"I..." Cal's voice shook. The words wouldn't come out.
Leaving meant chasing the red-armored soldiers—the ones who destroyed his village and killed Serna. It meant walking into the unknown, with only revenge to guide him.
But it also meant leaving behind Cloud, the quiet shack, and the woman who had saved his life. The first person to help him stand again. The first place that had felt safe since everything had fallen apart.
"I don't know," he said at last, staring into the fire. "I want to find them. Make them pay. But right now... I don't think I can do it alone."
Across from him, Cloud stopped sharpening her sword. The whetstone stilled in her hand. The blade on her lap gave off a faint hum—not like metal, but like it was breathing. Cal noticed it more now.
"Being alone isn't always bad," she said quietly, eyes down. "But it's not what you need."
He looked at her. Firelight flickered between them.
"Do you know magic?" he asked.
She shook her head slowly. "Not the kind from towers. I don't chant spells or control mana like that."
"Then what do you do?"
She ran her hand along her sword. "What I use comes from inside. Focus. Breath. Spirit. Discipline. It's not pulled from the world. It's part of me. But here..." She paused. "Here, it feels like trying to breathe underwater. Nothing flows. Everything pushes back."
Cal frowned. "So, it doesn't work?"
"Not like before," she said. "The mana here resists. I can't cultivate like I used to."
"Cultivate?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she stood up and walked to the edge of the clearing. Her cloak brushed against the grass.
"You're not from here, are you?" Cal asked.
She didn't respond at first.
Then she said, "Three days south is the Capital. Pristan."
He blinked. "What about it?"
"Every three years, they hold a Grand Recruitment. Mages, knights, warriors—all go there to try for a spot at the Pristan Magic Academy."
Cal sat up straighter. "Magic Academy? What's that?"
"A place where they build power," she said. "If you want to grow stronger, that's where you go."
He tightened his grip on a stick in the fire. Power. Answers.
"And anyone can try?"
Cloud's face didn't change. "Yes."
She looked toward the dark trees.
"We're low on supplies—food, herbs, oil. I'll head to Ahen soon."
Hope rose in Cal's chest.
"Can I come with you?" he asked. "If you're already going..."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she nodded. "Fine. But don't slow me down."
Cal gave a small smile. "Deal. First light?"
"First light," she said.
Next Morning – On the Road
The path was narrow, weeds growing thick around their feet. Mist clung to the ground, curling around Cal's boots. The trees leaned in, their branches wet with last night's rain.
Cloud walked ahead, quiet and smooth. Her thick gray cloak covered her body, the deep hood hiding her face. She hadn't said a word since they left.
Cal followed close behind, unsure what waited for them.
After hours of silence, Cloud finally spoke without turning.
"Don't talk much in Ahen," she said. "People listen when they shouldn't."
Cal raised an eyebrow. "Is it dangerous?"
"Not really," she said. "Just... nosy."
They kept walking until the trees thinned and rooftops showed through the fog.
Wagons clattered over stone roads. Merchants shouted at passersby. The air smelled like bread, sweat, and burning oil.
Cloud pulled her hood lower as they entered.
Her posture changed. Shoulders hunched slightly, hands hidden beneath her cloak. She moved carefully and said nothing.
Cal stayed close behind her.
They passed a blacksmith hammering metal, a boy chasing chickens, and a group of guards laughing too loud at a corner. Cloud didn't look at any of them.
She led Cal to a side street between two mossy buildings. It was quieter here. The stalls looked older.
She went from one to the next like she knew exactly what she needed—checking roots, testing knives, weighing flint and rope. She spoke little to the sellers, her voice calm.
She paid in silver without arguing.
Cal watched from the side. He noticed how people looked at her—some cautious, some like they recognized her—but no one was friendly.
At one stall, she asked for dried bloodroot and powdered bark. The merchant hesitated, then gave it to her. She tucked it away under her cloak.
"What's that for?" Cal asked once they'd walked away.
"For wounds," she said. "Yours. Or mine."
They stopped next at a leather tent. Cloud bought new gloves and some binding twine. She kept her hood on the whole time.
When she was done shopping, she led Cal toward a quiet spot at the edge of town, near an old stone wall.