The valley beyond Ironback was quiet—mist curling over green hills, wildflowers poking through ruined stone.
Cassian sat atop a low wall, sharpening a rusted blade not for battle, but habit.
Irene approached, basket on her arm. “You skipped breakfast."
“I was thinking."
“That's dangerous."
He smiled faintly. “News came."
She paused. “From where?"
“Goldclaw."
She set the basket down. “Go on."
He pulled out a sealed letter. “The puppet regime's collapsed. Foreign governors fled. Factions are devouring each other."
“And?"
“They want me to return."
She snorted. “Of course they do."
“Crown. Council. Command."
He looked at her. “I said no."
She watched him carefully. “Why?"
“I already have everything I need."
He held out a pouch of seeds. “We rebuild this valley. We protect the
