Chapter 681: 681

Kael and his group made no move to further question him. The camp grew quiet once more. They all knew the look of grief when they saw it. No spell, no healing salve, could mend a wound that ran through the soul.

The fire crackled softly, throwing wavering shadows across their faces. Somewhere beyond the ring of light, a night bird called out, then fell silent again.

Gram didn’t know how long he sat there. The world around him felt distant, as though muffled behind a wall of sorrow. Eventually, he pushed himself to his feet, the motion slow and uncertain. He bowed his head toward the group, his voice rough but steady.

"Thank you for saving me," he said. "I have nothing on me to repay such a debt."

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Kael stood up, his booming laughter breaking the quiet like thunder. "A debt?" he said, striding over and giving Gram’s shoulder a firm pat. "You’ve no need to repay anything, friend. You being alive is enough. Besides," he grinned, flashing teeth in the firelight "we came away with quite the haul from those ruins left behind."

The words made Gram’s body go tense. His hand curled into a fist at his side. For a moment, anger flared, a flicker of resentment at the thought of strangers scavenging the resting place of those he’d lost. But just as quickly, the fire inside him dimmed. What good would anger do now?

He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging as he turned to face Kael. "I see," he said quietly. "Then I take it you weren’t sent by the king, nor by the fools who call themselves nobles of this region?"

Kael’s grin faded slightly, though he didn’t answer.

Gram went on, his tone steady but hollow. "You must be one of those on a quest, hoping to earn the gods’ favor, perhaps to gain their blessings."

Before Kael could respond, Gram lifted his gaze, meeting the adventurer’s eyes with a look that carried both weariness and something darker.

"Unfortunately," he said, voice low, "I have to inform you that this part of our land holds no cursed beings. You’re not the first of your kind to come searching these past months. Many have passed through, hunters, priest’s, fools." He paused, then added with quiet bitterness, "But if you insist on chasing damnation, I can tell you where to find it."

The fire popped loudly between them, a spark leaping into the night air before dying out.

Kael said nothing at first. He just stared at Gram, the warmth from before gone, replaced by a steady, unreadable gaze. The firelight danced across his face, casting deep shadows that made his eyes glint like cold steel.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, even, but there was no trace of his earlier humor.

"You’re right," Kael said. "We are among those seeking the gods’ favor. But our purpose has... changed."

He straightened slightly, his tone carrying a weight that made even his men glance up.

"After the recent disasters, some lords, maybe even a few nobles worth their salt started paying for people like us. Other regions hit by this disaster may have survivors scattered, hidden, or trapped. Our task is simple."

Kael’s eyes never left Gram as he stepped closer, the space between them shrinking.

"We find the survivors," he said quietly, "and we bring them back."

The flickering fire cast their shadows together, one tall and steady, the other trembling. Kael leaned in, close enough that Gram could feel the man’s breath and the faint scent of steel oil and smoke.

"You won’t make this difficult for us, will you?"

Gram’s legs nearly buckled under the weight of that gaze. The other adventurers were watching now, silent but alert, their hands hovering near weapons or charms, not in open threat, but as if expecting him to do something foolish.

His heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the sweat forming at his temples, the tremor in his hands. His fingers brushed against the tattered cloth he still held, the scrap of his daughter’s clothing and his breathing steadied for a moment.

He swallowed hard, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat.

"I... I cannot leave with you," he said, his tone trembling but resolute. "I have a score to settle and questions that need answering. Until then..." He drew in a shaky breath. "I can’t leave these lands."

The air between them grew taut, thick with unspoken tension. The only sound was the crackling fire and the faint hiss of wind passing through the trees.

Kael’s expression didn’t change. He simply studied Gram searching, perhaps, for the truth in his eyes. His men shifted uneasily, waiting for an order that didn’t come.

Finally, Kael straightened. The faint glint of amusement that once softened his face was gone, replaced by something colder, the authority of a man used to being obeyed.

"I’m afraid," Kael said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of command, "that the choice to leave or not is no longer yours to make. That decision lies with me and with my men."

The statement wasn’t shouted. It didn’t need to be. The certainty in his tone alone carried the edge of a blade.

Gram felt it, the truth of it. These were not men who made idle threats. They had seen too much, lost too much, to be swayed by sentiment. He could feel the eyes of the others on him: hard, trained, assessing. Men and women who would follow Kael’s word without hesitation.

But then again, what did he have left to lose?

A hollow laugh escaped his throat, more a scoff than a sound of humor. He tightened his grip on the torn scrap of cloth in his hand, his daughter’s cloth, the last thing left of her until his knuckles turned white.

"Like I said before," Gram muttered, his voice trembling but defiant, "I’ve met many of your kind. Mercenaries, adventurers, scavengers of tragedy, all the same. Profit drives you. And in this case..." He looked up, his hollow eyes reflecting the firelight. "I’m the profit. I’m the one you need alive to collect your pay."

The camp fell silent again. The fire popped, and for a brief instant the shadows danced over Kael’s face, making him look like a man carved from iron.

Gram drew in a slow, shaking breath. "I have a score to settle," he said. "With my king. With the man who promised to protect us, who swore before all that we’d be safe."

His voice grew stronger with every word, his grief sharpening into fury. "The disaster that took my family... that tore my people apart... I know he’s behind it, or at least, that he let it happen. I need to meet him — to look him in the eyes and ask him why."

Gram’s voice rose, not in volume but in conviction. The trembling was gone now. Only hatred remained, cold and clear. "I doubt I’ll live to see that day. But I still have to try. For my family. For the people who died screaming under the weight of a mistake that wasn’t theirs."

He was met with the shocked stares of the others, but it was Kael’s gaze that froze the space, cold filled with all predatory intent.

Kael’s fist came so fast Gram and everyone else barely had time to register it. The punch slammed into Gram’s stomach with a sound like a struck bell. He doubled over, the world narrowing to a hot, tearing pain, and bile rose; he retched onto the dirt as the campfire’s light trembled over him.

Kael let out a slow breath and crouched until he was eye-level with Gram. He grabbed Gram by the hair and hauled his head up so Gram met his gaze. "Don’t pretend you’ve figured me out," Kael spat, voice low. "Know your place." His thumb dug into Gram’s cheek; the motion was more ownership than cruelty. "Yes, you’re the prize. Yes, we’ll get paid. But we also took fine things from the ruins, things worth more than your stubbornness. You’re useful only so long as you behave. Annoy me, and I’ll put you down.

Where Gram had stood bolstered by bravado not a heartbeat earlier, there was only raw, shimmering fear. His bravest posture dissolved; his eyes darted for help and found none. Kael’s mouth twitched into something like satisfaction."That’s the kind of thing I like to see, fear. It keeps people where they belong."

Gram’s earlier bravado drained out of him like water. Fear sharpened every sense: the sting in his gut, the metallic tang at the back of his tongue, the rasp of Kael’s breath. He clutched the scrap of cloth until it bit into his palm; it was the only tether to what he had left. He gagged once more, then sucked in air, trying to steady himself.

When Kael released him, Gram fell forward, hands on the ground, wincing. He tasted dirt and blood and ash, but under it all was a steady, stubborn ember. He forced himself to lift his head, to meet Kael’s cold look.