Nyra walked a half-step behind Valen and Luken as they made their way toward the cathedral, the white stone rising ahead of them like a judgment waiting to be passed. The streets here were cleaner, wider, the noise of the lower districts dulled as though the city itself knew to lower its voice in the shadow of the Church. Even so, Nyra's thoughts were louder than any crowd.
"So," Valen said at last, hands folded behind his head in that infuriatingly casual way he used when he was thinking too hard about something. "Place your bets. What do you think the giant wanted alone time with Seralyth for?"
Luken didn't answer immediately. His staff tapped softly against the stone as he walked, eyes forward, expression thoughtful. "It wasn't strategy," he said finally. "If it were, he would've included Eric. Or us."
Nyra nodded. That had been her feeling too. Whatever Thal had stayed behind for, it wasn't about troop movements or the Archon hunt. It had been… personal.
Valen glanced sideways at her. "You're awfully quiet, Red."
She exhaled through her nose. "Because I don't like it."
"That narrows it down," he said dryly.
Nyra slowed a fraction, then stopped altogether. Luken halted with her; Valen took two more steps before realizing and turning back. She rubbed her thumb against the leather wrap of her axe, grounding herself. "Seralyth can see through illusions," she said. "Through all of them."
Luken's gaze sharpened. "You think…"
"I think Thal didn't want her drawing the wrong conclusion," Nyra finished. "If she looked at Neo and didn't know what she was seeing, she might assume the worst."
Valen frowned. "The worst being…?"
Nyra looked at him. Really looked. "An Archon," she said quietly. "Or something tied to one."
That wiped the humour from his face.
Luken nodded slowly. "A Kruu'Voth hidden in a city crawling with threads and watchers," he murmured. "If Seralyth mistook him for the source instead of a target…"
"She wouldn't hesitate," Nyra said. "And Thal knows that."
They resumed walking, the cathedral steps drawing closer. Nyra's unease deepened with every step. She'd seen Thal angry before on battlefields, against monsters but what she'd seen in the tavern, that feral, slit-eyed focus when Rikia lingered on Neo, had been something else entirely. Protective in a way that bordered on annihilating.
Valen broke the silence again, more subdued now. "So he tells her the truth. About what he is."
"And maybe about himself," Luken added.
Nyra's jaw tightened. "Or about how far he'll go to protect him."
That thought sat heavy in her chest. Thal had always been immovable, a constant dangerous, yes but controlled. Lately, though, it felt like too many things were pulling at him from too many directions. Archons. Harbingers. Neo. Whatever Seralyth had said to him had struck deep enough to crack stone.
The cathedral doors loomed ahead, taller than most, though Nyra knew they would still force Thal to duck when he returned. The irony wasn't lost on her: a place built to honour gods and absolutes, and yet it barely accommodated one being who truly didn't fit the world's rules.
Luken adjusted his grip on his staff. "If he's telling her about Neo," he said carefully, "then he's trusting her."
Valen snorted softly. "Or daring her."
Nyra didn't smile. She stared up at the cathedral, at the carvings of saints and saints' saints, all frozen in stone certainty. "Either way," she said, "whatever Thal wanted from Seralyth… it wasn't for himself."
They passed the fountain in the outer court, its steady trickle doing little to soothe the tension that had settled over them and climbed the broad steps toward the cathedral proper. The holy knights at the entrance shifted as one when they approached black armor with red trim catching the light, helms seamless and faceless. There was no challenge, only a measured pause before the doors were pulled open for them.
The sound echoed stone on stone, deep and resonant rolling through the entry hall like a bell toll.
Inside, the lobby stretched wide and austere, high arches vanishing into shadow above. The air smelled faintly of incense and cold marble. Along the walls ran long stone benches, worn smooth by generations of waiting bodies.
That was where Rikia sat.
She startled visibly at the sound of the doors, shoulders jerking as she twisted around. Her hands had been clasped together in her lap, fingers worrying at one another as if she'd been doing that for some time. Relief flickered across her face when she recognized the Hero's Triad then confusion followed close behind as her gaze swept past them.
"Ah…" she began, then hesitated. Her eyes darted toward the doorway behind them, clearly searching. "I was told you'd be coming but I thought the giant would be with you. Thal… was it? And the other boy?"
Valen's brows shot up instantly, grin spreading like a crack in glass. "Oh?" he said, leaning just slightly closer, voice dropping into mock intrigue. "Waiting for him specifically, were you?"
Rikia flushed, colour creeping up her neck. "What? No… I mean…" She straightened, clearly flustered now. "That's not what I meant. I was told to escort all of you, that's all."
Luken didn't even glance at Valen. He simply adjusted his grip on his staff and addressed her calmly. "He's being held up. He'll be coming shortly."
That seemed to ease her a little, though her eyes still flicked toward the doors once more before she nodded. "Right. Yes. I was told to wait here and take you to High Canon Voren once you arrived."
Nyra watched her closely, arms folded, weight balanced and ready. There was something off in the way Rikia held herself not scared, exactly but tension. The kind that came from seeing too much too quickly and not knowing where to place it. Nyra's gaze lingered a moment longer than polite, then shifted away.
Valen, of course, noticed everything. "You look like you've been pacing that bench raw," he said lightly. "Church keeping you busy, or is today just one of those days?"
Rikia let out a small, nervous breath. "It's… been busy," she said carefully. "That's all."
Luken inclined his head slightly, accepting the boundary without pressing. "Then we'll wait," he said. "No sense rushing."
Rikia nodded again, clasping her hands together tighter, as if grateful for the reprieve. She gestured down the hall. "When you're ready, I'll take you to him."
They settled into a loose cluster near the benches. Valen leaned back against the stone, humming softly under his breath, already losing interest. Luken closed his eyes briefly, listening to the space, to the magic threaded through the cathedral walls. Nyra remained standing, eyes moving, taking in every angle, every shadow.
And Rikia sat there, hands twisting in her lap, glancing once more toward the great doors, waiting for a presence that seemed to weigh on the air even in its absence.
Valen shifted his weight, clearly running out of patience with standing around holy stone and whispered prayers. He glanced at Rikia again, then smirked, the way he always did when boredom turned mischievous.
"So," he said casually, pushing off the wall. "Since we're waiting anyway what did you think of the kid? Neo."
Rikia blinked. "Neo?"
Valen nodded, grin widening. "Tall, quiet, hangs around the giant like a shadow. That one."
Her ears flushed immediately. "I no —" she stammered, hands flying up as if to ward the thought away. "Not like that. I didn't mean —"
Valen made an exaggerated show of nodding. "Uh-huh. Sure. Definitely convincing."
Nyra shot him a warning look but Luken tilted his head slightly, interest caught not in the teasing but in Rikia's reaction.
"Then what did you mean?" Luken asked calmly. "You said he felt… odd."
She shook her head quickly. "No. At least… not like anything I've felt before. No spell resonance. No divine signature." She pressed her fingers together. "Just presence. Like something pushing back."
Luken's eyes opened fully now. "Magical pressure?"
"No," she said. "Nothing I could name or measure." She swallowed. "Just… there."
"Like Thal," Nyra said. Not a question.
Rikia went still for a moment, then nodded slowly. "When he walked into the infirmary that night… I tried to step in front of him. To slow him down." A short, humourless breath. "He walked past me like I wasn't there. Not cruel. Just…" She searched for the word. "Absolute. Like trying to stop weather." She looked down at her hands. "The boy felt like that. Smaller. Quieter. But the same kind of thing underneath."
That made all three of them still.
Valen's grin faltered. "That's… a bold comparison."
"Exactly," Rikia said, voice low now. "That's why it bothered me," Rikia said, voice low. "I don't know what he is. But the boy felt like… a smaller version of that same wrong. Faint. Enough that I noticed."
Luken frowned slightly. "Neo's strong," he allowed.
"But like Thal?" Valen muttered. "That's not just 'built.'"
Nyra didn't speak.
Her jaw tightened instead.
She remembered the tavern how Thal had gone still when Rikia's gaze lingered on Neo a second too long. How his posture had changed. How his eyes gods, his eyes had narrowed into something feral and wrong and protective in a way Nyra had never seen before.
At the time, she'd told herself it was instinct. Overprotection. Thal had raised the boy, after all.
Now… now she wasn't sure.
"How close were you?" Nyra asked quietly.
Rikia thought for a moment. "A few paces. Not even directly facing him."
Nyra nodded once, slowly.
That settled something cold in her chest.
Valen scratched the back of his neck, unease creeping in where humour usually lived. "Alright. I officially don't like that."
Luken exhaled. "Neither do I."
Rikia shifted on the bench, suddenly unsure she should have said any of this. "I didn't mean…"
"It's fine," Nyra said, cutting in gently but firmly. "You did the right thing by saying it."
She looked toward the great doors again, the echo of Thal's absence heavier now than before.
If Neo carried even a shadow of that kind of presence…
and if Thal was willing to bare his teeth to protect it…
Then whatever Thal was hiding wasn't just about secrecy.
Nyra's thoughts spiralled despite her best effort to keep them in check.
Neo was Kruul. A Kruu'Voth, even. That alone set him apart in ways most of the world would never understand but from everything Thal had ever told her carefully, sparingly Kruu'Voth were still people. Different, yes. Powerful, yes but they lived, felt, learned, loved much the same way mortals did. They weren't walking calamities. They weren't forces of nature.
So why would Rikia feel that pressure?
Nyra's gaze drifted to the cathedral doors again, half-expecting Thal to duck through them at any moment. Neo didn't feel dangerous. He was quiet, observant, sometimes too hard on himself. He laughed awkwardly, hesitated before speaking, worried about whether he was a burden. That wasn't the posture of something looming over the world.
Then again… pressure wasn't always about intent.
"Hey," Valen said, stepping into her line of sight and snapping his fingers once. "You just went somewhere unpleasant. Want to share with the class?"
Nyra blinked, refocusing. "What?"
"What's eating at you," he clarified, tone lighter than his eyes. "You've had that look since she said the kid felt like Thal."
Nyra hesitated, then exhaled slowly. "What Rikia said," she admitted. "About Neo."
Rikia stiffened immediately. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "If I overstepped…"
"You didn't," Nyra interrupted, turning toward her fully now. Her voice was calm, steady, without a trace of accusation. "This isn't on you."
Rikia's shoulders eased just a little.
Nyra folded her arms, choosing her words with care. "Neo is different," she said. "I won't pretend otherwise but not in the way people usually mean when they sense something off." She glanced briefly at Valen and Luken, then back to Rikia. "He's not a threat. He's not an omen and he's not something to be feared."
Rikia swallowed. "I didn't think he was," she said quietly. "I just… felt something."
"And that feeling doesn't change who he is," Nyra replied. There was steel under the kindness now. "Whatever pressure you sensed, whatever presence Neo is someone you can trust. Without hesitation. Without conditions."
Valen nodded once, surprising her. "Kid's solid," he said simply. "Seen worse men crack under less."
Luken inclined his head in agreement. "Intent matters," he added. "And Neo's has never been hostile."
Rikia looked between them, absorbing that, then bowed her head slightly. "Thank you," she said. "For clarifying."
Nyra gave her a small, reassuring nod but as she turned away, her thoughts returned to the same uneasy loop.
If Neo wasn't dangerous by nature…
and yet carried something that felt like Thal…
Then the question wasn't what Neo might become.
It was what had already been done to him or placed within him long before any of them had met him.
Rikia cleared her throat softly, as if deliberately smoothing over the tension that had settled among them. She straightened on the bench, fingers lacing together in front of her. "If you're ready," she said, carefully neutral, "High Canon Voren is available to receive you."
Valen opened his mouth first, then paused, glancing sideways at Nyra. She gave a small nod, expression set.
"Yes," Nyra said. "We're ready." She hesitated just long enough for the weight of what followed to land. "But only him."
Rikia blinked. "Him?"
Nyra tilted her head toward the corridor beyond the great doors. "High Canon Voren. He'll meet with us alone."
The words echoed faintly in the high-ceilinged hall. Rikia's brows knit together, uncertainty flickering across her face. "I… I don't know if that will be permitted. The High Canon rarely "
"Then tell him it's not a request," Valen cut in lightly, though there was nothing light in his eyes. "It's a condition."
Luken's staff tapped once against the stone floor, a subtle punctuation. "If he wants our cooperation," he said evenly, "this is how it begins."
Rikia hesitated, clearly torn between protocol and the reality of who stood in front of her. The Hero's Triad didn't make demands lightly and when they did, it was usually because something had already gone very wrong.
"I'll inform him," she said at last. "Please… wait here."
She rose and moved briskly down the hall, her steps quick and purposeful, disappearing through a side passage that led deeper into the cathedral.
Silence settled in her wake.
Valen let out a slow breath. "Well," he murmured, "that'll go over wonderfully."
Nyra didn't respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the archway Rikia had vanished through, thoughts turning inward again. Whatever Thal had said to Seralyth whatever truths had been laid bare it had shifted the board. She could feel it and Voren, for all his titles and rituals, was a man who preferred control. Being told to come alone would irritate him.
Good.
Luken glanced at her. "You're certain about this?"
"Yes," Nyra said without hesitation. "If there's an Archon listening and Thal believes there is then the fewer ears in that room, the better."
Valen rolled his shoulders. "And if Voren refuses?"
Nyra's lips thinned. "Then we learn exactly how much the Church is willing to risk to keep its grip."
A few minutes passed before footsteps returned. Rikia reappeared, her expression carefully schooled, though the tightness around her mouth betrayed unease.
"He'll see you," she said. "Alone."
Valen's smile flickered back, sharp and fleeting. "See? Easy."
Rikia gestured down the corridor. "This way."
As they followed her, Nyra felt the tension coil tighter in her chest. Whatever waited in that room truths, lies, or something worse it would shape what came next and for the first time since entering the cathedral, she found herself wishing Thal were there.
They ascended in silence.
The spiral staircase wound tightly upward through the cathedral's spine, stone steps worn smooth by centuries of passage. The air grew heavier with each turn, thick with incense and murmured prayer. Acolytes knelt in alcoves carved into the walls, heads bowed, lips moving in quiet devotion. Priests and priestesses stood in small circles, hands clasped, voices low as they recited invocations to the One God of the Threefold Church. None looked up as the Triad passed, yet Nyra could feel eyes on them all the same attention without faces, awareness without acknowledgment.
It felt less like climbing stairs and more like being drawn into a throat.
By the time they reached the top, the light had dimmed, filtered through narrow slits of stained glass that painted the stone in muted reds and golds. Rikia stopped before a tall, arched door banded in iron. She turned to them, her expression composed but tight.
"This is as far as I go," she said quietly. "I'll wait here. If… if Thal arrives, I'll bring him up."
Nyra studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you."
Rikia hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, then thought better of it. She stepped aside and opened the door.
The chamber beyond was smaller than Nyra expected, circular and severe. No tapestries, no excess ornamentation just bare stone walls, a single long table, and narrow windows that looked down over the city like judgmental eyes.
High Canon Voren stood near the far end, hands folded behind his back, crimson and white robes falling in rigid lines. His expression was unreadable, carved into something that resembled patience but lacked warmth.
And beside him
Nyra's breath caught.
At first glance, it looked like a statue.
A soldier, fully encased in armor, stood a few paces to Voren's right. The metal was dark, almost black, polished to a dull sheen. The helmet was carved into the likeness of a face stern, hollow-eyed, mouth fixed in a grim line with a pointed crest rising from the crown. Thin rivulets of dark red ran from the carved eyes, trailing down the mask like tears of blood.
It held a massive sword upright before it, tip resting on the stone floor, both gauntleted hands wrapped around the hilt.
It did not move.
It did not breathe.
No shift of weight. No rise or fall of the chest. Nothing.
Valen slowed instinctively, humour draining from his posture. Luken's grip tightened on his staff, eyes narrowing as he searched for magic, for life, for something and found nothing he could name. Nyra felt it too, a pressure in the room, not unlike what Rikia had described earlier but colder. Emptier.
Voren turned his head slightly. "You asked to see me alone," he said. His gaze flicked briefly to the armored figure, then back to them. "As you can see, I am not entirely alone."
Valen opened his mouth, then thought better of it.
Nyra took a step forward instead, meeting Voren's gaze without flinching. "We meant no council. No observers."
"This is neither," Voren replied smoothly. "This guard does not listen."
The thing did not react to being spoken of.
Nyra's eyes lingered on the blood-streaked mask. "Does it hear?"
For the first time, Voren smiled faintly. "It obeys."
That answer settled poorly in Nyra's gut.
Luken inclined his head, tone careful. "We'll speak plainly then."
"Good," Voren said. "I prefer it."
The door closed behind them with a heavy finality, sealing them in with the High Canon… and the silent thing that stood like a watchful monument of iron and old violence, waiting for something anything to move.
Nyra didn't bother easing into it.
"There's an Archon in the city," she said, flat and direct. "Already embedded. Thal is certain of it."
The words landed heavily in the chamber. Voren's expression didn't change but something tightened around his eyes. He turned slightly, regarding them one by one, as though measuring whether they truly understood the weight of what they were saying.
"And this certainty," Voren replied calmly, "comes from the giant."
Valen bristled at that but Luken spoke first. "It comes from experience. Thal has encountered Archons before long before Kel."
Voren lifted a hand. "I am aware of what happened at the Dead City. I am also aware that you returned alive largely due to his… intervention." His gaze sharpened. "That does not make him beyond question."
Nyra stepped forward half a pace. "We're not asking you to trust him blindly. We're telling you what he's deduced. The Archon isn't acting openly. It's the Archon of Threads."
That earned a pause.
"Threads," Voren repeated, slower now. "You're certain of the aspect?"
"Yes," Luken said. "It matches the pattern. Subtle influence. Proxies. A city-wide web rather than a single locus."
Voren exhaled through his nose. "And the creature? The one that appeared with the Archon of Rot?"
"The Harbinger hasn't manifested," Nyra said. "But its stain is everywhere. In the water. The stone. The sick. The violence."
Voren's mouth tightened. "Humanity's sins do not always take shape immediately."
Valen couldn't help himself. "You can call it whatever you like. It still kills people."
Voren's eyes flicked to him, sharp as a blade edge. "Mind your tone."
Nyra didn't back down. "Names don't matter. Consequences do. People are dying. Others are being twisted and if Thal is right and so far he has been then the Archon has been here longer than we want to admit."
Silence followed that. The armored guard did not move. The blood on its mask continued to trail downward in slow, unmoving lines.
Finally, Voren spoke again. "You expect me to accept all of this on the word of a being who does not belong to this world." His voice hardened. "A giant who appears, unbidden, offers forbidden knowledge, and inserts himself into mortal affairs with alarming ease. Tell me why should I not see him as the greater threat?"
Nyra felt the anger flare but she kept her voice steady. "Because if he were our enemy, Lion's Gate would already be ash."
Voren studied her. "A convenient argument."
"An honest one," Luken said. "He gains nothing from helping us. No land. No title. No worship."
"Then why help at all?" Voren pressed. "Why guide you? Why warn us? Why share knowledge that could unmake cities?"
Valen folded his arms. "You're asking the wrong question."
Voren raised a brow. "Enlighten me."
"The question isn't why he helps," Valen said. "It's why he doesn't leave."
That seemed to catch Voren off guard, just slightly.
Nyra took the opening. "Thal could walk away. He hasn't. He's stayed. Fought. Bled. Protected people who can barely look at him without fear. Whatever his reasons are, they're not conquest."
Voren was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his tone was more measured. "Even so, this information cannot spread. Panic would tear this city apart faster than any Archon."
"We agree," Nyra said immediately. "That's why we're here. We're not asking for proclamations or sermons. We're asking for discretion."
Luken nodded. "Selective deployment. Trusted agents only. No public acknowledgment."
Voren turned, pacing slowly toward the narrow windows overlooking the city. "You ask me to place the fate of Lion's Gate in the hands of three mortals… guided by a giant."
Valen smirked faintly. "When you put it like that, it does sound ridiculous."
Voren ignored him. "And yet," he continued, "you are the Chosen. The Hero's Triad. The symbols people cling to when the world fractures." He turned back to them. "I will honour your request. This knowledge will not leave this chamber."
Nyra let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"But," Voren added, "understand this: my cooperation is not endorsement. I do not trust the giant. I question his motives and I will be watching."
Valen muttered, "Wouldn't expect anything less."
Voren clasped his hands behind his back once more. "For all your… resistance to the Church's guidance, I wish you success." His voice softened just a fraction. "If what you say is true, then you walk a path few mortals ever have."
Nyra met his gaze. "We didn't choose it but we won't abandon it."
Voren inclined his head. "Then go. May the One watch over you."
As they turned to leave, Nyra glanced once more at the silent guard at the unmoving sword, the blood-streaked mask.
The door shut behind them with a deep, echoing thud.
For a heartbeat, none of them spoke.
Then Valen let out a long, exaggerated breath, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees. "Well," he said, "that was delightful. Nothing like being politely threatened by the most powerful religious institution in the city."
Luken exhaled more quietly, shoulders loosening as if he'd been holding himself together by sheer focus. "We're walking a thin line," he said. "They didn't deny us… but they didn't embrace this either."
Nyra nodded, her jaw tight. "They won't move against us. Not openly." She glanced back at the door, as if she could still feel Voren's eyes through the stone. "Not while we're the Hero's Triad."
"Chosen by the people," Valen added dryly. "And by the Three heroic spirits, if you buy into the sermons."
"That belief still has weight," Luken said. "Enough to stay their hand. For now."
Nyra's thoughts drifted immediately to Neo.
For now wasn't comforting.
"They'll watch us," she said. "Everything we do. Everywhere we go. Especially after today."
Valen straightened, expression sobering. "So we keep our mouths shut."
"We choose our words," Luken corrected. "And we're careful about who hears them."
Nyra slowed her steps slightly, letting the weight of that settle. "Neo especially," she said quietly. "If even a hint of what he is reaches the wrong ears…"
Valen grimaced. "Yeah. That kid already has enough targets painted on him."
The spiral staircase opened up ahead, the murmured prayers of the lower cathedral filtering back into their hearing. The illusion of peace returned quickly too quickly.
Nyra squared her shoulders. "We keep moving," she said. "We stick to the plan and we don't give the Church a reason to tighten the leash."
Valen smirked faintly. "Careful. They'll start calling us heretics next."
Luken's lips twitched. "Only if we're loud."
They descended together, steps measured now, aware that every word spoken in this city might echo farther than intended. Behind them, high above, faith and suspicion lingered in equal measure and somewhere beyond stone and prayer, threads were already tightening.
They were nearly at the bottom of the stairs when Nyra noticed Rikia again.
She stood just inside the great entrance, a few steps from the open doors, pacing in a short, nervous line as though bracing herself. Her hands twisted together at her waist, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her robes. Every few breaths, she glanced toward the light spilling in from outside and then away again, as if looking too long might summon something worse.
Nyra followed her gaze.
Thal waited beyond the threshold, half in sunlight, half in shadow. Even with the wider arch, he still had to keep his head slightly bowed. His presence filled the space without effort, not aggressive, not looming just absolute.
He was waiting for them.
Rikia swallowed and took a hesitant step forward, clearly torn between duty and instinct. Thal noticed immediately. His eyes shifted to her, and he straightened just enough to meet her gaze without closing the distance.
"You've done what was asked," he said. His voice was calm, controlled cooler now than it had been earlier. "You don't need to stand here."
"I…I was told to wait," Rikia said, forcing the words out. "In case…"
"There's no need," Thal interrupted gently but firmly. "You can go."
The finality in his tone was unmistakable. It wasn't anger. It was dismissal clean, deliberate, meant to end the exchange before it could stretch into something more uncomfortable.
Rikia nodded quickly, relief flashing across her face. "Yes. Of course." She stepped back, retreating toward the interior like someone released from a held breath.
Valen watched her go, then leaned slightly toward Nyra with a faint smirk. "You know," he murmured, "for someone who hates the Church, he's terrifyingly polite."
Thal's gaze flicked to him.
"I don't hate the people," he said evenly. "Mortals need things to cling to."
The words weren't unkind but they were distant. Observational. Spoken like a fact rather than a judgment.
Nyra felt the weight of them settle.
Valen blinked, then let out a quiet hum. "Cold comfort but fair."
Thal's attention shifted back to the Triad. "You're done here."
It wasn't a question.
Nyra nodded. "We are."
Behind them, Rikia had already turned away, her shoulders loosening now that she was no longer under his gaze. Thal didn't watch her leave.
As they stepped out into the open air together, Nyra couldn't shake the thought that his restraint wasn't kindness.
It was control.
They hadn't even made it halfway down the street when Valen's expression changed.
Nyra noticed it first the way his eyes lit up, the grin spreading across his face with the kind of enthusiasm that usually preceded bad decisions and worse consequences. Luken caught it a second later and sighed under his breath, already bracing himself.
"Oh no," Nyra muttered. "Whatever you're thinking don't."
Valen ignored her entirely. He turned on his heel and jabbed a thumb back the way they'd come. "Actually, before we do anything sensible," he said cheerfully, "there's something far more important we need to handle."
Thal glanced down at him. "If this involves trouble…"
"It involves fashion," Valen cut in, clapping his hands once. "And dignity. Mostly dignity."
Nyra frowned. "We were going to Jason's."
"And we still are," Valen said breezily. "Eventually but first!" He stepped closer to Thal, looking him up and down with exaggerated appraisal. "You're not walking around Lion's Gate half-naked any longer than necessary. Merek and Joren should have the rest of your things ready by now."
Thal's brow creased. "It's functional."
"It's a kilt made from a butchered robe," Valen shot back. "Functional is not the same as presentable."
Luken folded his arms. "Valen," he said patiently, "we're already being watched by the Church."
"Exactly!" Valen said. "All the more reason not to look like a wandering apocalypse."
Nyra snorted despite herself.
Thal exhaled slowly, clearly weighing whether this was worth arguing. "This can wait."
Valen's grin widened. "Nope. Absolutely cannot. You've saved the city twice and terrified the clergy in one afternoon. You've earned pants."
Before Thal could respond, Valen grabbed hold of his forearm with both hands and tugged uselessly but with great conviction. "Come on. Five minutes. Ten, max."
Thal looked down at him, unimpressed. "You cannot drag me."
Valen leaned back, boots scraping against the stone. "You'd be surprised how far stubbornness gets you."
Nyra shook her head, already turning toward the inn. "We'll meet you there," she said. "Try not to cause another incident."
Luken nodded. "We'll keep Jason occupied."
Thal hesitated, gaze flicking between them, then back to Valen, who was still braced like a man trying to move a mountain with rope and optimism.
"…Fine," Thal said at last.
Valen whooped triumphantly. "Yes! See? Reasonable giant."
Thal shot him a flat look. "If this takes longer than you said…"
Valen was already pulling him along. "Worth it."
As Nyra and Luken headed off toward Jason's Inn, Nyra glanced back once. Valen was chattering animatedly, gesturing about fabrics and cuts, while Thal followed with long, resigned strides, his shadow stretching across the street like a reminder that even inevitability could be temporarily derailed by a grinning fool with a tailor's obsession and somehow, in a city tightening with threads and blood, that felt… necessary.