The morning broke cold over Hollow Bend, a brittle frost glazing the ghost town’s warped boards as Kade Shen and Lila Mei set out from Old Wei’s smithy. The reforged saber hung at Kade’s hip, its weight a steady hum against his side, heavier and sharper than before—Starfall steel reborn, thanks to Wei’s gruff hands. The old blacksmith had waved them off with a grunt, muttering about fools and devils, but his eyes lingered on the blade, a flicker of something like pride buried in their depths. Kade felt it too—a spark, a connection to his father’s shadow, driving him west toward Red Talon’s heart.

Lila led the way, her duster snapping in the wind, her sticks tucked into her belt with a predator’s ease. She’d been quieter since the forge, her usual barbs dulled by a tension Kade couldn’t place. He didn’t press—his mind was on the trail, the camp by the split rock, and Darius Vane’s blood waiting at the end of it. They’d skirted north from Hollow Bend, following a trader’s rumor Lila had pried loose: Red Talon moved heavy through Red Gulch, a canyon cutting toward the peaks. If they could intercept, Kade might snag another lead—or another kill.

By midday, the plains gave way to rougher ground, the earth buckling into ridges and gullies that funneled them toward the gulch. The canyon loomed ahead, its walls rising sharp and red, streaked with rust from old minerals. The trail narrowed, hemmed by cliffs that swallowed the sky, leaving only a ribbon of gray overhead. Kade’s boots crunched on gravel, the sound echoing off the stone, and a prickle ran up his spine—too tight, too quiet.

“You feel that?” he muttered, hand dropping to the saber.

Lila nodded, eyes scanning the ridgeline. “Yeah. Too still. Keep moving—eyes up.”

They pressed on, the gulch’s walls closing tighter, the air thick with the tang of dust and iron. A hawk circled high, its cry sharp against the silence, and Kade’s grip tightened on the hilt. Then it came—a low rumble, faint but growing, vibrating through the rock. Hooves. Dozens of them, thundering from the gulch’s far end.

“Riders!” Lila snapped, spinning to face the sound. “Back—find cover!”

Kade darted left, ducking behind a jutting boulder as the first Red Talon riders burst into view—six men on lean horses, red bandannas flapping, rifles and blades glinting. Dust billowed behind them, a storm cloud swallowing the canyon, and a shout rang out, raw and eager. “There! Two of ‘em!”

Lila was already moving, rolling low to a shelf of rock, her sticks flashing out. Kade drew the saber, its steel singing as it cleared the sheath, and crouched, heart pounding. The riders split—three peeling toward Lila, three bearing down on him. No time to think, only act.

The first reached him, a wiry man with a scarred lip, swinging a machete from the saddle. Kade ducked, the blade slashing air, and swung the saber up. Steel met steel, the jolt ringing through his arm, but the reforged blade held—stronger, truer. He pivoted, slashing low, and caught the horse’s flank. It reared, screaming, and the rider toppled, crashing into the dirt. Kade lunged, driving the saber into his chest—a clean thrust, blood blooming red as the man gasped and went still.

No pause—another rider charged, a broad brute with a rifle leveled. The shot cracked, stone splintering near Kade’s head, and he dove, rolling under the horse’s hooves. He came up swinging, the saber slicing the rider’s thigh. The man howled, dropping the rifle, and Kade yanked him down, finishing him with a stab to the gut. Blood sprayed, hot and slick, coating his hands.

The third rider circled, a lean figure with a revolver, firing wild. Bullets ricocheted off the canyon walls, a deadly whine, and Kade ducked behind the boulder, breath ragged. Across the gulch, Lila danced through her own fight—sticks cracking bone, a rider crumpling, another staggering back with a busted knee. She was a blur, precise and ruthless, but the third on her side closed fast, a hatchet raised.

Kade bolted from cover, ignoring the revolver’s bark, and tackled Lila’s attacker mid-swing. They hit the ground hard, rolling in a tangle of limbs, the hatchet skittering away. The man—red-bearded, snarling—drew a knife, slashing at Kade’s arm. Pain flared, but Kade drove his elbow into the man’s jaw, then brought the saber down, its edge biting deep into the shoulder. The rider screamed, knife falling, and Kade shoved him off, panting.

A cry snapped his head around—Lila, pinned against the cliff by her last rider, a burly thug with a club. She blocked a blow, her stick cracking, and twisted free, but he swung again, catching her side. She grunted, stumbling, and the rider raised the club high. Kade roared, charging, saber flashing. The blade arced through the man’s arm, severing muscle and bone, and he collapsed, blood pooling fast.

Lila sank to one knee, clutching her ribs, her face tight with pain. Kade spun, facing his final rider—the revolver man, now dismounted, aiming steady. The shot rang out, grazing Kade’s shoulder, a hot sting that made him hiss. He lunged, closing the gap before the next could fire, and slashed—the saber carved through the man’s chest, a wet crunch as he fell.

Silence dropped, sudden and heavy, broken only by the wheeze of dying horses and the drip of blood on stone. Kade stood, chest heaving, the saber dripping red in his grip. Six riders, six bodies—Red Talon’s welcome to Red Gulch. He wiped the blade on a fallen coat, sheathing it, and turned to Lila.

She was up, leaning on the cliff, one hand pressed to her side. Blood seeped through her fingers, staining her duster, but her eyes were sharp, defiant. “Took you long enough,” she rasped, smirking despite the wince.

“You’re hit,” Kade said, stepping closer. “Let me—”

“It’s a bruise,” she cut in, waving him off. “Cracked a rib, maybe. I’ve had worse.” She straightened, grimacing, and kicked the club-wielder’s corpse. “Bastard got lucky.”

Kade frowned, unconvinced, but her glare stopped him cold. “Fine. You good to move?”

“Yeah,” she said, limping toward a fallen horse. “Check ‘em—see if they’ve got anything worth taking.”

He nodded, rifling through saddlebags and pockets. A few coins, a dented flask, a map scrawled on tattered paper—crude, but it marked a route deeper into the peaks, a camp circled in red. “This,” he said, holding it up. “Could be Vane’s next stop.”

Lila took it, squinting through the pain. “Maybe. Worth a look.” She handed it back, her hand trembling faintly. “We need out of this damn gulch—more’ll come.”

Kade slung the map into his pack, then hesitated, eyeing her limp. “You sure you’re—”

“Move, Shen,” she snapped, starting up the trail. “I didn’t bleed for you to play nurse.”

He bit down a retort, falling in beside her. The canyon stretched ahead, its walls looming red and silent, the bodies left sprawled in their wake. The saber felt alive at his hip, its reforged steel baptized in blood—stronger now, like him. Lila’s wound gnawed at him, though—her save had cost her, and the debt settled heavy in his chest.

The wind howled through Red Gulch, carrying the stench of death and the promise of more to come. Vane was closer, his shadow sharper with every step. Kade gripped the saber’s hilt, its warmth a vow renewed, and followed Lila into the dusk.