The rain had subsided, but the sound of droplets sliding down the rocks still lingered in the darkness. The shelter remained silent. Hans slept deeply, his breathing steady, oblivious to the world. Lysandra, however, stayed awake, lost in thought.
Then, a sound shattered the quiet of the night.
A faint creak.
A footstep.
Lysandra didn’t move immediately. Her body tensed, her senses sharpened. It wasn’t an animal. Someone was outside.
With the caution of someone who had spent too many nights in danger, she slid a hand toward the dagger within reach. Her fingers closed firmly around the hilt, the cold metal giving her a familiar sensation: control.
Knock, knock.
A dry, precise knock against the wood.
A pause.
Another knock.
Lysandra needed nothing more. Her stomach tightened instantly. It was a code she knew well.
She held her breath for a moment. Her mind worked fast, threading possibilities with precision. If it was who she thought, it meant trouble.
Without rushing, but wasting no time, she moved toward the door, her dagger well concealed within the folds of her clothing. With her free hand, she opened the door just a crack, letting the darkness of the forest seep into the shelter.
And though the dim moonlight barely illuminated the hooded figure’s face, Lysandra recognized his silhouette immediately.
A small shiver ran down her spine.
—Five days. Five damned nights looking for you.
The rough, exasperated voice confirmed what she already knew.
Geronimus.
A loyal companion from her guild.
She hadn’t expected to see him. If he had found her, something had gone wrong in her favor—or against it.
She gestured for him to enter and shut the door behind him without another word. Out of the corner of her eye, she checked on Hans. Still asleep.
Without speaking, she lowered the oil lamp, dimming the shelter’s light even further.
—How did you find me? —she whispered.
Geronimus shook his head wearily, droplets of water falling from his soaked cloak.
—I had a rough idea of where you’d last been seen and calculated where you might have gone. But I didn’t expect you to hide in a Smell.
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Lysandra frowned.
—It’s not an obvious place.
—I know. That’s why it took so long.
His tone carried no reproach, just a weight of exhaustion Lysandra recognized all too well.
Then, he met her gaze with grim seriousness.
—The guild is already looking for you.
A sharp chill ran down Lysandra’s spine, but her face remained unreadable.
—I know the task never returned.
Geronimus raised an eyebrow.
—So what the hell happened?
Lysandra clenched her jaw. She had known she would have to explain herself sooner or later, but she hadn’t expected it to be this soon.
—I couldn’t complete it.
Geronimus narrowed his eyes.
—I figured as much when the cart didn’t arrive. What I want to know is why.
Lysandra crossed her arms.
—The chaos of the race changed everything. Too much movement, too many eyes looking in the wrong direction... My escape route was blocked.
She paused briefly, choosing her words carefully.
—To be honest, there was an unexpected twist. A rider intervened completely by accident, causing enough shock and distraction at just the right moment. And yes, that helped me complete the task.
Geronimus’ expression darkened.
—Then why the hell didn’t you return?
Lysandra clenched her jaw, replaying the sequence of events.
—Because, as always, luck is a traitor. Just when the hard part was over, when all that was left was to leave without raising suspicion… everything became a mess.
Geronimus folded his arms, waiting for more details.
—I had to improvise. —Lysandra exhaled impatiently—. The result is that the task is still in my hands, but I couldn’t dispose of it to make the delivery.
Geronimus clicked his tongue, his face hardening.
—That’s not exactly what they wanted to hear.
Lysandra held his gaze without blinking.
—I know. But they want the gold, not excuses. Give me two days, and they’ll have it.
Geronimus looked at her with disbelief and frustration.
—You have no idea how much pressure there is at the guild right now. They think you ran off with the gold.
Lysandra’s voice was steady.
—If I go back now, I won’t be able to finish the job.
Geronimus remained firm.
—If you show up now, at least you can give your side of the story and negotiate. If not, in two days, it might be too late.
Lysandra didn’t flinch.
—If I return without completing the task, there won’t be any negotiation left. Only accusations.
Geronimus exhaled through his nose.
—I can’t promise things will be fine when you get back.
Lysandra nodded slowly.
—I appreciate it.
Silence settled between them. A heavy silence, filled with unspoken words. Finally, Geronimus sighed and turned his head toward Hans, still asleep, completely motionless.
He smirked.
—Don’t tell me that disaster over there is your salvation.
Lysandra barely raised an eyebrow.
—Not in the traditional sense.
Geronimus scoffed.
—Well, with the way he snores, he doesn’t seem to have a single worry.
—Not yet.
Geronimus gave her a skeptical look.
—Just make sure he’s worth it.
Without another word, he walked to the door and opened it cautiously. Before disappearing into the darkness, he left one final warning:
—Two days, Lysandra. After that, I won’t be able to do anything for you.
Lysandra watched him vanish into the shadows of the forest.
Two days.
She exhaled slowly and scanned the shelter. No trace of Geronimus remained, except for the water droplets on the cold stone floor.
With automatic movements, she put everything back in place. Lowered the oil lamp, stoked the fire with the tip of her boot, and slipped onto her hammock. Her body begged for rest, but her mind remained alert.
She closed her eyes.
She would sleep lightly. She didn’t want any more surprises.
Outside, the rain kept falling, each drop marking the rhythm of the night.
Dawn would bring new problems.
