The sun hung low over Ignisia, casting long shadows across the town as Irelia and Pip met at the southern gates. The evening breeze carried the scent of pine and distant hearth smoke, but Irelia barely noticed. Her thoughts remained tangled in Kaellum’s letter, its words clinging to her mind like stubborn embers refusing to fade.

She tore her gaze away from the horizon and turned to Pip—only to blink at the sight before her. His small frame was nearly swallowed by the mountain of supplies strapped to his back. Bags dangled from his belt and legs, giving him the unfortunate look of an overburdened merchant stall on the verge of collapse.

“What in the world is all that?” Irelia asked, one brow arching.

“Supplies!” Pip announced proudly, straightening as best he could under the weight. “Medical kits, extra blankets, food, and… other essentials. They’ll need this after we find them.”

His certainty gave her pause. She’d learned the hard way that hope could be sharper than any blade, its edge cutting deeper when shattered. But as she looked at Pip, so determined despite the odds, she couldn't bring herself to dampen his resolve. Instead, she let out a slow sigh.

“That’s too much luggage. We won’t be in the forest long—a day or two at most. It’ll only slow us down.”

“But what if—”

“If it gets too heavy,” she cut in, her tone firm but not unkind, “we’ll leave it behind. And if you refuse, I’ll leave you behind.”

Pip beamed at her, entirely unfazed. “Understood!” he chirped.

His unshaken enthusiasm tugged a small, reluctant smile from her. “Come on. Let’s get the horse.”

They made their way to the stables just beyond town, where the scent of hay and damp earth mingled with the quiet snorts of resting mounts. A stable boy straightened at their approach, giving Irelia a respectful nod.

“Fetch Aurelia for me,” she said, flicking him a coin.

Moments later, the boy returned, leading a stunning brown mare into the yard. Her golden mane shimmered like autumn sunlight, her every movement exuding strength and elegance.

“This is Aurelia,” Irelia said, patting the mare’s neck. “She’s more than strong enough to carry both of us—including your ridiculous hoard of supplies.”

Pip eyed the horse warily, taking a step back. “Are you sure? She looks… delicate.”

Irelia barked out a laugh. “Delicate? Aurelia’s carried a high elf in full plate armor—more times than I can count.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and a familiar pang struck her chest. Aurelia had once belonged to Nariel Kaeryn.

Memories surfaced unbidden—of long rides side by side, whispered conversations beneath the stars, and a parting that had left scars neither of them had spoken of since. Irelia inhaled sharply, pushing it all away.

Now wasn’t the time.

Pip’s voice jolted her back to the present. “Uh… you okay?”

Irelia blinked, then turned to him—only to notice the careful distance he was keeping from the mare. Her lips quirked. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid,” he shot back, though the pink tinge on his cheeks betrayed him. “I’m just… cautious. Animals this big can, you know, trample you.”

Irelia smirked, her gaze flicking over his small frame. “Pip, everything is several times your size.”

“That’s not helping,” he muttered, folding his arms.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “We’re not going on foot. It’d take a full day to reach the attack site, and we don’t have that kind of time. Every second counts when people are missing.”

Pip swallowed hard, eyeing the mare warily. “Fine. I… I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Irelia said, her tone softening. “Do you really want to find your friends?”

He hesitated, then straightened, hazel eyes shining with determination. “Yes.”

“Then face your fear,” she said. To her surprise, Pip nodded resolutely and approached the mare. His movements were hesitant, but he managed to climb onto the saddle with her help. Irelia mounted behind him, guiding Aurelia onto the road.

As they rode, Irelia found herself warming to the halfling. Pip was a natural storyteller, effortlessly filling the journey with tales of his travels. He spoke of his homeland, the Kingdom of Velthraria, and the small halfling town of Honeygrove, nestled near the capital, Velthar’s Reach.

"I started trading when I was still a teenager," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Always wanted to see the world, and being a merchant lets me do that while making a decent living."

This was his first time venturing into the duchy, and he had set his sights on reaching its heart—Rael’s Keep. But once his caravan made it that far, curiosity got the better of them. They decided to press on, pushing toward the farthest town in the northeastern corner of the duchy—Ignisia.

"Didn’t make much sense to stop halfway," Pip continued, grinning. "Figured if we were going to explore new markets, we might as well go all the way."

"And look where that got you."

Pip sighed. "A grand adventure, just not the kind I had in mind."

They rode in silence for a while, the rhythmic clopping of hooves filling the space between them. Irelia found herself wondering—was Pip naturally this talkative, or did silence unsettle him?

True to form, he eventually broke the quiet.

"You know, halflings aren’t too fond of water," he said suddenly, as if plucking the thought straight from the air. "But the greatest sailor to ever live? A halfling. Merrin Thistlefoot."

Irelia arched a brow, curiosity piqued despite herself. "Merrin Thistlefoot?"

"Yep! Braved treacherous waters, discovered new islands, mapped the vast archipelago now called Olyssia. Fear never stopped him. He said it made him careful, not cowardly."

A small smile tugged at Irelia’s lips. "Fear shouldn’t rule you. You’re right about that."

The journey passed quickly, and by mid-afternoon, they reached the site of the attack. The forest was unnervingly still, the air thick with damp earth  and lingering tension. Irelia dismounted first, scanning the area with a practiced eye.

"Stay close," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She knelt, running her fingers over the disturbed earth. Broken twigs, dried blood spattered on the ground, splintered wood from shattered wagons—each fragment whispered a story of panic and brutality.

"Three wagons," she murmured, tracing the erratic footprints. "Four ponies. The first attack must have been on the lead pony—it panicked, sent the others into a frenzy. One wagon escaped, but someone fell. The other two…" She trailed off, her expression grim. "They never had a chance."

Pip hovered beside her, eyes darting over the ground, desperate to decipher meaning from the chaos. "My friends—do you see anything?"

Irelia hesitated. The tracks of the knights from the Morning Flame followed the beasts’ trail. If they hadn’t found survivors after all these days, the odds were grim. But Pip’s hopeful gaze held her tongue.

"There’s still a chance," she said instead, standing. "But we’re not following the beasts."

Pip blinked. "What? Why not?"

"Because we’re going to where they came from."

She gestured to the gouges in the wood, the scorch marks on the ground. "These weren’t ordinary animals. Their tracks suggest something walking on four legs, far larger than any wolf or bear. And these burns…" She pointed to the blackened edges of broken branches. "They were fire creatures. If we find where they came from, we might find answers."

Pip stared at her, wide-eyed. "You figured all that out just by looking?"

Irelia smirked, mounting her horse. "Experience. Now, let’s move."

Nearly two hours later, they reached a small clearing. The signs of struggle were undeniable—scattered arrows, a snapped bowstring, and a patch of churned-up earth where someone had fallen. Half-buried in the dirt, a simple copper pendant caught the light, engraved with the image of a hawk.

"An archer," Irelia murmured, retrieving the pendant and turning it over in her palm. "And a mage, judging by the burn marks here." She gestured to a patch of scorched earth nearby. Her gaze swept over the remnants of the skirmish. "Rookies, most likely. Their gear was cheap, brittle—wouldn’t have lasted long in a real fight."

She frowned, sifting through her memory for recent reports of missing adventurers. Many novices met their end on their first quests, often too reckless or careless to survive. ew kept track of them. But then, a recollection surfaced—a small group in the tavern, boasting about their plan to explore the Crumbling Waste. The ruins were infamous, a place where countless had disappeared. Some called it cursed.

Irelia’s stomach tightened as she traced the tracks leading further in that direction.

"The Crumbling Waste," she muttered.

Pip shifted beside her, unease creeping into his voice. "What’s that?"

"Old ruins. Dangerous." Irelia's tone was clipped. "Some say cursed. Others think the stories were made up to keep people away. Either way, it’s not a place for rookies."

The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the usual rustling of leaves and distant bird calls absent. Irelia raised a hand, signaling Pip to stay silent.

"Stay here," she instructed firmly, handing Aurelia’s reins to him before stepping forward.

Pip nodded, though worry shadowed his face as she disappeared into the deepening gloom.

A faint scent of fire drifted on the wind, growing stronger with each step. The darkness thickened, her blades’ subtle glow more pronounced in the dim light. The trees loomed close, their twisted branches stretching toward the sky like skeletal fingers.

Finally, the scent led to another clearing, partially illuminated by flickering embers that hovered like restless fireflies. At the center of the clearing stood a hulking creature. Its charred fur smoldered faintly, and its claws glowed with molten heat. The air around it shimmered with waves of intense heat, distorting the creature’s massive form.

In its claws, it held something—no, someone. A limp figure dangled from its grasp.

Irelia’s breath caught as she took in the sight. She had found the beast. And it was far more formidable than she had expected.