of gleaming plate armor. Her shield rode on her back, her helmet hung at her waist, and a long black braid fell over her shoulder.
She stood ramrod straight. Paired with that silver-bright armor, any hint of girlish softness vanished.
Her face was fair and strikingly clean-cut, and her dark eyes shone with a soldier's resolve.
She stopped in front of Luke.
Standing tall, she clenched her fist to the left side of her chest and gave a perfect military salute, then introduced herself in a clear, crisp voice.
"Your Highness. I'm Cithria, reserve of the Dauntless Vanguard, stationed in Edessa."
"At ease," Luke said.
As he studied the girl—about the same age as Vayne and Quinn—something thoughtful flashed across his face.
Cithria.
Not a "hero," perhaps—but in spirit, close enough.
If he had to be honest, she was absolutely a talent on par with Quinn.
In the Dauntless Vanguard's evaluations, she was the only one to ever match the record Garen had once set.
Now she'd already joined the Dauntless Vanguard as a reserve—an apprentice member who could be called in to fill openings in the main unit at any time.
That made things tricky.
If she were just a normal soldier like Quinn had been, Luke might've tried to recruit her into his personal guard.
But now that she had a powerful commission, recruiting her wouldn't be easy.
Cithria was also sizing up the prince. His looks genuinely caught her off guard.
He really was like the rumors said—exceptionally good-looking.
Sharp brows, bright eyes, refined features, and a calm, gentle air that made people feel at ease.
She withdrew her gaze and spoke again. "Your Highness, I'm here to assist you in hunting down the demon. Please give your orders."
Luke set those thoughts aside. Recruiting her could wait—like with Quinn, it would take time.
So he said, "The demon's already been eliminated. But there's also a Wraith Cave that hasn't been fully investigated. We're heading there now."
"Yes, Your Highness!" Cithria answered, turning to signal for her unit to follow.
Half an hour later, they reached the Wraith Cave.
It looked exactly the same as when Luke and the others had left.
On the way, after seeing the corpses of the bloodthirsty demon and the shapeshifter, Cithria could already imagine what kind of brutal fight had happened here.
But she didn't realize something even more shocking was waiting inside.
Torches were lit one by one. With three hundred soldiers following behind Luke, the unit entered the cave.
Even though time had passed, anyone with keen senses could still feel the lingering evil in the air.
It raised goosebumps.
Cithria felt it immediately. Her eyes swept the shadows, and it seemed like darkness clung to every corner.
Her hand settled on the sword hilt at her waist as she stayed alert.
When they reached a wide, open chamber deeper inside, both she and the soldiers behind her burst into stunned noise.
Before, the light had been dim.
Now, with everyone holding torches, the space was bright enough to see clearly.
They could all feel it—a filthy, foul presence. The wraiths were gone, but the corruption remained.
And looking at the gouges and scars of battle across the ground, they could vividly picture how dangerous the fight had been.
"Have your people search the cave," Luke ordered. "See if you can find anything else."
"Yes!" Cithria replied, immediately organizing the sweep.
Under her direction, all three hundred soldiers began a tight, methodical search of the Wraith Cave.
After about ten minutes, Cithria returned holding a black object and brought it to Luke.
"Your Highness, we found this in a pit."
Luke's gaze fell on it, and he frowned.
There were symbols carved into it—ones he couldn't read.
So he looked to Frey.
Frey studied it closely. "This probably isn't a rock. It's a skull. Maybe even human."
Hearing that, Cithria's hands didn't shake at all. She remained perfectly steady, standing at attention in front of Luke.
Frey leaned in, sniffed, and frowned. "I smell traces of black magic on it. It might be why there were so many wraiths in this cave. I can't be sure."
She couldn't confirm it—but after searching for so long, this was the only truly strange thing they'd found.
Which meant it was almost certain someone was behind this. Maybe some mage had been meddling.
"Tell everyone to pull out," Luke ordered again.
There was no reason to keep searching. The only lead was the skull, and there was nothing else.
The three missing people were probably connected to this as well.
Luke figured he could write a report and let the old woman send someone more specialized to deal with it.
Someone like the Mageseekers.
So the unit withdrew from the cave, passed through Kerr Village to tell Ander the investigation was ongoing, and then returned to Edessa.
By then, it was evening. The sky was washed in dusk-gold.
Luke didn't go home. He went straight to the government offices in town.
The highest-ranking officer there, Kabud, personally came to receive him.
After hearing Luke's account, Kabud bowed deeply, shock and fear on his face.
"My deepest apologies, Your Highness. This is our failure. I never imagined there were so many creatures of darkness hidden so close to Kerr Village."
"In Edessa, up to fifty people go missing every year. At least three-quarters of them die in the jaws of wild beasts."
"When Kerr Village filed their report, I didn't take it seriously. I only sent two men to look around nearby."
His expression was tense—he clearly realized how serious this was now, and he laid everything out honestly.
The truth was simple: he hadn't cared. He'd done a token patrol and left.
With so many people vanishing every year, three villagers disappearing in a row didn't seem like a major incident.
Kabud just hadn't expected that behind those three missing people… there would be something like this.
Now, if he didn't confess and admit fault first, the consequences would be even worse.
Luke looked at him, expression flat. "Telling me this afterward is useless. It doesn't undo your negligence."
Luke didn't care about Kabud's excuses, but Kabud had already said them.
Because Kabud had treated it so carelessly and sent so little manpower, the issue reached the capital—and then Luke got dispatched.
And when Luke arrived, he walked right into this mess.
Sweating, Kabud lowered his head even further. "Please forgive me, Your Highness. I'll write a letter of self-reproach to the capital at once. I'll accept whatever punishment is given for dereliction."
Having forced the prince to take such a risk, punishment was inevitable.
It was only a question of what the capital decided to do to him.
"Enough. Leave," Luke said coldly.
"Yes, Your Highness." Kabud backed away.
Then Luke turned to Cithria, who stood slightly behind and to his right. "Take me to the courierbirds."
"Yes!" Cithria answered, leading the way.
She brought him to the communications room.
Demacia still used written letters for intelligence and reporting, but they had a magical beast known as courierbirds that made things far more efficient.
These small birds had gray feathers, blue-green bodies, and were incredibly easy to tame. They liked being around humans.
And because they were extremely fast flyers, once trained, they became a highly effective way to deliver messages.
By carriage, traveling from the capital to Edessa took five to seven days.
A courierbird could do it in eight hours.
Cithria waited outside while Luke drafted his report. Time passed little by little as he wrote everything down, sealed it with the House Lightshield crest, and stamped it firmly.
Not long after, two courierbirds took off, winging toward the capital.
When Luke stepped out, he looked at Cithria. "Thanks for your help."
Cithria answered immediately, "It's my honor to serve you, Your Highness."
Luke smiled at her. "Want to come to my place for dinner tonight?"
Cithria's bright face froze. She instinctively stepped back, waving her hands in flustered panic.
"Thank you for the invitation, but… I think I'll pass."
She couldn't understand why the prince would invite her to dinner out of nowhere.
And as a girl from a small town, Cithria had a very clear understanding of the gap in status within Demacia.
The man in front of her was a prince—high above.
And she was only a reserve member of the Dauntless Vanguard.
She truly couldn't think of a reason for the invitation.
"I'm just making conversation. Don't worry about it," Luke said, realizing he'd probably startled her. He offered a gentle smile and withdrew the idea.
Yeah… it was too soon.
But he couldn't really blame himself either. Cithria was like a piece of gold—bright, sharp, and full of irresistible shine.
His smile dissolved the awkwardness.
Cithria let out a quiet breath and didn't take it seriously. "Have a good evening, Your Highness."
"You too," Luke replied.
At the government office entrance, Luke raised a hand, ready to leave—
When he suddenly spotted a familiar figure approaching. The woman across from him also paused, slightly surprised.
"Your Highness. Cithria."
It was Quinn. She hadn't expected to see Luke here, and surprise showed on her face.
She'd spent the whole day outside the city investigating issues in the hunting grounds. She'd only just gotten back.
"Quinn, how did your investigation go?" Cithria greeted her. It seemed the two knew each other fairly well.
"Nothing," Quinn said. "It's like yesterday's weirdness never happened."
With Luke present, she explained today's results.
The Kingdom Rangers had investigated all day and found nothing.
The strange incidents like the White Rock Grizzly from yesterday barely showed at all today.
Luke suddenly felt a weird sense of doom. He'd come to Edessa for a relaxing break, so why did trouble keep piling up?
Quinn's arrival kept Luke there a bit longer.
And when Quinn learned that Luke had gone to Kerr Village and run into that kind of situation, she was shocked too.
"An entire cave full of wraiths… and a shapeshifter, and a bloodthirsty demon…"
Just imagining it was enough for her to picture how dangerous it had been.
Worry flashed in her eyes as she looked Luke over. Only after confirming he was alright did she finally relax.
And in that moment, a question couldn't help surfacing in her mind.
If she were at his side as his personal guard…
Wouldn't she be able to protect him better?
The thought made her drift for a beat, staring off without realizing it.
"Quinn? Quinn?" Cithria called twice, amused. "The prince is saying goodbye to you."
Quinn snapped back, looked at Luke—who was waving farewell—and hurried to respond, "Goodbye, Your Highness."
She didn't understand why she'd gotten stuck on that thought for so long.
"Goodbye," Luke said, giving her a warm smile, before turning to climb into the carriage Yurna had brought back from home.
That smile lingered in Quinn's mind long after he was gone.
Cithria watched her with a curious look. "He's already left."
Quinn blinked, then gave a quiet, "Oh."
Seeing how unusual she was acting, Cithria's interest sharpened. "Did you know His Highness before today?"
"Yesterday's Royal Academy hunt," Quinn replied. "I was assigned to protect him."
"Really?" Cithria looked even more intrigued. She walked alongside Quinn toward the building, asking with genuine curiosity, "So what kind of person is he?"
Quinn answered almost instantly. "He's excellent. And… he's very gentle."
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