The banquet hall after the tally was filled with warm conversation and celebration. Wine sloshed in cups, voices carried high, and laughter rang even from those who had returned with only scratches to show for their efforts.
Morena sat near one of the outer benches, her cloak folded aside while a healer bent over her shoulder. The woman’s hands were brisk but careful, dabbing at the wolf bite with a foul-smelling poultice before wrapping clean linen tight.
"You’re lucky, Milady. A hair deeper and you’d have lost more than skin."
Morena gave no reaction but a faint nod.
"You’re right. Thank you for your hard work; your skills make the pain bearable."
The healer hummed softly and thanked her for the compliment with a smile.
When she rose again, the pain had dulled, muted under the wrappings. It wasn’t gone completely, but it no longer drew her focus unless she pressed the wound.
The hall was still alive when she returned. Cedric’s voice carried above the rest, retelling his hunt with great flourishes, each detail more grand than the last.
His friends roared at every twist, raising cups in celebratory toasts and congratulating him.
Alina sat with Ren and a few others nearby. Her younger sister had flushed cheeks, a cup in her hand, her laughter brighter than it had been in weeks.
When Morena crossed close, Alina noticed her and called out.
"Finally decided to join us instead of brooding in the corner?"
Morena arched a brow.
"I had my wounds seen to first. A difference in priorities."
Alina stuck out her tongue, the gesture childish but oddly comforting.
Ren raised his cup toward her, grinning despite the fresh bandages on his ribs.
"To Lady Morena. Who made us all look like we’d been playing at hunting rabbits."
A small cheer followed, and though Morena did not smile, she raised her cup in answer. The warmth of the room, the chatter of voices, and even the faint string music that had returned to the corner—it was all a rare kind of ease.
For a while, she let herself enjoy the atmosphere. She answered questions when they came, spoke politely, and even offered a few remarks that drew laughter.
She didn’t feel the need to act reserved anymore, having hunted animals that provided her strength; no one would look down on her. Just voices, food, and fleeting celebration.
But only for a while.
When the hall grew thicker with smoke and wine, Morena leaned close to Alina.
"We leave early. Best to rest now."
Alina pouted, clearly reluctant, but she knew her sister well enough not to argue. Together, with Ren waving them off and Cedric still holding court with half the hall, they slipped away.
The inn was quiet when they returned, the clamor of the Earl’s estate left behind. Morena sat long enough to clean her dagger and wipe the last traces of blood from her spear before finally lying down.
Sleep took her swiftly.
Dawn rose cold and clear, and with it the journey home began.
The sisters rode together once more, their escort assembled as it had been before. The city fell behind them, the road stretching into fields that gave way to the wild.
The first day passed without note. They reached the familiar post house near dusk, its walls welcoming and safe. The same warmth as before—a fire crackling, simple bread and stew, servants moving in easy rhythm.
Morena ate little, resting her body and allowing her wounds to heal. In fact, her injuries had already shown signs of healing; thanks to the AI, she could tell her body healed much quicker than a normal human.
Alina chattered beside her, recounting details to the guards and boasting the tales of her and her sister’s hunt—even though she wasn’t even there to see it.
That night, the sky was clear. Morena lingered outside the post house, the stars bright and cold overhead. She whispered quiet commands to the AI, storing their patterns, each constellation recorded. Then she returned inside, sleeping without dreaming until dawn.
The second day took them deeper into the forest roads, this time in the direction they came from before. The canopy closed above, light fractured into a hundred beams across the dirt track; the air was cool, clean, carrying the scent of streams far off.
Their escort set camp in the clearing before night fell. Two fires, a half-circle of carriages, and occasional patrols and watch by the warriors. Alina curled near the fire, speaking softer now, her energy dimmed from the days behind them.
Morena sat across, her spear lay beside her, always within reach.
The forest was calm, thanks to the joint effort of both cities; bandits in this region were very low, albeit recent concerns had shown them more frequently. Even the wolves and other dangerous animals stayed clear of the traveled paths.
On the third day, by evening, the city walls rose ahead of them. Morena leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed.
It had been roughly a week since she had left, and she had come to miss it.
She couldn’t wait to see her father and inform him of her feat—yet as the carriage rolled closer, something felt different.
The gates opened, but the guards’ faces were tight, their hands resting heavier than usual on their spears. As the carriage passed them, they gave a bow longer than needed.
Inside, the streets carried no laughter, no lively trade. People moved quickly, eyes cast low, voices hushed.
Merchants who once barked prices and shouted advertisements of their wares now muttered. Families clutched children closer, and the joyous freedom that filled the streets no longer seemed to linger. When the Ravenscroft crest passed, gazes followed—many muttered to each other, but none spoke loud enough to hear.
Morena sat back, eyes narrowing.
"Do you feel it too?"
Alina whispered beside her, red hair catching the fading sun as she peeked from the carriage window.
Morena did not answer, but her fingers brushed against the hilt of her dagger. If even her sister could notice the odd atmosphere, then something truly wasn’t normal.
She worried about what they might be heading into, but she prepared regardless.