Leon took a mont before replying.
The question lingered in the hazy atmosphere between him and Yundar, quiet and direct, the sort that didn't resonate—but still struck.
He slowly rubbed his thumb over his palm, saring the dried blood of the demon to the side. The darkened mark created a path that wouldn't erase.
He looked up. "I don't know."
Yundar didn't flinch. Just kept watching.
Leon shifted. "The first ti I died, I wasn't ready. I wasn't ard. I wasn't anyone. I just ran into a street, put a blade to a noble's throat, and got cut down like a stray dog."
Yundar said nothing.
"I rember the look on the guards' faces. Like they expected to fail. Like they weren't even afraid I'd get close."
Leon's voice didn't shake. Not now.
"I rember the way I hit the ground. The way the sky looked when I took my last breath. I rember saying, 'If I had one more chance.'"
He paused.
"I didn't think anyone was listening."
The wind pushed softly through the trees. It was the only sound for a long stretch.
Then Yundar spoke. "You've trained like a man chasing a noose."
Leon looked over. "Maybe I was."
"You still are."
Leon didn't deny it.
"I don't care where your mories ca from," Yundar said. "You swing that blade cleaner now than anyone in this company. But don't mistake purpose for invincibility."
Leon stared into the coals at the edge of the fire pit. "I don't think I'm invincible."
"No. You think you're cursed."
Leon didn't respond.
Yundar stood. "Rest while you can. The next thing we fight might not wait for a reason."
Leon lay down near the edge of the camp.
He didn't sleep.
The sky above was clear—dotted with stars, faint white veins of cloud stretching east.
The shard in his tunic felt heavier.
He pulled it free and stared.
It pulsed again. Just once.
And this ti, when he looked into it, he didn't see his reflection.
He saw a hill.
And a gate made of bone.
He sat up straight, heart pounding. The image vanished.
No one stirred.
But the pulse was real.
The shard wasn't just a remnant.
It was a signal.
Dawn crept in slow.
By morning, they buried what they could find in the ash. Bits of cloth, a cracked badge, one half-lted silver ring with a trader's mark. No bones. No bodies.
Yundar left a post marker by the well.
Leon tied the horn to his belt and mounted his horse without a word.
They rode ho in silence.
But this ti, Leon didn't feel watched.
He felt followed.
The mont they crossed the manor gates, Leon knew sothing was wrong.
Not loud wrong—no screaming, no smoke, no alarm bells. Just stillness. Unnatural stillness.
The guards at the post didn't call out. Their shoulders were stiff, eyes forward, but not scanning. Like they were present in body only.
Yundar narrowed his gaze imdiately. "They've been told sothing."
Leon dismounted without waiting. The shard pressed cold against his chest again, but he didn't touch it. He passed the stables and crossed the east yard straight into the inner hall.
Two servants moved past him with lowered heads, silent.
The main doors to the council chamber were open.
Inside, Lord Cedric stood flanked by two nobles Leon didn't recognize. One bore a Veiren crest. The other wore dark green and no family sigil—only a fine sword and sharper posture.
Roderic stood off to the side, arms folded, not speaking.
Leon stepped forward.
Cedric looked up imdiately. "You returned sooner than expected."
Leon didn't bow. "We found what we were looking for."
The man in green stepped forward. "And did it bleed?"
Leon's eyes locked with his. "It died."
"Pity," the man said, almost smiling. "So of us would've liked a demonstration."
Leon's grip tightened.
Cedric cut in. "That's enough, Sir Harven. He just returned from a mission."
Harven raised both hands, mock-apologetic.
Leon turned to his father. "You sent south for information."
"And you returned with confirmation."
Leon didn't blink. "Then why are strangers standing in our council room?"
Cedric didn't answer.
Roderic did.
"Because they think you're attracting the enemy."
Leon's silence was cold.
He turned his head slowly to face his brother.
And said only one word:
"Good."
The silence after that word didn't last long.
Harven's boots echoed as he crossed the stone floor, slow and deliberate. "You think it's a good thing," he said, voice sharp, "that creatures from beyond our borders are hunting you?"
Leon didn't move. "It ans they're not hiding anymore."
"Or it ans you've brought rot into the roots of your own house."
Roderic shifted slightly. His arms stayed crossed, but his expression darkened—not at Harven, but at Leon. "You could've said nothing. You could've handled it quietly."
"I tried that." Leon's tone was level. "Now people are dead."
Harven stepped in close, eyes cold. "And how many more will die because you exist in a tiline you were never ant to touch?"
Leon's body went still.
Only Yundar noticed his hand twitch toward his belt—toward the shard under his cloak.
Lord Cedric raised a hand. "Enough."
Harven didn't back away. But he stopped talking.
Cedric's voice dropped. "Leon's return from the southern road confirms more than demon activity. It confirms instability in the seals. If we waste ti bickering, we'll bleed for it."
Leon's eyes never left Harven. "Let ride east next."
"No." Cedric said it fast. Final. "You've been marked now. I won't risk open confrontation."
Leon's jaw clenched. "You already did."
He turned and left the chamber without another word.
He could feel the nobleman's gaze still burning in his back.
And worse—
Roderic didn't try to stop him.
Didn't speak.
Didn't defend.
Leon stepped into the corridor alone.
And for the first ti since coming back, he realized the enemy he'd once faced with a sword...
might not be the worst one waiting in this life.
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