The night thinned slowly after that.
Not all at once, not in any way that could be pointed at and named—just a gradual softening of everything. The fire sank lower, the glow tightening inward as the wood gave way to embers. The sounds of the camp settled into longer stretches of silence between movement, until even the quiet felt deeper.
Alice eventually leaned back slightly, resting her hands behind her on the ground, her gaze drifting somewhere past the fire.
She didn't fall asleep.
But she stopped talking.
That, more than anything, made the space feel different.
Kael noticed when her voice stopped.
Not immediately.
A few seconds passed before the absence registered.
He didn't look at her right away. His gaze stayed forward, unfocused, tracking nothing in particular.
Then, after a moment, he shifted just enough to glance.
She hadn't moved much. Still sitting where she had been, shoulders drawn in slightly against the cold, eyes open but distant, like she was somewhere else entirely.
Not alert.
Not tense.
Just quiet.
Kael looked at her for a second longer than necessary.
Then looked away again.
The camp held.
Nothing broke.
No sudden movement. No raised voices. No sharp turn of events waiting to snap everything back into chaos.
Just time passing.
At some point, Kael's eyes lowered.
The line between watching and resting blurred, the tension in his shoulders easing by degrees so small he didn't register them happening.
His breathing slowed.
Evened.
The kind of stillness that wasn't forced.
Not sleep.
But close enough to touch it.
And for a while, nothing changed.
Until it did.
—
Dawn came softer this time.
Not the sharp break of darkness giving way to light, but a gradual lifting of shadow. The sky shifted from black to a pale gray that bled slowly across the clearing, bringing shapes back into focus piece by piece.
Kael's eyes opened before the light fully settled.
No jolt.
No snap.
Just awareness returning.
He didn't move immediately.
Stayed where he was, back still against the wagon, letting his senses catch up to the world around him.
The camp was already stirring.
Knights moved first, quiet and efficient, beginning the same routines as the morning before. Fires were being rebuilt. Water passed between hands. Low voices returned, careful not to carry too far.
Kael shifted.
And the moment he did, his body reminded him.
The soreness had settled deeper overnight.
What had been sharp the day before had spread into something heavier, more constant. His chest pulled immediately when he straightened even slightly, the burns beneath his shirt reacting to the movement like they'd been waiting for it.
His shoulder followed, stiff, reluctant.
And beneath it, that same quiet strain.
The one that didn't belong to skin or muscle.
His jaw tightened.
He pushed himself up anyway.
Slow.
Controlled.
Every movement measured just enough to keep the pull from turning into something worse.
Alice was already awake.
She hadn't moved far from where she'd been the night before. Still sitting, though she had shifted her legs slightly, her posture a little more upright now. Her hair was a mess of sleep she hadn't actually taken, and there was a faint crease along her sleeve where she'd leaned into it for too long.
She looked at him when he stood.
Not surprised.
Just noticing.
"You don't sleep much," she said.
Kael didn't answer.
He adjusted his stance slightly, easing pressure off his chest again without making it obvious.
Alice watched that too.
Her head tilted, just a fraction.
"You're worse today," she added.
That got a look.
Not sharp.
But direct.
"I'm fine."
She held his gaze for a second.
Then nodded.
"Alright."
And like before, she let it go.
Behind them, Bram groaned.
Loud.
Unashamed.
"Why are mornings a thing," he muttered into the ground.
Kael didn't look at him.
"You slept."
"I suffered," Bram corrected, pushing himself up onto his elbows with visible reluctance. He squinted toward the light, then toward Kael. "You look worse."
Kael exhaled slowly through his nose.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
Bram stared at him for a second.
Then shook his head.
"Yeah, okay."
The camp moved around them, faster now. More purposeful. Wagons were being checked, supplies packed back into place. The rhythm of leaving had already started.
Alice stood carefully, brushing her hands off against her dress. The motion was practiced, automatic—something taught, not learned here.
She glanced once toward the road, then back at Kael.
"We'll be closer today," she said.
He didn't respond.
But his eyes followed her brief look toward the horizon.
The wagons were ready soon after.
Kael climbed in without waiting, settling into the same place he had taken the day before. His posture adjusted automatically this time—feet braced, weight set lower, already anticipating the movement.
It didn't help.
The wagon lurched forward.
And his stomach followed.
The first few seconds weren't the worst.
Then the wheels hit uneven ground.
And the motion returned.
Kael's hand closed around the edge of the wood beside him, grip tightening just enough to ground himself. His breathing shifted, controlled, but thinner now, like he had to think about each inhale instead of letting it happen.
Not again.
"Yep," Bram said immediately, watching him with far too much interest. "There it is."
Kael didn't look at him.
"I'm fine."
"You said that yesterday."
"And I meant it."
Bram leaned back slightly.
"You look like you're negotiating with your own stomach."
Kael's jaw clenched.
He shifted his weight again, trying to move with the rhythm instead of against it.
It helped.
Barely.
Alice sat across from them, quieter now than she had been the night before. Her hands rested in her lap, her posture composed despite the movement, though there was a faint tightness in the way she held herself.
She watched him.
Not openly.
Just enough to notice.
"You should look forward," she said after a moment.
Kael's eyes flicked to her.
"What."
"It helps," she said simply. "Sometimes."
He didn't question it.
Didn't argue.
He turned his gaze forward, fixing it on the road ahead where it stretched uneven and distant.
The motion still hit him.
Still twisted.
Still dragged at something he couldn't control.
But it didn't hit as hard.
"…huh," Bram muttered.
Kael ignored him.
The wagon rolled on.
The road stretched farther.
And Kael sat there, breathing carefully, hand braced against the wood, eyes fixed forward, learning slowly that not everything could be fought the way he understood.
And that didn't make it easier.
Just different.
The wagon did not settle into comfort.
It never did.
The motion became familiar in the way a dull ache becomes familiar—something the body learns to work around, not something it accepts. The wheels turned in their uneven rhythm, the ground shifting beneath them in ways Kael could not predict, and every rise and dip pulled faintly at the same place low in his stomach.
He kept his gaze forward.
That part hadn't changed.
A fixed point. A line in the distance. Something steady to anchor to while everything else refused to be.
His hand rested against the side of the wagon, not gripping as tightly as before, but not relaxed either. His fingers flexed now and then, adjusting with each shift of movement, each subtle roll of the frame beneath him.
Across from him, Alice sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap.
She had adjusted to the motion differently.
Not by bracing against it—but by becoming still within it. Her posture remained upright despite the uneven ground, shoulders held the way they had been taught to be held, chin level even when the wagon dipped. It wasn't strength. It was habit. Something learned long before the pit.
But her attention—
That moved.
Not sharply, like Kael's.
Not constantly.
It lingered.
And it lingered on him more than once.
At first, she didn't speak.
She watched the road. The passing trees. The way the light shifted as they moved further from the last clearing. But every so often, her gaze drifted back—not obvious, not direct. Just… checking.
Measuring.
As if she were trying to place something she wasn't fully certain of.
Bram, on the other hand, had no such restraint.
He shifted constantly, adjusting his position every few minutes like the wagon had personally offended him. At one point he stretched his legs out, only to pull them back again when the movement threw him off balance. At another, he leaned too far to one side and had to catch himself with a muttered curse.
"This is stupid," he said eventually, dragging a hand down his face. "People choose to travel like this?"
Kael didn't look at him.
"No."
Bram snorted. "Good. Because if this is normal, I'm staying wherever we end up."
The wagon dipped again.
Kael's fingers tightened briefly against the wood. His breathing shifted—subtle, controlled—but not unnoticed.
Bram caught it this time.
He didn't say anything.
Just glanced at him, then looked away again like he hadn't.
Alice's gaze lingered on the way Kael's shoulders held just a fraction too tight, the way his focus stayed locked forward a little too rigidly to be natural. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering whether to speak—
Then didn't.
Not yet.
The road stretched on.
Time passed in that quiet, uneven way it did when there was nothing to mark it but movement and breath.
Eventually, Alice shifted her hands slightly in her lap, fingers brushing together once before stilling again.
"…did you grow up near here?" she asked.
The question came carefully.
Not abrupt.
Not pointed.
Just… placed.
Kael didn't answer right away.
"No."
Her gaze dipped briefly, then lifted again.
"Further north?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Bram glanced between them.
Alice nodded faintly, as if that answer—small as it was—had given her something.
She was quiet again for a moment.
Then, softer this time, "Were you… traveling before?"
Kael's eyes flicked toward her briefly.
"Why."
She hesitated.
Not long.
Just enough to choose her words.
"You move like you're used to… different places," she said. "Not just one."
It wasn't entirely true.
But it wasn't entirely wrong either.
Kael looked at her for a second.
Then away.
"Something like that."
She accepted that answer too.
But the hesitation didn't leave her entirely.
It shifted.
Settled.
And then, after another stretch of quiet—
"You fought," she said.
Not as a statement.
Not fully a question either.
Just… testing it.
Bram's head turned immediately.
"What?"
Kael didn't react.
Alice glanced at Bram briefly, then back to Kael.
"I mean—" she corrected, a little more careful now, "in the arena. The other day."
Bram leaned forward slightly.
"Yeah, no, I got that part," he said. "He tried to kill me, remember?"
Kael didn't look at him.
"You were the opponent."
"That's still insane, by the way."
Alice blinked faintly at that exchange, then continued, slower now.
"I just meant…" She paused, searching for the right shape of it. "You didn't look… surprised."
Kael's gaze stayed forward.
"Why would I be."
"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "Most people are."
Bram let out a short breath.
"Yeah, I was," he said. "I didn't even know I was being thrown in there until they shoved me through the gate."
His tone shifted slightly at that.
Less joking.
More real.
Kael's eyes flicked toward him.
Just briefly.
Bram didn't notice.
"I didn't even know he was there," Bram added, nodding toward Kael. "Thought I was fighting some random pit fighter until—" He paused, shaking his head slightly. "Until I recognized him."
The words settled into the space between them.
Alice's gaze moved between them, something thoughtful behind it.
"…you knew each other," she said.
"Yeah," Bram replied. "A while ago."
He didn't elaborate.
Neither did Kael.
Alice nodded faintly, like she understood there was more there—but also understood not to ask.
The wagon rolled on.
The rhythm shifted again.
Kael's hand tightened once more, his jaw setting just slightly as the motion dragged through him. He adjusted his posture, slower this time, trying to move with it instead of against it.
It helped.
A little.
Still not enough.
Alice watched that too.
Her gaze dropped briefly to his hand, then lifted again.
"You don't like this," she said quietly.
Kael didn't answer.
Bram huffed under his breath.
"That's one way to put it."
Alice's lips pressed together faintly, like she was holding back a comment.
Then, after a moment, she asked, "Does it get easier?"
Kael didn't respond right away.
The wagon dipped again.
He swallowed once, steadying his breath before answering.
"…no."
Alice considered that.
Then nodded.
"Alright."
She didn't ask anything else after that.
Not for a while.
And for once, the silence that followed didn't feel like something waiting to be filled.
It just… stretched.
Carried along with the wagon.
Uneven.
But steady enough to hold.
The road began to change before the city ever came into view.
It smoothed out first, the deep ruts and uneven dips giving way to something more worn, more traveled. The wagon no longer lurched as sharply, its movement settling into a steadier rhythm that felt… intentional, rather than accidental. The horses pulled straighter. The line of wagons tightened.
Kael noticed.
Not because it made things easier.
Because it was different.
His body still hadn't caught up. The motion lingered where it shouldn't, a dull, rolling pull that hadn't quite decided to leave him alone. His grip on the side of the wagon eased slightly as the ground leveled out, but his posture didn't follow. He stayed braced, shoulders set, eyes fixed forward like the road itself might shift back without warning.
Across from him, Alice had started to notice the change too.
Her attention drifted outward more often now, her gaze lingering on the passing landscape instead of returning immediately to the inside of the wagon. The trees had thinned, the space between them widening until fields began to break through—patches of land that looked tended, structured in a way nothing in the pit ever had been.
Signs of people.
Of life that wasn't built on survival alone.
She leaned slightly, just enough to catch a better look past the edge of the wagon, then settled back again, her hands folding together in her lap like before.
But she didn't stay quiet as long this time.
"…it looks different," she said, almost to herself.
Bram followed her gaze, squinting a little.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Less… dead."
Alice huffed a small breath that might have been a laugh, then caught herself, straightening again like she hadn't meant to make the sound.
Kael didn't comment.
His attention hadn't left the road.
But he heard it.
All of it.
The shift in tone.
The way her voice carried something lighter now.
The way Bram leaned into it without thinking.
It was… different.
He didn't know what to do with that either.
The wagon rolled on, steady now, the movement no longer fighting them with every turn of the wheel. The air had changed too—less dust, more wind. It carried different scents. Grass. Water, somewhere not too far off.
Alice shifted again, this time turning her attention inward.
Not directly to Kael.
Not immediately.
Her gaze moved between the two of them instead, like she was weighing something in her head, deciding how to ask it.
It showed in small ways.
The way her fingers tapped once against her sleeve before stilling.
The way her posture straightened just a little more, like she was preparing herself.
Then—
"So… what was it like?" she asked.
Bram glanced at her.
"What."
"Where you grew up," she clarified, a little more quickly now that she'd started. "Before all of this."
The question settled into the space between them.
Not heavy.
But not light either.
Bram leaned back slightly, resting his shoulders against the side of the wagon as he considered it.
"…loud," he said after a second.
Alice blinked faintly.
"Loud?"
"Yeah," he shrugged. "People yelling all the time. Not angry, just… talking over each other. Markets, mostly. Lots of them."
He glanced toward Kael briefly.
"Grass everywhere too."
Kael didn't look at him.
Alice's gaze shifted between them again.
"…was it a city?" she asked.
"…was it big?" she asked, glancing between them. "Where you grew up?"
Bram let out a quiet breath that turned into a short laugh.
"Big?" he echoed. "You can barely even call it a town."
Alice blinked.
"It was that small?"
"Yeah," Bram said, settling back slightly, one arm resting loosely against the side of the wagon. "More like a village. Tiny. We had a hunting fence around it and everything. That was about the biggest thing there."
Alice's brows lifted just a little, like she was trying to picture it.
"A fence?"
"To keep animals out," Bram said. "Or in. Depends on the day."
There was a faint hint of something lighter in his voice now, something that hadn't been there before.
"Half the place was just dirt paths and a couple of buildings that looked like they were gonna fall over if the wind hit them wrong."
Alice smiled faintly at that, her head tilting slightly.
"And you lived there your whole life?"
Bram nodded.
"Yeah. Until…" He trailed off for a second, then shrugged it off. "Until we didn't."
Her gaze shifted to Kael.
"And you?"
Kael didn't look at her.
"Same."
The answer came short.
Closed.
Alice didn't seem surprised by that.
She just nodded, like she expected it.
"…so you really did grow up together," she said.
Bram glanced at Kael, then back at her.
"Yeah," he said. "We were always around each other."
That was a softer way to put it.
Alice noticed that too.
"How long?" she asked.
Bram shrugged slightly.
"Since we were little."
He hesitated for a second, then added, "Pretty much all the time."
Kael didn't react.
But he didn't correct him either.
Alice shifted her hands in her lap, leaning just a fraction forward now, her curiosity settling in more comfortably.
"What did you do there?" she asked. "In the village."
Bram huffed a quiet breath.
"Not much," he said. "There wasn't much to do."
Then, after a beat, "We'd run around. Get into stuff we weren't supposed to."
A faint grin tugged at his mouth.
"Usually his fault."
Kael's eyes flicked toward him briefly.
"You followed."
"I had to," Bram shot back. "Someone had to make sure you didn't get yourself killed chasing something stupid."
Alice glanced between them.
"Chasing what?"
Bram let out a short laugh.
"Chickens."
Alice blinked.
"…chickens?"
"Yeah," Bram said, nodding toward Kael. "He was convinced they were plotting something."
"They were," Kael said flatly.
Alice stared at him for a second.
Then looked back at Bram.
"…he's serious."
"Yeah," Bram said. "Always was."
Kael didn't react.
But there was the faintest shift in his posture, something small and almost imperceptible.
Alice's mouth curved slightly, not quite laughing, but close.
"What else?" she asked.
Bram leaned his head back against the wood behind him, thinking.
"Got into fights sometimes," he said. "Not like—" he gestured vaguely, "not like the arena. Just… kids being stupid."
His tone shifted slightly.
"Mostly older ones."
Alice's expression changed just a little.
"And you fought them?"
Bram hesitated.
Then shook his head.
"Not really."
He nodded toward Kael instead.
"He did."
Kael didn't respond.
Alice looked at him again, more carefully this time.
"…why?" she asked.
Kael's gaze stayed forward.
"They were in the way."
Bram snorted.
"That's one way to put it."
Alice didn't look away from Kael.
"You didn't have to," she said.
It wasn't an accusation.
Just… an observation.
Kael shrugged slightly.
"Didn't matter."
The answer didn't explain anything.
But it wasn't meant to.
Alice seemed to understand that too.
She nodded faintly, letting it go instead of pulling at it.
Her attention drifted back to Bram.
"And you just let him?" she asked.
Bram shrugged.
"Wasn't much of a choice."
A small pause.
Then, quieter, "He was faster."
Kael didn't look at him.
But something in his shoulders shifted, just barely.
Alice caught that.
She didn't comment on it.
Instead, she leaned back slightly, settling into her seat again, her curiosity not gone—but less sharp now. More comfortable.
"You sound like you didn't hate it," she said.
Bram glanced at her.
"The village?"
She nodded.
He exhaled slowly.
"…it was simple," he said. "That was enough."
Alice seemed to think about that.
Then nodded once.
The wagon rolled on.
The capital loomed larger now, no longer something distant or abstract. The walls rose high enough to block part of the sky, the gates ahead wide and open with movement already visible around them—guards, carts, people moving in and out like it was just another day.
Alice leaned forward slightly, her attention pulled outward again.
"…it's bigger than I remember," she murmured.
Bram let out a quiet breath.
"Yeah," he said. "No kidding."
Kael didn't speak.
But his eyes stayed locked on it.
The size of it.
The weight of it.
The way it stood there like something that didn't bend or break.
And for the first time since they had seen it—
It wasn't just something ahead of them.
It was right there.
Close enough to reach.
Close enough to step into.
And whether he trusted it or not—
They were going in.