Rowan took a deep breath, trying to compose his thoughts.

  It was hard to pick the right words. Nemir had asked him where those items came from, and the truth was that his family had spent generations accumulating them, and so much more. Filling the Vault with everything from basic iron swords, to legendary weapons wielded by heroes of myth.

  “I…” he sighed, shaking his head. “I know you’re not idiots,” he began, looking at each of them in turn. “So I’m not going to insult you by spouting bullshit.”

  Rowan ran a hand through his hair. “There are things I can’t talk about. Things that are better left unsaid. But what I can tell you is that I have access to certain… resources,” he leaned back in his chair, spinning the ring on his finger. “Let’s call it an inheritance,” he glanced at Nemir. “Those items came from there.”

  The team took a moment to process his words, and it was Annie who finally broke the silence. “You call it an inheritance,” she said slowly, her word uncharacteristically soft. “Does that mean…?”

  Rowan felt a wave of grief wash over him.

  It was one thing to deal with this in the privacy of his own mind. There, he could push it back. Drown it out with training and danger. But having someone ask, having someone care, it made it so much harder.

  For the first time since getting it, Rowan activated [Iron Will] in truth.

  The skill was like a bucket of cold water. It smoothed out his turbulent emotions, leaving behind a calm sea.

  Whoa, he thought, surprised by the change. I could get used to this.

  It wasn’t enough to completely extinguish the ache in his heart, and Rowan was sure it’d come right back when he dropped the skill. But for now, it allowed him to get through this conversation.

  “Well, there’s really only one way to get an inheritance,” Omi muttered.

  Silvia gaped at him, smacking him upside the head. “Gods, you can’t say things like that!”

  Rowan glanced at the rogue. A chuckle escaped his throat, and it quickly turned into a laugh.

  The rest of the team looked at him in surprise.

  Probably not expecting that reaction.

  And if he was being honest, neither was he.

  Rowan wasn’t sure if it was the skill, the company, or the passage of time that made laughing about it possible. Most likely a combination of all three. But right now, he wasn’t going to question it.

  Omi rubbed the back of his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips before vanishing a heartbeat later.

  “I mean, he’s not wrong,” Rowan shrugged.

  Nemir looked down at his new sword, a conflicted expression on his face. “Then we can’t—”

  Rowan raised a hand. “Let me stop you right there,” he said firmly. “I want you all to have them. They’re not doing anything useful in storage. And with the way things are looking, with Killian, and the surge, and who knows what else, I’d feel better with them in your hands.”

  Nemir looked like he wanted to say more, but he slowly nodded. “I’ll take good care of him.”

  Silvia arched an eyebrow. “Him? I thought swords were always her’s.”

  “Not always,” Nemir smiled, tracing the edge of his blade.

  “Well this beauty is definitely a her.” Annie grinned, slamming the butt of her spear against the wooden floor with a dull thud. “I’ve never seen a movement enchantment before,” she ran her hand across the shaft. It had grooves cut into it, which created an almost woven appearance.

  It was taller than her, and unlike her previous weapon, the spearhead was firmly connected.

  “I can’t wait to test it out,” she muttered, her grip tightened. “Thanks, by the way,” she smiled. “This is an awesome gift.”

  Rowan smiled. Having a weapon with an enchantment like that amounted to an additional skill. And with those being hard to come by, it made a massive difference.

  “It’s supposed to guide your movements,” he started explaining. “So you have to loosen your muscles to feel it. And when you learn it, the enchantment should be able to mimic an Initiate level skill.”

  Her eyes glinted with excitement. “Like I said,” she nodded slowly. “Awesome gift.”

  Omi showed off his boots next, and then Silvia mock fired her new bow.

  They went around in a circle, each member displaying an item, talking about what it could do against different kinds of opponents. Even Zoe showed off her staff, with Silvia offering to ‘nick’ someone to see how well it performed.

  The healer didn’t seem to mind, but the idea was quickly shot down.

  Rowan shook his head, feeling foolish that he’d expected this to be some big thing. They knew he didn’t want to talk about it, and so they moved on.

  The same way he didn’t talk—or ask—about Nemir’s obvious heritage. Or Annie’s connection to the only Gold-ranked adventurer in the city. And now Zoe’s connection to the temple.

  He was sure Silvia and Omi had interesting pasts too. She might not act like it, but their archer was skilled. Really skilled. Among their group, she was the only one with an Expert level skill—something she didn’t boast about. A feat few Iron-ranks managed.

  Their rogue had a [Shadow Veil] skill, something rarely offered before you had an Aura.

  Unless someone trained you for it.

  And now, that courtesy was passed onto him.

  The conversation moved naturally from there.

  Drinks were taken out of the cupboards. Glasses were given out. The room turned into a makeshift celebration, and Rowan gladly joined in.

  “To the strongest group of Iron-ranks this city has ever seen,” Silvia toasted, already into her cups.

  They teased her for it, but they did join in.

  “Well, she’s not wrong,” Omi shrugged. “With all these new goodies, a mage, and a healer. The six of us could take on a Gold-rank.”

  Annie grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Whoa, now.” Nemir raised his hands. “We’re not there yet. None of us even have an Aura, so let’s not go planning things that end with us being dismembered.”

  “Not yet,” Rowan added, nursing a mug of chilled wine. “But you’re close,” he pointed out.

  Nemir rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “Even still, fighting a Gold-ranked threat is best left to others.”

  Silvia groaned. “Just make the damn toast, will you?”

  He laughed, standing up. “To the Crimson Grove.”

  The rest of the team echoed him, and Silvia made sure that Zoe joined in too.

  The rest of the evening passed quicker than Rowan would have liked. And while it was certainly different from the celebration in the Hall, he found that he enjoyed this one much more.

  His Soul agreed with him too. Because when he laid down in his bed—for the first time since it happened—Rowan didn’t feel an aching in his chest.

  .

  .

  .

  The next morning, Rowan was woken up with a knock on his door.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  He blinked open his eyes, wiping the sleep away.

  “What time is it?” he muttered, glancing at the window.

  The sun was just beginning to rise, and Rowan could hear the soft trills of Kai sleeping overhead.

  Another quiet knock made him get up, putting on a shirt.

  He opened the door.

  “Zoe? What are you doing here?” he muttered, his voice still slightly groggy. “I thought you left.”

  “I did,” she said. “May I come in?”

  Rowan’s brain still wasn’t fully awake, and he found it tiresome to be confused. So instead, he just waved her in. “Sure thing. Make yourself at home.”

  Zoe looked around the room for a few moments. “I would rather not,” she said, stepping inside.

  Rowan shook his head, finally remembering something that might help.

  [Iron Will] activated, and immediately his focus sharpened.

  It was almost jarring in its intensity. The lingering fatigue disappeared, blown away with barely no effort.

  Rowan took a moment to find his bearings. But when he did, he was fully awake.

  He closed the door, moving back to the bed and sitting on the edge. “Is this about last night?”

  “Yes. There is something I would like to talk to you about.”

  Zoe stepped closer, and after a moment's hesitation, she pulled up a chair. “I do apologize for waking you. But I prefer that the others are asleep while we have this conversation.”

  Rowan’s curiosity piqued, he nodded. “Go ahead. If it’s something I can answer, I will. But besides that, I can’t promise much.”

  “It is more an observation than a question,” she said, her brows furrowed in thought. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. And it is making my calves ache.”

  “What?” he asked, [Iron Will] not strong enough to deal with the confusion. “Why would your calves be aching from that?”

  “Not important,” she quickly added, looking almost flustered. “I would like to focus on the dishonesty.”

  Rowan chuckled. “It was kind of the theme of the night. So don’t worry too much about it.”

  He was more than a little intrigued about where Zoe was going with this. But just because he wasn’t going to probe for the answers didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in knowing them.

  Then she made her observation, and Rowan’s breath caught.

  “Your soul is strange.”

  Those four words were enough to put him on edge.

  How does she know? What does she know? Who did she tell?

  [Iron Will] curbed the worst of them, but Rowan still found himself concerned. His trait was a secret even more dangerous than his past. And here she was, spitting it out like they were discussing the weather.

  Calm down, he told himself. There’s no way she knows anything specific.

  “It is like a raging bonfire. Neverending.”

  Rowan's head fell into his hands.

  Well, fuck.

  He looked up at her, not really knowing what to do.

  Still Glimmer. So there shouldn’t have been a way for her to see anything concerning my soul.

  That was something priests with Brilliance, or even Radiance-level blessings had trouble with. And Zoe was still far from that level.

  “How do you know that?” he asked. “And why are you asking?”

  Those were the two most important questions he could think of.

  If she was capable of seeing it, then there were certainly more people out there who could too. And Rowan would need to find a way of stopping that from happening if he wanted it to remain hidden.

  The other question concerned her goals, and that one she answered first.

  “I would like for you to talk to the head priest about it.”

  Rowan was about to deny her request, but then her eyes lit up in realization. “Oh, I was instructed to do something.”

  Her hands clasped together, raising them to her forehead. “By Eldara’s name, I vow to keep this confidence.”

  A soft golden glow illuminated her fingers, almost like she was holding a candle in between her palms. It transformed into thin chains, moving across her hands and wrapping around both of her index fingers. It dissipated a heartbeat later, but its significance lingered.

  The tension drained from Rowan’s shoulders, a breath he didn’t even know he was holding leaving his mouth.

  A vow wasn’t so easily broken. She’d managed to cut off his spiraling thoughts with a few words, and the shakiness in Rowan’s hands receded. “You know, you really should have led with that.”

  Zoe tilted her head. “I apologize. It slipped my mind,” a frown creased her forehead. “You looked troubled,” she said, using her highly honed observation skills. “Did the vow help?”

  Rowan chuckled. “Yes, it did.”

  It was one thing to talk about his trait with a random person he found on the street, and another to an ordained priestess of Eldara. Something he found himself forgetting she was after spending time with her.

  Zoe spent most of her time reading and listening, not spreading her faith to anyone who would hear it.

  Probably for a reason. She doesn't seem like a good fit for the job.

  She was obviously a skilled healer, but a preacher, she was not.

  “I am glad,” she said, absentmindedly twirling a lock of her hair. “There is one more thing.”

  Rowan sighed. Of course there is.

  “Go on then. No point in beating around the bush.”

  Zoe’s brows furrowed, as if she was looking for the right words.

  After a few seconds of silence, she started talking. “I didn’t join your team on a whim. Some six months ago, my lady granted me a vision, commanding me to journey to Litwick and find you,” she continued before Rowan could voice one of the dozen or so questions—and concerns—her statement brought up. “I do not know why. She did not deign to share that information with me. But I do know she wishes for me to be here.”

  Zoe ran a finger along the shaft of her new staff. “I was born with [Soul Sight]. That was what allowed me to locate you,” she looked at him, a relaxed expression on her face, the complete opposite to the one Rowan was sporting on his.

  “How many people know?”

  “Oh?” She seemed almost surprised by the question, but it was the only thing on Rowan’s mind.

  If she’d gotten a vision from a Goddess, Zoe was a much different existence than he’d thought. There was only a single group in Eldara’s priesthood that was capable of such a feat.

  Apostles.

  And while Rowan felt sure she was only a candidate, that didn’t make him feel all that much better.

  “Do not worry,” she waved off his concerns. “Other than three Archpriests and myself, no one else knows of my task. The lady was clear in her desire for discretion.”

  Rowan pushed [Iron Will] further, needing a clear mind for wherever this conversation was leading.

  I decidedly do not want Gods showing interest in me, he was certain of that. But if what she’s saying is true—and I don’t think she’s lying—Eldara sent someone to find me the moment I Awakened. And not only that, but she knew I’d go to Litwick.

  That was a knot Rowan wasn’t anywhere near being capable of untangling.

  Gods were beings you didn’t try to understand, or limit.

  “And what was the vision?” he finally asked, voicing the question that he didn’t know if he wanted an answer to.

  Zoe looked uncomfortable, and that only served to put Rowan more on edge.

  “Come on, spill it out,” he said, leaning forward, his grip on the bed frame tightening.

  She sighed, her expression softening. “The vision was of you. Lying in a pool of your own blood. An onyx blade thrust through your heart.”

  Before Rowan acknowledged her revelation, Zoe stood up, tapping her staff against the wooden floor. “But I was sent to prevent that from happening,” she smiled. “And to accomplish that, I would advise you to speak with the High-priest. He is more knowledgeable than I when it comes to Souls,” she finished, seemingly satisfied with the way this conversation had gone.

  The High-priest was a Guide. And Rowan could admit that some advice wouldn’t go amiss. Especially when dealing with something as dangerous as a soul.

  The one time he’d managed to touch upon that apparently endless well of power, it had fried his channels. Which was an experience he had no desire of repeating. Especially not now.

  Rowan took a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking a moment.

  His mind was trying to pull his thoughts in too many directions. Focusing on questions he had no way of answering.

  The workings of Gods were far beyond him, and they would be for a long while yet. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on the vision. He could have died against the shaman, and against the Wyrmlings.

  The Path he was walking wasn’t a safe one. He accepted that. A vision from a Goddess changed nothing.

  So instead, Rowan focused on what he knew for certain.

  She vowed to keep my confidence. And a Guide would do the same.

  His mind made up, Rowan stood up and walked towards his table. He wrote out a quick note, telling the team where he’d gone. They’d be asleep for a few hours yet, but he didn’t want them to worry when they did wake up.

  “Alright,” he said, slipping on his coat. “Lead the way.”

  Zoe stood up as well, and without another word, they left his room. Making their way to the temple of Eldara.