What Lies Beneath

Night settled softly over the hills. The campfire crackled in the centre of the temporary clearing, its flickering glow casting long shadows across the weary faces of the Crimson Vow. For once, there was no ambush, no footsteps in the dark. Just warmth, and the rustling of wind through leaves.

Kieran sat closest to the flames, roasting a skewer of something vaguely edible over the fire. "You know," he began, "for a group of infamous S-ranks, you're all remarkably good at brooding. Ten out of ten, very dramatic."

"Some of us have good reasons," Selene muttered.

"True," Kieran replied, grinning. "But hear me out—what if we all just had one good laugh before bed? I'll start. Why don't demons ever go to therapy?"

Velis blinked, expression blank. "Because they don't feel bad for what they do?"

Kieran raised a finger. "Wrong—but also not inaccurate. The real answer is because they're afraid they'll end up liking the therapist too much and burn the kingdom down when the sessions end."

A long pause followed. Then, to everyone's surprise, Sylva let out a small, dry chuckle. Velis giggled shortly after.

Kieran grinned wider. "See? That's two laughs. My job here is done."

As the night wound down, some drifted to their tents. Leon sat sharpening his blade quietly. Iris leaned back against a log, watching the stars. Darius remained near the edge of the firelight, vigilant as always.

Velis walked over, silver eyes glowing faintly. She stood beside him, watching the dark like she belonged to it.

"You used to fight with people like them," she said quietly.

Darius nodded. "I did."

Velis tilted her head. "Then why do you fight now?"

He didn't answer immediately. The fire crackled behind them.

"Because someone has to stand between the people I care about—and the ones who'd use the world like a game board," he said.

Velis seemed to consider this. "So you fight for people, not places."

"Yes."

She smiled, a faint one. "Then I think I understand you better now."

And with that, she walked off to find Lyra.

Darius let out a slow breath, watching the moon climb higher.

They were all being pulled by unseen threads.

But tonight, at least, they'd found some peace between the knots.

* * * * *

The fire had burned low, reduced to glowing embers and soft crackles. Most of the party had slipped into their tents or settled into watch rotations. Leon remained outside, back against a tree, watching the night sky.

Kieran approached, his footsteps light but not trying to be silent. He slumped onto the ground beside Leon, holding a half-eaten ration bar like it was a delicacy.

"You always that quiet, Red?"

Leon gave him a side glance. "You always that talkative?"

"Touché," Kieran said with a smirk. "I like to fill the silence. Makes the fear go away."

Leon arched an eyebrow. "Fear?"

Kieran tossed a pebble into the fire. "Yeah. I play the fool, but I've seen things. Heard things. When you poke around enough sealed doors and noble banquets, you find rot in the walls."

Leon didn't speak, letting him continue.

"I wasn't chased for what I stole," Kieran said quietly. "I was chased for what I read. A letter between two highborns in Dravengard… and a list. Seven names. One of them was mine. Another... was yours."

Leon turned sharply. "What?"

Kieran met his eyes, smile gone. "Don't ask me how they know. But someone in the upper echelons is keeping a list of people tied to the coming war. Heroes, monsters, rebels. Someone's trying to play both sides of the board."

Leon felt the weight settle on his shoulders. "Who's behind it?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. That's why I have to get to Solmaria. Someone there—someone high in the clergy—they know what's coming."

A silence stretched between them.

Then, Kieran chuckled, lighter now. "But hey, who needs sleep anyway?"

Leon smirked faintly. "You're a lot more serious than you let on."

"Gotta be," Kieran said. "But don't tell the others. Let 'em think I'm just the comic relief."

Leon nodded once, understanding the weight of that mask. "Your secret's safe."

Across the camp, Velis sat beside Lyra now, head tilted on her shoulder. Darius had returned to watch, quietly observing the group from his usual distance.

Kieran, still lounging on his side like a lazy cat, glanced toward Velis's silhouette in the dark. She was dozing with her head on Lyra's shoulder, her silver hair catching what little moonlight trickled through the trees.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask," Kieran said quietly, "What's her story?"

Leon looked over, cautious. "Velis?"

"Yeah. The Silver Smile." Kieran rolled the words like a coin across his tongue. "She's terrifying. Polite—but terrifying. And no one gets that strong without going through something."

Leon shook his head. "We don't really know. Not completely."

Kieran blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

"Velis doesn't talk about her past. She doesn't answer to anyone but Lyra. We've only started to see her open up in the last couple of months."

Leon's tone was calm, but there was an edge of truth weighing every word. "She listens, she fights, she smiles. But if anyone here knows what Velis really is—where she came from—it's Lyra. And even she hasn't told us everything."

Kieran frowned thoughtfully. "So what do you know?"

Leon looked into the fire. "Just what Lyra told us. Back when she returned from Eldoria—wounded, pale, nearly collapsed. She walked into our camp dragging Velis by the hand. We almost killed her."

Kieran sat up straighter. "What?"

Leon nodded. "Velis had this… unnatural aura. Her eyes glowed silver. Her expression didn't match her power. Everyone thought she was a threat."

"And Lyra?"

"She stopped us. Said Velis saved her life. Said she'd been tied to her now in some way. That she was… just a child."

Leon met Kieran's gaze. "That was enough for us. Barely. But over time… she's proven herself. Again and again. The Silver Smile? It's earned. And feared."

Kieran exhaled. "Damn."

Leon smiled grimly. "So no—I don't know where she came from. Or what she is. But I know she's one of us now. And that matters more than what she used to be."

Kieran looked away, thoughtful.

"Guess I've got more questions for Lyra, then," he murmured.

Leon didn't answer.

The fire cracked once more, and silence reclaimed the night.

The flames danced lower now, just shy of fading. Leon stayed seated, letting the warmth touch his skin while his thoughts drifted.

His eyes shifted toward Sylva, still methodically cleaning her blades by the fire.

Kieran followed his gaze. "What about her? Sylva, right? She and Velis—man, they were a whole storm back in that fight. That teamwork was scary. What's her story?"

Leon kept his expression even. "Sylva's a good person. Strong. Quiet. I trust her."

Kieran raised an eyebrow. "I heard some rumours, you know? People say she was a slave. Doesn't wear a collar though. Maybe she upgraded?"

For a moment, the fire seemed to flicker in reverse.

The temperature didn't change, but Kieran felt a chill run down his spine. Leon hadn't moved, hadn't spoken—but something changed. His aura slipped out like a drawn blade, and it cut through the air with lethal quiet.

Leon didn't look at him. "Don't talk about her like that."

Kieran's smile faltered. "Hey, alright. My bad. Didn't mean anything by it."

Leon rose without another word and walked away into the trees, his steps silent, but his presence leaving behind a ripple of cold pressure.

Kieran exhaled, the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding finally escaping.

He glanced once more at Velis—still sleeping, still unmoving. But in his mind, he remembered the way her voice had curled at the Guild. That smile that wasn't a smile.

Different tone.

Same pressure.

He shuddered lightly and leaned back against a tree.

"Yeah," he muttered to himself. "Definitely traveling with nightmares."

* * * * *

The night was long. Quiet, but never peaceful.

Kieran sat a little apart from the others now, far enough that their quiet breathing didn't drown out his thoughts. He played with a dagger in his hands, spinning it slowly, catching glimpses of his reflection in the steel.

He was always the joker. The clever thief. The charming escape artist. But in the Crimson Vow's company, that mask felt thin.

They weren't just strong—they were monsters.

He started thinking it through, cataloguing them like pieces in a deadly chess game.

Velis. The Silver Smile. The scariest one here. She didn't even try to be intimidating. That was the worst part. Her voice was sweet, playful. Her blade was absolute. She listened to no one but Lyra. And she'd threatened him with a smile.

Leon. The Crimson Blade. Quiet, brooding, loyal. But there was a fire inside him, tightly leashed. Tonight's warning had proven that. Kieran hadn't seen him move, but the pressure had nearly frozen his lungs.

Lyra. The Whispering Raven. Everything about her was dangerous—subtle and controlled. Velis's leash, perhaps. Or maybe her cage. The fact she had Velis's full devotion meant she was more important than any of them realized.

Sylva. The Silent Fang. She moved like shadow and struck like thunder. Her pairing with Velis? Terrifying. Two wolves who didn't need to speak to hunt as one.

Darius. The Steel Banner. Strong, stalwart. Kieran saw a soldier's soul in him. The kind that doesn't bend. The kind that breaks others.

Selene. The Warding Star. Calm. Controlled. She observed everything. Her silence didn't feel like absence—it felt like waiting.

Iris. The White Flame. The healer. Kind, perhaps. But everyone here had a sharp edge, and Kieran was smart enough to know that fire could purify or burn.

Gaius. The Iron Avalanche. Loud, open-hearted, but the kind of man you put between you and death—and trust he'll win.

He sighed, slumping back.

They were all monsters in their own right. Not evil. Not cruel. But forged in battles and trauma and secrets. The longer he stayed with them, the more he realized:

This wasn't a team. It was a storm barely held together by mutual trust and unspoken rules.

And secrets.

So many secrets.

Velis's origin. Sylva's past. Leon's weapon. Lyra's history. His own.

Sooner or later, one of those secrets would unravel.

And when it did, the storm would break.

Kieran leaned his head back and stared at the stars.

"I really should've taken that merchant caravan job," he muttered.