After a few quiet minutes of winding corridors and heavy steps, we entered the room.

  Manach still lay there—motionless, silent, as if untouched by time. The only sign he hadn’t slipped into the void for good was the faint rise and fall of his chest. The light filtering in through the high windows caught on the sheen of sweat on his brow.

  Leliana sat beside him, hunched forward in a chair that looked like it had been dragged there in frustration. Her hands were folded, clenched, then open again—she was tired. The kind of tired born from helplessness.

  The moment she saw us, she stood quickly. Not startled—just... ready.

  “Koch,” she said evenly, her tone stripped of pretense.

  “Leliana,” I returned with a simple nod.

  She looked at me like someone holding back guilt she couldn’t quite name. “I’m sorry. I searched everything. Books, scrolls, hidden compartments. I tore this room apart. I found nothing.”

  “It’s fine.” I stepped closer to Manach, looked down at him. “There’s still hope.”

  Houra stood silent behind me, arms folded, watching. Waiting. Then, she spoke with a rare softness.

  “True,” she said. “I have to admit—I’m impressed, Koch.”

  I turned to glance at her, puzzled. “Why?”

  She smiled faintly, almost teasing. “You managed to find an ally in a city built on Coldian hatred.”

  I caught her glance toward Leliana. It wasn’t accusatory—just… intrigued.

  Leliana blinked at her, brows drawing in. “I’m sorry for cutting in,” she said. “But who exactly are you?”

  Houra looked briefly surprised, then something in her posture relaxed—like she shed a layer of armor no one could see. She let out a slow, soft sigh.

  “Nobody,” she said, her voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. “Just a friend of Koch. From the Citadel. I came to help his companion.”

  Friend. She said friend. That word landed deeper than I expected, stirring something warm beneath the layers of battle-worn fatigue in my chest. Maybe it wasn’t true—not really—but it still felt like a kind of protection, like I was worth standing beside.

  Leliana offered a slight bow of her head, still wary. “A friend. Right. Well... you already know who I am.”

  “I do. I’m Houra. It’s a pleasure.”

  Leliana froze, just for a moment. I saw it—the name meant something. But she swallowed it down, tucked it away. Let it go.

  “You can help Manach?” she asked, cautiously hopeful now. “Do you have the antidote?”

  Houra shook her head, her expression serene. “No. But I have something better.”

  Leliana’s gaze hardened. “Better than a cure?”

  “Alchemy,” Houra began, taking a step toward the bed, “is just bottled magic. Curses. Enchantments. Reactions. It’s magic laced into material. Which means—like any magic—it has weaknesses.”

  “So you know what the weakness is?” Leliana asked.

  Houra tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “No. But Koch does.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  Both women looked at me now—Leliana with confusion, Houra with quiet certainty.

  She didn’t elaborate.

  But I felt something stir inside my chest. A pull. A knowing.

  Then it struck me. Sharp and certain.

  Without hesitation, I reached over my shoulder and pulled Dullness from my back. The obsidian blade sang in the stillness—no sound, but I felt it. I stepped forward and placed it across Manach’s chest.

  Leliana's eyes widened. “Koch—what are you doing?!”

  I didn’t answer. I trusted the silence more than I trusted my words. Beside me, Houra just watched, arms at her sides now, expression unreadable—but calm. Like she knew.

  Seconds passed. Five. Maybe ten.

  Then Manach coughed violently, his body lurching like a breath had been dragged from the bottom of a well. His eyes flew open, wild and searching. Alive.

  Leliana gasped. I exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

  Houra smiled.

  To think that the blade had been the cure all along—the damn thing resting on my back for days, humming with purpose while I ran in circles. Typical. Still, that wasn’t what mattered now.

  Manach shot upright with the sort of panicked lurch only someone clawing their way back from the brink could manage. His eyes darted, wild and unfocused, from me to Houra—then his body caught up with itself and he vomited over the side of the bed.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Leliana didn’t flinch. She gave a small, knowing smile and slipped out of the room without a word. She’d seen this before. Knew what the body needed.

  I just stood there, quietly relieved. He was back.

  Manach blinked hard, wiped his mouth, then stared at me. Then at Houra again. His brain was piecing things together—badly.

  Then he vomited again.

  Houra raised an eyebrow, a corner of her mouth twitching. “I mean, I didn’t shower today, but I didn’t think I smelled that bad.”

  “Don’t worry, Miss Houra,” I said dryly. “He’s like that with all the women.”

  Manach’s head whipped toward me. He grinned. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You bastard.” He shoved himself upright, staggered a bit, then grinned wider. “Ah, sorry. Miss Houra. My sincerest apologies. It’s just Koch’s stench—it really gets into your bones, doesn’t it?”

  Houra chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ll take my leave now. Koch. Manach. Stay alive.” She nodded once, then turned on her heel and slipped out.

  I lifted a hand to wave, but she was already gone.

  Manach turned back to me. “What the hell happened to me?”

  “A lot,” I said. “More happened while you were unconscious.”

  “Unconscious? Why was Houra here? Where even are we? Did you kill that juggernaut bastard and his little spell-slinging friend?”

  I shook my head. “No. And there’s too much to explain now. Rest. Leliana’s bringing food.”

  “Leliana?” he raised an eyebrow. “You got a girlfriend while I was unconscious? You dog.”

  He laughed, but quieted quickly when Leliana returned carrying a platter stacked with bread, roasted meats, something vaguely green, and a jug of water.

  He blinked, stared. Then grinned like a fool.

  “You must be Miss Koch.”

  “You must be the sleepy lunatic he talked about,” Leliana shot back, matching him with a smirk.

  “Lunatic?” Manach turned to me.

  “Miss Koch?” Leliana turned to me.

  I groaned. “Oh, piss off. Both of you.”

  “Fair enough,” Manach said, already reaching for the food. “Thank you, by the way. I haven’t met you properly yet, but if Koch trusts you... then I don’t. But I’ll explain that later.”

  He tore into the meat like a starved beast.

  “He’s... enthusiastic,” Leliana muttered.

  “No. He just eats like a pig,” I replied.

  Manach looked up, something muffled and obscene escaping from his full mouth. I didn’t bother translating.

  “I’m going to pack,” Leliana said, shaking her head. “We should be ready to move by morning.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  She nodded and left.

  I sat beside Manach as he kept eating, loud and focused.

  “So,” he said, once his mouth was clear. “How long was I out?”

  “A couple of months.”

  He blinked. “Really? Feels like I just dozed off for a few hours.”

  “Eternal Slumber,” I said.

  “The curse?” He smirked. “Cool.”

  “I saved your ass. Again,” I added.

  He nodded slowly, chewing, but didn’t have a comeback. That was a rare sight.

  “Tell me everything,” he said. “Where’s the mage? What happened to the dwarf? The juggernaut? The city? I want all of it.”

  So I told him.

  Everything from the cave fight to Lampis, the shifts in the city’s undercurrents, the silence from the Council. I left out Athion. I left out Laach. Not out of fear—but some truths sit better once the ground stops shaking.

  I told him about Houra. About the blade. About Dullness.

  He sat there, finishing the last bite, nodding slowly.

  Then he sighed.

  “I missed all the fun.”

  He meant it.

  Manach got himself ready not long after. Said he was heading to explore the Temple—his words—but I knew better. He wasn’t interested in ancient relics or broken statues. What he wanted was contact. His gear was gone, stripped somewhere between the cave and the cot he woke up in. He needed replacements, and the Coldians outside the walls were his best bet.

  He didn’t tell me that, of course. Manach never said the things that mattered. But I’d known him long enough. You learn to read the eyes when the words get slippery.

  Leliana was off somewhere, preparing in her own way. Maybe back at that makeshift little hole she carved out in Lampis. Or maybe not. Didn’t matter. Everyone had their rituals.

  I did the same.

  I didn’t have much—never did—but I gathered what I had, checked it all, tightened buckles and bindings. You learn to trust your kit. More than people, most days. Then I sat. Spent a few hours writing, scratching down what I could while the mind was quiet. Then I sat some more. Thought about what came next.

  Our immediate mess was clear: we were broke. Manach had taken coin before his little nap, and that was long gone. Tjogg, The Ship Mover, marked for death. We already lost the money that was given us for this job. However, there was Rukh. The mage had given us a deadline, I remembered that much. We’d missed it. By weeks, maybe more. But no message. No mercs sent our way. No threats. It made me itch. He wasn’t the type to let things go. Didn’t seem to at least.

  But my real focus, the one that kept chewing the edge of my thoughts, was Sioh. Finding him, uncovering what happened to him and the frost mage Aurelia. It was getting messier the closer we got. Athion and Laach were tied into it somehow—Athion with his half-truths and polite silences, and Laach… well, Laach was Laach.

  I’d need to speak with the Coldians at the docks. If anyone had eyes on Rukh, it’d be them.

  And there was still revenge simmering on the back burner. The two who laid us low and left us bleeding in the dark—they had a name. de Conne. Not much, but it was something. You start with a name, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, you end with blood.

  Once all that sorted in my head, I let go. Laid down. Slept.

  Didn’t dream much. But when I woke up, I remembered something about cake. Just a dumb dream. No weight to it. Nothing useful.

  I geared up and stepped out.

  Didn’t get far before Graveth, the Knight-Commander himself, intercepted me near the gate. Like a boulder standing in the morning light.

  “Koch. A word,” he said, voice like gravel in a well.

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  He stepped closer. “May I ask—what’s your next destination?”

  “The docks,” I said. “We’re catching a ship north.”

  He studied me a moment. “Then I have a favor to ask.”

  I tensed. I didn’t need more detours. “What kind?”

  “Nothing tedious. Just a letter. Deliver it to the Coldian commander at the docks. Normally I’d go myself—or send one of mine—but the Coldians are… on edge.”

  “On edge?” That part mattered. More than his errand.

  “I don’t know why,” Graveth said. “But I’d rather not stir the embers. Will you do it?”

  I gave a slow nod. “Sure. I’m going that way anyway.”

  He handed me the letter without ceremony. “Thank you. And safe travels.”

  I tucked it away in my pouch without reading it. Didn’t even consider opening it. Not out of discipline—just didn’t care. I had enough weight on me.

  At the temple gate, Leliana and Manach were already waiting. She was saying something, bright-eyed.

  “Koch!” she called. “Manach said yes.”

  “You’re late,” Manach said with mock seriousness. “And of course I said yes. She did save both our asses.”

  He was being genuine. That was rare.

  “Good,” I said simply. “Let’s move.”

  We did. Now traveling as three.

  The walk to the city gate was quiet, filled with light small talk. Nobody stopped us on the way out. No guards. No fanfare. Just three people stepping back into the wild.

  Then, somewhere down the dirt road and between the long shadows of early morning, I asked the question.

  “Leliana. How do you feel about your father?”

  Her face shifted like a storm behind her eyes.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

  And that was enough for me.

  This is a big milestone for me, as this chapter marks the end of an arc.

  Spyhex | Writing fantasy fiction and stories | Patreon

  It's not too far ahead, but every week it runs away by about 1-2 chapters. Also there are going to be posts about lore and short stories, from the same world the story unfolds. ??