The man's breathing was shallow but steady as he sat by the fire, a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
He looked rough his face still bruised, his movements stiff with pain but the raw terror in his eyes had faded, replaced by a guarded alertness.
"You're among friends," Iris said gently.
The stranger nodded slowly, then looked at each of them in turn Cael, Fen, Iris before his gaze drifted to the shadows beyond the fire, where Korr and Fen's grandfather, Rell, stood watching like twin statues.
"I owe you... all of you... a debt I can scarcely repay," he said at last, his voice deep, smooth, and measured. His words carried an easy grace, each syllable deliberate, like someone used to commanding attention.
Cael narrowed his eyes slightly, not missing the way the man spoke — like a courtier, or a merchant used to sweet-talking nobles.
"My name," he said, inclining his head slightly, "is Sidney. Sidney Reilly."
A pause.
"I come from the south," he continued, "from the port city of Veylaine. My father is... was... a merchant of some standing. We traded goods across the frontier towns weapons, fabrics, spices. A good life, if an unremarkable one."
He smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it.
"I was part of a caravan," Sidney went on. His dark eyes reflected the flicker of the fire. "We carried a shipment north — iron, medicines, and rare artifacts for the nobles' courts. Routine work. We had guards, seasoned ones."
He took a shaky breath, and Iris passed him a waterskin. He drank carefully before continuing.
"We were ambushed. East of here, near the Cragstone hills. Bandits... but not ordinary ones. Organized. Ruthless. They struck at night, fast and merciless. I watched my men — my friends — cut down before they could even draw their weapons."
His hands clenched the blanket tighter around himself.
"They took everything. Cargo, horses."
A long silence.
"I fought," Sidney said, voice low. "I killed one of them, maybe two. I don't remember. It was chaos. Blood everywhere. And then... a blow to the head. After that... nothing."
He stared into the fire, a distant look in his eyes.
"I suppose my horse fled with me still tied to the saddle," he said, almost with a bitter laugh. "Blind luck... or the gods' cruelty... that brought me here."
He slumped back slightly, exhaustion pulling at him again.
For a few heartbeats, no one spoke.
Cael found himself believing Sidney. There was something raw about his grief, something real. Fen looked uncertain but lowered his axe slightly. Iris's face was full of sympathy.
"You're safe now," Iris said, her voice soft.
Sidney gave her a small, grateful smile.
But from the edge of the firelight, Korr and Rell exchanged a look.
It was Korr who stepped forward first, boots crunching on the gravel.
"Safe, maybe," the old warrior said, his voice a low rumble, "but not home."
Sidney stiffened slightly but said nothing.
Olvar, a towering figure even in his age, folded his arms.
"Convenient," he said, voice sharp. "That you survived an ambush with no witnesses. That you just happened to find your way here."
There was no mistaking the suspicion in his tone.
Fen flinched slightly, but Cael frowned.
"Korr," Cael said carefully, "we found him half-dead. You think he faked the wounds?"
"I think people lie," Korr said simply. "Especially when they have something to hide."
Sidney met Korr's gaze without flinching.
"I understand your caution," he said smoothly. "Were I in your position, I would feel the same."
He spread his hands, palms up.
"I have nothing to hide. No weapon, no strength left to harm you. Only gratitude."
Korr grunted, unimpressed.
"We'll see," he said, then turned away, stepping back into the shadows.
Olvar lingered a moment longer, his ancient, scarred face unreadable.
"Luck," he said finally, almost a growl. "Is a rare thing in these lands. Be sure yours doesn't run out."
Then he too withdrew.
The tension in the courtyard slowly eased.
Sidney sagged visibly, then gave a rueful smile.
"Charming lot," he said dryly.
Fen barked a short laugh. "They're just old and grumpy. You'll get used to it."
Sidney smiled faintly, but Cael saw the flicker of something else in his eyes — a calculation, maybe, or a wariness carefully hidden.
He filed the thought away.
Later.
For now, Sidney needed food, water, and rest.
They set about tending to him, bringing what little they had: a rough stew, fresh water from the well, clean bandages.
Sidney accepted it all graciously, always with a murmured thank you, always speaking with a kind of polished, formal dignity that set him apart from the rough edge of the Enclave.
As the night deepened, the group sat around the fire, slowly relaxing.
Sidney told them small things — about Veylaine's glittering harbor, the endless rows of ships, the markets full of spices and silk, the crowded streets teeming with life.
He spoke of music, of laughter, of sunlight on the water.
For a while, they forgot the ruins surrounding them. They forgot the wounds still healing inside their hearts.
They listened, and they remembered that somewhere beyond the broken lands, there was still beauty.
Still life.
Still hope.
But Korr and Rell never truly relaxed.
They stayed on the edges of the light, watching.
Waiting.
Later, when the fire had burned low and the others drifted toward sleep, Cael found himself sitting beside Korr under the ancient stone archway that once marked the Enclave's gate.
"You don't trust him," Cael said quietly.
Korr snorted.
"I don't trust anyone," he said. "Trust is something you earn and he hasn't done anything worthy of mine yet."
He cast a glance back at Sidney's sleeping form.
"And even then, you shouldn't always grant it."
Cael nodded, feeling the truth of it settle in his bones.
"You think he's lying?"
"I think," Korr said slowly, "that he's hiding something."
Cael frowned.
"But he was half-dead when he got here."
Korr shrugged.
"People have lived through worse. And the best lies are built on truth."
They sat in silence for a while, the wind whispering through the broken stones.
"Be ready, boy," Korr said eventually. "The world doesn't give you gifts. Not without a price."
Cael didn't argue.
Because deep down, he knew Korr was right.
Even if he didn't want to believe it.
Not tonight.
Not after everything.
As dawn approached, the first light of morning spilling over the horizon, Sidney stirred in his sleep.
He murmured something — too soft to hear.
And as Cael watched from the shadows, he saw Sidney's hand twitch beneath the blanket...
A motion too practiced.
Too deliberate.
As if feeling for a weapon.
Cael's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
The wind howled through the ruins.
And somewhere, far beyond their sight, another shadow stirred — a figure riding fast toward the Enclave, leaving a trail of smoke and blood in their wake.