The door creaked softly as Erina stepped back inside, the warm glow of the oil lamps spilling across the wooden floor. Their faint flames swayed behind glass, painting soft ripples of gold over the walls. The scent of curry still hung thick in the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of the evening chill that slipped briefly through the doorway.
Nora looked up mid-bite, her cheeks round with food. She swallowed halfway, then spoke through a muffled mouth, voice curious.
"You two were gone for quite some time. What were you talking about?"
Erina brushed the folds of her skirt, lowering herself onto the chair. A faint smile touched her lips, polite and composed.
"Nothing troublesome. Only some matters concerning the knight."
Darrion stepped forward without a word, the faint scrape of metal sounding as he lowered himself onto the chair. The weight of his armor settled with a soft, tired clink.
He reached for his spoon, his movements steady and controlled. The warm glow from the oil lamp rippled across his face, catching in his eyes for just an instant before fading.
Erin shifted uneasily in his chair, his fingers fidgeting against the edge of the plate. He could feel the tension hanging between Erina and Darrion, heavy and silent, but he didn't dare ask. Instead, he lowered his gaze and focused on his food, pretending not to notice how quiet the room had suddenly become.
Erina raised her spoon and took a measured bite, her lips parting slightly as she let the flavor spread across her tongue. The warmth from the curry eased through her chest. She exhaled softly, eyes lowering to the bowl before glancing toward Darrion.
"You really are good at this," she murmured, her voice calm and genuine. "The balance of spices is just right. It's been years since I've had food this comforting."
Darrion gave no reply. His gaze stayed on the bowl, each movement of his hand precise as he brought the wooden spoon to his mouth. The faint scrape of wood against the bowl marked the only sound. The quiet filled the space—steady and unbroken.
Erina's eyes lingered on him, following the slow rhythm of his wooden spoon. She lifted her bowl and shifted her chair closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor. Darrion's gaze flicked toward her, silent and still.
She leaned in, cupping her hand lightly beside his ear, letting only him feel the warmth of her breath. The slight brush of her fingers against his shoulder drew his attention without alerting the others.
"So… what will you do with Nora?"
Darrion's jaw pressed tight. His eyes stayed on the table, fingers gripping the wooden spoon with almost no movement.
"Depends." His voice was low, steady. He lifted his gaze just enough to meet hers. "Why do you ask?"
Erina lowered her voice, leaning slightly forward, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of her bowl. "I saw your eyes when you looked at her just now. You still see her as a threat."
Darrion's gaze shifted slowly toward her, his jaw firm, shoulders tense. His lips moved in a quiet murmur. "She is a witch. I would be a fool not to treat her as one."
Erina leaned back slightly, hands folded in her lap, her eyes steady on Darrion. She tapped her fingers lightly against the wood of the table. "If that is the case… then why not watch her more closely? She is traveling, and a companion will be necessary. I wonder… who might fit that role."
Darrion's eyes narrowed. He placed the spoon beside the bowl, the sound faint against the wood. His voice came out firm and unshaken. "I'd rather kill myself than associate with a witch."
Erina twirled a strand of hair around her finger, eyes fixed on him with a teasing grin. "But… I don't think you can just let her roam free like that. After all… you said yourself she's dangerous."
"Yeah… she's a threat to mankind, after all," Darrion muttered, fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his bowl. "I'll think about this tomorrow."
A sudden crunch echoed across the room. Nora's cheeks moved as she chewed, the faint scrape of her teeth against her spoon cutting through the tension.
Erina's lips curved into a gentle smile, her fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she watched Nora.
"You sure do eat a lot, Miss Nora."
She let out a small chuckle, the sound light and warm.
Nora's cheeks moved with each bite, the wooden spoon clinking against the bowl. She swallowed and leaned slightly forward. "Thwis food is too Gufd," she murmured, lifting another spoonful.
Darrion folded his arms, the metal of his gauntlets pressing lightly against his chest. His eyes narrowed slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows as he watched Nora, irritation pressing at the edge of his patience.
"This woman has no manners. Barbaric, if you ask me."
"Hey! I heard that. How dare you. I am lady. I was taught manners," her voice sharp and pointed.
Darrion let out a quiet breath, jaw muscles tensing. "Well… that is hard to believe."
Erin's shoulders shook slightly as a soft chuckle escaped him.
Erina's laugh spilled through the room, her fingers tapping lightly on her lap. "What a lively meal this has become."
As the meal came to an end, Darrion set his spoon down and began stacking the bowls. Erina stood and joined him without a word, gathering the plates and bowls one by one. The quiet rhythm of their movement filled the room — the soft clink of dishes, the scrape of wood, the faint splash of water in the basin.
Nora stretched her arms, feeling the ache in her muscles, and let out a long yawn. She slowly rubbed her eyes, the tiredness settling deep into her bones.
"I think the day finally caught up to me," she murmured, her voice soft and sluggish. "All that walking... it really took its toll."
Erina wiped her hands on a cloth, the fabric pulling slightly at her fingers, before turning to Nora. Her voice was soft but clear, carrying a calm invitation.
"Come with me," she offered, the quiet rustle of her clothing filling the small space as she moved. "You can rest in my room tonight. There's an extra bedroll."
Nora smiled brightly, though her eyes had a soft, tired gleam to them. "Thanks! I don't think I could stay awake much longer," she replied, her voice light but laced with the heaviness of exhaustion.
She stood, the slight drag in her movement evident as her clothes rustled. Despite the weariness, she bounced a little on her toes before following Erina toward the back room.
Before leaving, Erina turned her head toward Erin, her hand still resting on the doorframe. "Show Darrion where the washroom is, and give him some spare clothes from the chest. He's been in those for too long; I doubt he could rest like that."
Her voice carried a quiet firmness, the kind that left little room for argument.
Erin nodded quickly, his movements sharp and efficient as he adjusted his shirt. "Got it."
Darrion shifted uncomfortably, his fingers brushing the back of his neck. So basically, she's saying I stink, he thought, the discomfort of his clothes pressing against his skin, reminding him of how long it had been since he'd had a chance to change.
As the two women disappeared into the back, the sound of their footsteps faded, leaving only the quiet crackle of the oil lamps and the soft clatter of Erin rummaging through the old chest.
Erina led Nora down the short hallway, the floor creaking softly under their steps. She pushed open a wooden door and gestured inside. The room was modest but warm — a small table by the window, a dresser, and two bedrolls neatly laid out on the floor. The faint scent of dried herbs hung in the air.
Erina gestured toward the bedroll near the window, her hand moving with a smooth, practiced motion. "You can take that one," she offered, her voice quiet but clear as she handed Nora a bundle of clothes, the fabric warm and fresh against her fingertips.
Nora sat down with a tired sigh, the weight of the day pulling at her shoulders as they slumped forward. She gave a small, soft laugh, her voice quieter than usual. "I didn't realize how heavy my legs were until now."
Erina smiled faintly, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the lamp as she knelt beside it. She turned the wick down slowly, the light flickering before dimming to a soft glow. "Travel does that to you," she murmured, her tone gentle but knowing. "You've come a long way."
"Yes," Nora replied softly, her voice carrying the weight of memories. She shifted slightly, her gaze drifting toward the faint outline of the window, the soft glow of moonlight casting shadows across her face. "From the Hind Mountains. I was there with my master, but now..." Her voice trailed off, a hint of unease in the way her shoulders tensed. "Now I'm in a place where I have to be careful about revealing my powers. People will see me as a monster."
Erina looked at Nora quietly for a moment, her hands resting loosely on her knees, the fabric of her clothes shifting slightly as she sat still. Her gaze was steady, soft but firm. "I don't see a monster," she replied, her voice calm and direct. "I see someone who saved us when it mattered."
Nora's eyes lowered, her fingers absently brushing over the edge of the blanket, the fabric soft but worn beneath her touch. "Maybe," she murmured, her voice quieter now, filled with a lingering sadness. "But people don't see what you see, Erina. They see fire and destruction."
"Then they're blind." Erina's tone held a quiet firmness, the kind that left no space for doubt. She drew in a slow breath, her hands tightening slightly on her knees before easing again. "Anyone who was here today knows you protected this village — even if they didn't know you carry fiend's blood in your veins. You knew the risk of being discovered, yet you still saved them… and me."
Her gaze softened, steady and unwavering. "Even my brother can tell the difference between harm and help. If anything, you're more human than anyone I know."
Nora glanced over, a flicker of surprise passing through her as she noticed the gentleness in Erina's voice. She paused, her fingers lightly trailing over the soft fabric of the blanket. "You really mean that?"
Erina gave a small nod, her posture relaxed yet steady, as if the weight of her words had settled deep within her. "I do." Her voice was firm, but warm. "Not everyone out there's against you, Nora. You just haven't met the right people yet."
Nora smiled a little, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. "You're kind, Erina," she murmured, the edges of her lips lifting. "I'm glad I met you and your brother. But I can't say the same for that knight—he's a meanie."
Erina chuckled softly, the sound warm and a little teasing. She stood, her fingers smoothing out the blanket near her, the fabric rustling under her touch. "You deserve a night's rest, that's all." She glanced at Nora with a gentle smile. "We'll figure things out in the morning."
Nora gave a quiet "mm" and lay down, pulling the blanket up to her chin. The fabric rustled softly as she settled, and within moments, her breathing slowed, steady and deep, filling the room with a sense of calm.
Erina watched her for a few seconds longer, her eyes tracing the rise and fall of Nora's chest. The lamplight flickered softly, casting a warm glow across the room. She reached out, the coolness of the air brushing against her fingertips, and turned the flame lower. The light dimmed, fading to a faint ember that barely touched the corners of the room.
Erin lay on his bedroll, wrapped snugly in the blanket. His breathing came deep and even, breaking into soft, rhythmic snores that fluttered through the still air. Every so often, a faint, contented murmur slipped from his lips, the sound blending with the quiet rise and fall of his breath. He slept peacefully, unaware of the subtle tension lingering elsewhere in the room.
Darrion stretched out on his own bedroll, hands clasped behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the window, watching the faint shadows of the village beyond. His posture was casual, almost lazy, but there was an alertness in his eyes, the quiet weight of thought hidden behind the nonchalant stance.
Darrion rolled onto his back and propped his hands behind his head. He reached up, fingers finding the pendant tucked beneath his shirt. He drew it out, the metal cool in his palm, and held it up so the lamp light caught the small face engraved on its surface.
For a moment, the room faded from his senses. A memory crept in—soft at first, then clear. A little girl with a crooked braid and a gap-toothed smile looked up at him, sunlight glinting off her eyes. Her small hands pushed a torn piece of bread into his palm, warm from her touch. "Big brother," she had called him, voice full of trust he never deserved. Her laughter lingered in the air, bright and fleeting.
The vision snapped apart. Darrion let out a rough breath, the sound cutting through the stillness. His fingers tightened around the pendant until his knuckles turned pale, the metal biting into his skin.
A long, steady breath left him. They will pay. His jaw flexed; his fingers tightened on the pendant until the metal pressed into his palm.
In the hush between breaths the next line came, calm and measured: All fiends and witches will die by my blade.