By mid-afternoon the palisade was finally complete.

  Thirty metres by thirty, a rough square carved from forest and determination. The walls stood two metres high, thick logs driven deep into the earth and bound together. Outside, sharpened stakes angled outward in a crude but effective deterrent. A simple two-metre gate marked the only entrance.

  There were no battlements. No towers. Inside, our shelter remained little more than tents and supply stacks.

  But it was something.

  We were no longer simply hiding in the forest.

  After lunch, Cain wasted no time.

  “Spear drills,” he announced. “Everyone.”

  Even the children were handed shortened practice shafts.

  I had never used a spear before — at least, not as Geoff. But Drisnil had. When I took the weapon in hand, the grip felt instinctively correct. The balance made sense. My stance adjusted without conscious thought.

  The thrusting motion felt… remembered.

  For the mock duels, I was paired with Illara.

  She spun the practice spear once before settling into position. “I hope you’re ready,” she said lightly.

  “I always am,” I replied with a grin.

  “Please be gentle with your stick,” she shot back.

  She moved first — a sharp thrust toward my chest.

  I rotated my spear vertical and knocked the tip aside, stepping inward in the same motion. Closing distance before she could reset, I drove the haft into her midsection.

  She stumbled back with a pained noise.

  “That’s not fair,” she protested.

  “Combat rarely is,” I replied. “Learn from it.”

  She circled now, keeping distance, eyes sharper. I could feel Drisnil noticing openings everywhere — shifts in her weight, slight overextensions — but as Geoff, I had to consciously search for them.

  I feinted toward her shoulder.

  She raised her spear to block.

  I dropped the angle and jabbed lightly toward her foot.

  “Ow!” she snapped, hopping back. “That hurt.”

  “Good thing these are blunted,” I said.

  Her expression hardened into something more focused.

  This time she attacked in sequence — a quick thrust to the chest, followed immediately by a sweeping motion toward my legs. I barely deflected the sweep in time and stepped inside, but she retreated faster than before, resetting before I could capitalise.

  Then she thrust again.

  I ducked beneath it and angled my spear upward, tapping her chest.

  She exhaled sharply. “No matter what I try, you’re ahead of me.”

  “You improved,” I said honestly. “The follow-up sweep nearly caught me.”

  “Nearly,” she muttered.

  “That’s why we train.”

  We squared off again.

  This time she came at me in a flurry — multiple rapid thrusts. They lacked precision, but the aggression forced me backward. I blocked two, sidestepped another, then stepped inside one that extended too far.

  I seized her spear shaft and pulled.

  She stumbled forward, balance broken.

  Without thinking — or perhaps thinking too much — I wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

  She blinked at me.

  “You’re playing with me,” she accused.

  “Possibly.”

  “Take this seriously,” Cain’s voice cut in sharply from across the yard.

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  We both stepped apart immediately.

  “Sorry,” I called back.

  Illara shot me a look somewhere between exasperation and amusement before resetting her stance.

  The rest of the spear training continued in much the same fashion.

  Illara attacked with determination. I dismantled her defence with irritating consistency.

  By the time Cain finally called a halt and dismissed us to prepare for the hunt, Illara looked thoroughly demoralised.

  Fortunately, the forest was kinder to her pride than I had been.

  Within an hour she had located fresh sign and tracked a deer with quiet confidence. Watching her work restored some of her usual spark — and when she brought it down cleanly, she looked far more satisfied than she had on the training field.

  By the time we returned to camp, venison in tow, the mood had lifted.

  After dinner was served, the five of us settled near the fire as usual.

  Sera chewed thoughtfully on a strip of deer and then asked, “If you had to be a farm animal, which would you choose?”

  Illara considered seriously. “A horse. Reliable. Dependable. Useful.”

  “You do enjoy being useful,” I teased.

  She nudged me lightly with her knee.

  “I’d choose a cow,” I said. “Eat grass all day. Stand around. Get milked occasionally. Minimal expectations.”

  The others stared at me.

  “I’m surprised,” Illara said slowly. “You always have so much energy.”

  “There’s a difference,” I replied, “between energy you choose to expend and energy you’re required to expend. If I had my way, I’d read all day and move only when absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, reality interferes.”

  “Pfft,” Faie scoffed. “You reading books? You lack the discipline.”

  “I can read,” I protested.

  “Barely,” she replied airily. “As for me, I would be a rabbit. I would dig holes in inconvenient places and watch farmers despair.”

  “That is not a farm animal,” Sera objected.

  “They live on farms,” Faie countered.

  “…Fair,” Sera conceded reluctantly.

  “I would be a noble pig,” Sera declared. “Well fed. Mud baths. Admired for my intelligence.”

  Illara burst out laughing. “A noble pig?”

  “I did not laugh at your horse,” Sera said, narrowing her eyes. “You will show my pig the proper respect.”

  Ash smiled faintly and rested a calming hand on her shoulder.

  “I know,” Sera said with exaggerated dignity. “I must not rise to provocation.”

  Illara shook her head. “Let’s be honest. The weirdest choice here is the cow.”

  “Absolutely,” Faie agreed at once.

  Sera nodded solemnly.

  I blinked at them.

  “I never thought I’d out-weird Faie.”

  “That,” Faie said primly, “is because you continue to underestimate yourself.”

  The fire crackled between us, laughter rolling easily into the trees.

  With the palisade complete, watch rotations were reduced. For the first time since arriving, we could relax — at least partially — within our rough wooden refuge.

  It wasn’t comfort.

  But it was shelter.

  The following morning, Cain pulled me aside before drills began.

  “I need you to slow them down,” he said without preamble.

  I didn’t ask who.

  “They’ll follow our trail,” he continued. “They won’t expect resistance before they reach us. That’s where you come in.”

  “And what exactly do you want?” I asked.

  “Harassment,” Cain replied. “Traps. Quick ambushes. Injuries, not deaths. I want their cleric exhausted. No rest. No recovery. Keep them on edge.”

  The request settled into my chest like a stone.

  This was no simple hunt.

  This was war in miniature.

  Cain handed me his bow.

  “Use your stealth. Use your speed. Above all, come back alive. We need you here for the final assault.”

  “Why not kill a few?” I asked quietly.

  He studied me for a moment.

  “If you kill them, you risk hardening their resolve. The team Percy brings will be tight-knit. Shared loss could unify them. I want them tired. Frustrated. Demoralised.”

  He tapped the bow lightly against my shoulder.

  “Break them without martyring them.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “I understand.”

  A smile tugged at my lips — not entirely mine.

  “I’ll terrorise them.”

  Cain’s own grin sharpened. “That’s the spirit. Let your inner demon stretch its legs.”

  I found Illara near the edge of camp, kneeling in quiet prayer.

  “I’ve been given a mission,” I said.

  She looked up immediately. “Good. When do we leave?”

  “It’s just me.”

  Her expression fell at once. She stood, closing the distance between us.

  “That’s not fair. I’ll speak to Cain.”

  I caught her hands gently. “It requires absolute stealth. And tactics you may not approve of.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  “And if you don’t return?” she asked.

  The question hung heavy between us.

  “I promised I would stay by your side,” I said softly. “Even if this body falls, I will still be there. And… I did create this one. Perhaps I could create another.”

  I tried to lighten it.

  “Maybe next time I’ll make myself a man again.”

  Illara’s smile was faint but real.

  “If you die,” she said quietly, “bring Drisnil back. I’ll love you in any form… but I admit I’ve grown rather attached to this one.”

  I pulled her into a firm embrace and kissed her — longer this time, memorising the warmth.

  “I’ll be careful,” I said.

  She rested her forehead briefly against mine.

  “If you must,” she whispered, “unleash Drisnil.”

  Her permission settled deep inside me.

  As I stepped away from camp, bow in hand, I felt it stir — that other presence. Not angry.

  Anticipatory.

  This would not be a hunt for meat.

  This would be a hunt for fear.

  And I intended to see whether my inner demon could follow rules.