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The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across her garden. Soon darkness would fall. The thought of him disappearing into the night, perhaps forever this time, created an unexpected ache in her chest.

“At least tell me why you’re here first.”

He shifted his weight, the leather of his armor creaking softly. His eyes scanned the perimeter of her property with the watchfulness of someone accustomed to danger. Some habits never changed, it seemed.

“I’m investigating something,” he said finally. “Reports of… unusual activity in the Old Kingdom.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Unusual how?”

“Lasseran may be building an army. Beast warriors.”

The name sent a chill down her spine. Memories of Kel’Vara flashed through her mind—the towering black citadel, the Dusk Guard patrolling narrow streets, the whispered disappearances.

“And you’re doing this alone?” she asked, unable to mask her concern.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I work better alone.”

The statement hung between them, laden with unspoken history. Had that been his reasoning all those years ago? That whatever had taken him away from her was something he needed to face alone? What had happened to him in the years since she’d last seen him? Where had he been? What scars—visible and invisible—had he collected along the way?

Despite everything, she found herself wanting to know this older, more weathered version of the orc who had once saved her life. The realization was unsettling, like discovering a door she thought permanently sealed was actually just slightly ajar.

“You look tired,” she said abruptly. “And hungry, probably. Where were you planning to stay?”

His gaze drifted towards the darkening horizon. The sun was setting faster now, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. Night would fall soon, and with it the chill that always seemed to seep into her bones this time of year.

He shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

Of course he hadn’t. Some things hadn’t changed. She remembered how he’d always lived in the moment, focused on the immediate task rather than what might come next.

“The village has an inn,” she offered, then frowned. “Though I doubt Marken would rent to…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

“An orc,” he said flatly. “I’m used to it.”

The resignation in his voice tugged at something in her chest. She knew what it was like to be unwelcome, to have doors closed based on nothing more than what others perceived you to be.

She glanced at her cottage—small but sturdy, with its thatched roof and stone walls. Her sanctuary. The one place in the world where she felt truly safe.

Was she really considering this?

“You could stay here,” she said, the words tumbling out before she could reconsider. “Just for tonight.”

Surprise flickered across Egon’s face, quickly masked by his usual stoic expression. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition if it’s an invitation,” she replied, doing her best to keep her voice casual despite her doubts. Was this wise? After everything, after all the years of silence, to let him into her home?

But the alternative—sending him into a night where he’d likely find no shelter—felt wrong. Whatever had happened between them, whatever explanation he owed her, she couldn’t bring herself to be that cruel.

“I have a spare pallet,” she said, making her decision. “You can sleep by the hearth.”

She turned toward her cottage, not waiting to see if he would follow, but the soft pad of footsteps behind her confirmed he had accepted her offer.

Her heart raced as she approached her door, suddenly seeing her home through a stranger’s eyes—through his eyes. The carefully tended garden, the neat stack of firewood, the small bench where she sat on warm evenings. All evidence of the life she’d built alone.

A life he knew nothing about. A life that, until today, had not included him.

CHAPTER 5

Egon watched Lyric march to her door before stopping to glare back at him. His heart hammered against his ribs. The offer of shelter—her shelter—felt like more than he deserved.