The guild bus idled at the capital's eastern gate, its engine humming with the low vibration of mana-powered machinery. Dawn was breaking over the city walls, painting the sky in pale gold and grey colours. The air was cool and clean, a far cry from what waited at the end of this journey.
Old Marren was already in the driver's seat when the party boarded. His leathery face was as unreadable as ever, his hands resting on the wheel with easy familiarity. He took one look at the party as they filed past and grunted at the sight: Nathan at the front, Elise behind him, Dillon adjusting his katana, Garrett hoisting his gear bag.
"Headed back to the volcano, eh?"
It was the most words he'd spoken in weeks. The party paused.
"Didn't like seeing you lot limp out of there last time," Marren continued, his gruff voice carrying the faintest undertone of warmth. "Left a bad taste. Glad you're going back to wash it out."
Nathan nodded, still with a surprised look. "So are we."
