The night passed in fits and starts.
Though exhaustion weighed heavy on them, none trusted sleep completely. They took turns standing guard, huddled close to the fire with weapons nearby, every creak of the ruins or whisper of wind making them tense.
When the false dawn finally came a pale, cold light that barely touched the valley they woke stiff and sore, their bodies aching from wounds, bruises, and the trials they'd barely survived.
Fen, grumbling but determined, went out to hunt while Cael and Iris nursed the fire back to life.
He returned half an hour later, triumphantly holding a fat rabbit by the ears.
"Behold," Fen declared with a broad grin, "the breakfast of champions!"
Cael raised an eyebrow. "You sure you didn't just steal it from a blind old farmer?"
"Hey," Fen said, mock-affronted as he set about gutting and preparing the rabbit, "I'll have you know I was the best hunter back at the Enclave."
He skewered the meat and roasted it slowly over the fire, turning it with the precision of a man who had done this many times before. The smell of sizzling fat filled the air, making all their stomachs growl.
"Best cook too," Fen added smugly, flipping the rabbit expertly.
When they finally ate, none of them had the heart to argue. It wasn't gourmet fare, but after what they had been through, it tasted like a king's feast.
They ate in relative silence, the crackling of the fire and the crunch of dry grass under their boots the only sounds.
It was Iris who broke the peace, looking up from her food with a sudden, almost shy expression.
"So," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet, "what do you guys want to do now?"
The question seemed to hang in the air, heavier than it should have been.
Fen leaned back, wiping his hands on his pants. He looked up at the pale sky, thinking.
"Me?" he said. "I'm going back to the Enclave first. Gotta show my grandpa that I'm still breathing."
He gave a small, lopsided smile.
"After that... I dunno. Live, maybe. Fix up the old place a bit. Train. Show him what I can do now."
He flexed his right arm exaggeratedly, earning a small chuckle from Cael.
"And you?" Iris asked, turning to Cael.
Cael stared into the dying flames, the light catching in his pale eyes.
"I don't have dreams," he said simply.
Iris frowned, but he continued before she could speak.
"I have vengeance."
His voice was steady, but there was a deep, dark undertone to it. A promise made in blood.
"I'm going to get stronger," he said. "Stronger than anything that stands in my way. I'll hunt beasts, saturate my cores, push myself until there's nothing left to break. Then I'll take the second trial."
He looked up at them, his face like carved stone.
"And after that... I'll hunt down those who took everything from me."
The words hung heavy between them.
Fen whistled low.
"You got a long road ahead of you, friend."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, his face serious now.
"If you think you're strong enough already... you're not."
He pointed a calloused finger at Cael.
"To get real vengeance? Against the ones who truly hold power? You'll need more strength than you can even imagine."
Cael didn't flinch. "I know."
Fen's voice dropped lower.
"The strongest man on the continent is said to be the Head of the Church himself. They say he commands the Light with such mastery that even the gods might hesitate to cross him."
He shook his head.
"And you're thinking of picking a fight with the people under him?"
Cael simply nodded.
Fen stared at him for a long moment... then cracked a grin.
"Good. I'd hate to travel with someone boring."
Iris smiled faintly but said nothing for a moment.
Instead, she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them.
"And what about you?" Fen asked, nudging her gently with a boot.
She shrugged.
"I don't have anywhere to go," she said honestly. "No family. No home."
She looked at them both, the firelight reflected in her green eyes.
"So... I think I'll tag along."
Neither Cael nor Fen objected.
It felt natural, inevitable even.
Three broken pieces of the world, stuck together by circumstance, but fitting in a way that none of them would dare question.
"Well," Fen said, pushing himself to his feet and stretching, "if we're all in agreement... we might as well start moving."
Cael nodded, rising to his feet and stamping out the fire.
The valley around them was silent, the ruins crouched like broken bones under the rising light. The air was crisp, carrying a faint scent of dust and ash.
They gathered their few belongings weapons, cloaks, what little food they had left and set off.
The land stretched out before them, a rough and unforgiving wilderness.
The earth was cracked and dry in places, with patches of stunted grass and scraggly trees clinging stubbornly to life. The sky was a dull gray-blue, vast and empty, stretching forever overhead.
They walked without speaking at first, each lost in their own thoughts.
Their injuries slowed them, but they pressed on.
Every step away from the ruins was a step toward something new something uncertain.
Hours passed.
At midday they found a narrow stream, its waters cool and clear despite the dusty landscape. They drank deeply, refilled their flasks, and rested briefly in the thin shade of a crooked tree.
As they sat there, Iris spoke again.
"Do you think it will always be like this?"
Cael looked at her, brow furrowing. "Like what?"
She gestured vaguely — at the desolate land, the heavy silence, the weight they all carried.
"This."
Fen shrugged.
"Probably."
"But that doesn't mean we stop walking," Cael said quietly.
They moved on, following no road, only the vague memory of direction — north and east, toward where the Enclave hid among the broken hills and ancient woods.
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows.
By evening, they made camp near a shallow cave, sheltered from the worst of the wind.
They ate what little they had left, made a small fire, and slept in shifts again trust slowly growing between them, fragile but real.
The next day, they continued.
And the next.
Each mile hardened them a little more, taught them a little more about their own endurance.
By the third day, the broken peaks of the Eastern Teeth were visible on the horizon jagged and gray against the bruised sky.
The Enclave wasn't far beyond them now.
Home, such as it was.
As they walked, Fen grinned and clapped Cael on the back, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Better start thinking about how you're gonna explain this to Korr," he said, laughing. "Old man'll probably think you're some kind of demon or just a fool that is obsessed with power."
Cael smirked despite himself.
"Let him," he said. "It'll make it easier when I tell him what comes next."
Fen raised an eyebrow.
"And what's that?"
Cael's eyes were sharp as knives.
"We get stronger."
The wind howled over the plains.
They walked on three survivors, three blades slowly being sharpened by a world that wanted nothing more than to break them.
And for the first time since the Trials began, there was a glimmer of something new burning in Cael's chest.
Not vengeance.
Not anger.
But hope.
Distant. Fragile. But real.
And he would hold onto it, no matter what came next.