The house was silent long before dawn arrived, wrapped in the cold stillness that comes just before the world wakes. A single lantern flickered softly near the fireplace, its dim glow casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. Cade sat alone beside the dying embers, staring quietly at the armor laid out before him piece by piece. Outside, pale fog drifted through the village roads while the faint sound of wind brushed against the walls of the home he had spent years building. It felt strange knowing this would be the last morning he would ever spend there.
For a long while, he simply looked at the armor without touching it. The blackened steel carried years of scars, scratches, and dents earned across countless battlefields long before Lyrica had ever entered his life. Silver edges still traced portions of the plating beneath the soot-darkened metal, remnants of what the armor had once been before dragonfire permanently altered its appearance. Once, it had belonged to an ordinary knight who believed wars could truly end and heroes could save everyone. That version of Cade felt like another person entirely now.
Slowly, Cade reached down and picked up the first piece: the left gauntlet. The leather straps creaked softly as he secured it around his forearm, his eyes drifting toward the deep fracture running near the wrist plate. He remembered exactly where that damage came from, though he wished he did not. Hollow Reach. Collapsing walls. Screaming soldiers buried beneath stone while fire rained from above. He had been young then, still foolish enough to believe strength alone could protect everyone around him.
Next came the right gauntlet, darker than the other from old scorch marks that never fully faded. Deep claw marks cut across the surface where a drake had nearly torn his arm away during one of the northern campaigns years ago. Cade could still remember the smell of burning snow and blood mixing together beneath black skies while exhausted soldiers fought through the storm around him. That battle had been one of the first times people called him the Kingslayer. Even now, hearing the title in his head felt heavy rather than honorable.
Piece by piece, the armor returned to him. The heavy boots. The chainmail beneath the plating. The shoulder guards cracked from old impacts that would have killed most men outright. Finally, Cade lifted the chestplate into his hands, pausing briefly before sliding it over himself carefully. The familiar weight settled across his body immediately, cold and unforgiving, yet strangely comforting in a way he hated admitting.
The armor changed him every time he wore it. His posture straightened naturally beneath the steel while old instincts sharpened themselves quietly in the back of his mind. The village teacher who repaired fences and taught children about history slowly disappeared behind scorched black armor and silver scars. Yet no matter how much the armor resembled the Kingslayer the world remembered, Cade knew something was different now. Years ago he wore this armor to destroy enemies. Now he wore it to protect what remained.
"You always wake up before the sun?"
Lyrica's sleepy voice broke gently through the silence behind him. Cade glanced toward the doorway where she stood clutching a folded travel cloak tightly against her chest. Her dark hair looked messy from sleep, and exhaustion still lingered in her eyes, though beneath it sat something heavier. Sadness. The reality of leaving had finally settled over both of them completely.
"Couldn't sleep much," Cade admitted quietly as he fastened another strap into place.
Lyrica stepped closer, her gaze slowly drifting across the armor now covering most of him. She had seen pieces of it before scattered around the house, but never the full image assembled together. Standing there now, Cade looked less like her father and more like one of the ancient warriors described in the old stories he taught at school. The realization clearly unsettled her despite how hard she tried hiding it.
"It looks heavier than I imagined," she whispered after a moment.
Cade let out a faint breath through his nose, almost a laugh. "That's because it is."
He stood slowly from the chair beside the fireplace, every movement accompanied by the low groan of aged steel shifting around him. Even after years without wearing it regularly, the armor still moved naturally with him like it belonged there. That familiarity bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Part of him feared how easy it still felt to become the Kingslayer again when the armor returned.
Lyrica seemed to notice the shift in his expression immediately. "You're still you, Dad," she said softly.
Cade looked at her quietly for a few seconds before nodding once. "I know."
Outside, dawn finally began creeping over the horizon in pale streaks of gold and gray. Mist drifted lazily through the village roads while smoke slowly curled from chimneys as homes awoke for the morning. Their wagon sat waiting outside already packed with supplies, weapons, blankets, books, and the few belongings they could realistically carry. Looking at it made everything feel painfully real.
Word of their departure had spread quietly through the village overnight. By the time Cade and Lyrica stepped into the road, several villagers already stood waiting nearby despite the early hour. Nobody made a scene about it. Nobody shouted dramatic farewells or tried convincing them to stay. The silence hurt more than any argument would have.
Thorn stood near the wagon tightening the final straps securing supplies to the back. The old dwarf glanced up once Cade approached before snorting softly beneath his beard. "Armor still looks ugly," he muttered.
Cade smirked faintly. "Good morning to you too."
Nearby, several children stared openly at the armor with wide-eyed fascination. One little boy clutched a wooden practice sword Cade had carved for him months earlier after class. Two older students stood awkwardly beside the road pretending not to cry while clearly failing at it. Watching them nearly broke something inside Cade's chest.
Villagers approached one by one quietly over the next several minutes. A farmer handed Cade extra food wrapped carefully in cloth for the road ahead. The blacksmith offered sharpened hunting knives without asking for payment. An elderly woman pressed a carved wooden charm into Lyrica's hands while whispering a prayer for safe travels beneath her breath. None of them treated Cade like a monster despite knowing exactly who stood beneath the armor.
That was the part he would miss most.
"You built something good here," Thorn said quietly once the others stepped away again.
Cade's eyes drifted toward the schoolhouse standing near the edge of the village square. Morning sunlight touched the windows softly now, illuminating the old building where he had spent years teaching children instead of fighting wars. The sight made his chest ache in ways battle wounds never could. For the first time in years, he truly understood what home meant.
"I tried," Cade answered honestly.
The dwarf studied him carefully before nodding once. "That's more than most people ever do."
After a moment, Cade reached into one of the wagon compartments and removed an old iron key hanging from a worn leather cord. Without speaking, he placed it into Thorn's rough hand carefully. The dwarf stared down at it silently for several long seconds before looking back up again.
"The school?" Thorn asked quietly.
Cade nodded once. "Keep it open."
Emotion flickered briefly across the dwarf's face before he hid it behind another gruff grunt. "You trust me with a lot."
"I know," Cade replied.
Lyrica returned a few moments later after saying her final goodbyes to several friends near the square. Her eyes looked red despite her obvious attempts to hide it. Cade noticed immediately but chose not to mention it. Some pain deserved silence instead of comfort. He simply rested one armored hand gently against her shoulder.
"We ready?" he asked softly.
Lyrica took one final look around the village before nodding slowly. Together they climbed onto the wagon while villagers quietly stepped aside along the road ahead. The horse shifted impatiently beneath the cold morning air as Cade gathered the reins into his hands. Nobody spoke while the wagon finally began rolling forward.
Slowly, the village disappeared behind them piece by piece. The schoolhouse vanished first beyond the trees, followed by the rooftops, smoke, and familiar roads they had walked for years together. Lyrica continued looking backward long after everything faded from sight entirely. Cade understood the feeling because part of him wanted to turn around too.
But he didn't.
Because somewhere beyond the horizon, the world was already waiting for the Kingslayer in Black to return once more.