They didn't stop until the sun dipped low and the sky bruised into violet dusk.
Ray found a small clearing beside a stream, the kind of place sheltered enough to rest yet open enough to keep watch. Finn gathered fallen branches with unnecessary enthusiasm—mostly to avoid helping Ray pitch the tents—while Corvin worked in silence, movements precise and almost… careful.
Zelene watched him.
Outside the Ember Village, Corvin seemed dimmer in a strange way—not less bright, but less anchored. A flame that had been pulled from its hearth, learning how to stand in open wind.
He knelt by the firepit, lining stones with the kind of meticulous focus people only had when they were trying not to think too much.
Finn dropped down beside him and stretched out like a lazy cat.
"So," he began, "were they always like that with you? The whole 'young master' thing?"
Corvin's hands froze mid-placement.
"…No."
"Yes," Ray said flatly from the stream, completely unbothered.
Corvin snapped upright. "Hey..."
"What?" Ray rinsed his hands in the water, voice maddeningly calm. "They adore you. They've been treating you like royalty since you could toddle."
Zelene bit back a smile as Finn burst into laughter.
"So basically, we just kidnapped a prince?"
"We did not—" Corvin sputtered, cheeks warming.
By the time the fire crackled to life and the pot began to simmer, the forest had settled into a soft chorus—water murmuring over stones, insects singing, leaves whispering like passing spirits.
They sat around the fire, its glow catching on their faces.
Corvin remained impossibly straight-backed, as if afraid slouching might be considered disrespectful.
Zelene hesitated only a moment.
"Corvin," she said gently, "you don't need to call me milady."
He blinked as though she'd spoken in ancient tongues.
"I—It is proper. You are—"
"Not royalty," she insisted quietly. "And I don't want distance between us."
A long pause.
Corvin looked genuinely troubled, like someone being asked to disobey an instinct older than himself.
Then—slowly, carefully—
"Then what should I call you?" he said.
He said it as if holding in both hands, afraid to drop it.
Ray looked away, the firelight catching the faint furrow between his brows—protective, wary, but not hostile.
Finn, naturally, chose the worst possible moment.
"Sooo," he drawled, stretching out on the grass, "now that we're not being roasted alive by a whole village, can we talk about the giant, flaming, destiny-shaped elephant in the room? Who exactly are we traveling with?"
Zelene stiffened.
Corvin's attention sharpened instantly.
Ray's gaze flicked toward her.
She let the warmth of the fire steady her shaking hands.
"My name isn't Lynn," she began, voice low.
"It's… Zelene Evandelle."
The night stilled.
Finn shot upright so fast he knocked over his cup.
"Evandelle—as in—the Four Swords Evandelle—"
Corvin's eyes widened, breath catching.
Ray didn't react—because he'd known for years—but the tension in his body changed. Almost protective. Almost defensive.
Zelene nodded once.
"My family… the kingdom said we betrayed them. That we conspired against the crown." Her voice wavered. "That we were cursed."
A muscle ticked in Corvin's jaw.
"That was a lie."
"It was," Zelene whispered. "But truth didn't save us."
She stared into the fire—its glow reflected in her eyes like distant memories burning again.
"They came at night. Soldiers. Shadows that shouldn't have been possible."
Her breath trembled.
"I tried to save my siblings. I watched my mother… my father… die for what?"
Her fingers twisted in the edge of her cloak.
"But no matter how many doors we tried, how many corridors we ran… Ray and I were the only ones who survived."
Finn's grin had long vanished.
Corvin bowed his head, grief softening the sharp edges of his features.
Ray's eyes remained fixed on the flames, expression unreadable but heavy.
"The kingdom called us rebels," Zelene continued. "But someone wanted the Evandelles erased. Someone powerful."
Corvin's voice was barely a whisper.
"Why?"
"That's why I need the Auryns."
Her voice steadied—soft, but iron beneath.
"They're tied to the truth of this land in ways the crown can't rewrite. If the Crimson Auryn can reshape fate… then maybe I can uncover what really happened that night."
The fire crackled, small sparks drifting upward like memories searching for somewhere to rest.
"And no one can know I'm alive," she added, quietly but firmly. "If the crown finds me… everything starts again."
Corvin inhaled shakily.
"Then I swear—your secret is protected by my life."
Finn leaned in and bumped his shoulder against hers.
"Yeah. Mine too. Even if I talk too much. Which I do. But I'll shut up for this, promise."
Ray finally spoke, voice quiet but steady.
"We already made that choice," he murmured. "The night everything burned."
Zelene's throat tightened.
For a while, none of them said anything.
The forest felt gentler.
The night air warmer.
The fire a small, steady heartbeat in the center of their four shadows.
Then Finn exhaled dramatically.
"So," he said, pointing a stick at the sky, "we're gathering legendary Auryns, uncovering a kingdom-wide conspiracy, possibly reshaping fate itself—"
Corvin added dryly, "While avoiding potential assassins."
Ray murmured without missing a beat, "And trying to keep Finn from getting himself killed."
"HEY—!"
Zelene laughed—soft, hesitant, but real.
For the first time in years, something in her chest loosened.
Not fully.
But enough.
She wasn't walking alone anymore.
And under the vast, quiet night, it felt less like running from her past…
and more like stepping toward something new.