“I had a friend once,” she says. “Back before the Rangers. Back when I was… property. We were caged together. Slept back to back to stay warm. Whispered plans in the dark—about running. About freedom. She said we’d find the forest, live off berries and rabbits. Sisters.”
Her breath catches, sharp as glass. “When the auction came, she sold me out. Told them my hiding places. My secrets. I thought she’d be the one I could count on.”
She drags a hand down her face, harsh. “But she wanted favor more than she wanted me. So she betrayed me.”
The fire spits, throws sparks into the air.
I don’t move. Don’t speak. Just listen.
Her eyes lift, lock onto mine. Brown and burning. “I don’t trust easy. Not anymore.”
We sit there like that, the silence thick as syrup. The fire crackles between us, and the wind slides through the broken ceiling with a sound like old ghosts whispering. Above, the stars burn cold, indifferent.
I want to say something. Anything. But the words catch. I’ve fought wars with blades and claws, crushed ogres like twigs, torn monsters limb from limb. Yet here, in the ruin, under her eyes, I feel unarmed.
Instead, I reach for the poker and stir the fire. Flames flare, sparks leaping.
Her gaze doesn’t waver.
“Is it always like that for trolls?” she asks finally, voice soft but steady. “That… knowing?”
“Always,” I say. “Once it happens, there’s no going back.”
She studies me a long while. Then she nods, slow, like she’s cataloging the truth of it. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t mock.
The silence that follows is different than before. Not empty. Heavy. Charged.
Her story hangs between us like a wound left open to the night air. Mine too, though I never spoke it.
Our eyes lock again. The fire throws gold into hers, red into mine. The ruin seems to hold its breath.
And then we’re moving again, by unspoken agreement. Close, too close. Got to watch my step before we get past the point of no return.
River finally drifts into sleep,curled near the fire with her rifle hugged against her chest like it’ll whisper comfort if she dreams wrong. Her breath is steady. Her face, in firelight, almost soft. I sit with my back against the wall of the ruin, claws idly dragging lines into the dirt. Sleep won’t come. Not after what I felt in her eyes tonight.
So I reach into the satchel.
The crystal is there, heavy as a heart I never wanted to use. Black quartz, cut rough, humming faint with the stink of old spellcraft. I haven’t touched it in years. Not since I swore off ties. But my hand finds it anyway.
I mutter the word that wakes it. Light spills inside, purple veins crawling through the rock until it glows like a caged storm.Then, clear as if he’s squatting right beside me, Veeto’s voice bursts out.
“Well, well, if it ain’t old bridge-ass himself,” the satyr crows. His tone is smug enough to curdle milk. “Didn’t think you remembered how to work that thing. Must be dire. You run outta moonshine, or finally fall in love with your own reflection?”
I grit my teeth. “Shut your mouth.”
“Oh-ho!” he laughs, sharp and mean. “There’s heat in your growl. Haven’t heard that since you caught me pissin’ in your still.”
“Keep talking and I’ll crush your jaw through the gem.”
“You could try.” He snorts, unconcerned. “But you wouldn’t. You called me, Kragna. You. That means you need something. And I bet I know what.”
His voice dips, mock-sincere. “Tell me. Is she pretty? Smells like fear and gunpowder, I wager. Got that look, don’t she? The one that crawls under your hide and won’t leave? The one that makes you stupid?”
My claws dig deeper into the earth. “Careful, goat.”
He only laughs harder. “You’re soft. By the stones, you’resoft! You found yourself a human girl and now you’re crooning lullabies instead of tearing out throats.”
My lip curls. “I tore two ogres to ribbons today.”
