The night stretched endlessly as Rust's hooves pounded against the dirt road. Kaida leaned forward, feeling the beast's muscles ripple beneath her as they ate up the miles.

Core breeds. Damn expensive, but worth every copper. The crystal embedded in Rust's chest glowed faintly through his dark coat—a pulsing blue light that matched his heartbeat.

That core did more than just make him fast. It gave him stamina that regular horses could only dream of.

"Come on, boy," she muttered, gripping the reins tighter. "Faster."

The horse responded immediately, his speed increasing as the crystal flared brighter.

Wind whipped against her face, cold and biting. Trees blurred past them on either side of the road.

Normal horses would've collapsed hours ago. But Rust? He was just getting warmed up.

Her thoughts raced as fast as the horse beneath her. The church. The prophecy. The Ironbreaker dead. And all of it pointing back to—

'Millbrook.'

Her village. The place she had left behind years ago to join the Royal Guard, visiting during every vacation.

The place where nothing ever happened.

Where time seemed to stand still while the rest of the world moved forward.

'World-changing power my ass.'

But she couldn't shake the unease crawling up her spine. The timing was too convenient. She'd just visited a month ago—everything had been normal. Boring. The same old faces, the same old problems.

Hours blurred together. The darkness gradually lifted, black fading to deep blue, then purple. Dawn crept across the horizon like a lazy cat, all slow and deliberate.

By the time the sun actually broke free, Kaida could see the familiar outline of the mountains ahead.

"Almost there," she breathed.

Rust snorted, steam rising from his nostrils. Even he was feeling it now. They'd covered in one night what should've taken three days of travel. The crystal in his chest had dimmed to barely a flicker.

"I know, I know. You can rest soon."

The road began to climb, winding up the mountainside. Kaida eased up on the reins, letting Rust set his own pace. No point in pushing him over the edge now.

Finally, they reached the cliff overlook.

Kaida pulled Rust to a stop and climbed off. Her legs protested—she'd been riding for almost twelve hours straight. She stretched, feeling her spine pop in several places. Damn, that felt good.

Then she turned to look at her village.

Millbrook spread out below like a corpse left to rot in the sun.

The village stretched for miles—too many miles for the handful of people who actually lived there. Houses dotted the landscape at ridiculous distances from each other, separated by rocky terrain and dead vegetation. Most of the buildings were falling apart, abandoned decades ago when people realized this place was cursed with shit soil and even shittier luck.

The few families who remained were too stubborn or too poor to leave.

"As said, so I returned," Kaida muttered, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

The wind picked up, carrying the smell of dust and decay. Home sweet fucking home.

She remounted Rust and guided him down the narrow path. The horse moved carefully now, his energy spent. They descended slowly, the village growing larger with each step.

Kaida's eyes scanned the houses they passed. Most were empty, windows boarded up. A few showed signs of life—smoke from chimneys, clothes hanging to dry. But even those looked half-dead.

She was heading toward the eastern edge where that bastard old man's hut stood. Where she'd grown up. Where—

Her thoughts stopped cold.

Burned.

The hut was fucking burned.

Black scorch marks covered what remained of the structure. The roof had collapsed inward, and the walls were barely standing. Smoke still rose from some of the debris—this had happened recently.

"What the—"

Kaida kicked Rust forward, faster now despite his exhaustion. They covered the remaining distance quickly.

She jumped off before the horse even fully stopped, stumbling slightly as her legs remembered they existed. Ignoring the protest from her muscles, she ran toward the burned hut.

"Sister Mira!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "Mira, are you here?!"

She moved past the burned structure, eyes wild. There—another hut nearby. Mira's place. Small, but intact.

Kaida sprinted to it, throwing open the door without bothering to knock.

Empty.

"Sister Mira?!" She tore through the single room, checking behind the curtain that separated the sleeping area, looking under the bed. Nothing. Nobody.

Her heart hammered in her chest.

She burst back outside, scanning the area. A few villagers had gathered, drawn by her shouting. They watched her with those dead eyes—the same fucking look they'd always given her. Like she was some kind of disease they didn't want to catch.

Kaida ignored them, her gaze locking onto a figure seated outside the burned hut.

The old man.

He sat on a broken stool, looking older than dirt and twice as useless. His clothes were covered in soot, and he was coughing periodically.

But he was alive. The bastard was always alive.

She stormed over to him.

"Hey, old man!" Kaida stopped right in front of him. "Did you see where Sister Mira went?"

The old man looked up slowly, his rheumy eyes focusing on her face. Then his cracked lips twisted into something that might've been a smile if it wasn't so ugly.

"You didn't even greet your grandfather," he wheezed. "Not even asking what happened to his hut?"

'Grandfather.' The word tasted like poison.

"Don't act like you're my guardian, you bastard," Kaida snarled.

Before he could respond, she grabbed his collar and yanked him up from the stool. He was lighter than he looked—all bones and loose skin. He coughed violently, the sound wet and rattling.

"Kaida! Let him go!" One of the neighbors—a middle-aged woman whose name Kaida couldn't remember—rushed forward. "He's weak! You'll kill him!"

Others started moving closer too, but none of them looked particularly threatened. Just concerned in that annoying, obligatory way.

They knew. Everyone in this village knew what kind of man he was.

The old man had spent years beating his wife—Kaida's grandmother. The woman who'd actually raised her, who'd shown her kindness when no one else would. And when the old woman finally died, worn down to nothing by years of abuse, the bastard had tried to turn his fists on Kaida instead.

She'd been nine years old. But she'd also been training since she was five, determined to get strong enough to protect her grandmother. By the time he tried to hit her, she was ready.

She'd beaten him bloody.

Would've killed him too, probably, if Mira hadn't stopped her. Sweet, kind Mira who lived next door. Who pulled Kaida away and held her while she cried. Who became the only family that mattered.

"Where. Is. Mira." Kaida's voice was ice.

The old man's expression shifted. The fake concern dropped away, revealing the rotten core beneath. He started laughing—a nasty, wheezing sound.

"Ungrateful little bitch," he spat. "I take you in, feed you, give you a roof over your head, and this is how you repay—"

"I asked you a question." Her grip tightened.

More wheezing laughter. "That bitch?" His eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure. "She's probably spreading her legs for that nobleman who took her two days ago!"

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