Rohan’s world was a blur of pain and exhaustion. The scent of herbs and burning wood filled his senses as he slowly came to. His body ached, each wound a reminder of the battle he barely survived. As his vision cleared, he saw Talia kneeling beside him, carefully pressing a damp cloth against his forehead.

  “You’re awake.”

  She whispered, relief evident in her voice.

  The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of a nearby fireplace casting shadows across the wooden walls. He wasn’t outside anymore. This was a hut, deep in the forest. The faint murmur of voices reached him from another room. He turned his head slightly, spotting the two archers who had saved him. The man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while the woman tended to her arrows, sharpening the tips with ease.

  “Where are we?”

  Rohan croaked, his throat dry.

  “Their home.”

  Talia said, dipping the cloth into a bowl of water before wringing it out.

  “They brought us here after the fight.”

  Rohan’s mind was sluggish, but memories came back in pieces, charging back to the village, the chief’s lifeless body, the overwhelming rage that had taken over him. He tried to sit up, but pain flared through his body, forcing him back down.

  “Take it easy.”

  The female archer said, finally looking over at him.

  “You lost a lot of blood.”

  Her companion walked over, crouching beside him. Rohan’s grip tightened on the blanket covering him.

  “The village…?”

  His face darkened.

  “Gone. What wasn’t burned is in ruins. If we hadn’t gone back, you’d be dead with the rest of them.”

  Silence filled the room. Rohan exhaled sharply, forcing down the mix of anger and grief rising in his chest.

  “What about the others? The women and children?”

  "They’re safe. We brought them deeper into the forest, but they can’t stay there forever. The bandits that hit your village might come looking."

  Silence settled over them. Rohan clenched his fists. Everything he had tried to protect was gone. The chief, the village, nothing remained but ashes and corpses.

  "We need to move."

  He said finally, forcing himself upright. Talia steadied him before he collapsed again.

  "You need to heal first."

  she insisted.

  "We don’t have time, we need to find somewhere safe for the survivors. Somewhere the bandits won’t follow."

  The archers exchanged a glance.

  "There’s a town a few hours from here."

  The larger one said.

  "Heavily guarded, with a noble family that doesn’t take kindly to raiders. If we get them there, they might be safe."

  Rohan nodded, determination cutting through his pain.

  "Then that’s where we go."

  Talia looked uncertain, but she didn’t argue. She simply pressed the cloth against his arm, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

  Dawn broke over the forest, casting a dim light through the dense trees. The survivors huddled together near the hut, exhausted and wary. Some of the women clutched their children tightly, whispering reassurances that sounded as much for themselves as for their little ones.

  Rohan sat on a fallen log, testing his arm as he flexed his fingers. The wounds still stung, but he was strong enough to move. Talia stood beside him, her expression unreadable as she handed him a piece of dried meat.

  "Eat."

  She said simply.

  He took it without argument, chewing slowly as he watched the archers prepare their supplies. They had agreed to guide the group to the nearby town, but it wouldn’t be an easy journey. The road was long, and if the bandits were still hunting them, they would have to stay hidden.

  The archer checked his bowstring, glancing over at Rohan.

  "You sure you’re ready to move?"

  Rohan swallowed his food and stood, rolling his stiff shoulders.

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  "We don’t have a choice.”

  The archer slung a quiver over his shoulder.

  "Then let’s not waste time."

  The group moved cautiously through the forest, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The tension was thick, every snapping twig sending uneasy glances between them. Rohan kept his dagger at his side, his body still aching but his mind sharp.

  Talia stayed close to him, her eyes darting to the trees as if expecting something to lunge out at them.

  "Do you think they’re still looking for us?"

  "They lost a lot of men.”

  Rohan murmured.

  "If they’re smart, they’ll cut their losses.”

  "But if they’re not smart?"

  She pressed.

  "Then we’ll kill them."

  She didn’t respond, but he caught the way her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel.

  Hours passed in tense silence. The archers led the way, navigating the woods with practiced ease. The survivors trudged behind, weary but determined. They had no home to return to, only the hope that the next town would take them in.

  As the sun climbed higher, the trees began to thin, and the dirt path beneath their feet became more defined. The archers paused at the crest of a small hill, peering out beyond the forest.

  "There it is."

  The female archer muttered.

  Rohan stepped forward. In the distance, past rolling fields and scattered farmhouses, stood the town, a fortified settlement with high wooden walls and watchtowers. Smoke emanated from chimneys, and figures moved along the perimeter.

  "Let’s go.”

  He said, as they made their way towards the town.

  As they descended the hill toward the town, the weight of exhaustion pressed down on the group. The children lagged behind, their small feet stumbling over roots and stones, but the women urged them forward. Every so often, one of the archers would glance over their shoulder, scanning the tree line for any signs of pursuit.

  Rohan walked at the front, his body aching with every step. Talia stayed close beside him, her hands gripping the straps of her satchel tightly.

  The walls of the town loomed closer, the wooden planks weathered but sturdy. A pair of guards stood watch at the entrance, spears in hand. Their expressions hardened as they spotted the approaching group.

  "Halt!"

  One of them called out, stepping forward.

  "State your business."

  The archer raised a hand in a sign of peace.

  "We’re refugees. Our village was attacked by bandits. We need shelter."

  The guards exchanged glances. Rohan could already see their hesitation. A group of ragged survivors showing up unannounced, it was a risk, and they knew it.

  "Who leads your group?"

  The other guard asked.

  The archers hesitated, but Rohan stepped forward.

  "I do."

  One of the guards narrowed his eyes.

  "And who are you?"

  Rohan straightened, ignoring the pain that flared through his ribs.

  "Someone who fought to keep these people alive."

  His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering.

  "We’re not here to cause trouble."

  The first guard studied him for a moment before turning to his companion.

  "Go get the captain.”

  Minutes passed in tense silence before an older man in chainmail emerged from the gate. He took one look at the battered group before settling his gaze on Rohan.

  "You fought off bandits?"

  Rohan nodded.

  "Killed a good number of them too."

  The captain’s expression didn’t change.

  "And if we let you in, what then?"

  "We’ll work for our keep."

  Rohan said without hesitation.

  "Help with whatever the town needs.”

  The captain considered this, then looked at the women and children, their faces streaked with dirt and exhaustion. He exhaled through his nose.

  "Open the gate."

  The heavy wooden doors creaked as they swung inward. Relief washed over the group, but Rohan didn’t let himself relax just yet.

  The captain gestured for them to follow.

  "Come. Let’s figure out where to put you."

  As they stepped inside, Talia let out a quiet breath beside him. But something in Rohan’s gut told him their fight wasn’t over.

  The captain led Rohan away from the others, his steps slow but deliberate. The weight of the past days pressed down on him, but he kept pace, his mind clouded with exhaustion and lingering rage. The town around them was bustling despite the early morning, and refugees shuffled between makeshift tents, while weary soldiers stood watch.

  “You’re the one who brought the survivors in.”

  The captain finally said, glancing at Rohan.

  “That makes you their leader, whether you meant to be or not.”

  Rohan didn’t respond. He wasn’t anyone’s leader. He had just done what needed to be done.

  The captain sighed.

  “Word travels fast. The noble who oversees this town wants to speak with you.”

  Rohan narrowed his eyes.

  “Why?”

  The captain kept his gaze ahead.

  “You were at one of the villages that got attacked. That means you might know something useful. This wasn’t just some random raid, these bastards have been moving through the region, taking over settlements, killing anyone who resists. We need information, and you’re the only survivor who’s in any condition to give it.”

  Rohan swallowed down the bitterness rising in his throat. He thought of the chief, of the burning village, of the screams that still echoed in his head.

  “I’ll tell them what I know.”

  He said quietly.

  The captain nodded.

  “Good. And keep your guard up. Nobles don’t take an interest in people like us unless they see a reason to.”

  Rohan barely heard him. His mind was already turning toward the meeting ahead.

  The guards led Rohan through the noble’s estate, a stark contrast to the suffering he had witnessed over the past few days. Polished stone floors gleamed under candlelight, and richly woven banners hung from the walls. Rohan felt out of place, his tattered clothing and bandaged wounds a reminder of the world outside these walls.

  At the far end of the room, a man in fine robes sat behind an ornate table, studying a map. He barely looked up as Rohan approached.

  “You were in one of the raided villages.”

  The noble finally said, tapping the map.

  “Tell me, have you ever heard of the Black Crows?”

  Rohan’s body tensed, his fingers twitching toward his belt as if his dagger was still there. The name sent a shock through his mind, dredging up memories he had long tried to bury.

  “They don’t go by that name anymore.”

  The noble continued, oblivious to Rohan’s growing rage.

  “Now they call themselves the Iron Talons. More organized, more well-armed. No longer just raiders, they take over entire villages and force survivors into servitude.”

  He looked up, finally meeting Rohan’s burning gaze.

  “I assume this means something to you.”

  Rohan’s fists clenched at his sides. His voice came out low and strained.

  “They were the ones.”

  The noble raised an eyebrow.

  “They were the ones who burned my village.”

  Rohan growled.

  “They slaughtered my family. I thought they were just a pack of mindless killers, but now you’re telling me they’re still out there, stronger than before?”

  The noble sighed, folding his hands on the table.

  “I won’t lie to you. Wiping them out won’t be easy. We have reason to believe they’re being funded by someone with considerable wealth and influence.”

  Rohan’s breath came heavy. The walls felt too small, the air too thick. Every instinct in him screamed for action.

  “I’ll do anything.”

  He said, his voice a mixture of rage and desperation.

  “Anything to kill them all.”

  The noble studied him for a long moment before leaning back in his chair.

  “Good, then we may have use for each other.”