I nodded once, storing the information away. "And the girl?"
"Two lanes down, past the broken well. Third shack on the right." She grimaced. "Adam… please. Leave it. Those two already nearly killed her. If anyone pokes them again, they'll finish the job."
Others murmured agreement, trying to dissuade me—warning me about repercussions, about trouble I didn't need, about how nothing ever changed here except for the worse.
I held their eyes one by one.
"I grew up being taught to help people who are being hurt," I said quietly. "And I have a Memory capable of regeneration."
That silenced them.
A few looked away, ashamed. A few swallowed, resigned. The woman sighed heavily. "…You'll do what you want anyway."
"Probably," I admitted with a small, rueful smile.
I reached into my bag, pulled out one last packet of food—the emergency one I usually kept for the most desperate—and placed it gently into the hands of the nearest Sleeper.
Then I stood, dusted off my hands, and jerked my chin toward Sasrir.
"Come on. We're going."
Sasrir straightened instantly from his lean against the wall, the air around him shifting from relaxed menace to ready violence. Without a word, he fell into step beside me.
Together, the two of us walked toward the direction of Kai Nightingale and the wounded girl—toward whatever we were about to find.
-------------------------
The shack was a little larger than the others around it—patched with mismatched planks, crooked at the seams, but at least not caving in. Someone had tried to keep it clean. Someone had cared.
I knocked lightly.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then came the faint rustle of movement—shuffling, a soft thump, something metallic being dragged aside. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant, uneven.
The latch clicked.
Kai eased the door open just wide enough to peer out.
He looked… exhausted. Dark circles bruised the skin under his electric green eyes, and his normally perfect auburn hair was tied back sloppily, strands escaping everywhere. But the moment he recognized me and Sasrir, his wariness melted into confusion.
"You two… from the Castle gate," he said quietly.
"That's us," I replied. "We heard what happened. We're here to help."
Instantly, Kai's expression hardened—fear, defensiveness, and a restrained, simmering anger all passing through those too-beautiful features.
"No," he said shortly. "You can't. I don't need—this. And I can't trust—"
I lifted my hand.
The Regenerative Bloom unfolded from my palm like liquid crystal, petals unfurling with a soft, breathlike motion. The gem pulsed with verdant light, green washing over the muddy street and reflecting in Kai's stunned eyes.
Sasrir stood silent behind me, arms crossed, the mere shape of him radiating readiness.
Kai swallowed.
"That's…" His voice grew small. "A healing Memory?"
"Regenerative," I corrected gently. "Strong. Effective. And we're offering it freely."
He looked between us—first at me, then at Sasrir—trying to find the trick, the hidden angle, the inevitable cruelty.
There wasn't one.
Finally, with a shaky exhale, he stepped aside.
"…Alright," he murmured. "Come in."
The interior smelled faintly of herbs, mold, and dried blood. It was dim, lit only by a single shard of sunlight filtering through a gap in the boards. In the far corner, on a thin bed stuffed with old cloth, a young woman lay motionless.
Her breathing was shallow. Her skin was grey and waxen. Bandages around her abdomen were soaked a dark, rusted red.
Kai hovered near her like a wounded animal, fear and shame and protectiveness twisting his expression.
"This is Mira," he said softly. "My friend."
I stepped closer, the Bloom pulsing warmly in my hand.
Time to see how bad the damage really was.
The Bloom's light dimmed after the second drop sank into Mira's skin.
Her breathing, once thin as a whisper, deepened. The ghastly tension in her face loosened. Color didn't quite return—she was still pale, still frighteningly frail—but the immediate danger, the slow slide toward death… that was gone.
Malnourishment, infection, the rot settling into her wounds—none of that made it easy. The Bloom struggled, I could feel it, as if pushing through muck. But it worked. The worst had been pulled back from the edge.
Kai leaned over her, hands shaking slightly as he checked her pulse, her bandages, the rise and fall of her chest. Every breath she took made his shoulders sink lower in relief.
"She's… she's stable," he whispered. "Actually… stable."
He looked up at me, green eyes shining—grateful, overwhelmed, and unsure of what to do with either emotion. For a moment, he just stood there, lips parted, trying to find words.
Then he abruptly dipped forward, not quite a bow but still close to one.
"Thank you," he said earnestly. "I—I don't have enough to repay you, but I can give—wait, hold on—"
He spun around, rummaging through a small chest. Coins clinked. Cloth rustled. A Soul Shard flashed dully. He looked like he meant to empty the entire shack if needed.
"No, no," I said, stepping in. "Kai, stop. You don't owe me anything for this."
"But I—this kind of healing—this has to be worth—"
"It isn't," I cut him off. "Not when it comes to saving someone. Keep it."
He frowned, offended now. "That's ridiculous. You can't just—"
"I can," I said, "and I did."
"That's not how these things work!"
"That's exactly how they work for me."
We both glared at each other, one stubborn out of principle, the other out of gratitude so intense it was panicking him. Kai opened his mouth to continue arguing—
Sasrir placed a hand on my shoulder. Hard.
Then he addressed Kai with icy calm:
"If you truly want to repay us," he said, "join us on our next hunt. You're an archer. It will be useful."
Kai blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…That's it?"
Sasrir shrugged. "Payment enough."
Kai looked between us—my irritated expression, Sasrir's unreadable stare—and finally, finally let himself breathe.
"Alright," he said softly. "I'll join you."
Some of the tension drained from his posture. His shoulders relaxed. Even the lines around his eyes eased.
For the first time since we'd stepped into the shack, Kai Nightingale actually looked like a person again—not a cornered beast, not a desperate friend, but someone letting out the breath they'd been holding for days.
"…Thank you," he murmured once more. "Both of you."
And this time, he didn't reach for anything to give in return.
I smiled at Kai's soft thanks—couldn't help it. He looked like someone who'd been drowning and finally got to breathe.
But the moment passed. My smile faded. My voice hardened.
"We're not done here."
Kai straightened, confused. "…What?"
I folded my arms. "The two Guards who did this—Ardan and Malik. I won't let them get away with this."
The change in him was instant.
Those electric green eyes darkened, cooling into something bitter. His jaw clenched. His fingers curled at his sides. Anger radiated off him, sharp enough to taste, yet underneath it… resignation.
"Those two," he muttered. "Of course."