Chapter 54

Valen and the rest walk back to the encampment. Eska hasn't let go of him since that moment. Her fingers remain curled into the fabric of his shirt, her presence constant at his side.

He doesn't mind it but he doesn't quite know how to feel about what happened.

For a moment in that cavern, she had become something else—feral, relentless, a force tearing through the Thaxil. It wasn't human. But the moment she saw him, she changed back.

The thought lingers, gnawing at him as they walk. She changed back when she saw him.

He glances down at her, at the way exhaustion pulls at her features. Strands of hair stick to her face, her golden eyes dulled with fatigue, her breaths steady but slow. The fire from before is gone, leaving only this—her.

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips before he realizes it.

He had thought, once, that she was someone he could observe from a distance. An anomaly to study, a problem to solve.

But looking at her now, feeling the slight weight of her hand still clutching his shirt—he knows.

She isn't someone he can just leave.

The sun has long since risen, casting light over the weary procession.

The once-tense march through the forest is now a somber trek, the silence broken only by the shuffle of boots and the occasional groans of the wounded.

When the clearing comes into view, the guild members spring into action. Some guiding stretchers carrying the severely injured while others drag themselves to their stations to prepare for what comes next.

The weight of their triumph bears down on everyone, a reminder of what it cost to bring the Thaxil to its knees.

The encampment is eerily quiet despite the flurry of activity. Rows upon rows of blanketed bodies stretch across the clearing, each one marked by a small roll of cloth at their feet, containing their personal belongings—simple tokens of the lives they once lived.

The sight is grim, a silent testament to the cost of victory.

The air is heavy with the mingled scents of blood, sweat and smoke, clinging stubbornly to the survivors as they work through their exhaustion.

Around the perimeter, guild members move tirelessly, tending to the wounded. Makeshift triage stations have been set up, with hunters-turned-medics crouching over their comrades, wrapping cuts and stitching wounds with shaking hands.

Others struggle to stabilize those who've lost limbs, their cries muffled by clenched teeth or hastily applied cloths to stifle the pain. Crates of supplies are cracked open, their contents emptied faster than they can be restocked.

Every capable hand is put to work, whether splinting broken bones, boiling water for sterilization, or simply offering a shoulder to lean on.

In the center of it all, Cole stands like a beacon, issuing commands with unwavering resolve. His voice cuts through the subdued murmurs, directing people to where they are most needed.

"Move the critical ones to the city when the second wave arrives. We've done enough dying for one day," he says firmly.

Around him, his guild follows his lead without question, their loyalty evident even amidst the devastation.

Eska and Valen sit off to the side, their exhaustion palpable as they watch the scene unfold.

Eska's gaze lingers on the rows of fallen hunters, her chest tightening at the sheer number. Valen, his shirt still in a sling, doesn't say a word but his clenched jaw and furrowed brow speak volumes.

This was a victory, but one that came at a cost none of them would soon forget.

Lenna sits on a fallen log at the edge of the encampment, her posture stiff, bandages wrapped tightly around her side and arm. The firelight flickers unevenly across her face, casting restless shadows over her features.

Her fist is pressed against her teeth, her thumb nail caught between them, biting down just enough to keep her hands from trembling. Her gaze flickers, unfocused, but the tension in her shoulders gives her away.

Like she knows what comes next.

She doesn't speak, but her eyes say enough—watching as Eska, bruised and battered yet alive, shares a quiet moment with Valen. But Lenna isn't watching Eska.

She's watching what Eska's survival means for her.

Her teeth press harder against her thumb nail. The firelight catches the flicker of unease in her gaze, her body tense, rigid. This clearly wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Valen leans back, exhaling slowly. He knows what comes next—it always happens when she fails an assignment from Athos or even her mother, Italia. He's seen it before, how the weight of their judgment bears down on her, how she stiffens under it but never pushes back.

For now, he chooses to ignore her.

Instead, his gaze lingers on Eska, softness in his eyes as he speaks.

"Your mother would be proud," he says with quiet sincerity. "What you did today was incredible, Eska. You held your ground, saved lives—more than anyone could have expected."

Eska snaps out of her trance, the weight of everything momentarily lifting as her gaze shifts toward Valen.

He's watching her, steady and sincere.

A slow smile creeps onto her lips, tinged with something wry, almost playful. A flicker of mischief lingers in her tired eyes as she tilts her head slightly.

"Mom? Proud?"

She shakes her head, her voice filled with mock exasperation. "No way. She'd be furious with me! I broke all the rules today."

She raises her hands dramatically, as if reenacting her mother's imagined reaction. "Don't engage with monsters. Don't overextend. Don't ever, ever fall into a sinkhole filled with monsters!"

Valen chuckles, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in what feels like hours.

"Alright, maybe she'd yell at you for the sinkhole part," he admits, his tone teasing, "but I think she'd have a harder time ignoring the fact that you took on a Queen and lived to tell the tale."

Eska rolls her eyes playfully. "She'd probably just point out all the ways I could've done it better."

Her tone is light, but there's a flicker of genuine warmth in her smile as she speaks. "Then she'd give me that 'I told you so' look and make me take care of the farm as punishment."

"Sounds like a tough woman," Valen replies, his laughter fading into a gentle smile. "But if she's anything like you, I can see where you get it from."

Eska looks down at her hands, a small blush creeping into her cheeks. "Yeah, she is tough…and smart. Way smarter than me. She would've figured out a way to do all this without…" She trails off, her gaze shifting toward the rows of bodies nearby.

Valen reaches over and places his hand gently on hers, giving it a firm squeeze.

Eska stares at their hands, the weight of everything still lingering, pressing into her chest. Slowly, she leans into him.

A few quiet sobs escape her, barely more than shaky breaths against him.

"I just… I just want to see her again," she whispers, her voice breaking.

Valen feels it in his gut, a weight settling in his throat. The desperation in her words, the exhaustion laced in them—it twists something inside him.

His grip on her hand tightens slightly. "I'll arrange something," he says, voice lower, steadier than he feels. "I think you earned it after today."

Eska lifts her head, her glazed eyes locking onto his, searching his face as if trying to make sure she heard him right.

"You will?" she whispers, the words barely holding together. Slowly, a smile begins to escape her, hesitant.

Valen can't help but smile back.

"I will."

She blinks, her cheeks still faintly red, before letting out a small laugh.

"I really appreciate it," she says with a sniffle, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

Then, without warning, she shoves him back.

Valen stumbles slightly, blinking in confusion as Eska smirks at him, mischief creeping back into her tired expression.

"Didn't take you for the sentimental type, Valen," she teases. "What happened to the stoic paladin I heard about?"

Valen scoffs, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Oh, I'm the sentimental one? You were just crying on my shoulder, Eska."

Eska gasps in mock offense. "Was not!"

"You literally just said you wanted to see your mom," he shoots back, crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. "Fine, maybe a little—but you enjoyed it."

Valen chuckles, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

For a moment, the weight of the day dulls, just enough to breathe. Neither of them says it, but they both know.

Cole approaches quietly, his footsteps soft against the dirt as he comes into the firelight.

His face is drawn but calm, the faint flicker of exhaustion visible in his eyes.

"Valen, Eska," he begins, his voice low but firm. "We're sending a group of the most severely wounded back to the city. They won't make it if we keep them here, and I need someone capable of accompanying them. Someone who can handle any trouble that comes up along the way."

"You want us to go with them?" Valen asks.

Cole nods. "I do. You've both done enough here and frankly, I trust you to get them back safely."

Eska exchanges a brief look with Valen before nodding. "We'll go," she says with quiet determination. "Just tell us when to move."

Cole places a hand on Valen's shoulder, giving him a small, grateful squeeze before heading back into the camp to finalize preparations.

The team gathers near the edge of the encampment, where the Namuras are lined up.

The creatures are saddled and loaded with supplies.

Eska stands frozen for a moment, staring up at the Namura assigned to her and Valen. "That's...bigger than I imagined," she mutters, her voice laced with both awe and trepidation. The Namura huffs softly, its breath visible in the cool air, as if unimpressed by her hesitation.

Valen steps beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he says with a reassuring smile. "I'll help."

He mounts the Namura with ease before extending his hand down to Eska. She hesitates but eventually takes it, allowing him to pull her up behind him. "Hold on to me and let the Namura do the work," he instructs with a calm tone.

Eska clings to his waist, her grip a little tighter than necessary as the Namura shifts its weight and begins to move.

Around them, other hunters mount their Namuras, their faces a mixture of determination and fatigue as the group prepares to escort the wounded back to the city.

The quiet, rhythmic thuds of the Namuras' footsteps soon replace the clamor of the camp as the team begins their journey.