The Broken Blade tavern lived up to its name. Splintered tables, cracked mugs, and patrons who looked equally damaged filled the cramped space. Smoke hung thick in the air, a haze that softened the harsh edges of reality—exactly what Kael wanted tonight.

  He nursed his third ale, hood pulled low over features too delicate for a kingdom that valued brawn over brain. The brass medallion hidden beneath his robes burned against his chest, not from heat but from shame. Six months since his exile from the Academy, and the sting hadn't lessened.

  "Another," he muttered to the barkeep, sliding copper across scarred wood.

  The tavern door banged open, cold night air cutting through the smoke like a knife. Conversations faltered as a woman filled the frame, broad-shouldered and stern-faced. Chain mail glinted beneath her travel-worn cloak, and the sword at her hip was no ornament—nicks and scratches told of frequent use.

  Kael watched her scan the room with soldier's eyes. Knight of the Silver Order, he guessed, though her insignia had been deliberately obscured with mud. Interesting.

  She claimed a corner table, back to the wall, and ordered ale without removing her gloves. Blood crusted the knuckles—fresh, by the look of it.

  Kael's attention shifted as laughter erupted near the hearth. A man with dark hair tied loosely at his nape was entertaining a barmaid with some tale, hands gesturing dramatically. The rogue's smile flashed white against olive skin, but Kael noted how those amber eyes never stopped moving, cataloging exits, weapons, threats.

  Three strangers in Dunwick, a town too small and too poor to attract visitors. The wizard's curiosity stirred, a welcome distraction from his own troubles.

  The barkeep—a mountain of a man named Holloway—hammered a nail into the notice board with unnecessary force. Parchment rustled as he affixed a new proclamation. The rogue was there instantly, reading with an exaggerated squint.

  "Well now," he drawled, voice carrying across the tavern. "Five hundred gold pieces to clear out barbarian raiders from the northern roads? Seems the Lord Protector finally noticed his tax collectors aren't returning."

  The knight's head snapped up, attention caught by the mention of gold. She rose with fluid grace that belied her armored bulk and approached the board.

  "The notice says the barbarians have allied with 'unnatural creatures,'" she read, frowning. "What manner of beasts?"

  "Who cares?" The rogue grinned, revealing a chipped canine tooth that somehow enhanced rather than diminished his charm. "For five hundred gold, I'd fight a dragon with a butter knife."

  "You wouldn't last five minutes against trained warriors," she replied coldly.

  He executed an exaggerated bow. "Thorne Blackwood, at your service. I've survived far worse than barbarians, my lady knight."

  "I'm not your lady anything," she shot back. "And I work alone."

  Kael found himself standing, drawn toward the opportunity like a moth to flame. His funds were dwindling, and a legitimate quest would mean he could stop selling minor enchantments in back alleys.

  "The notice states a minimum party of three," he pointed out, joining them at the board. "The Lord Protector believes the threat severe enough to require it."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The knight's eyes narrowed as they fell on him, seeing beyond the hood to the pale blue tattoos that marked him as mage-born. Her lip curled slightly.

  "A wizard," she said, making it sound like 'diseased rat.' "Wonderful."

  "A wizard who can incinerate barbarians before they get within sword range," Kael countered, meeting her gaze. "Or would you prefer to do all the bleeding yourself?"

  Thorne chuckled, looking between them with obvious amusement. "I like you both already. What's your name, magic man?"

  "Kael. Formerly of the Crimson Academy."

  "Formerly?" The knight raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes," Kael replied flatly. "And you are?"

  A pause. "Serena Dawnblade."

  "Well, Serena Dawnblade and Kael No-Last-Name," Thorne said, clapping his hands together, "shall we become rich together? The notice says to leave at first light."

  Serena's jaw tightened. "I don't trust either of you."

  "Nor I you," Kael replied. "But I need the gold, and I suspect you both do as well."

  Something unspoken passed between the three of them—the recognition of desperation carefully masked. Whatever had driven them to this backwater town, whatever they were running from, none could afford to refuse this opportunity.

  "First light," Serena finally agreed. "Come unprepared or slow me down, and I'll leave you behind."

  She turned on her heel and marched upstairs to the rooms for rent.

  Thorne watched her go with appreciation sparkling in his eyes. "Charming woman."

  "Dangerous woman," Kael corrected.

  "The best kind." Thorne winked, then offered his hand. "To unlikely alliances, wizard."

  Kael hesitated, then clasped the offered hand. The rogue's palm was a map of calluses—some from weapons, others from tools that likely opened things their owners preferred locked.

  "Your funeral, thief," Kael replied quietly.

  Thorne's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in those amber eyes. "We all die eventually. Might as well do it while pursuing something worth having."

  With that, he sauntered to the bar, immediately charming the barkeep into pouring from a better bottle than the one on display.

  Kael returned to his table, mind racing. He'd sworn to avoid attention, to disappear until the Academy's hunters lost interest in their escaped sacrifice. Now he'd committed to a public quest alongside a knight who clearly despised magic-users and a thief who couldn't blend in if his life depended on it.

  He touched the medallion through his robes. The forbidden spells etched into its surface had cost him everything—his position, his future, nearly his life. But they might keep this mismatched trio alive long enough to claim five hundred gold pieces.

  If the barbarians didn't kill them, they might just kill each other first.

  Outside, something howled in the night—too deep for wolf, too articulate for beast. Inside the tavern, no one seemed to notice.

  No one except Kael, whose blood ran cold at the sound. He'd heard such cries before, in ancient texts describing creatures that shouldn't exist in a rational world.

  Dawn seemed very far away.