At the market, the morning was already alive but Darius felt none of it.

  He worked because he must. Because standing still would let his mind wander back to the forest and the blade, down to the thing he became.

  His arms trembled slightly under the weight of the grain sack, not from weakness but from the exhaustion creeping into his bones. He had hardly slept.

  He remembered summoning his armoury without hesitation, reaching for that blade—The Spirit of Death. He remembered how his instinct overrode caution, his fingers brushing the hilt… and then nothing.

  His memory simply ended.

  He remembered holding the sword after the Rageler was dead, and Favian calling his name like an echo through water. But the kill… it was like peering through fog.

  Like someone else had moved his body for him.

  Darius paused mid-lift with his palm pressing lightly to his chest. His skin was smooth, with a faint mark at most. The Rageler’s claws should have ended him, yet the flesh was whole. He swallowed hard.

  The blade healed me. The thought chilled him more than it comforted.

  Because if the sword could heal, what else could it do? What did it take in return?

  “Kriger!”

  Nathan’s voice entered his thoughts making him flinch. Darius blinked back to the present, realizing he had been standing still, sack slumped halfway down his shoulder.

  Nathan approached with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, sweat darkening the fabric near his collarbone. He gave Darius a concerned glance but spoke with practical briskness.

  “Leave those two in the cart,” Nathan said, gesturing. “They’re already bought. The owners will come for them themselves.”

  Darius nodded silently and lowered the sack back into the cart beside the other. His muscles ached from effort.

  Nathan clapped his shoulder once. “You look tired,” he said. “Long night, hmm?” he asked.

  Darius managed a small smile. He insisted to Nathan that he was all right, only a little worn and in need of rest.

  Nathan eyed him sceptically but said nothing of it; instead, he pointed toward one of the nearby shops.

  “Go on, lad. Get yourself inside and lie down for a bit,” he urged.

  Darius didn’t argue. His limbs already felt heavy.

  Inside, Meredith looked up from her workbench, surprised to see him.

  “Father said you needed rest,” she said gently. “I’ve put some sacks down over there. Not the softest of beds, but better than the floor.”

  Darius managed a tired smile. “It’s perfect. Thank you. I needed this.”

  Meredith dusted off her hands and moved towards the door. “I should get going to the market,” she said.

  The words snapped him alert. “I’ll come with you,” Darius offered at once, straightening despite the ache in his spine.

  But even as he said it, something in him recoiled. He did not want to step out there— not with Valiant patrols drifting like wolves in the town, nor with the risk of being recognised as a Truther.

  Meredith shook her head with a soft laugh. “I’m not going for threads or anything important. No need to escort me. You look as though you’ll fall over if someone breathes too hard. Rest, Darius.”

  He hesitated, the instinct to protect warring with the instinct to hide. At last he relented with a slow exhale.

  “All right… if you’re sure.”

  “I am,” she assured him, slipping out through the doorway.

  The moment she was gone, the tension in Darius’s shoulders loosened. He sank onto the makeshift bed of sacks, grateful for the quiet and shelter.

  Darius had scarcely lowered his head onto the sacks when a faint warmth pulsed through his left wrist. He lifted his arm, startled. Light shimmered beneath his skin, soft at first, then brightening until the air itself seemed to ripple.

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  Before his eyes, a gold-plated band began to materialise, its surface chased with delicate engravings and set with gemstones of shifting colours. The magic coalesced in a quiet hum, settling around his wrist like a living thing.

  The band had only just finished forming when the door creaked open.

  Meredith stepped back inside.

  Darius froze. Instinct surged before thought. He snatched the nearest shawl and wrapped it hastily around his glowing wrist, tugging the fabric tight. His heart hammered against his ribs.

  Meredith didn’t look at him at first. Her gaze swept the room with purpose, moving over shelves, baskets and stacked crates; as if searching for something she had misplaced. Darius followed her eyes nervously.

  Then she saw it.

  Her gaze dropped straight to his covered wrist. “There it is,” she breathed, her voice bright with delight.

  She started towards him.

  Darius stumbled back two steps, the shawl clutched protectively to his chest. He tried to steady himself, but his body trembled. The fear of the band being found out.

  He couldn’t tell whether Meredith had seen the glow or simply recognised the shape beneath the cloth; all he knew was that she was approaching, and he wasn’t ready for anyone to know what had just awakened on his skin.

  Meredith came close enough that Darius could feel the air as she reached for the wrapped wrist. Instinctively, he jerked his arm behind his back, stepping away from her touch.

  Meredith paused, her brow creasing— not in anger, but in a puzzled and amused way.

  “What are you doing?” She asked.

  Darius forced a tight grin, one that sat painfully on his face.

  “I need that shawl,” Meredith said with a patient but firm tone. “I’m going to the temple later, and it’s the only clean one I have.”

  Darius shook his head quickly. “You can’t. I—I cut myself earlier. It’s bleeding. The shawl’s already soaked, so you can’t use it.”

  The lie tumbled out before he could think better of it.

  Meredith’s eyes honed with concern. “Bleeding?” she asked.

  Before he could react, she moved fast, far faster than he expected. She seized his wrist with both hands.

  Darius flinched, completely unprepared. “Meredith…!”

  But she had already pulled the shawl free.

  The fabric fell away, revealing the gleaming band upon his skin, the gemstones and gold catching the sunlight.

  Meredith stared at it, her frown deepening.

  “You’re not bleeding,” she murmured, confusion threading through her voice.

  Darius snatched his arm back, hiding the wrist behind him once more, as though the very sight of the band might invite disaster. His heart thundered against his ribs, and he could only hope she hadn’t truly seen what it was

  But it was already too late. Meredith had seen enough, and the way Darius hid his wrist only deepened her suspicion.

  “Why are you hiding your hand?” she demanded gently, though her eyes were sharp. “And why in the world do you have so many gemstones on your wrist?”

  “It’s nothing,” Darius replied too quickly.

  Meredith folded her arms. “Kriger… show me.”

  There was no escape in her tone, only insistence wrapped in concern.

  With a slow, reluctant breath, Darius extended his arm. The band gleamed openly now. Meredith leaned closer, her expression shifting from confusion to sheer awe.

  “What is this?” she whispered.

  “A piece of jewellery,” Darius lied smoothly, though his voice carried a faint tremor. “An inheritance. From my parents.”

  She didn’t look convinced. Her gaze traced the gemstones embedded in the band. Seven of them, each cut hexagonally, each of a different hue. But three of them drew her eyes at once: red, green, and violet, each glowing faintly and unnaturally, as though lit from within.

  Meredith pointed at them. “Why are those glowing? And the others aren’t?”

  Darius swallowed. “I’m not sure. It’s… old. Ancient. Passed down through the family. Likely magical.”

  “Then why hide it from me?” she asked softly, eyes lifting to his.

  Darius clenched his jaw. “Because it looks unusual. Suspicious even. And I don’t want the wrong eyes seeing it and assuming it’s something dangerous.”

  The truth within the lie stung him. He didn’t want anyone seeing it. Not Meredith, or strangers, and especially not the Valiants.

  Meredith’s expression softened. “I understand,” she said quietly. “Anything unnatural on you… people might mistake you for a Truther.”

  Darius’s heart lurched, though he masked it with a nod. “Yes. Exactly that.”

  Relief washed through him. At least she hadn’t suspected the truth.

  Meredith retrieved her shawl and stepped back out into the sunlight, leaving him alone with the thrum of magic on his wrist.

  But try as he might, Darius could not close his eyes. Sleep felt impossible. Meredith’s reaction replayed in his mind. What if she told someone? What if the wrong person asked the wrong question?

  After several restless minutes, he rose and slipped out quietly, deciding to follow her from a distance. He kept well back, threading through the crowd like a shadow, eyes fixed on Meredith’s figure as she wound her way through the busy market.

  She walked for some time, weaving past stalls, through narrow aisles, until finally she stepped beyond the market’s edge, towards a cluster of men dressed in black. Valiants.

  Darius halted, breath catching. His pulse roared in his ears.

  One of the Valiants broke away from the group to meet her. Karev.

  Darius recognised him instantly, and relaxed only a fraction. Karev was no enemy, not really, not since he had discovered the truth about him and Favian. But the others… the others were another matter entirely.

  He stayed hidden, watching, praying Meredith would not utter a careless word about the gemstones.

  Then another figure approached. A man in white, ranked higher than Karev.

  His posture was rigid and his steps; measured with authority. Karev turned to speak to him, gesturing towards Meredith in a manner that looked very much like an introduction.

  When the man’s face came into full view, Darius’s blood ran cold.

  He knew that face.

  The Valiant from the night after the Purge. The one who had stood over Ron as he was paraded through Orlan. A hunter of men, a loyal blade of the regime.

  And now he was here. In Sadnon.