Night had already swallowed the sky whole by the time I made my way back.
Ashveil behind me looked like a charcoal sketch—dimmed streets, crooked façades, windows lit here and there like tired little eyes peeking out at the world. Most people were asleep. Others pretended. But no one cared about a guy walking alone in the dark, dressed too well to be a thief, but shady enough not to be trusted.
My steps were steady. New boots, full pockets, coat straight—and a mission. A damn mission with all the signs of impending disaster, but one that, deep down, gave me something I hadn't felt in a long time: purpose.
Thalia was right where I'd left her, next to the mule that, under the faint starlight, looked like a monument to animal exhaustion. The creature didn't even blink anymore. Just stood there, resigned, like it knew life was unfair and had chosen not to argue.
