Radeon flew the lead with Fay and the miners strung out behind, a long crawling line under a bruised sky.

The first crack of dawn showed ahead of them. Radeon's gaze reached farther than any man's.

He pushed his sight out across distance and saw the moths still there. They did not retreat.

They spread. A whole field of them now, layered thick enough to call the whole area their longtime breeding grounds.

Far out on the edges, silhouettes flashed. Men riding swords, dipping in and out of the swarm.

Beyond even that, itinerant cultivators waited at the periphery, patient as carrion birds, watching for an opening.

To many it would look like a land of fortune. A rare chance. A fat prize with teeth.

Radeon had made sure they never encountered a man along the way. Questions would mean delays, and delays were what he did not need.

He led the convoy off the route that fed directly to the Goldkeep Crownmarkets, taking them through a cut of land that cost time but bought space.

The miners followed without question now, ten thousand bodies moving because he moved.

When he lifted a hand, the whole column stopped at once, like a pulled rein.

Radeon turned and looked them over, man by man. The threads around them were not black anymore. Not that thick tangle of doom.

They had turned to flecks, yellow and orange dust drifting in the air, catching the thin dawn light.

Causality, loose and imperfect. Not the cleanest measure, not even close. But it was fortune, gathering around them.

For Radeon, that was enough. It was a head start.

"We camp for now," Radeon boomed, his voice thick with authority.

The men began to dismount in a rush. Tents went up almost at once, canvas and poles snapping into place under practiced hands.

Wives pressed in close, begging to know if it was safe to rest now, fingers clenched around the small ones.

Fay carried the little girl to her mother and passed her down gently. The child slept on, thumb in her mouth, lips puckered small.

Radeon did not linger on it. He walked to the bison and laid his hands along the wings.

Qi gathered, then pushed. The joints shifted with a soft snap. The wings folded out wider, panels sliding and locking into place.

Surprise rolled through the camp. Gasps, muttered prayers, a few nervous laughs.

Even Fay stared. It was too neat. Too deliberate. Not a shield anymore. A contraption.

Radeon walked into the tent. He took a hard rod from his pack and fed it a steady line of qi.

The rod softened and reshaped, swelling into the frame of a bed as air filled it, firming until it looked like something made for a lord.

Radeon's back hit it, then he slouched into it with a grunt. He did not pass out.

He lay there with his eyes open, watching Fay with the patience of a master lecturing on the world's reality.

Fay said goodbye to the child's mother, a quick bow, a few soft words.

The instant she turned, men swarmed her. Biscuit at the front, eyes bright, mouth already moving.

Questions came like thrown stones.

"What was that tent?"

"Where are you from?"

"Sister, can I learn martial arts from you?"

Tens became hundreds, voices piling on top of voices until the sound turned into a wall.

Fay's chest tightened. The old squeeze grabbed her ribs and did not let go.

She tried to send a silent pulse of qi toward her master, a thin thread of signal.

Something cut it. Again. Again. Her head snapped around, hunting danger.

Her whip materialized in her hand on instinct. Men gasped and took big steps back, palms raised, eyes suddenly wary.

Fay's feet shifted. She was already half turned, ready to bolt for the huge tent her master had erected, ready to hide inside it like it was a cave.

'Breathe.' The thought came sharp, not gentle.

Deep breaths. She forced air in, held it, let it out slow. The squeeze loosened, a fraction at a time.

The noise resolved into words again. Separate voices. Separate faces.

Fay lifted her hands, empty, showing them she was not about to lash anyone. Her shoulders dropped, just a little.

"Very well," she said, voice tight but steady. "One at a time."

"If you wish to ask a question, come one by one."

The miners did as they were told. They formed a queue, awkward at first, then straighter. It was shorter than Fay expected.

A lot of them only wanted to gawp, to open their mouths and let a question die there, still awed by what Radeon had done with fire and wing and air.

The ones who mattered stepped forward. Sixteen representatives stood at the front, shoulders squared like they were walking into judgment.

Between them they carried a chest, hands straining under its weight, knuckles white around the handles.

"This is our offering, in thanks to the esteemed master," they said together, bowing as one.

Fay did not know what to do with them. She had only read about civil affairs, about queues and petitions.

Back when she still thought she would stay mortal and would have to leave the Everwritten Archivists Court one day.

So she cleared her throat, a small cough to buy herself a breath, and forced her face into something firm.

In her mind she dragged Radeon into place, the way he would stand, the way his eyes would measure and cut.

She tried to wear that shape like a coat.

"The table. Now," she demanded.

The men dragged up a large table and set it down with care.

It wobbled once. Two of them steadied it and slid a wedge under a leg until it sat level.

Fay tried again to reach Radeon. A thin pulse of qi, a quiet call. Nothing.

No answer, no echo, like the line was being snipped the moment it left her.

She did it again, slower, more precise. Still nothing.

'I did it correctly. Then why is the soundless qi not working?' she thought.

Then another thought followed, sharper and more useful.

If her master was busy, then she would act. She stepped to the side, grabbed one of the spare crates, and set it near the table.

A little qi and a hard twist of her hands. The wood softened, reshaped, then held its new form. A slot opened at the top.

A drop box. Simple. Plain. Something mortals understood.

Fay tapped it once to make sure it would not collapse, then faced the line again.

"Now. I will write down what each of you needs." She paused, her gaze moving over the younger ones. "Have the men come one by one. The rest should prepare your own meals."

When Fay started barking orders and the men jumped to obey, Radeon finally let his eyes close.

The ground under him was still. The bed held.

For the first time in what felt like days, nothing was trying to kill him in the next breath.

Sleep took him the way hunger takes a man, fast and without ceremony.

Outside the tent the bison lingered, ears twitching at every shift of sound. Radeon's order still stood.

If Fay was in danger, the creature would snatch her up and fly. No debate. No hesitation.

It would leave the rest of them to their luck. Even him.

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