The wind had lost its teeth.
For the first time in weeks, Kairo could feel warmth on his face, not much, just a faint pulse of life sneaking through the thinning snow.
The mountains behind him looked like pale ghosts dissolving into the clouds. Each step he took downhill made the air softer, wetter, more alive.
He didn't realize how much he had missed the sound of running water until he heard it, an unseen stream, laughing somewhere beneath the rocks.
The Specter Heart inside his chest pulsed in a slow rhythm, quieter now.It almost felt like it was resting.
He stopped beside a cracked stone marker and looked down the valley. The trail wound through patches of brown earth and frost-bitten grass, toward a thin forest glowing faintly gold in the morning sun. Beyond that, smoke. Villages. Life.
For the first time since leaving Norveil, he smiled.It was a tired smile, small and uncertain, but it was there.
He reached the village by dusk.
It wasn't much, half a dozen crooked houses leaning against the wind, a blacksmith's hut glowing orange through a narrow window, and a tavern whose wooden sign swayed back and forth with a long-forgotten tune.
Kairo tied his worn cloak tighter and stepped inside.
The heat hit him like a wave. Inside, men laughed over mugs, someone played a half-tuned lute, and the smell of baked grain filled the air. For a moment, he felt like an intruder in a world that had moved on without him.
He walked to a corner table and sat down. The innkeeper, a woman with streaks of gray in her hair, approached with a cautious smile.
"Long way from the north, aren't you?"
Kairo nodded. "You could say that."
She placed a bowl of stew in front of him. "Eat first. Questions later."
He didn't argue.
The warmth spread through him with each bite. His shoulders eased, and the noise of the tavern began to fade into a low hum. He was almost at peace until a loud voice cut through the chatter.
"Didn't expect to find a ghost in a place like this."
Kairo looked up.
A man in light armor stood across the room, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was young, maybe Kairo's age, but his eyes were sharp, filled with the kind of reckless curiosity that only came from someone who had seen death and decided to chase it again.
The man grinned. "Name's Riven. Mercenary. And you, traveler?"
Kairo hesitated, then said quietly, "Kairo."
"Just Kairo?"
"That's enough."
Riven laughed. "Fair enough. You've got the look of a fighter. Join me for a drink?"
Kairo glanced at his half-empty bowl. "…Sure."
Riven sat across from him, motioning for two mugs. As the drinks came, Kairo studied him, short brown hair, a scar over one eyebrow, a voice that carried more warmth than arrogance.
"So," Riven said, taking a gulp. "Where are you headed?"
"South. The capital."
"Ah, the big tournament." He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "You planning to fight?"
Kairo didn't answer.
Riven smirked. "You've got that look. The kind that doesn't say 'merchant' or 'pilgrim.' You've got soldier's hands."
"I used to be a soldier," Kairo said softly.
"Used to be?"
Kairo looked down at the table. "Now I'm just walking."
Something in his voice made Riven quiet. For a long moment, neither spoke. The fire in the hearth crackled, filling the silence.
Then, from across the tavern, came the sound of a lute, gentle, uncertain, like a question being asked in music.
Kairo turned.
A girl stood near the fireplace, playing. Her hair was light brown, tied with a red ribbon. Her clothes were simple but clean, her posture graceful. When she sang, her voice carried sadness in it, soft but piercing.
The song was about a knight who had lost his name in a blizzard but still kept walking because he had to remember the warmth of spring.
When she finished, the tavern fell silent. Even Riven didn't speak.
She smiled shyly and bowed. "Thank you," she said, before packing the lute into a small case.
Riven was the first to break the silence. "That voice… You're not from here, are you?"
The girl turned, startled. "No. I am a Traveler. I sing for stories and meals."
Riven grinned. "Then join us. You've already captivated the room."
She hesitated, then approached their table. "If you insist."
"I'm Riven," he said, gesturing toward Kairo. "And this quiet one is Kairo."
She met Kairo's eyes. There was no fear there, only curiosity."Nice to meet you. I'm Lyn."
That night, the three of them sat by the fire long after the tavern emptied.
Riven told stories of mercenary work in the southern dunes; Lyn hummed melodies of places Kairo had never heard of. And when they finally fell silent, Kairo found himself… listening. Really listening.
The warmth of their laughter felt strange to him, like something he had forgotten belonged to people.
When the candles burned low, Lyn asked softly, "What are you really looking for, Kairo?"
He stared into the fire. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe… a reason to keep walking."
Lyn smiled faintly. "Then walk with us for a while. Maybe you'll find it."
Riven raised his mug. "To the road ahead."
Kairo hesitated, then raised his own. "To the road."
Their mugs clinked. The firelight caught the faint glint of the silver veins beneath Kairo's skin, the heartbeat of the Specter Heart pulsing quietly, as if listening.