The Wisteria Accond

Chapter Six

Morning bleeds into midday, and the outpost is buzzing with activity, as it always is. Weapons clatter, orders are shouted, and the smell of something burning drifts from the mess hall. Normally, I'd be buried in my duties—sharpening blades, planning patrols, keeping the peace—but today, for once, I have a rare moment of freedom. No training, no shifts, no urgent orders dragging me into yet another battle.

It should feel like a reprieve, a small gift in the midst of chaos. But all it does is give my mind room to wander, to circle back to Ashen and our conversation last night. There's a thousand questions clawing at me, and no way to ask them without risking everything.

So, I do what I always do when my thoughts become a little too heavy. I walk.

I slip out of the outpost and head into the small town that's sprung up around it, nestled in the narrow valley between the mountains. It's not much—a cluster of crooked wooden buildings, dirt streets, and the occasional bleat of a goat or cluck of a chicken. But it's home, in its own way. A place where everyone knows everyone, where strangers are few and far between, and where, despite everything, life somehow goes on.

As I stroll down the main street, people greet me with nods or small smiles. Most of them are used to seeing me around. I'm "Kiera the Hunter" to them, a shadow that slips in and out of the forest and deals with the things that go bump in the night. They don't know the half of it, but that's the way it has to be. The fewer questions asked, the better.

I pass by old Mara's bakery, where the smell of fresh bread mingles with the crisp autumn air. She waves at me from her window, flour dusting her wrinkled hands, and I wave back. Farther down, Orin, the blacksmith, is hammering away at a new set of horseshoes, his muscles rippling under layers of soot and sweat. He nods at me, and I return it with a tight smile.

The ordinary hum of life. It's almost enough to convince me that things could be normal again. Almost.

But there's a weight in my chest that won't let me forget what I know now—the truth about the Nightborne, the Void, and the darkness creeping ever closer. I can't ignore it, can't shove it down like some old memory. It's here, breathing down my neck, and I need to be ready when it comes.

The day slips by in a blur of small talk and wandering. By the time the sun begins to dip below the mountains, I'm back at the outpost, my nerves a coiled spring in my gut. I'm going to meet Ashen again tonight, and the thought twists inside me like a knot I can't untie.

...

The forest feels alive as I make my way to the clearing, each step a soft crunch on the cold earth. The wind whistles through the branches, carrying with it the scent of damp leaves and earth. The moon hangs low again, casting a silver-blue light that paints the world in shades of shadow. It's the kind of night that feels like it holds a thousand secrets, each one more dangerous than the last.

When I reach the clearing, Ashen is already there, leaning against the trunk of a gnarled old oak. But something's different tonight. His stance isn't as guarded, his posture more relaxed. And when he looks at me, his eyes aren't that deep violet I remember from before. Tonight, they're a bright, almost unnerving shade of amber.

I stop a few feet away, my heart thudding in my chest. "Your eyes," I say without thinking. "They've changed."

Ashen tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "Have they?" he says, his voice low and almost teasing. He takes a step forward, and I realize he's moving closer, far closer than he usually does. "I hadn't noticed."

Something about his expression feels... different. Lighter, maybe. Less guarded. I don't know what to make of it. "Is it a Nightborne thing?" I ask, keeping my tone casual. "Your eyes change with your mood or something?"