The rain had stopped by morning.
Ash blanketed the plains outside Goldclaw—burned banners, shattered spears, and silence where once there had been battle cries.
Cassian limped beside Irene, cloak torn, pendant hidden beneath his shirt.
Ahead, a nomad camp flickered with scattered fires. No flags. No crests. Just smoke, soup, and survival.
“Do they know who you are?" Irene asked quietly.
Cassian shook his head. “No one cares who you were out here."
She glanced at him. “That's convenient."
He managed a smile. “I plan to earn it."
---
A child with ash-smudged cheeks tugged on Irene's coat. “You a healer?"
Irene nodded. “Yes."
He pointed to a shivering girl nearby. “My sister won't wake."
Irene didn't hesitate. “Show me."
Cassian watched her go, the flicker of firelight catching i
