Lira ignored him. Her gaze stayed on Lindarion.
"I was born under the third eclipse," she said again, voice even. "That's rare for our kind. Most consider it a bad sign."
'Of course they do. That sounds like the start of every villain origin story ever.'
Lindarion didn't speak, just watched her. Her expression didn't shift. No dramatic pause, no pride. Just words, given like dry facts.
"My mother tried to hide it. My father didn't care. Said if I was cursed, I'd earn it."
Ren muttered, "That's healthy."
Ardan didn't comment, but he didn't need to. The look he gave her was flat enough.
Lira kept going. Her hands were folded now, resting just below her ribs. Her back straight, like it always had to be.
"I trained at a court that no longer exists. Not burned, not broken—just abandoned. They didn't want its blood running into the newer cities. Too many names with bad memories. So they erased it."
Lindarion's eyes narrowed slightly. 'Erased? That's a new kind of exile.'
"I was a page. Then a blade servant. Then I left."
Meren blinked. "That's it?"
"No like… tragic betrayal? Hidden brother? Ancient demon pact?"
She didn't even look at him.
"I left because I didn't like being used."
Lindarion sat a little straighter. His leg shifted. The fire reflected in his eyes now, faint but sharp.
'That's understandable.'
Ren stepped away from the wall. She stretched once, slow and feline, then dropped beside Meren and stole his tea.
"Exiles, princes, almost-corpses. What a weird little group we're building."
"Don't forget mystery smug girls," Meren said.
Ren raised her stolen cup in mock toast. "The rarest class of all."
Lindarion leaned back slightly, elbows on his knees.
"So this place," he said, looking toward the ceiling, "is what then? Your secret base?"
"No," Ren said. "Lira's."
She glanced over. "Don't worry. It's not a rebel camp."
Ardan sipped. "Feels like one."
"That's just the smell," Meren said. "Old wood and trauma."
Lira finally sat. Not close. Not far. Just enough to make it clear she didn't plan to sleep tonight.
"You're not being hunted," she said. "Yet. But they'll start looking."
Lindarion didn't flinch. "I know."
"You should stay, at least until morning."
"Not afraid of the dark?"
He nodded once. "Same."
Ren grinned. "Does that mean we're having a sleepover?"
Meren's eyes widened. "Do we get blankets?"
Ardan looked toward the door. "Do we get a guard?"
"We don't need one," Lira said.
Ren shot her a look. "Confident."
"I know these woods."
"And what's in them?"
Lindarion stood. Quiet, smooth. He paced once to the far side of the fire, then back. Not restless. Just thinking with his legs.
'There's something missing still. Some part of this that hasn't been spoken. Maybe they're waiting. Or maybe I'm not meant to know yet.'
"I'll take first watch," he said.
Ardan shook his head. "No. You rest."
"You're a kid, we can watch."
"You're still just a kid."
Ren raised a hand. "I vote Lindarion gets to stay up. He's the only one who hasn't collapsed yet."
Lira didn't vote. She just watched him. Same eyes, same stillness.
Lindarion nodded once.
'Just one night,' he thought. 'Then I want to move again.'
But part of him knew that wasn't true.
Not with how the fire felt. Not with how these people, broken or smug or tired, hadn't asked him to lead, or follow. Just exist.
And for now, that was enough.
The fire's light danced low along the stone walls. It moved like breath, not flame. Slow, quiet, unsure if it wanted to stay lit or not.
Everyone else was asleep.
Ren had curled into herself against the wall, arms folded, breathing steady. Meren snored once, then shut up again. Ardan hadn't moved from his post near the door. Still awake. Eyes closed. Hand resting too close to his blade to be called relaxed.
Lindarion sat where he had been for the last hour. Near the fire. Legs drawn in. Shoulders slouched, but not from fatigue.
Lira hadn't gone to sleep either. She stood near the wall, arms crossed, watching the fire in silence.
He could feel her eyes shift toward him every few minutes.
He didn't flinch. "About what?"
"You didn't leave," she said. "You were taken from the Evernight Academy."
His fingers closed slightly around the hem of his sleeve.
'So she knows that much.'
"You're sure?" he asked.
"I heard the whispers. It wasn't a small thing. Someone got bold. Big enough to breach Evernight."
Lindarion didn't move. He just watched the fire crawl across the half-burnt log.
"There were too many people. Too many distractions."
Lira shifted. "How long?"
"Why didn't you tell them?" she asked after a long pause. "Ren. Meren. Or anyone."
"I didn't want to talk about it."
She tilted her head slightly. The firelight caught the sharp edge of her cheek.
"Then why say anything?"
He looked at her now. Not guarded. Not cold. Just tired.
"Because you're the first person to ask like you already knew the answer."
Lira stepped closer. Not by much. Just a little. Enough to not have to speak over the fire.
"You're healing," she said. "But not all of it shows."
He gave a small breath of laughter. "You trying to be comforting?"
"No," she said. "I'm trying to be clear."
He sat back slightly. Let the warmth touch his hands.
"They didn't ask questions for a while," he said. "The ones who did… they stopped after I didn't answer."
She didn't say anything to that.
"They kept me locked up waiting for answers."
Lira's face didn't change. Her voice did.
She sat down across from him, finally. Not close. Just enough that the firelight touched both of them evenly.
"Do you remember their faces?" she asked.
"I try not to, and they wore masks."
Lindarion stared into the flames.
'The man with the mask. The one who smiled while he broke things.'
"I remember the masked man still," he said.
The silence came back. Not tense. Not empty. Just full of all the things that didn't need to be said out loud.
Lindarion leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I managed to run away," he said again. "They took me. They tried to break me. And now I'm here."
Lira nodded once. "Then you deserve to sit wherever the hell you want."