The sharp clang of metal rang out again as two soldiers struggled with the busted wagon wheel, their muttered curses bouncing off the ravine walls.

  Tessa stood a few steps back with Larry, her hand resting on the saddle’s edge. The light above had faded into a gray wash, filtered through the cliffs

  The soldiers hadn’t protested when she asked to stay the night. In fact, they'd agreed with little more than a shrug and a few muttered “not safe to travel after dark” remarks. One of them had even passed her a canteen and a small bundle of jerky without being asked.

  It wasn’t trust. Not yet. But it was soldier courtesy—the kind extended to anyone not actively pointing a weapon at your back.

  The group had mostly gone quiet after the earlier exchange. Some were eating. Some cleaning their gear. Two soldiers—young, frustrated—were still hunched beside the broken wagon wheel under a flickering lantern.

  Tessa watched them in silence for a while.

  Then winced.

  Hard.

  One of them was using a strip of bent metal as a lever, trying to torque a wedge into place while the other hammered it with the blunt end of a dagger. The wheel creaked under the pressure, the warped rim groaning in protest.

  “Oh no,” she muttered under her breath.

  Across her, someone glanced at her. “Something wrong?”

  Tessa hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. “They’re about to crack the axle.”

  A few heads turned toward the wagon.

  “Been watching them for a few minutes,” she added, not quite able to stop herself. “They’re forcing the brace from the wrong angle. And the binding’s not tight enough—it’s just going to shear off when you try to roll it.”

  The soldiers paused. One of them looked up from the wheel and scowled. “You an engineer now, courier?”

  “No,” Tessa said dryly. “Just someone who’s repaired too many cart axles and broken tools with scraps and thread. You can ignore me. It’s fine.”

  She returned her gaze to the fire, lips pressed into a thin line.

  But after a beat, Halric’s voice cut across the quiet: “Let her take a look.”

  The soldier hesitated. “Commander—”

  “She came all this way. Let's give her a little benefit of doubt.”

  Tessa blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Dusting off her coat, she made her way to the wagon.

  The two soldiers stepped aside, reluctantly, as she crouched beside the damaged wheel. Up close, it looked even worse—splintered spokes, warped metal edging, and a binding job so sloppy she half-expected it to unravel on its own.

  She clicked her tongue and muttered, “No wonder it’s buckling.”

  Fishing into her satchel, she pulled out a slim roll of leather and snapped it open. Inside were needles, thread, a few wood patches, and a tightly wrapped bundle of waxed cord. Nothing built for wheels—but she’d made worse repairs with less.

  Tessa ran her fingers along the cracked wood, finding the stress lines.

  “Alright,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “We’ll go under, loop it through here… tighten that brace before it splits entirely…”

  The soldiers nearby watched in a mix of confusion and wary interest.

  She wrapped the splinter with waxed cloth and twisted it into place using a looped tightening knot. Then she braced it with two small wedges, tied together with a firm cross-bind that hugged the wheel’s edge like a tourniquet. It wasn’t beautiful, and it wouldn’t last forever—but it would hold.

  Tessa sat back on her heels, brushing dirt off her palms. “Try it.”

  One of the soldiers gave Halric a look. He nodded.

  They pushed.

  The wheel groaned—but turned.

  Twice. Then a full rotation.

  No cracking. No split. No drag.

  “Well,” one muttered. “I’ll be damned.”

  “Not bad,” the other admitted, grudging but impressed.

  Tessa stood and rolled her shoulders. “Won’t last forever. But you’ll get a bit more out of it. More if you don’t hit another rut.”

  Halric gave her a quiet, approving nod. “Useful.”

  Tessa shrugged. “That’s the job.”

  He gave her a look—measured, almost curious—but said nothing more.

  She turned back to Larry, who blinked at her lazily, clearly more interested in napping than praise.

  But Tessa didn’t care if they said thank you. The fix had taken five minutes. And it meant they could move.

  She walked back to Larry, brushing wood dust from her palms, and leaned against his side. His eyes half-lidded with the start of sleep. He’d been alert for most of the day, and she could feel the subtle weight in his breathing—he was starting to tire.

  Tessa looked up the ravine, toward the path she’d come from.

  She could ride out.

  Now that the wheel was stable, the soldiers would be moving soon. No more delay. She could thank them for not killing her, wave goodbye, and leave them to their dungeon.

  Her scroll was delivered. Her job was done.

  Her silver was waiting.

  And yet...

  Her eyes drifted to the sky—or where the sky should have been. The light above the ravine had gone pale, like sun behind frost. Not dark yet, but shifting. Evening in name, but not in feel. The kind of light that made you lose track of time.

  She looked down at Larry again. He blinked at her sleepily.

  “…You’re not going to want to run back through all that right now, are you?” she murmured, stroking under his chin.

  He clicked softly and tucked his head against her side. Tessa sighed. It wasn’t that she wanted to stay. Gods, no.

  She hated the quiet. The stillness. Everything here felt off, like the dungeon was waiting for them. But she didn’t like the idea of riding out alone, either—not with the light slipping into that dull grey and Larry already drifting off beneath her fingers.

  And Halric had been clear. Once the sun dipped, the creatures got braver. She clenched her jaw.

  "One night," she muttered. "Just one."

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  She’d ride out in the morning. As soon as they broke camp—or whatever passed for it. She wasn’t staying for their dungeon boss hunt. She wasn’t suicidal. Just practical.

  Tessa gave Larry’s side a firm pat and looked back toward the wagon.

  Halric and his squad were already moving—their boots nearly silent against the stone. One of them handed her a small bundle wrapped in oilcloth as they passed. “Rations,” the soldier said. “Dry stuff. Won’t spoil.”

  “Thanks,” she said automatically, though she wasn’t sure if it was a kindness or a hint.

  The others didn’t look twice at her. Just one more shape in the growing dark. She led Larry to the edge of the wagon.

  Halric gave a signal. The group began moving deeper, their lanterns flickering like fireflies swallowed by the dusk-thick air. A soldier lingered near the cart, turned to her with an apologetic look.

  “Sorry,” he said, voice low and apologetic. “Commander Halric says we’re pressing forward. Not far—just until the next choke point.”

  Tessa gave a short nod. “It’s fine,” she muttered. Her throat felt tight. “I’ll come with you.”

  The soldier hesitated. “You sure? You can stay here. We’ll leave a couple—”

  “No,” she cut in. “If something’s going to get me, I’d rather not wait for it sitting still.”

  He grunted something, then gestured toward the cart. “Ride if you want. Let your mount rest. You look like you’ve been moving all day.”

  Tessa glanced at Larry, who was alert again but twitchy. His stamina was incredible, but even he had limits. She gave him a soft scratch beneath the jaw, then guided him to the side of the wagon and helped him settle beside it again.

  “Stay close,” she told him. “No wandering.”

  Then she climbed onto the back of the cart. It was creaky and patched in places, but surprisingly roomy with most of the crates stacked to the sides. She picked a corner near the front, sat cross-legged, and kept her crossbow across her lap.

  She tucked the rations aside, leaned against the rail, and tried not to think too hard. Her boots were dusty. Her hands smelled like leather oil and metal. Her legs ached from travel, and her nerves were wired tight—but this moment? This sliver of stillness? It felt almost like peace.

  Until someone else climbed in.

  She tensed, hand twitching toward her crossbow—but relaxed slightly when she saw the man. Not armored. Not loud. Just... there. The same one she’d spotted earlier. Long cloak, clean lines, a traveler’s calm. Not like the others.

  He settled across from her and offered a nod that wasn’t quite polite, but not cold either. “Mind if I sit?”

  “It’s not my cart,” she said. “Do what you want.”

  The man gave a slight smile and folded himself into the opposite corner. “Rellen,” he said. “Traveler. Caught in the wrong place, wrong time. Decided I’d rather not be alone in this mess.”

  Tessa studied him. His cloak was worn but well-made. His boots had seen real miles. No visible weapons, but he didn’t carry himself like someone who needed them. Quiet confidence. And something else—a pressure, subtle but undeniable, like a thread pulled tight just beneath the surface.

  She frowned. Sbe willed her Inspect skill to activate. The familiar shimmer of system script flickered across her

  [Mage level ??]

  Not unexpected. She could only see the levels of people below her own or close to it. He had to be far above her meager fourteen. Comforting. In a stomach-dropping kind of way.

  She glanced back at him before she could stop herself.

  He was just sitting there, one leg stretched out, the other bent. Not tense, not looming. Just... existing. Comfortable in a way that made her feel less so. His coat was well-worn but neat, travel-stained but clearly cared for. No armor. No weapons she could see. Just a faint metallic sheen to the threadwork near his collar—maybe decorative. Maybe not.

  He caught her looking and offered a small, casual smile.

  “Long day?” he asked.

  Tessa blinked. “Huh?”

  “You look like you’ve been on the road for a while.” He didn’t sound like he was teasing. Just observing. “That run-down kind of tired.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I mean... it’s been a lot of traveling. And, you know. Monsters. The weather. The usual.”

  She immediately regretted the “usual” part.

  To his credit, he didn’t laugh. Just nodded like that was perfectly normal.

  “I’m Rellen, by the way,” he said, easygoing. “I hitched a ride from the last outpost. Wasn’t planning to stick around this long, but... well.” He gestured vaguely toward the tunnel outside the wagon. “Plans changed.”

  “Tessa,” she said, after a beat. “Courier.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “Adventuring Guild?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Just joined. Not really—uh. Not the sword-swinging type. I usually run packages.”

  “That tracks,” he said with a soft smile. “You’ve got that practical look.”

  “Practical?” Is he insulting her?

  “Smart boots. Good bag. You checked the wheels before climbing in.”

  Tessa blinked. She hadn’t realized.

  “Also,” he added lightly, “your mount listens when you talk to him. That’s rare.”

  Her awkwardness climbed another step. “Larry’s smart. Smarter than most people. Don’t tell them I said that.”

  Rellen’s smile widened just a bit. Not smug. Not knowing. Just... genuine.

  “I’ll keep it to myself.”

  The wagon rumbled forward again, bouncing slightly as it passed over uneven stone. The tunnel ahead narrowed further, the light growing thin. Tessa shifted her crossbow against her side and pulled her legs in closer, unsure what to do with her hands. Or her eyes. Or her entire face.

  “You’re... uh, not military?” she asked, mostly just to fill the silence.

  “No,” Rellen said. “Traveler. Sometimes helpful. Got stuck here while looking into something else.”

  “Helpful?”

  He shrugged. “Only when it doesn’t cause more problems.”

  She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded like the kind of thing someone with a vague but powerful class might say.

  Or... maybe he really was just a traveler and she is letting her own fantasy run wild.

  The cart rolled on, the sound of boots echoing ahead of them. Somewhere deeper in the dark, she thought she heard a distant clang—metal on stone—but no one around her reacted.

  Tessa gripped her crossbow a little tighter and tried to focus on the steady rhythm of Larry’s quiet breathing outside the wagon.

  One night. Then she was gone.

  The wagon rattled again, and the lantern’s glow bounced across the crate behind Tessa, throwing stretched shadows over the planks. Rellen shifted slightly, resting one elbow on his knee and glancing her way.

  She fidgeted with the strap on her bag, then realized she was doing it and stopped.

  “So,” Rellen said casually, “long way to come for a courier job.”

  Tessa squinted at him. “You say that like you’ve seen my contract.”

  He smiled, a quick flicker of amusement. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just—Outpost Vire’s a stretch. Not many couriers head this way unless it’s worth their while. There is no major city close to here.”

  Tessa shrugged, trying for casual. “It paid well.”

  “Mm. Scroll delivery, right?”

  Her fingers twitched where they rested on her pack.

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Saw Halric reading it. Looked like standard requisition stuff, but he got real quiet after.” Rellen’s tone was idle, but not careless. “Bit odd, considering the timing.”

  Tessa frowned, lips pressed together. “It was sealed. I don’t read sealed things.”

  He held up a hand. “Didn’t mean to suggest you did. Just curious what kind of urgent sock order justifies a courier running across the empire.”

  She blinked, then gave a quiet, reluctant laugh. “Right? Felt like a joke.”

  Rellen didn’t laugh, but his expression eased. “And yet you still came.”

  “Yeah, well…” Tessa picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.

  “It’s a job,” she added, a little firmer. “And I need the coin.”

  Rellen nodded, accepting that. “Makes sense.”

  They let the silence sit a while. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly—just heavy in that quiet way where everything felt muffled. Tessa leaned back against the wagon rail and exhaled slowly. She hadn’t realized how tense her shoulders had gotten.

  “I thought I’d just drop it off and turn around,” she said suddenly. “Didn’t expect… all this.”

  “Few ever do,” Rellen said.

  He leaned back, gaze drifting toward the lantern-light swaying with the wagon’s movement.

  “I didn’t expect it either,” he added after a pause. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here long. Just meant to stop, rest a bit. Maybe pick up supplies if the outpost had anything decent.”

  Tessa glanced at him. “But you stayed.”

  He smiled faintly, more wry than warm. “Didn’t get the chance to leave. Place locked down faster than I could blink.”

  She frowned. “That didn’t seem to bother you.”

  “It did,” he said, and for a second, his voice was quieter, more honest. “But not as much as missing what I came out here for.”

  Tessa tilted her head. “What brought you here?”

  Rellen’s smile returned, smaller this time. “A natural phenomenon. Bit of a rare one. Happens just west of here, though I doubt I’ll get to see it now.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of phenomenon?”

  “There’s a ravine near the cliffs,” he said. “On certain mornings, when the sun’s low and the air’s still, the wind funnels through the stone in just the right way. It creates a sound—like a song. They say it carries over the hills and changes based on who’s listening.”

  Tessa blinked. “That sounds... made up.”

  “It probably is,” Rellen admitted, chuckling. “But I wanted to hear it for myself.”

  “The locals warned me not to ‘follow the song,’” she muttered. “Didn’t make sense at the time.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, thoughtful. “They’ve got stories about it. Old ones. Usually tied to wandering spirits or vanishing travelers. Probably superstition wrapped around some real phenomenon. Still—there’s beauty in it, if you’re willing to listen.”

  Tessa didn’t quite know how to respond to that. It was the kind of answer that belonged to poets and scholars, not someone sitting in the back of a wagon next to her, legs stretched and boots caked in dust.

  “I was just hoping to earn enough to buy crafting supplies,” she said after a while, tugging a loose thread on her sleeve.

  “That’s a good reason, too,” he said, without a trace of judgment.

  The wagon creaked and slowed a little, the sound of voices ahead softening to murmurs. The passage was narrowing. Tessa leaned slightly to peer past the canvas.

  “Looks like we’re getting close to wherever they’re setting up,” she said.

  “Choke point, probably,” Rellen replied, sitting up straighter. “Natural bottleneck makes it easier to defend if things turn ugly.”

  She didn’t like that “if.”

  Still, she reached for her pack, checking the crossbow slung at her side. Larry shifted outside the cart—she could hear the scrape of his claws on the stone—and gave a short, low chirp. Not alarmed. Just attentive.

  “Guess that’s the end of our quiet ride,” she said, almost under her breath.

  Rellen stood and offered her a hand down without ceremony.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking it before she could think better of it.

  “Of course. Can’t have our courier twisting an ankle now.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes at that, but the corner of her mouth twitched.