James clapped Kurt on the back, grinning ear to ear as they pulled apart. The years had thickened the older man's frame, his shoulders broader, his beard fuller, but the same sharp light still burned in his dark eyes.

  "Look at you," Kurt said, ruffling James' damp hair. "Last time I saw you, you were barely taller than the anvil. Now you're throwing punches at satyrs and wrestling cyclopes?"

  "Not wrestling, exactly. More…running for my life." James snorted.

  "That's smart." Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "I always told Edwin you had a good head on your shoulders."

  Ser Edwin finally noticed them from across the room, his eyes widening. Shoving back from the bar, he all but sprinted across the common room, pushing and shoving to get to the two boys before coming up short and straightening his coat.

  "Kurt, blessed mother–" The two men clasped forearms, pulling each other into a hard embrace before Edwin gave him a hearty thump on the back. "Good to see you, boy. Been too long."

  "Too long," Kurt agreed, his grin fading just slightly. "And with everything happening… I wish it were under better circumstances."

  The warmth flickered, but James pushed the thought aside. For now, it was good. The fire crackled, and the tavern hummed with voices and mugs clinking. The storm raged outside, but here—here, things were okay.

  But doubt flickered in James' mind, a question that needed to be asked.

  "How's Max?" James took a long pull on his warm cider, not tasting it. As he watched his friend. Kurt's expression tightened. The scar along his cheek pulled as he glanced down at his drink, turning it in his hands.

  "Kurt?" James felt his stomach drop. Ser Edwin's smile faded, eyes honing in on the former apprentice. Kurt exhaled, slow and heavy.

  "There was an attack," he said finally. "On the march here. Satyrs and centaurs came down on us. We lost—" His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "We lost a lot of good men."

  The words hit James like a hammer to the chest. His hands curled into fists. The Justicair's words rang in his ears. I will do all I can to keep your friend safe.

  "And Max?" His voice barely carried over the hum of the tavern.

  "He was lost." Kurt's jaw worked. He didn't meet James' gaze. Drinking deeply from the mug in his hand.

  Silence fell over the trio. Each did not want to meet the other's eyes. James felt the world tilt, the warmth from the fires suddenly distant. It felt like a rug had been pulled out from beneath him.

  No. No, that wasn't—Max was strong. He was fast. He wouldn't just—

  "You mean he's dead." The words scraped out of James' throat.

  Kurt didn't answer.

  James felt the sound of the tavern drain away, the crackling fire, the hum of voices, the clinking of mugs—it all faded into the distance, becoming meaningless. His chest tightened, and his breathing was shallow.

  No. No, that wasn't right. That wasn't possible.

  The air around him felt thick, pressing in from all sides. Someone laughed from across the room, a deep, throaty chuckle from drunken soldiers, but it sounded warped and wrong like the world was tilting on its axis.

  James grabbed ahold of Kurt's uniform, the drinking James was holding forgotten and slammed onto the floor. Amber liquid spilled over their boots. He tried to speak but couldn't find the words. He only held the other man up, arms trembling with the effort.

  Ser Edwin set his drink down. He grabbed James by the back of the collar and pushed his way between the two. Placing a hand on each of their chests.

  "Kurt," he said, low and steady. His glare met James's eyes. "What happened?"

  Kurt's gaze sank to stare at his mug, fingers tightening around it. His shoulders, once broad with certainty, seemed to slump under an invisible weight. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.

  "Two days out from Oakwood. They came in fast. Hit us before we even saw the signs," he said. "Satyrs. Centaurs. They are more organized than we've ever seen them out here. They had scouts. It wasn't just an ambush. It was a coordinated raid."

  Kurt's voice was barely a whisper, shaking his head. "They went straight for the rear ranks. The fresh recruits. Max and a few others tried to hold the line, tried to fight." His jaw tightened his scarred cheek twitching. "But the line broke. The forest swallowed them."

  The words landed like a punch to James' ribs. He could see a coordinated rush to cut the weak point, shattering the line and sending the formation into chaos. Max, with a spear through his chest, body dragged into the tree line.

  James gripped the edge of the bar, his knuckles white. He wanted to punch something or someone.

  Gone. Max is gone.

  The thought played repeatedly in his head, and he spun to face Kurt, hands already balled into fists. Kurt should've protected Max. Anger welled up inside him.

  "Did you find them?" Ser Edwin's voice cut through the anger. It was careful and measured as he touched James' shoulder. His fingers tightened just enough to signal he would stop a fight if James threw that punch.

  Kurt's silence was answer enough. To James, he twisted his shoulder out of Ser Edwin's grip. He threw the punch and felt a fist to his gut before it connected with Kurt's jaw. The air rushed out of him, and he grabbed the bar for support. James squeezed his eyes shut. Fighting against the anger and the panic. His stomach twisted with nausea clawing up his throat.

  It is not possible.

  James reached for his power as if he could rewrite the past few days and change history. Change the world, but it couldn't. He let the connection drop, the traces of power tingling through his body. A hand clapped onto James' shoulder.

  "I'm sorry," Kurt murmured. His eyes were soft with what James hoped was understanding. He barely felt the hand. His limbs felt numb, his heartbeat pounding, his thoughts slow and thick, like moving through mud.

  Dead. Max was—

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  A voice slurred at his back.

  "No, he's not." James turned to see Sophia leaning against the bar, her blue eyes glassy, the flush high on her cheeks. "They didn't kill them. They took them."

  "Sophia. We're not—" Kurt stiffened beside him. His gaze hardened at the woman.

  "They took them," she repeated, firmer this time, like she was trying to get him to hear the words correctly. She drew herself up to her full height before leaning on the bar.

  James' lungs filled again, air rushing back in sharp and ragged. Sounds seemed to come back, and the room stopped spinning.

  Taken. Not dead.

  James straightened his back and tried to meet Ser Edwin's gaze. The older man was just watching the two imperium soldiers, and something like curiosity was on his face.

  I'm going to bring him home.

  "Tell me exactly what happened." Ser Edwin's eyes hardened as James had ever seen them. He shared a look with James. It said, "Yes, we are going after him, but we need more information."

  Sophia groaned, rubbing her face with one hand while gesturing for another drink with the other.

  "Light above," she muttered, downing the rest of the mug in her hand. "I don't even know where to start."

  "The beginning," Ser Edwin said firmly. Placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to steady her.

  Kurt exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair before his fingers traced the jagged scar along his cheek.

  "Two days ago," he started, voice low but steady. "We were marching in formation, nothing out of the ordinary. Just past the treeline, the first scouts vanished."

  "Vanished?" Ser Edwin asked. His eyes darting to James breifly.

  "One moment they were there, next they were gone. No sound, no struggle, nothing. We sent more men forward to investigate, but that's when the first arrows hit." Kurt nodded grimly. His eyes were unfocused, as if they were not seeing the room but seeing the past.

  Sophia let out a bitter laugh.

  "If you could call those branch-sized stakes arrows." She grabbed her drink, took a long pull, then slammed it down. "I don't know what the hell these forest bastards are doing, but they're getting better at tactics. Coordinated strikes. Hitting our weak points. And gods help me, I swear some of them were chanting."

  "Chanting?" James swallowed hard. The power in him coiling and uncoiling, like a snake ready to strike.

  "I know what I heard, farm boy." Sophia's lip curled. Setting her mug down. Kurt sighed, raising a hand in the air, signaling for another round.

  "They hit the rear first like I said. Where the fresh recruits were. Max, Callen, Megan… They were holding as best they could, but a lance of centaurs could crush veteran soldiers. We tried to regroup, but when we pushed forward, they were gone. Like that." He snapped his fingers. Meeting Ser Edwin's eyes. "Taken."

  "Like Magic?" James could barely get the words out. His power in him was ready to strike. It took everything in him to hold back the trickle of power, like the boy with his finger in the damn.

  "And the tracks?" Ser Edwin's expression darkened, his grip tightening around his mug.

  Sophia scoffed.

  "Gone. Like they never existed. One moment, the ground was torn up, littered with broken weapons. The next, it was just mud. No trail, no signs of movement." Her hand curled into a fist. "Wash wanted to send scouts after them, but we didn't have many left, and we needed to reach Oakwood."

  She let out a long, slow breath, rolling her shoulders as though shaking off the weight of memory. Melody dropped off a new round of drinks, and everyone took deep pulls. The sweet, bitter taste was refreshing at this moment.

  "Then today, right as we reached Oakwood, your Cyclops decided to come crashing through," she muttered. "Big bastard took out half our formation before we could even get our weapons up. It was swinging a tree like a club.

  "Wash tried to rally the men, but…" Her voice wavered, just for a heartbeat. "Then he got that tree through the chest."

  James saw the shutter and grimaces as Kurt and Sophia remembered that moment.

  "And now, congratulations, I'm in charge." Sophia gestured vaguely at her insignia.

  "Just like that?" James frowned. She threw up her hands in frustration. Eyes rolling back in their sockets. Kurt smothered a laugh.

  "That's how the Imperium works, farm-boy. Command structure. Chain of succession. I'm the highest-ranking officer left." She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. "So now I'm the one making the calls, and those calls are to hold position, keep the town from drowning, and—" Another vague gesture. James grabbed her arm. "Whatever else commanders are supposed to do."

  "So you're telling me," he said, voice low and shaking with restrained fury, His hand tightening around her sleeve. "that my best friend was taken by something none of you can explain, and the Imperium isn't doing anything about it?"

  Sophia held his gaze silently for a long moment before pulling free of James' grasp and sighing.

  "The Imperium's forces are stretched thin, James." Her tone softened. "We've lost too many. And between the storm and the skirmishes to the south. I can't afford to send men after ghosts."

  James' heart pounded against his ribs. A voice chimed in from behind them before he could open his mouth to argue.

  "Funny thing about disappearances in these woods…" Sebastian leaned against the bar, a fresh mug of cider in one hand, the other resting casually on the countertop. His orange eyes flickered like embers in the dim light, glinting with something unreadable.

  James turned toward Sebastian, wary that he would spin another riddle, a vague clue that wasn't immediately helpful, but James was listening.

  Sebastian took a slow sip, humming tunelessly, before continuing,

  "There's an old fort about a five-day march north, built atop an even older monastery. It was abandoned decades ago—too deep in the woods, too close to the mountains. But rumor has it, folks who go missing sometimes end up there."

  Something tickled at James' memories, a man with hawk-like features watching him through a window. James banished it with a shake of his head.

  "That's just a rumor?" Ser Edwin's head snapped toward Sebastian, fingers drumming on the counter.

  Sebastian's only answer was a small, knowing smile. He didn't need to say more. James' stomach twisted. A five-day march. That was a long way to be dragged, even by force. But if Max was there. If there was even a chance. Then, that was where they needed to go.

  James thought he felt a tug, something in his power, pulling him north. Sophia scoffed. Setting her mug down on the bad. Leaning over, meeting Sebastian's knowing gaze.

  "Doesn't matter if it's the Emperor's bloody summer estate, we can't go." She rubbed her temple, exhaustion settling into her features. "The battalion's down by half. We've got wounded to tend, defenses to reinforce, and, in case you missed it, a storm trying to drown us all."

  "We barely have enough men to hold positions, let alone go chasing myths," Kurt grunted in agreement. Sophia shot a thankful glance at Kurt for the support.

  "Since I need a new kiss-ass. I mean, second-in-command. I went ahead and promoted you, Kurt." She smiled a knowing smile at Kurt.

  "I ain't a kiss-ass— Ma'am." He saluted half-heartedly before turning sad eyes back to James. . "Still can't chase myths, James."

  "Max isn't a myth. Stop joking around." James slammed his fists into the bar, sending the gathered mugs bouncing.

  "I get it. Believe me, I do. But I can't risk more lives on a hunch." Sophia let out a slow breath, studying him.

  "So that's it? You're just going to sit here while they—" James scowled, unable to complete the sentence.

  "Are you always this bossy, or just when you're flustered?" Her eyebrow arched, and she leaned in slightly, smirking.

  . "I—what?" James' mouth opened, but his thoughts scrambled.

  "You're all red," she teased, gesturing vaguely at his face. "It's cute."

  "I am not—" James nearly choked.

  "Can we focus?" Ser Edwin groaned, rubbing his face.

  Sophia chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender.

  "Fine, fine. No joking. Even if he makes it so easy." She turned back to James, this time serious. "Look, you want to chase this? Be my guest. But I can't send soldiers with you. Not now."

  James swallowed, his mind racing. He hadn't expected the Imperium's help—not really. But hearing it out loud still stung. He would rather have been punched in the gut at that moment than to have heard those words.

  His eyes flicked back to Sebastian, who was watching him closely, still humming tunelessly.

  "A monastery? A five days north?" He asked. Meeting Sebation's orange eyes.

  Sebastian simply nodded a slow, sad thing.

  "If you go. You won't come back the same." There was sadness in the orange eyes. Before Sebastian smiled, handing him an old brass compass from the folds of his robes. "You can always find your way home with this. You might not need it now, but I feel you'll need it sooner than later."

  James met Ser Edwin's gaze. The older man just nodded, rolling his shoulders as he stood. They were going. James felt the knot that had been building loosen for the first time in what felt like hours.

  "First thing in the morning, we tell Silvia. No way in the hells we leave without her knowing."

  Sophia snorted. Her eyes met James'.

  "Smart man. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of her wrath." She raised her mug in a half-hearted toast. "Good luck, you two. Try not to die."

  Kurt let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

  "I barely made it home, and now you two are running off? Figures." He clapped James on the shoulder, not hard but firm. "Just… bring him back."

  James swallowed, nodding, the knot in his gut growing again.

  Sebastian said nothing, just watching them with that knowing look, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his mug. The weight of his words still lingered. You won't come back the same.

  James shoved down the knot in his stomach. There was no time for hesitation.

  Ser Edwin adjusted his coat, stepping toward the door. James did the same, looking at the older man.

  And together, they went out into the dark, into the storm—where the rain poured harder than ever, washing away the last remnants of safety.