Morning came too fast.

  I woke to the smell of cooking meat and opened my eyes to find Kaelith crouched by the fire, turning a rabbit on a makeshift spit. She'd already packed most of our gear, organized it neatly by the edge of camp.

  She glanced at me when I sat up. "Good morning, Master."

  I grunted and looked away.

  The slave crest guaranteed she wouldn't run. Wouldn't betray me. Wouldn't harm me. I'd placed it there specifically for that reason—to ensure loyalty without having to earn it.

  But now that guarantee felt different.

  It meant she was stuck with me. Bound to me. And no matter what I said or did, she couldn't leave.

  That should have felt like power.

  Instead, it felt like a cage I'd locked us both inside.

  "We're moving north today," I said, standing and brushing dirt off my cloak. "Valdris is three weeks away, maybe less if we push hard."

  She nodded and pulled the rabbit off the fire, dividing it between two portions. She handed me the larger one without a word.

  I took it and ate in silence, watching her from the corner of my eye.

  She wasn't afraid anymore. That much was obvious. The way she moved around camp, the way she looked at me—it wasn't the hollow obedience of a broken slave. It was something else.

  Acceptance, maybe. Or understanding.

  I hated it.

  "Stop staring at me," I said.

  "I'm not staring."

  "You are."

  "I'm eating," she said calmly, taking a bite of rabbit. "You're the one watching me."

  I scowled and looked away. "Just finish your food. We're leaving in ten minutes."

  "Yes, Master."

  The word felt like mockery now, even though her tone was neutral.

  -

  We walked for hours in silence.

  The forest thinned as we moved north, giving way to rolling hills and open plains. The air was colder here, sharper, and I could see my breath in the early morning light.

  Kaelith walked beside me, not behind. I hadn't told her to do that. She just... did.

  "Master," she said after a while.

  "What?"

  "How much longer until we reach Valdris?"

  I glanced at her. "Why does it matter?"

  "Because I'd like to know where we're going."

  "You don't need to know. You just need to follow."

  She was quiet for a moment, then said, "You're going there to kill your family, aren't you?"

  I stopped walking.

  She stopped too, turning to face me. Her violet eyes were calm, steady, like she'd already figured it out and was just waiting for confirmation.

  "How did you—"

  "You talk in your sleep sometimes," she said. "You say their names. Curse them. Promise to make them pay." She tilted her head slightly. "It wasn't hard to figure out."

  My jaw clenched. "That's none of your business."

  "It is if I'm bound to you."

  "You're bound to follow orders, not ask questions."

  "Then order me to stop asking."

  I stared at her, my hands curling into fists. The slave crest would enforce it. One command, and she'd never bring it up again.

  But I didn't give the order.

  Because part of me—some stupid, broken part—wanted her to know. Wanted her to understand why I was doing this. Wanted her to see that I wasn't just a monster killing for fun.

  I was a monster with a reason.

  "Yes," I said finally. "I'm going to Valdris to kill them. My father, my brothers, everyone who left me to die. I'm going to drain them dry and watch them beg for mercy they'll never get."

  She nodded slowly. "And then what?"

  "What do you mean, 'and then what?'"

  "After you kill them. What happens next?"

  I frowned. "I move on. Find the next target. Keep getting stronger."

  "And you'll be hunted," she said quietly. "By the kingdom. By the church. By anyone who hears about a boy who slaughtered an entire noble family."

  "So?"

  "So you'll spend the rest of your life running. Hiding. Fighting. Never staying anywhere long enough to—" She stopped, her gaze dropping to the ground.

  "To what?" I demanded.

  She looked back up at me, and there was something in her eyes I couldn't name. "To have a life."

  I laughed, harsh and bitter. "A life? What the hell do you think this is? I don't want a life. I want revenge. That's all that matters."

  "Is it?"

  "Yes."

  "You're lying."

  "I'm not—"

  "You are," she said, her voice soft but certain. "Because if revenge was all that mattered, you wouldn't have bought me. You wouldn't have protected me. You wouldn't care if I lived or died."

  "I don't care."

  "You threw yourself in front of a blade for me."

  "That was—"

  "You screamed when they tried to take me."

  "I was angry—"

  "You're lying," she repeated, and this time there was something almost sad in her voice. "You keep lying, and I keep seeing through it. Why do you do that?"

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  I turned away, my chest tight. "Because it's easier."

  "Easier than what?"

  "Than admitting I'm weak."

  The words came out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it.

  Kaelith was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "Caring about someone isn't weakness."

  "Yes, it is."

  "Then why are you stronger when I'm near?"

  I froze.

  She stepped closer, her voice steady. "Your magic. It surges when you protect me. When I'm close to you. I felt it during the fight. You felt it too."

  "That doesn't mean anything."

  "It means you're not weaker with me here. You're stronger. And you hate that, don't you?"

  I clenched my jaw and didn't answer.

  She sighed and turned away, starting to walk again. "We should keep moving. Valdris won't get any closer if we stand here arguing."

  I watched her go, my mind racing.

  She was right.

  She was absolutely right, and I hated her for it.

  -

  That afternoon, we came across a group of bandits.

  There were four of them, camped by the side of the road. They saw us coming and stood, hands moving to their weapons.

  "Well, well," one of them said, grinning. "What do we have here? A kid and his pretty little slave."

  I felt the familiar surge of dark energy rising in my chest. My hand moved to Nightfall's hilt.

  "Master," Kaelith said quietly.

  "Stay back," I said.

  "Master, wait—"

  "I said stay back."

  The bandits spread out, circling us. One of them licked his lips as he looked at Kaelith. "How much for the elf, boy? We'll give you a fair price."

  I drew Nightfall, and the blade hummed with dark energy.

  "Wrong answer," I said.

  I moved.

  The first bandit didn't even see me coming. I drove Nightfall through his chest and ripped it out, his life force flooding into me. The second tried to run, but I caught him with a Shadow Step and cut him down from behind.

  The third raised his hands. "Wait! Please! We didn't mean—"

  I didn't let him finish. Just drained him dry and let his body collapse.

  The fourth was already running, disappearing into the trees.

  I started to chase him, but Kaelith's voice stopped me.

  "Master."

  I turned, breathing hard, dark energy still crackling around me.

  She was standing by the bodies, her expression unreadable. "Did you have to kill them all?"

  "They were bandits."

  "They were unarmed."

  "They had weapons."

  "One of them was running away."

  "So?"

  She looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes that made my chest tighten. Not fear. Not anger. Just... disappointment.

  "So you didn't have to kill him," she said quietly.

  "He was a bandit. He would have hurt someone else."

  "Maybe. Or maybe he would have run far away and never come back." She looked down at the bodies. "You don't know. You didn't give him a chance."

  "I don't give chances."

  "I know." She met my gaze again. "But maybe you should."

  I stared at her, my jaw clenched. "Why the hell do you care?"

  "Because one day, I'd like to have a life with you," she said simply. "And I can't do that if we're being hunted by every kingdom in the realm."

  The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

  "A life with me?" I repeated, my voice hollow. "You think that's possible?"

  "I don't know," she said. "But it won't be if you keep killing everyone who looks at you wrong."

  "I kill people who deserve it."

  "Do they?" She gestured at the bodies. "Or do you just tell yourself that so you don't have to feel anything?"

  I turned away, my hands shaking. "You don't know what you're talking about."

  "Don't I?"

  "No. You don't. You're just a—" I stopped myself, the word "slave" dying on my tongue.

  She waited, but I didn't finish the sentence.

  "I'm just a what?" she asked softly.

  I didn't answer.

  She sighed and started walking again. "We should keep moving. It'll be dark soon."

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the bodies.

  Her disappointment lingered in my chest like a weight I couldn't shake.

  I told myself it didn't matter. That she was wrong. That I didn't care what she thought.

  But the lie felt hollow even to me.

  -

  That night, we made camp in a clearing.

  Kaelith set up the fire while I sat against a tree, sharpening Nightfall. The blade didn't need sharpening—it was enchanted—but I needed something to do with my hands.

  "Master," she said after a while.

  "What?"

  "Can I ask you something?"

  "You're going to anyway."

  She smiled faintly. "When you reach Valdris... what if you didn't kill them?"

  I looked up, frowning. "What?"

  "Your family. What if you didn't kill them?"

  "That's the whole point of going there."

  "I know. But..." She hesitated, then said, "What if there was another way to make them suffer?"

  I set Nightfall down, my full attention on her now. "What are you talking about?"

  "Killing them is quick," she said. "They'd suffer for a moment, and then it would be over. But what if you made them suffer for years? What if you destroyed everything they cared about and left them alive to watch?"

  I stared at her, my mind racing.

  "You could ruin their reputation," she continued. "Expose their secrets. Turn their allies against them. Strip them of their wealth, their power, their status. Make them live as outcasts, hated and broken, with nothing left but the memory of what they lost."

  She looked at me, her violet eyes steady. "That's real revenge. Not a quick death. A slow, miserable life where they wake up every day wishing they were dead."

  I was quiet for a long moment.

  Then I said, "That's not revenge. That's mercy."

  "Is it?" she asked. "Because it sounds worse than death to me."

  I picked up Nightfall again, running my thumb along the blade. "Why do you care how I get my revenge?"

  "Because if you kill them, the kingdom will hunt you. The church will hunt you. You'll spend the rest of your life running, and I'll be running with you." She paused. "But if you ruin them without killing them... we could disappear. Build a life somewhere. Be free."

  "Free," I repeated, the word tasting strange on my tongue.

  "Yes."

  "You think I want to be free?"

  "I think you want to stop running," she said quietly. "I think you're tired of being alone. And I think you know that killing them won't fix what's broken inside you."

  I looked at her, my chest tight.

  She was right.

  She was absolutely right, and I hated her for it.

  "I'll think about it," I said finally.

  She nodded and turned back to the fire.

  I sat there in silence, my mind churning.

  The idea was insane. Cruel. Twisted.

  And it was starting to make sense.

  -

  The next few days passed in a strange, uncomfortable rhythm.

  I killed less. Not because I wanted to, but because every time I reached for Nightfall, I felt her watching. Felt her disappointment like a weight on my chest.

  We passed a group of mercenaries on the road. They eyed us, hands on their weapons, but I just kept walking.

  Kaelith glanced at me, surprised. "You're not going to—"

  "No," I said.

  "Why not?"

  "Because they're not worth the trouble."

  It was a lie. The truth was, I didn't want to see that look in her eyes again.

  We came across a wanted poster in a small village. A bandit lord with a bounty of two hundred gold. Wanted for murder, theft, and worse.

  I tore the poster down and tucked it into my pack.

  "What are you doing?" Kaelith asked.

  "If I'm going to kill someone, it might as well be someone who deserves it," I said. "And someone who pays."

  She smiled faintly. "That's... practical."

  "Don't read into it."

  "I'm not."

  "You are."

  "I'm just saying it's a good idea."

  "It's not because of you."

  "I didn't say it was."

  I scowled and kept walking.

  But the truth was, it was because of her.

  And I hated that she knew it.

  -

  A week later, we crested a hill and saw it in the distance.

  Valdris.

  The city sprawled across the valley below, its walls high and imposing, its towers reaching toward the sky. I could see the Silvertin estate from here—a massive manor on the northern edge of the city, surrounded by gardens and walls.

  My family's home.

  The place I'd been cast out from.

  The place I was going to destroy.

  Kaelith stood beside me, her gaze fixed on the city. "That's it, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "What are you going to do?"

  I was quiet for a long moment.

  Then I said, "I don't know yet."

  She looked at me, surprised. "You don't know?"

  "I said I'd think about it," I said. "And I have been."

  "And?"

  "And I'm still thinking."

  She smiled faintly. "That's progress."

  "Don't push it."

  "I'm not."

  "You are."

  She laughed softly, and the sound made something in my chest twist.

  I looked back at the city, my jaw clenched.

  Killing them would be easy. Quick. Satisfying.

  But Kaelith was right. It wouldn't last. The satisfaction would fade, and I'd be left with nothing but the hollow feeling I'd been carrying for years.

  But ruining them? Making them suffer? Watching them lose everything while they lived to see it?

  That was something I could savor.

  And maybe—just maybe—it was something I could walk away from without spending the rest of my life running.

  "We'll camp here tonight," I said finally. "Tomorrow, we go into the city."

  "And then?"

  "And then I figure out how to make them wish they'd never been born."

  She nodded, and I saw something in her eyes that looked almost like hope.

  I told myself it didn't matter.

  I told myself I was doing this for me, not for her.

  But the lie felt thinner every time I told it.

  -

  That night, I couldn't sleep.

  I lay by the fire, staring up at the stars, my mind racing.

  Kaelith was asleep across from me, her breathing soft and steady.

  I watched her for a moment, then looked away.

  She cared about me. I knew that now. The way she looked at me, the way she spoke to me, the way she tried to steer me away from the path I'd been walking—it wasn't just survival. It was something more.

  And the worst part?

  I cared about her too.

  I didn't want to. I'd tried not to. But every time I looked at her, every time she called me out on my lies, every time she made me feel something other than emptiness—I felt it.

  The slave crest guaranteed she wouldn't leave. Wouldn't betray me. Wouldn't harm me.

  But it didn't guarantee she'd care.

  That was something she'd chosen on her own.

  And I had no idea what to do with that.

  "Master?" she said softly.

  I looked over and saw her eyes open, watching me.

  "What?" I said.

  "You're thinking too loud."

  "I'm not thinking."

  "You are. I can feel it."

  I scowled. "Go back to sleep."

  "Not until you do."

  "I don't need sleep."

  "Yes, you do."

  "I'm fine."

  "You're lying."

  I sighed and closed my eyes. "You're insufferable."

  "I know," she said, and I heard the faint smile in her voice.

  I lay there in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and the sound of her breathing.

  And for the first time in years, I didn't feel completely alone.

  I hated it.

  But I didn't want it to stop.