Chapter 7: The Road Ahead

The sun dangled low in the sky, casting the long, crooked shadows of the desert's skeletal trees across the hard-packed earth. The wind was dry, cutting through the open plains like a whip.

The trio—Seraphina, Bastian, and Barok—rode silently, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the land stretched out before them like an endless ocean of dust and stone.

Bastian, as usual, broke the silence first.

"Not gonna lie," he said with that familiar lopsided grin, "I didn't expect to be dealing with ice and frost out here in the middle of nowhere.

Seems a bit... out of place." He cast a sideways glance at Seraphina. "How does that even work? Magic like yours in a place like this?"

Seraphina didn't answer immediately, keeping her eyes on the horizon.

But after a moment, her lips quirked into a slight smile, the first time she'd allowed it in days. "I don't need to melt hearts, Bastian. I need to freeze them."

Bastian laughed, shaking his head. "Ice, fire—really, you could've been a poet instead of a bounty hunter. You've got the metaphors down."

Behind them, Barok, the ever-stoic one, glanced sideways at the pair. "He talks too much," Barok muttered, his voice low and as flat as always.

Bastian smirked at his friend's response. "Oh, come on, brother. You love it. Admit it."

Barok didn't reply, his eyes scanning the barren landscape ahead. He was the type to think before he spoke—always calculating, always observing. Bastian's constant banter, while perhaps a little tiresome, was part of the reason he kept him around. The man could see angles, even if it was through the chaos of his words.

Seraphina, still riding ahead, spoke then, her voice calm but sharp. "A fool leads where the wise fear to tread, Barok. Sometimes, you have to let chaos work."

Barok grunted, not buying it. "Chaos gets people killed. I'd rather plan my way out."

Seraphina gave him a sidelong look. "Plans fail. Chaos doesn't."

Barok didn't answer, but Bastian grinned at the back-and-forth. "You two are a perfect pair, you know that? Cold as ice and stone as a wall.

But I get it. You think ahead, you play the odds. Me? I just wing it." He flashed Barok a roguish grin. "I'm the fire to your ice, and you're the rock that keeps me from burning out."

Seraphina, not engaging in the banter, simply muttered, "That's one way to look at it."

They rode in silence for a time, but the day was drawing to a close as they reached the small, fading town of Aldridge.

The place was little more than a few crumbling buildings and rusting signs that spoke to a time long past. A dry wind stirred the dust as they entered the town, and Seraphina slowed her horse, signaling the others to follow her.

"This is where we turn in Rust's head," Seraphina said, her voice as emotionless as ever.

Bastian raised an eyebrow at the small pouch tied to her saddlebag.

"So we just hand it over like any other bounty, huh?"

Barok said nothing, his thoughts already calculating the next move. He was never one for ceremony; there was only one thing that mattered—getting the job done.

They approached the bounty office at the center of the town, a dilapidated structure that seemed to sag under the weight of time.

Inside, the smell of stale tobacco and old whiskey greeted them. The man behind the desk was older, grizzled, with a face that had seen too many sunrises and too much violence.

Seraphina dismounted, and with a casual motion, dropped the small leather pouch onto the desk. The contents were unmistakable.

"Rust," she said simply.

The officer eyed the pouch and then her with a sharp gaze, his eyes narrowing as he took in the severed head of Jack Rust. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, running a hand through his beard. "You actually got him. Thought he was a damn ghost."

Without a word, he reached into a drawer behind him, retrieving a heavy bundle of coins. He set them down on the counter—enough to make anyone's mouth water.

Seraphina's eyes flickered over the money briefly before she pushed a portion of it toward Barok and Bastian. "We split it three ways. It's out of honor."

Barok studied her, his brow furrowing at the unfamiliar concept. "Honor?" he asked, his voice low, still skeptical. "What's that mean for you, exactly?"

Seraphina didn't look up, but her lips curled slightly at the edges. "It means you earned it. You both helped, and you both deserve your share. No one works alone."

Bastian raised an eyebrow, his usual grin returning. "Honor. That's a new one. I didn't think bounty hunters were big on sharing the spoils."

Seraphina didn't respond directly, continuing to gather her share of the coins.

But there was a calmness in the way she spoke that held a certain weight. "It's not about the money. It's about respect. If I didn't share, it'd be a dishonor. No one earns anything alone in this world, no matter what they say."

Barok, still intrigued, studied her more closely. "I understand the idea of honor," he said, his tone neutral but thoughtful. "But this, this feels different. You do what you do for a living—you hunt people down, you kill them—yet you speak of honor like it's something sacred."

Seraphina paused, her gaze flicking to Barok, and for a moment, she didn't say anything. She let the silence hang between them like a weight. Then, she gave a small nod. "Honor is what keeps me from becoming like the rest of them. Like Rust. He took what he wanted, when he wanted, without thought or care. I do my job, but I don't let it take me. I don't forget what matters."

Bastian, who had been quietly listening, leaned against the desk with a half-smile. "You're talking like you've got a whole philosophy behind this." He raised an eyebrow. "So, what's next then? More honor for us?"

Seraphina's lips twitched, the faintest smile tugging at them. "You'll figure it out. You might not believe in it now, but honor's something you grow into. Or it leaves you behind."

Barok frowned slightly, still processing her words. "I can't say I'm sold, but... I get where you're coming from. Honor means more than just a reward. It's a reminder."

Seraphina gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment. "Exactly. It's about how you treat others. Not everything's about the fight. Sometimes it's about the way you walk through this world."

Bastian threw a grin at Barok. "Well, well. Look at that. We've got our very own philosopher in the group."

Barok just grunted, but his eyes lingered on Seraphina for a moment longer. She wasn't what he had expected—a cold-hearted bounty hunter. There was more to her, a quiet strength that he found... interesting.

With the transaction complete, they turned to leave the bounty office. As they stepped outside into the fading light of dusk, Barok thought about what Seraphina had said. Honor. Respect. They were words he could understand, but he'd always believed honor was a thing earned, not freely given.

As they mounted their horses again, Bastian slapped Barok on the back with a smirk. "See? Honor's not all bad. I mean, we're still alive, and we got paid. That's a win in my book."

Seraphina, having mounted her own horse, rode off without a word, her eyes focused on the path ahead. She was still a mystery to Barok, but the more he rode beside her, the more he was beginning to understand the complexity behind her.

For now, the journey would continue. There were more outlaws to hunt, more justice to deliver. But there was also a quiet understanding growing among them. Honor, it seemed, was something they would learn to carry forward—each of them in their own way.

Bastian, ever the optimist, looked toward the horizon with a grin. "I told you, Barok. Black Dust—fire, ice, and a bit of honor in between. We make one hell of a team."

Barok didn't respond immediately. Instead, he glanced at Seraphina, who was riding ahead, her posture still as stoic as ever.

Maybe this ragtag team of outlaws wasn't so bad after all.

And with that, they rode on into the dusk, the road ahead uncertain, but somehow a little clearer.