Thalia teleported.
And the world snapped back into place around her—trees, cold air, damp earth, and the hush of a forest that didn't know what she'd done.
She didn't land standing.
The moment her feet hit ground, her legs gave out and she dropped to her knees outside a small village tucked between pines and fog.
Her breath came out sharp.
Her hands trembled.
And then the words she'd heard echoed again, louder now that everything was quiet.
That was Master's voice.
And what he told me…
They're alive.
The sentence cracked something open inside her.
She cried.
Not quietly.
Not neatly.
Just tears spilling down her face as she knelt in the forest dirt, relief and disbelief twisting together until she couldn't separate them.
Her mother.
Her nephew.
Alive.
And if Master Kaeru was with them—
then they weren't just alive.
They were safe.
For the first time in years, Thalia felt hope without immediately crushing it.
She wiped her face hard with her sleeve.
No time.
She couldn't waste time.
Not now.
She stood, steadied her breath, and entered the village as quietly and quickly as she could manage.
The village was small—wooden buildings, stone-lined paths, lanterns hanging from beams, smoke rising from chimneys. A place built to be forgotten by the larger world.
Which meant it was perfect for hiding people.
She began searching immediately.
Hadeon.
Robin.
Nyelle's old report replayed in her mind: Star's friends were still knights—just not Drakenshade knights anymore. They served a noble family in a village like this. Quiet. Isolated. Protected.
High-ranking knights, too.
That narrowed the search.
If they were here, they'd be near the manor.
Near the noble's keep.
Near the only place in town that could afford walls worth standing behind.
But finding them was easier than making them speak to her.
She knew that.
And she wasn't willing to give up anyway.
She moved down the main path toward the center of the village—
and was stopped immediately.
A knight stepped into her way, armored but clean, posture disciplined, eyes sharp with the kind of vigilance that didn't come from corruption.
"Identification," he said.
No insult.
No arrogance.
Just procedure.
Thalia's stomach tightened.
She kept her face neutral and reached into her cloak, pulling out her knight's crest.
The metal was familiar against her fingers.
A symbol that once meant honor.
Now it meant permission.
She held it out.
The guard's gaze flicked to it, then back to her face.
He nodded once, stepping aside.
"Welcome," he said simply.
Because nobles of this village were still nobles of Drakenshade.
And a crest was still a crest.
Thalia walked past him.
But her mind didn't ease.
Because there was a problem.
This village's nobles didn't deal in corruption.
They fought it.
And if even one former prisoner lived here—
if even one person who had been enslaved recognized her—
Thalia wouldn't be arrested and tried.
She would be quietly processed.
Thrown in a cell.
And sold off as a work-slave to another kingdom.
It would be clean.
Legal.
And no one would call it injustice.
They'd call it consequence.
Thalia kept walking anyway.
Because fear had never stopped her before.
And because this time, she wasn't searching for power.
She was searching for the only two people who might move fast enough to reach Master Kaeru before the world's rot did.
✦Robin at the Door
Thalia kept moving.
Nyelle's old information pointed her to a house near the edge of the village—clean wood, sturdy frame, quiet enough that it didn't invite questions. The kind of place a noble family's knights would stay when they wanted to be left alone.
She stepped up to the door and knocked.
Once.
Then again.
No answer.
She lifted her hand to knock a third time—
"Who are you?"
The voice came from behind her.
Thalia froze.
Slowly, she turned.
A woman stood in the lane—armor under a cloak, hair tied back, posture controlled. Her presence was sharp in a way Thalia hadn't expected.
It was Robin.
But not the Robin Thalia remembered.
This Robin looked heavier—not in body, but in life. Like time had taken softness and replaced it with decisions.
And she wasn't alone.
A small boy stood beside her, close enough that their shadows touched. His eyes were wide and curious. He looked like her in the places that mattered.
He tugged at her sleeve.
"Mama… who is that?"
Robin's hand moved instantly, guiding him behind her. Protective without panic. Her eyes never left Thalia.
"Who are you?" she asked again, colder this time.
Thalia swallowed.
"I'm… a friend of Star," she said. "Or I was."
Robin's guard lowered slightly—just slightly.
But her hand stayed behind her, holding her child's.
"Why are you here?" Robin asked.
Thalia exhaled once.
"I need your help," she said. "And Hadeon's."
Robin didn't flinch. She didn't soften either.
"With what?"
Thalia chose the simplest truth first.
"My master was kidnapped," she said. "He's being sold. Enslaved."
Robin's eyes narrowed.
Thalia kept going before she could be cut off.
"And—my mother and my nephew were taken too."
Robin stared for a long moment.
Then asked the question that mattered.
"Why come here?"
Thalia's first answer rose immediately in her mind:
Because Master told me to.
But she couldn't say that.
Not like that.
Not without sounding insane.
Not without sounding like she was still someone else's puppet—just with a different master.
So she gave Robin the truth instead.
The one truth that could explain everything.
"I worked with Zeljrok," Thalia said quietly.
Robin's eyes hardened instantly.
Thalia continued before Robin could move.
"I helped him. And did terrible things for money." She swallowed hard. "I was one of the corrupted knights. I turned a blind eye to things and did nothing to stop it."
Robin shifted her stance.
Fully guarded now.
Her child's small hand tightened around her cloak as she drew him closer.
Thalia raised both hands.
"No," she said quickly. "I'm not here to hurt you. I stopped helping him. I'm trying to stop him. I just—"
Her voice cracked.
"I just want them back."
Robin didn't lower her guard.
She didn't attack either.
She simply watched Thalia like she was deciding whether to believe a wolf claiming it had learned regret.
Then Robin spoke.
"Why?"
The question landed bluntly.
Not why are you here.
Why did you do it.
Thalia lowered her head.
For a moment she didn't answer.
Because the answer was humiliating.
Silly.
Pathetic.
And saying it out loud would make it real.
But she needed help.
So she forced herself to speak.
She repeated Robin's question under her breath like it might make it easier.
"Why did I help him…"
Then she answered.
"When I was younger," Thalia said, voice tight, "Luke received praise from everyone… even though he had no mana or aura."
She swallowed.
"The bullying turned into admiration."
People would say:
"Luke is amazing."
"Imagine how great he'd be if he had mana."
"Even without power he's brilliant."
"What a tragic waste of talent."
Her fists clenched.
"Meanwhile I did have power."
"I trained."
"I fought."
"I bled."
"I even became a knight."
Her voice trembled.
"But whenever people spoke about the Kestrel children… it was always—"
She breathed in sharply.
"Poor Luke."
She laughed once, bitter.
"Never 'Good job, Thalia.'"
Tears gathered fast.
She hated them for showing up.
She kept talking anyway.
"So when Zeljrok approached me—as the knight captain—and said…"
Thalia's voice dropped, imitating him without meaning to.
"You know… everyone talks about your brother."
"But you're the dangerous one."
Thalia's face twisted.
"That was enough."
"He took me under his wing."
"He taught me how to be seen."
"And when I found out about the corruption—"
Her throat tightened.
"I didn't run."
"I didn't expose him."
"I helped."
Her breath hitched and tears slipped down her cheeks now, unstoppable.
"Because I was afraid the attention I was finally getting would disappear with him."
She wiped her face roughly.
"And when my brother exposed him… I was angry."
"Like Luke was trying to drag me back under his shadow."
Her voice cracked again.
"I realize how stupid it sounds."
She looked up, eyes wet and raw.
"I nearly helped destroy everything… because someone complimented me."
Silence followed.
Only Thalia's uneven breathing.
And the small sound of Robin's child shifting behind her.
Robin didn't laugh.
She didn't sigh.
She just looked at Thalia for a long moment.
Then she said:
"Yeah."
Her voice was calm.
"That's pretty stupid."
Thalia flinched, shoulders tightening.
Robin crossed her arms, but her tone didn't sharpen.
"But it's also human."
She shifted and lifted her son into her arms, holding him easily.
"People don't betray kingdoms for grand ideals as often as stories like to pretend," Robin said. "They do it for things like that."
She gestured lightly toward Thalia.
"Feeling ignored."
"Feeling small."
"Wanting someone to look at you and say you matter."
Thalia wiped her face again, but couldn't bring herself to look away.
Robin watched her for another beat.
Then continued.
"But you know the stupidest part?"
Thalia's brows furrowed slightly.
Robin let out a small breath through her nose.
"Your brother never thought you were in his shadow."
That made Thalia look up fully.
Robin met her eyes.
"When I met Luke in his shop," Robin said, "Luke talked about you like you were some legendary knight."
A faint hint of a smile touched her mouth.
"He thought you were terrifying."
Thalia's expression cracked.
Robin's voice softened slightly.
"He once told me he wished he had even half your courage."
Thalia looked like she'd been struck.
Robin held her child closer.
"You thought everyone only saw Luke," she said quietly.
"But Luke?"
She shook her head.
"He only ever saw you."
Robin's gaze steadied.
"And for what it's worth…"
She shrugged lightly.
"You were right about one thing."
Thalia blinked through tears.
Robin nodded toward her.
"You are the dangerous one."
"But not because some corrupt captain said so."
Robin's tone softened again.
"Because you were brave enough to admit something that pathetic out loud."
She turned slightly toward the house.
"That takes more guts than most knights I know."
Robin looked back at her.
"So yeah."
"We'll help you."
Thalia's breath caught.
Robin lifted a finger before she could speak.
"But not because of your guilt."
Her gaze sharpened.
"We'll help you because now you're finally being honest."
She paused.
Then a faint smirk appeared.
"And because if Luke finds out you cried like this in front of me…"
Robin's eyes narrowed playfully.
"I'm never letting you live it down."
Thalia let out a choked laugh through tears she didn't even bother to wipe anymore.
Robin turned toward the door.
"Hadeon!" she called.
"We've got work."
✦Tea With Old Ghosts
Robin's house was warm.
Not "rich" warm—no gilded corners or polished vanity—but lived-in warmth. Clean wooden floors. A small hearth that smelled like pine and simmering herbs. A table scarred with knife marks and ink stains, the kind of damage you only get from people who actually use their furniture.
Thalia stepped inside and immediately did what she always did in unfamiliar rooms:
She scanned.
Windows.
Exits.
Sightlines.
Where someone could hide.
Then a small voice shattered her concentration.
"Are you a knight?"
The boy stood a few steps away, staring up at her with the fearless curiosity only children had—the kind that didn't understand why adults sometimes flinched when questions got too close.
He tilted his head.
"Like my dad?"
Thalia's throat tightened.
The boy's face—something about the shape of his cheeks, the brightness in his eyes—hit her like a memory.
Her nephew.
The one she hadn't seen in years.
The one she hadn't even been allowed to ask about without feeling the weight of what she'd done.
"Yes," Thalia answered, forcing her voice steady. "I'm a knight."
The boy nodded as if that explained everything, then stepped closer like he was about to ask more—
Robin's hand touched his shoulder gently.
"Go on," she said, soft but firm. "Give the grownups a moment."
He pouted, but obeyed, padding into the adjacent room and disappearing behind a half-open curtain.
Thalia exhaled quietly.
Her hands felt cold.
She wanted to see her nephew so badly it made her ribs hurt. Wanted to apologize to Luke, not with words, but with something real—something that could rewind time.
But rewinding time wasn't a thing mortals got.
Robin returned with tea.
She carried two cups and set one in front of Thalia.
The steam rose in thin curls, smelling faintly of citrus and something floral.
Robin sat across from her, took a slow sip, and watched Thalia over the rim of the cup like she was studying a page she hadn't decided whether to trust yet.
"I contacted my husband," Robin said. "He'll be here in a few."
Thalia blinked, then the thought she'd been circling finally landed.
"Is… Hadeon your husband?"
Robin choked on her tea.
It wasn't graceful.
She coughed once, then twice, eyes watering as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand.
Thalia stiffened, instantly regretting the question.
Robin cleared her throat, cheeks faintly pink.
"Yes," she said firmly.
Then, quieter, embarrassed despite herself: "Unfortunately for him."
Thalia stared.
Robin's expression stayed composed for a full second.
Then she cracked a small grin and sipped her tea like nothing had happened.
Thalia slowly lifted her own cup, letting the warmth settle into her hands.
A new question hung in the air, heavier than the tea.
Robin's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What kind of person is your master?"
Thalia blinked once.
Then again.
For a moment she looked like she'd completely forgotten how to speak.
"Well," she started, then stopped.
Her mind scrambled—trying to choose the "safe" description, the "normal" one, the one that didn't sound insane.
Robin leaned forward, elbows on the table, expression bright with interest like she'd just found a story worth reading.
"He's strange," Thalia finally said.
"Strange?" Robin repeated, a small grin forming.
Thalia nodded.
"He's calm about things he shouldn't be calm about."
Robin raised an eyebrow.
"How so?"
Thalia stared into her tea, voice quieter now as if speaking too loudly might summon him.
"For example… if a monster twice the size of a house appeared in front of him…"
She paused.
"He'd probably stare at it for a moment and say something like—"
Thalia's voice dropped into an almost perfect imitation, flat and thoughtful:
"Huh…that's interesting."
Robin snorted into her tea.
"And that's your master?"
Thalia nodded again, more reluctantly.
"He also does things that make no sense."
"Such as?" Robin asked, clearly enjoying this.
Thalia's mouth tightened.
"He'll say something incredibly wise…"
She gestured vaguely.
"Then five minutes later do something completely ridiculous."
Robin laughed softly.
"That sounds like a man."
Thalia frowned.
"But he's also…"
She stopped herself.
Robin caught it instantly.
"Oh?" Her smile widened. "But he's also what?"
Thalia looked uncomfortable now, like the next word didn't belong in her mouth.
"…Kind," she admitted.
Robin's expression shifted, just slightly less playful.
"Kind how?"
Thalia's gaze dropped.
"He saved people he didn't need to save," she said quietly. "He… could've ignored them. He could've walked away. He didn't."
Robin hummed.
"Mysterious."
Thalia nodded.
"And annoying."
Robin laughed again.
"Those traits usually come together."
Robin studied Thalia's face for a moment—reading the softening in her eyes, the way the word kind had changed her tone.
Then she asked the next question like she was tossing a pebble into still water just to see the ripple.
"So…"
She took another sip.
"Is he handsome?"
Thalia nearly dropped her cup.
Robin burst out laughing immediately, loud and bright.
"That reaction answers the question."
"I did not—" Thalia started.
"You absolutely did," Robin said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Alright, alright."
She waved a hand.
"Next question."
Robin leaned forward like an older sister about to ruin someone's life on purpose.
"Does he know you admire him this much?"
Thalia froze.
"I do not admire him."
Robin raised an eyebrow.
"You just described him like a wandering legend."
Thalia tried to recover, cheeks heating.
"He's my master."
Robin smiled.
"Mhm."
She tapped her cup lightly, then tilted her head.
"And how old is this mysterious, calm, wise, annoying, handsome master of yours?"
Thalia hesitated again.
"…That is complicated."
Robin's grin widened.
"Oh, now I definitely want to meet him."
She leaned back, still smiling, then lifted one finger.
"Last question."
Thalia's shoulders tensed.
Robin pointed lightly at her.
"When he walks into a room…"
She paused dramatically.
"Do you feel calmer?"
Thalia didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
The silence did it for her.
Robin chuckled softly.
"Yeah," she said, voice gentler. "I know that look."
Before Thalia could respond, the front door opened.
A broad figure stepped inside, and the room felt smaller purely because his presence took up space like it had authority.
Hadeon.
He looked older than Thalia expected. Broader too. Not bulky—solid. The heavy build of someone who had never stopped being a knight even after leaving the life behind.
He had the face of a man who looked like he could punch through a wall…
and apologize to the wall afterward.
His eyes moved first to Robin.
Then to Thalia.
Then narrowed slightly.
Robin sipped her tea.
Perfectly calm.
Hadeon looked between the two of them.
"…Why do I feel like I walked into gossip?"
Robin smiled over the rim of her cup.
"Because you did."
Hadeon sighed—the sigh of a man who had known his wife long enough to understand he couldn't win.
"What was it this time?"
Robin pointed at Thalia.
"She was describing her master."
Hadeon's brows lifted.
"Oh?"
Robin's mouth curved with wicked amusement.
"In great detail."
Thalia straightened immediately.
"I was not."
"You were," Robin said, unbothered. "He's calm, mysterious, wise, annoying, and apparently very handsome."
Thalia nearly choked on air.
"I did not say that."
"You didn't have to," Robin replied sweetly.
Hadeon laughed as he stepped further in.
"That bad, huh?"
Robin nodded.
"She nearly dropped her tea when I asked."
Thalia looked like she wanted the floor to split open and swallow her.
Hadeon grinned.
"Oh, this is good."
"There is nothing good about this," Thalia muttered.
Robin set her cup down and leaned back.
"There is for me."
Hadeon moved behind Robin and rested a hand on her shoulder briefly, then looked at Thalia properly. The humor softened.
His tone did too.
"Robin said it was important."
Thalia's embarrassment faded.
The room settled.
She looked at him—then Robin—then finally asked the question that had been sitting in her chest since she saw their child.
"…Why did you leave her behind?"
The humor died completely.
Hadeon's hand slipped from Robin's shoulder.
Robin's gaze dropped to her tea for a second, then flicked toward the other room—toward where their child had gone.
Hadeon followed her eyes.
The silence stretched just long enough to hurt.
Then Hadeon answered.
"Because we were afraid."
Thalia didn't speak.
Robin did.
"When things started getting worse in Drakenshade, we told ourselves it was temporary," Robin said quietly. "That it would pass. That the corruption was only in the upper ranks. That it wouldn't touch us if we kept our heads down."
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
"We were wrong."
Hadeon's jaw shifted.
"The rot spread fast," he said. "Faster than anyone wanted to admit. Good men started following bad orders. Bad men got promoted. People disappeared. Villages got quieter. Bandits got bolder."
His voice hardened.
"And the people who should've been protecting civilians…"
He exhaled, humorless.
"They were the ones civilians started fearing."
Robin glanced toward the other room again.
"I was already pregnant then," she said.
Thalia's eyes moved to the doorway too, understanding forming in the pit of her stomach.
Robin's voice lowered.
"I was still serving as a knight of Drakenshade. Still wearing the crest. Still pretending the kingdom could be saved by loyalty and patience."
Her smile turned bitter.
"Then I started hearing the stories."
Hadeon folded his arms.
"Children taken."
Robin nodded once.
"Families dragged out of their homes. Villages raided. Girls sold. Boys chained. Anyone useful became property."
She swallowed.
"Anyone not useful was discarded."
Her hand rested unconsciously over her stomach, even now, as if the gesture had become permanent.
"I kept thinking…" Robin's throat tightened. "If we stayed… if the wrong people learned I was carrying a child…"
She didn't finish.
Hadeon finished it for her, voice rough.
"They would take him."
Robin shut her eyes briefly.
"So we left."
Thalia stared.
Robin opened her eyes and met Thalia's gaze.
"We didn't leave because we stopped caring about Star."
Hadeon nodded once.
"We left because once it wasn't just us anymore… bravery got complicated."
Robin's smile turned small and broken.
"We chose our child."
The room went still.
Thalia looked toward the other room again and felt something twist in her chest—because it made sense.
And that made it worse.
Robin tilted her head slightly.
"…Star didn't tell you that?"
Thalia hesitated.
Then shook her head.
"No."
Robin frowned.
"Why not?"
Thalia lowered her gaze to her tea.
"…Because our relationship was complicated."
Hadeon's brow furrowed.
"Complicated how?"
Thalia breathed in slowly.
"She helped me," Thalia said. "Corrected me. Protected me. Scolded me. Covered for me more times than I deserved."
A pause.
"But she was never just one thing to me."
Robin didn't interrupt.
Thalia's voice softened.
"She was family when mine felt far away."
Then her expression tightened.
"And sometimes she felt like a mirror I hated looking into."
Robin listened, eyes steady.
Thalia stared into the cup.
"She was kind in a way I didn't know how to be. Patient in ways I wasn't. Strong in ways that didn't need to be loud."
Her mouth pulled faintly, painfully.
"And I think part of me hated that."
Hadeon's face changed.
Not judgment.
Understanding.
Thalia swallowed.
"So no. She didn't tell me."
Robin's gaze dropped.
Hadeon rubbed the back of his neck, then asked softly—far gentler than he looked capable of asking.
"…You said you know her. How is Star?"
Thalia stopped breathing for half a second.
Robin noticed first. Her eyes sharpened.
Hadeon noticed next. His posture stiffened.
The answer was already written on Thalia's face.
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
When she spoke, her voice came out small.
"…She's dead."
Silence hit like iron.
Robin's hand slipped.
Her cup struck the saucer with a sharp clink.
Hadeon stared at Thalia as if he hadn't heard her.
"…What?"
Thalia couldn't look at him.
"Star is dead."
Robin went pale.
"No."
It came out like refusal.
"No, she—"
Her voice broke.
Hadeon stepped forward once, jaw tight.
"How?"
Thalia's throat constricted.
"She died because of everything that followed," she said. "Because of Zeljrok. Because of the corruption."
A pause, painful.
"Because of me."
Robin looked like the world tilted under her feet.
Her eyes filled, unfocused.
"She can't be…"
But Thalia didn't offer comfort.
Because there wasn't any.
Hadeon turned his face slightly away, jaw clenched so hard it trembled.
Robin brought a hand to her mouth.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then Robin whispered, barely audible:
"She was supposed to yell at us again."
Thalia looked up.
Robin's eyes were full now, hollowed by grief.
"She was supposed to call us idiots. Tell us we were cowards. Tell us we made the wrong choice—then help us anyway because that's who she was."
A tear slipped down Robin's cheek.
Hadeon shut his eyes.
His voice was low.
"…Yeah."
Robin laughed once—small, broken, terrible.
"She was supposed to survive us."
The line hung in the room like an open wound.
Thalia finally lifted her head fully.
And the guilt in her face wasn't hidden anymore.
"I'm here," she said quietly, voice shaking, "because I don't know how to carry this alone anymore."
Robin looked at her.
Really looked at her.
At the shame. The grief. The years of rot that had finally become too heavy.
When Robin spoke again, her voice wasn't teasing anymore.
It was tired.
Honest.
Hurt.
"Then don't," she said simply.
And for the first time since Thalia arrived in this village—
the room felt like it might actually hold her up instead of letting her fall.
✦Work Before Mourning
The room stayed quiet for a while after that.
Not because there was nothing left to say.
Because grief had a way of taking up space even after the words ended.
Robin wiped her face first—quick, practiced, like she refused to let tears become an excuse. Hadeon looked away and dragged a hand down over his jaw, forcing himself back into the present.
They had a child in the next room.
And Thalia still had people waiting to be saved.
Robin drew in a slow breath, then let it out.
"We can mourn properly later," she said.
Hadeon nodded once.
"For now," he replied, voice steadier, "we focus on the living."
Thalia lowered her eyes and nodded. Her hands tightened around the cup once before she set it down.
Hadeon pulled out a chair and sat across from her, the expression on his face settling into something practical—knightly.
"Alright," he said. "Let's start simple. Do you know where your master is being held?"
Thalia hesitated.
Then answered quietly.
"No."
Robin pinched the bridge of her nose immediately.
Hadeon shut his eyes for a second like he was praying for patience.
Robin looked at Thalia.
"Did he leave you any clues?" she asked. "Anything at all? A name, a place, a symbol, a message, some dramatic mysterious phrase?"
Thalia shook her head.
"No."
Robin facepalmed so hard Thalia almost felt insulted on behalf of the air around her.
Hadeon followed a heartbeat later, dragging a hand over his face.
Robin let out a long sigh.
"So your plan," she said deadpan, "was to come here with grief, determination, and absolutely no useful information."
Thalia looked away.
"…Yes."
Hadeon stared at her for a moment.
Then muttered, "Bold strategy."
Robin looked like she wanted to scold Thalia, but decided there were too many things to scold first and not enough time in the day.
So instead she sighed into her tea.
"Fine," Hadeon said at last. "Then we work backward."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"How capable is this master of yours?"
Thalia looked up.
Hadeon continued.
"In a fight."
Robin nodded.
"If he's helpless, that changes things. If he's competent, that changes other things."
Hadeon glanced at Robin, then back to Thalia.
"Basically—are we rescuing a scholar, a merchant… or someone who can actually survive being dragged around by slavers for more than a day?"
Thalia went still.
For a moment she didn't answer.
Not because she didn't know.
Because she did.
And there was no clean way to explain it.
How was she supposed to describe Kaeru?
That he could look at monsters like a mildly interesting puzzle.
That his calmness didn't feel learned—it felt structural.
That fear didn't seem to touch him properly.
That "strong" wasn't the right word.
Strong was normal.
Strong belonged to knights and monsters and warlords.
Her master was—
complicated.
Terrifying.
Impossible to explain without sounding insane.
So Thalia chose the safer truth.
"He can fight," she said carefully.
Hadeon leaned back a little.
"Oh?"
Robin tilted her head.
Thalia nodded.
"He isn't helpless."
That was true.
"He can protect himself."
Also true.
Mostly.
Against most things.
Probably all things.
Hadeon gave a grunt.
"So not completely useless."
Thalia's eye twitched.
Robin folded her arms.
"Then why was he captured?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
Because Thalia had been asking herself the same thing since she'd learned of it.
She looked down for only a second.
"I don't know."
Robin exchanged a glance with Hadeon—the kind of glance married people gave when they were silently having an entire conversation.
Robin spoke first.
"So he's kind, calm, mysterious, and apparently not defenseless…"
She paused.
"…but still got captured and enslaved without fighting his way out."
Thalia said nothing.
Robin nodded slowly as if a picture was forming.
"I see."
Thalia didn't like that tone.
Hadeon scratched the side of his face.
"So he's one of those men."
Thalia frowned.
"One of what men?"
Hadeon gestured vaguely.
"You know. Pretty face. Soft hands. Brooding eyes. Says confusing things. Women assume he's deeper than he is."
Robin snorted into her tea.
Hadeon continued, completely serious.
"The sort that looks good leaning against a wall—but the moment steel comes out, you realize the nearest real danger in his life was a strong breeze."
Robin nodded like that was reasonable.
"That would explain why you're attached to him," she said.
Thalia stared at her.
Robin lifted a hand.
"No, no, hear me out."
She started counting on her fingers.
"He's calm because he doesn't understand danger."
"One."
"He's mysterious because he never explains anything properly."
"Two."
"He's kind because pretty men with no survival skills usually survive on charm."
"Three."
Hadeon gave a satisfied nod.
"And him being able to 'fight' probably means he knows just enough not to embarrass himself in front of you."
Robin leaned forward like she'd solved the case.
"And you," she said, pointing lightly at Thalia, "were probably hired to protect him."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Thalia stared at both of them.
Actually stared.
Robin blinked.
"…What?"
Hadeon frowned.
"…Was she not?"
Thalia's grip tightened on the cup so hard Hadeon glanced at it like he was checking whether it would survive.
"You think," Thalia said slowly, voice flattening, "that my master is some weak, decorative man I was hired to escort?"
Robin lifted a shoulder.
"When you say it like that, it sounds worse than I meant it."
Hadeon tried diplomacy.
"We're just being realistic."
Thalia looked at him.
Then at Robin.
Then back at Hadeon.
Realistic.
Right.
Because if she told them even a fraction of the truth, neither of them would believe her.
And worse—
she wouldn't know where to begin.
So she exhaled through her nose and settled for the only answer that wouldn't start a fight in a room already full of grief.
"You're underestimating him."
Robin gave her a sympathetic smile.
"Thalia."
Hadeon leaned back.
"That's what people say when they care about someone."
Robin nodded.
"It's not an insult. It just means you see the best in him."
Thalia almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was absurd.
"He can handle more than you think," she said.
Hadeon lifted a brow.
"How much more?"
Thalia paused and chose her words with painful care.
"…Enough."
Robin looked unconvinced.
Hadeon looked even less convinced.
"Well," Hadeon said, "if he really is capable, then good. That means he may still be alive and waiting for an opening."
Robin tilted her head.
"And if he's not, then we get there before his face gets him sold to someone rich and stupid."
Robin blinked.
Thalia stared at her.
"What?"
Hadeon grunted.
"She's not wrong. Pretty ones go fast."
Thalia shut her eyes.
For one long second she considered standing up and leaving—not out of anger, but because hearing them reduce her master to a decorative hostage felt so ridiculous she didn't trust herself to speak.
Robin mistook the silence for wounded attachment.
Her expression softened.
"Look," she said, gentler now, "I'm not mocking him. Not really."
"Yes you are," Thalia said flatly.
Robin ignored that.
"I'm saying we plan based on what we know, not what we hope."
Hadeon nodded.
"If he's stronger than he looks, great. That helps."
"And if not," Robin added, "then all the more reason to move quickly."
Thalia opened her eyes.
The frustration stayed.
But they weren't wrong about one thing.
Time mattered more than her pride.
Explaining Kaeru would waste it.
So she let the insult live.
For now.
Hadeon folded his arms.
"Alright. Since we have no location, no trail, and no useful clues from your mysterious master… we start with the people who profit from this kind of trade."
Robin nodded.
"Bandits. Corrupt caravans. Underground buyers. Anyone moving slaves through the old routes."
Hadeon looked at Thalia.
"And your mother and nephew?"
Thalia's expression hardened.
"They're alive."
Robin studied her.
"You sound certain."
"I am."
Robin and Hadeon exchanged a glance—less dismissive now, more curious.
Hadeon nodded once.
"Then we work with that."
Robin sat forward.
"We'll gather what we know, figure out which routes are active, and start narrowing down where prisoners are being moved."
Hadeon looked at Thalia one more time.
"And if your master is half as capable as you think he is… maybe he's already causing trouble for the people holding him."
Thalia almost smiled.
Not because he understood.
Because he'd accidentally brushed against the truth.
He just had no idea how much trouble.
Robin set her cup down and rose.
"I'll go to the adventurers," she said, already moving with purpose. "And if any of the knights from our old squad still have a spine left, I'll see who's willing to help too."
It was late, and Robin wasn't a knight anymore. Trying to get attention from active squads wouldn't be easy.
But she was an adventurer—sometimes.
And she had a reputation.
Not because her husband was a captain.
Because she'd once been powerful herself—Lieutenant-grade, feared and respected before she retired into motherhood.
Hadeon nodded.
"I'll watch Nicolas."
At the mention of their son, Robin's expression softened for only a moment before duty swallowed it again. She crossed the room, adjusted Hadeon's collar out of habit, then glanced toward the other room.
"Don't let him climb the shelves again."
"That happened once."
"It happened twice."
Hadeon muttered something under his breath. Robin gave him a look that made him decide not to repeat it louder.
Then Robin turned back to Thalia.
"Try not to disappear while I'm gone."
Thalia understood what she really meant.
You're a corrupted knight. If someone recognizes you, you'll run.
Thalia gave a stiff nod.
Robin left.
The door shut.
Silence settled for a few breaths.
Then Hadeon looked at Thalia.
The softness was gone.
What remained was practical. Knightly.
He stood.
"Come on."
Thalia blinked.
"What?"
Hadeon jerked his head toward the hall.
"If we're doing this together, I need to know how strong you actually are."
He started walking, expecting her to follow.
"And before you ask," he added, "no. I don't mean your feelings."
Thalia rose with a faint frown and followed.
Hadeon led her down the hall and slid open a smaller door.
The moment she saw inside, she understood.
A sparring room.
Simple. Clean. Unfamiliar.
Tatami mats covered the floor—woven straw panels in neat squares. Wooden weapons lined the far wall: practice swords, staffs, spears. Old scars marked the walls where training had gotten too aggressive and repairs had been half-hearted at best.
It smelled faintly of old wood, sweat, and oil.
Something about it eased the pressure in Thalia's chest.
Not because things were better.
Because this, at least, made sense.
Hadeon stepped onto the edge of the mat and turned.
"Shoes off."
Thalia removed hers. Hadeon did the same.
He gestured toward the weapon rack.
"Pick one."
Thalia's eyes moved over the choices before settling on a wooden sword. She tested its weight.
Balanced enough.
Hadeon chose one too, rolling his shoulder once before stepping onto the mat.
"I'm not trying to beat you down," he said. "I just want to gauge you."
Thalia stepped onto the tatami, bare feet settling into the weave.
"And then?" she asked.
Hadeon raised his sword lazily.
"Then you tell me how your master compares."
A faint smile touched Thalia's mouth.
A fight.
A proper one.
Not for survival.
Not for guilt.
Just swords and instinct.
Exactly what she needed.
And yes—there was a smaller, pettier part of her that enjoyed the idea of hitting Hadeon a few times for what he and Robin had said about her master.
Hadeon noticed the smile and gave a crooked grin.
"Oh good," he said. "You do know what one of those looks like."
Thalia lifted her wooden sword into guard.
Across from her, Hadeon's stance settled—solid, grounded, not flashy.
The stance of a man who'd been trained well and stayed dangerous even after leaving official duty.
For a moment neither moved.
Then Hadeon began, "Whenever you're—"
Thalia was already in front of him.
Wood cracked against wood.
Hadeon barely caught the strike, eyes widening as the impact jolted through his arms and shoved him back half a step.
Thalia's eyes widened too.
Not because she'd missed.
Because of the force.
That should not have moved him that far.
Hadeon misread her surprise.
"Fast," he said, adjusting his grip. "Good."
Thalia didn't answer.
She attacked again.
Diagonal cut. Turned thrust. Low sweep.
Hadeon blocked cleanly, efficient and practiced—but the first exchanges changed him. The lazy measure vanished. His stance tightened. His eyes sharpened.
He'd expected a capable knight.
He hadn't expected pressure like this.
Thalia stepped in and their swords snapped in quick succession, echoing off the walls. Hadeon defended with discipline, but with every clash she felt it more clearly—
her body was different.
Not wrong.
Just… more.
Her steps covered slightly more distance than she expected.
Her recovery was faster.
Her breath steadier.
She drove Hadeon back two full steps with a sequence that would've made the old her overcommit.
But she didn't overcommit.
She corrected instantly, balance catching up like it had always belonged there.
What is this—
Hadeon cut toward her shoulder. Thalia turned it aside and countered with a thrust that stopped just short of his ribs before he knocked it away.
The exchange reset.
Hadeon let out a short breath.
"…Your strong."
Thalia didn't answer.
Because she already knew.
Or rather—she was beginning to understand.
Since the tower…
since him…
limits felt farther away.
Fatigue came later.
And now, in combat, the truth was undeniable:
the thread bound into her soul had not merely chained her.
It had changed her.
Hadeon circled left. Thalia matched.
Then he came in seriously.
Their next clash rang louder than the first.
Hadeon's swordsmanship was strong—clean angles, efficient footwork, no wasted motion. He fought like a real knight captain should.
Thalia smiled.
Because for the first time in a while, someone was making her work.
Strike. Block. Turn. Step. Cut. Reset.
Hadeon pressed down from above.
Thalia slipped aside and struck low.
He caught it and twisted, trying to take her weapon line.
She should have lost the angle.
Instead her body moved before thought did—faster than she remembered being.
The opening appeared.
Too clean.
Her body surged into it.
The wooden blade shot toward Hadeon's chest.
Hadeon saw it a fraction too late.
His guard was still moving.
Thalia's eyes widened.
Too fast—
The door slid open.
Robin stepped in.
"What in the… HADEON!"
Hadeon's head turned instinctively toward her voice.
That made it worse.
Because now Thalia's strike—already moving faster than she expected—was lined straight at him while his attention broke.
For one violent heartbeat, all three of them saw it.
She was going to hit him.
Hard.
Thalia reacted on instinct.
Her body twisted mid-step. Her planted foot slid, then kicked off the mat. She spun past Hadeon's shoulder in a blur, wrenching the blade sideways with both hands. The strike missed by inches and her momentum carried her into a half-turning flip that ended with her landing in a low crouch three paces away.
Silence.
Robin stared.
Hadeon stared.
Thalia stared too—because she had not meant to do that.
Robin found her voice first.
"Hadeon!"
Hadeon straightened slowly.
Robin marched fully into the room, eyes narrowing.
"What were you doing?"
"Sparring."
"With her like that?"
Hadeon gestured vaguely.
"I was gauging her strength."
"You were what?"
"I was gauging—"
Robin raised a hand.
"No."
Hadeon closed his mouth.
Robin turned to Thalia, took in the crouched stance, the grip on the sword, and narrowed her eyes.
"And why," Robin asked slowly, "do you look like you were about to enjoy hitting him?"
Thalia went completely still.
Because the answer was embarrassingly simple.
He insulted my master.
Hadeon began coughing into his fist, suspiciously close to laughter.
Robin cut him a look sharp enough to silence him instantly.
Then she looked back at Thalia.
Thalia rose slowly.
Robin pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Unbelievable."
She turned on Hadeon first.
"You. I leave for one short trip and come back to find you turning the house into a dueling hall."
Hadeon lifted a hand weakly.
"She wanted the spar."
"I absolutely do not believe that," Robin snapped. "That does not improve your case."
Then she pointed at Thalia.
"And you—if you put a hole in my husband before we rescue your people, I will personally make you regret it."
Thalia blinked once, then stood straight like a knight awaiting discipline.
Hadeon had to look away to keep from laughing again.
Robin exhaled, long and disbelieving.
"Oh good," she muttered. "You're both impossible."
Hadeon rolled his shoulder, glancing at Thalia again with renewed respect.
"For what it's worth," he said, "you're stronger than I expected."
Robin's eyes slid to him.
"That is the part you choose to say out loud right now?"
Hadeon ignored her.
"And if that correction at the end wasn't luck…"
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"…then I underestimated you."
Thalia didn't answer.
Because he hadn't just underestimated her.
He'd underestimated the hand that remade her.
Robin planted her hands on her hips.
"We can continue admiring each other's poor judgment later. I found a group of adventurers willing to hear us out."
That snapped the room back into purpose.
"The swords. Back. Both of you."
Hadeon obeyed first.
Thalia followed, though her fingers lingered on the wooden blade longer than necessary.
Not for violence.
For certainty.
Because now she knew her limits had shifted—and she didn't know how far.
They met the adventurers in the main room.
Five of them.
The moment they saw Hadeon, their posture changed—respect moving faster than words.
They knew him.
Knight Captain of the First Squadron.
A powerful aura user.
A man whose name still carried weight even outside official service.
Hadeon thanked them for coming.
They shrugged it off, but their eyes were sharp—ready.
Robin spoke quietly to Hadeon.
"No knights in the guild hall," she said. "Not tonight."
Hadeon nodded.
"Then they turned in early."
He looked toward Thalia.
"Don't worry," he said. "First thing in the morning, I'll speak to my lord about this. I'll move resources."
Then his gaze held hers more firmly.
"And I won't mention your involvement."
Thalia's throat tightened.
She nodded once.
"…Thank you."
And for the first time since Kaeru vanished from the guild hall, the rescue stopped being a desperate chase.
It became a plan.
✦ Before the March Began
Robin, Hadeon, and Thalia didn't waste time.
The five adventurers sat around the table with their gear close—habits of people who lived by urgency. Robin stood near the hearth with arms crossed, Hadeon leaned against the wall with the posture of someone who had led squads before breakfast, and Thalia sat upright like she expected the chair to accuse her of something.
Robin opened first.
"There could be other slaves," she said bluntly. "Not just hers."
The adventurers nodded at that—sympathy came easy when it didn't require risk.
Then Robin said the words that changed their tone.
"Her master was taken too."
The adventurers exchanged a glance.
A different kind of interest sparked there.
Not concern.
Calculation.
One of them leaned forward slightly.
"Master?" he repeated. "So… is he some kind of merchant?"
"Or a noble's son?" another asked. "The kind that travels with an escort?"
Thalia's eyes narrowed.
They had already decided what I was.
Something soft.
Something valuable.
Something that could be rescued for reward.
They started asking questions about me with the casual arrogance of people who believed strength always looked like muscle.
Thalia answered only what was necessary.
"He was kidnapped," she said. "At the guild hall."
Then she explained the trap: how they entered a village so her master could register as an adventurer—how the distraction happened outside.
She named them.
"Korrin Vex. Jalen Marr. Harth Bale. Senn Rook."
Hadeon's expression tightened the moment he heard the names.
He straightened slightly.
"I know them," he said. "Those five come through this village often. Stand-in guard duty. They rotate in when the main garrison is thin."
That made Thalia's head lift sharply.
"Have people gone missing from this village?" she asked immediately.
Hadeon blinked, then shook his head.
"No."
Robin's gaze sharpened.
"Why do you ask?"
Thalia waited a beat too long before answering—like she was deciding whether the truth would help or burn her.
Then she spoke.
"Because they're corrupt," she said quietly. "They're part of the slavery network."
Robin didn't hesitate.
Neither did Hadeon.
They believed her immediately—not because she was trustworthy, but because she'd already confessed to being part of it. Because she had no reason to paint those names black unless she was trying to burn the whole system down with them.
The adventurers didn't share that certainty.
One of them scoffed.
"Those guys? They're fine."
"Yeah," another said. "I've worked jobs with Vex. He's strict, but he's not—"
Thalia cut through their praise without raising her voice.
"Nice people," she repeated flatly. "Outstanding knights."
Then she leaned forward slightly, eyes cold.
"They're scouting."
The adventurers paused.
Thalia continued.
"They come here because it's quiet. Because you people feel safe. And because easy villages make easy targets."
One of the adventurers frowned.
"How do you know that?"
Thalia didn't flinch.
She made the decision.
She gave them the part of the truth she hated.
"Because I used to do it," she said.
Silence.
Her words hit the room like iron dropped into a bowl.
"I was a corrupted knight," Thalia continued, voice steady now. "I worked with Zeljrok. I helped pick targets. I made sure the route was clean. I made sure people didn't notice until it was too late."
The five adventurers shifted uncomfortably.
Suspicion replaced sympathy immediately.
One of them leaned back, hand drifting toward his belt like he suddenly remembered he had a weapon.
"So… why should we trust you?" someone asked.
Hadeon felt the tension spike and ended it before it could turn into a fight.
"That's enough," he said sharply.
He stood straighter, as Hadeon's voice continued cutting through the room.
"We meet in the guild hall tomorrow morning," he said. "With the rest of the knights. Any adventurers willing to assist."
His eyes flicked to Robin.
"My lord will be there too."
Then he looked at Thalia.
"And we're not deciding trust by argument."
He paused.
"We decide it by action."
The meeting ended on that.
Not resolved.
But moving.
The Next Morning
Thalia stayed the night.
Robin didn't say it was permission.
She didn't need to.
The spare bedding was placed quietly. The house stayed warm. Nicolas slept peacefully in the next room like the world had never been cruel.
Morning came early.
Thalia had already showered by the time Robin was preparing breakfast.
They ate together—simple food, clean plates, and a quiet that was no longer awkward. Not comfortable either. Just… functional. Shared purpose does that.
Thalia asked, "Is Hadeon not joining us?"
Robin sipped her drink.
"He left early," she said. "He's speaking to our lord."
Thalia's shoulders eased slightly.
Good.
Everything was moving.
When they finished, Robin handed Thalia a set of clothes.
Not fancy. Practical. Clean.
"Wear these," Robin said. "You'll stand out less."
Thalia nodded and changed quickly.
Before they left, Robin said, "We're dropping Nicolas at the church."
Thalia agreed.
They did it fast.
The church was quiet—stone, candles, soft voices. Nicolas ran ahead like a child who still believed the world would catch him if he fell. Robin kissed his forehead, handed him off, and left without lingering too long.
Then they headed for the guild hall.
The Guild Hall, Morning
Hadeon was already inside.
He stood near the center of the hall speaking with knights and the five adventurers from last night. Others had gathered too—more armor, more blades, more eyes that carried the weight of Drakenshade's rot.
They were waiting.
Not for me.
For authority.
The door opened.
Robin and Thalia stepped in.
Hadeon's eyes widened the moment he saw his wife.
"Why are you here?" he asked immediately.
Robin didn't slow down.
"I'm helping," she said.
Hadeon frowned.
"This is dangerous."
Robin smiled like she'd heard worse excuses.
"And you think I'm taking no for an answer?"
Hadeon sighed—long and resigned.
Then nodded once.
"Fine."
The door opened again.
This time the entire room reacted.
The Lord entered.
A Drakenshade noble, surrounded by guards, moving with the natural certainty of someone used to being obeyed.
Everyone kneeled instantly.
Every knight.
Every adventurer.
Every guild worker within sight.
Everyone…
except Thalia.
She didn't kneel.
Not out of disrespect.
Her body simply didn't move.
Like something inside her refused the action.
Her posture stayed straight.
A guard noticed immediately.
His voice cut through the respectful silence.
"Why doesn't she kneel?" he demanded. "Does she not have etiquette?"
Thalia didn't look away.
"I don't serve you," she replied.
Her voice was calm.
"I serve a master who doesn't allow his people to kneel to those weaker than him."
The guards bristled.
Anger flared in their eyes.
Robin stepped forward quickly.
"She means no disrespect, my lord," she said smoothly. "She's on edge. Her mother and nephew were enslaved… and her master was taken too."
At the word master, the guards visibly relaxed into mockery.
One snorted.
"Her master got captured and enslaved?" he said, grinning. "Sounds like a big shot."
Another chuckled.
"Must be weak."
Another added, louder, "Maybe he thought he was important."
Thalia's jaw tightened.
But she didn't speak.
Then the Lord's mana flared.
Not explosive.
Controlled.
Heavy.
The pressure dropped over the room like a mountain placed gently on everyone's shoulders.
Every knee went lower.
A few people nearly collapsed.
And Thalia—
should have.
But a thin coating of mana and aura slid over her without her noticing, shielding her from the worst of it like a quiet hand on her back.
The Lord spoke.
His voice was calm, authoritative, carrying the weight of someone who didn't need to shout.
"Silence."
The room obeyed instantly.
He stepped forward.
"I am Lord Gabriel Hollohall," he said. "Of the Hollohall family."
A murmur of recognition passed through the hall.
Even among adventurers, the name carried meaning.
He continued, outlining his house with deliberate precision—righteous lineage, sworn duty, service to Drakenshade's stability. Everything about it sounded like the kind of family that should have been immune to corruption.
A few knights behind Thalia whispered quietly about his strength.
"Even though he uses mana, he still fights with a sword."
"One of the strongest knights in Drakenshade."
"A real noble."
Lord Hollohall didn't react to the praise.
He moved straight into the point.
"I personally interrogated captured bandits this morning," he said.
Thalia's heart tightened.
"We have confirmed the location of Zeljrok's base."
Thalia's breath caught.
Robin noticed immediately.
She leaned slightly toward Thalia without drawing attention.
"They're fine," Robin whispered. "Your mother. Your nephew. Your master."
Thalia didn't fully believe reassurance could fix anything.
But she held onto it anyway.
Lord Hollohall continued.
"We depart within the hour."
His gaze swept the gathered group.
"Knights. Adventurers. Volunteers."
He raised his chin slightly.
"This rot ends when we cut the hand that feeds it."
The guild hall remained perfectly silent.
Not out of fear.
Out of readiness.
And Thalia, standing straight among kneeling people, felt something twist inside her.
Because if they truly marched on Zeljrok—
then the next page of this story would be written in blood.
And somewhere underground…
Master Kaeru was already there waiting for it.