The adrenaline had finally faded.

The forest was quiet. The moon hung high and bright.

Marcus stood in the clearing. He looked at his strange companions.

A floating fluffball on his head. A talking teddy bear. A dragon girl clinging to his leg.

It was a scene from a fever dream.

But then, reality crashed down on him. It hit harder than Elowen's kick.

He remembered.

He remembered why he had left the capital in the first place.

He remembered the letter.

Do not delay.

The Viscount's, his father's, words echoed in his mind. They were cold and sharp.

Require your presence promptly.

Marcus felt the blood drain from his face.

He wasn't out for a stroll. He wasn't on a vacation.

He was summoned.

He mentally checked the timeline.

He had received the letter two... no three days ago.

Then he departed the next morning.

Then the carriage ride. Then the ambush.

Then the kidnapping. The cage. The dungeon. The torture room. The escape.

And finally, the fight with Elowen.

"Three days," Marcus whispered. "Tomorrow morning, it will be three days since I began my journey from capital."

He looked around the dark forest.

"And I am not even close."

He was in the southern territories. He was near the Free Cities.

The Obsidian Hand operated here. It was a lawless zone on the southern border.

The Aldridge Estate was in the northeast.

It was on the complete opposite side of the kingdom.

By carriage, that journey took weeks. Even with a fast horse, it was a ten-day ride.

And he was already late.

Marcus felt his knees go weak.

"I am dead," he muttered. "I am absolutely dead."

The Viscount wasn't a man who tolerated tardiness. He wasn't a man who tolerated excuses.

Marcus imagined explaining this to his father.

Sorry I'm late, Father. I was kidnapped by bandits, sold to a psychopath, and then I fought a noble in the woods.

It sounded insane. It sounded like a lie a truant teenager would invent.

The Viscount would disown him. Or lock him up.

"I have to get there," Marcus said. His voice was frantic. "I have to get there now."

He patted his pockets.

He felt nothing but torn fabric and dirt.

His money pouch was gone. The bandits had taken it days ago.

His identification papers were gone.

His clothes were in tatters. He was covered in dried blood and mud.

He looked like a beggar. Or a madman.

"No money," Marcus listed. "No horse. No carriage."

He looked at the dark path ahead.

"And I am hundreds of miles away."

Despair washed over him. It was heavy and suffocating.

He crouched down. He put his head in his hands.

He let out a long, ragged sigh.

"What am I going to do?" he groaned. "I survived a death match just to get executed by my dad."

It was a cruel joke. The universe really hated him.

He felt a light touch on his knee.

It was hesitant. Gentle.

Marcus froze. He lifted his head slightly.

He looked through his fingers.

The dragon girl was kneeling in front of him.

She was still dirty.

But her eyes were clear.

She looked at him with deep concern. Her blue eyes searched his face.

She opened her mouth. Her lips trembled.

"U..." she started. Her voice was raspy. It was quiet, like rustling leaves.

"U... okay?"

Marcus blinked.

He stared at her. His brain stuttered for a second.

She spoke.

"You..." Marcus whispered. "You can talk?"

He didn't know why he was surprised.

The mysterious little girl—Ventessa—had spoken. The bear spoke.

But for some reason, he had assumed the dragon hatchling was mute.

She had been silent in the torture room.

She had only screamed.

'Of course she can talk,' Marcus thought. 'Why am I such an idiot?'

He felt a wave of stupidity wash over him.

He had treated her like a helpless pet. He had assumed she was broken beyond words.

But she was just a child. A scared, traumatized child.

"She isn't mute," Marcus realized. "She was just terrified."

The grey teddy bear waddled over. He stopped next to the dragon girl.

He looked at Marcus with his one button eye.

The bear placed his paws on his hips. He looked smug.

"Oh," the bear squeaked. "You thought she was mute, didn't you?"

Marcus looked at the bear. He narrowed his eyes.

"Shut up," Marcus muttered.

"You totally did," the bear crowed. "I saw that look on your face. The 'oh wow, a miracle' look."

The bear shook his head. He looked disappointed.

"Humans are so presumptuous," the bear lectured.

Marcus felt a vein twitch in his forehead.

"It is a reasonable assumption!" Marcus defended himself.

"She was busy being traumatized!" the bear shot back. "Give her a break!"

Marcus sighed. He rubbed his temples.

"Okay, fair point," Marcus admitted.

He looked back at the dragon girl.

She was watching them argue. She looked confused, but less scared than before.

"I am sorry," Marcus said to her. He forced a gentle smile. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

He took a deep breath.

"I am okay," he lied. "Just... thinking."

The bear snorted. "Thinking about how screwed you are?"

"Yes," Marcus said flatly. "Thank you for the recap."

"We were talking, you know," the bear added casually. "While you were unconscious."

Marcus blinked. "You were?"

"Yeah," the bear said. "She asked if you were going to die. I told her probably not. You seem stubborn."

The dragon girl nodded. She pointed at Marcus's chest.

"Safe," she whispered.

It was a single word. But it carried a lot of weight.

Marcus felt a pang in his heart.

She felt safe with him. Even though he was currently having a mental breakdown in the dirt.

He couldn't let her down. He couldn't just sit here and give up.

He stood up and dusted off his knees.

"I am alright," Marcus said again. He made his voice firmer this time. "Don't worry."

He looked at the path again.

He needed a plan.

He needed to get to the northeast. And he needed to do it fast.

And he had to figure out what to do with the dragon girl.

He couldn't take her to the estate. A dragon hatchling would cause a panic.

Especially with his father. The Viscount would probably call the guards.

But he couldn't leave her here. She wouldn't survive on her own.

"One problem at a time," Marcus told himself.

First, transportation.

He looked up. He tried to see the top of his own head.

"Hey," Marcus said. "Ventessa?"

There was a soft movement in his hair. The fluffball shifted.

"What?" Ventessa's voice drifted down. It sounded bored. And sleepy.

"Are you awake?" Marcus asked.

"I was napping," she complained. "Your hair is warm."

"Sorry," Marcus said. "But I have a question."

"Make it quick," she said. "I am busy resting."

Marcus took a breath. He decided to just ask.

"Can you teleport?" Marcus asked.

He waited. He held his breath.

She was a high-level spirit. She had powerful magic.

Teleportation was high-level stuff, but maybe she could do it.

"Teleport?" Ventessa repeated.

She let out a soft, squeaky yawn.

"Why would I do that?" she asked.

"Because I need to be somewhere," Marcus said. "Urgently."

"And?" Ventessa asked. "How is that my problem?"

Marcus gritted his teeth. She was difficult.

"Please," Marcus said. He tried to sound pathetic. "I am in serious trouble."

"So?"

"We survived together," Marcus argued. "We fought together. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Not really," Ventessa said. "I fought. You got beaten up."

"I distracted her!" Marcus protested. "I bought you time!"

"Barely," she scoffed.

Marcus felt desperation rising.

"Look," Marcus said. "I have no money. I have no way home. If I don't get back, my life is ruined."

Ventessa sighed. It was a heavy, dramatic sound for such a small creature.

"Fine," she said.

Marcus felt a spark of hope. "So you can teleport us?"

"No," Ventessa said flatly.

The hope shattered instantly. Marcus slumped.

"I cannot use teleportation magic," she explained. "That is spatial magic. I am a wind spirit."

He was back to square one.

"However," Ventessa continued.

Marcus looked up. "However?"

"I cannot teleport you," she said. "But I can transport you."

Marcus blinked. "Transport?"

"I can carry you," Ventessa clarified. "Using wind."

Marcus's eyes lit up. "Like... flying?"

"Essentially," she said. "I can create an air current. A slipstream."

"That works!" Marcus shouted. "That definitely works!"

He didn't care how. Flying was better than walking.

"Is it fast?" Marcus asked.

"It is wind," Ventessa said. "Of course it is fast."

"Can you take us to the Northeast part of the kingdom?" Marcus asked.

"Well" Ventessa said. "I have a general map of this kingdom in my memory, so yeah."

"Great," Marcus said. "Perfect."

He felt a wave of relief so strong he almost cried.

He wasn't going to be late. He might actually make it.

"But," Ventessa added. "It will take some time."

Marcus paused. "Time?"

He tried not to think about it.

Marcus did the math in his head.

A carriage took weeks. A horse took ten days.

He had no money. He had no food. He had no choice.

He couldn't be picky.

"How much time are we talking about?" Marcus asked.

He braced himself. Maybe a day? Two days?

Ventessa was silent. She seemed to be calculating.

The fluffball shifted on his head. She hummed thoughtfully.

"Ummm..." Ventessa said. "Around three to four hours?"

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