The rain had chased Kade Shen and Lila Mei into the peaks for two days, a relentless downpour that turned the trails to mud and the air to a cold, clinging mist. By dusk on the third, the storm broke, leaving a sky streaked with fading gold and the jagged silhouette of the mountains looming closer. The Crow’s map guided them—a frayed lifeline to the Starfall ruin—but a Red Talon hideout blocked the path, its smoke curling from a shallow canyon just shy of the circled mark. Kade crouched on a ridge, the reforged saber a warm weight at his hip, peering through the dusk at the camp below.

Tents sagged under wet canvas, clustered around a fire that spat sparks into the twilight. Eight men moved through the haze—Red Talon, their bandannas stark against weathered coats—laughing, cursing, sharpening blades. A crude corral held half a dozen horses, and crates of loot—stolen goods, maybe weapons—sat stacked near a rocky overhang. The Crow had warned of Vane’s hunt for the orb; this crew might know where he’d gone next.

“Too many to rush,” Lila whispered beside him, her duster damp and clinging, her sticks tucked tight. Her rib still pained her—Kade saw it in the way she braced herself—but she’d brushed off every question with a glare. “We need intel, not a bloodbath.”

Kade nodded, eyes tracing the camp’s edges. “I’ll go in. Sneak around, listen. You cover me.”

She arched a brow, skeptical. “You? Stealth? Wei didn’t teach you that.”

“Been practicing,” he said, smirking faintly. “Your drills—moving quiet. I can do it.”

Lila snorted, but her gaze softened. “Fine. Skirt the north side—less light. If they spot you, I’ll draw ‘em off. Don’t be stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered, slipping down the ridge.

The descent was slow, boots testing each step on slick stone, the saber sheathed to keep it silent. Wei’s lessons echoed—step light, flow—and Kade moved with a hunter’s care, shadow to shadow, until he reached the canyon’s floor. The camp’s noise sharpened—gruff voices, the clink of bottles, a horse’s snort—and he hugged the northern cliff, creeping toward the tents.

A gap between two canvases gave him a view: three men by the fire, one a lanky figure with a lieutenant’s swagger, his coat patched with red. He barked orders, voice nasal and sharp. “Load the crates—Vane wants ‘em at the ruin by dawn. Orb’s close, boys. We’re rich soon.”

Kade’s pulse quickened—the ruin, the orb. The Crow was right. He edged closer, ducking behind a barrel, straining to hear. The lieutenant kicked a crate, grinning. “Boss says it’s power—real power. Starfall’s last gasp. We’ll be kings.”

A grunt answered him, a burly man with a scarred jaw. “If them ghosts don’t curse us first. Heard Shen’s boy’s out there—cut up the gulch crew.”

“Let him come,” the lieutenant sneered. “Vane’ll skin him like his pa.”

Kade’s fist clenched, nails biting his palm. The saber begged to sing, to carve that sneer into silence, but he held still—Lila’s voice in his head, intel, not a bloodbath. He slipped deeper, toward a tent leaking light, its flap half-open. Inside, a man sat hunched over a table—a wiry figure, younger than the rest, scribbling on a ledger. No bandanna, just a patched vest, and a nervous twitch in his hands.

Kade crept in, saber drawn low, and pressed the blade to the man’s neck before he could turn. “Quiet,” he hissed. “One sound, you’re done.”

The man froze, ledger dropping, his breath hitching. “Don’t—please. I’m just the bookkeeper. Ain’t no fighter.”

“Where’s Vane?” Kade growled, tip biting skin. “The ruin—where is it?”

“North,” the man stammered, eyes wide. “Two days, past the black ridge. Old temple—Vane’s there now, digging. Please, I don’t—”

“Who’s with him?” Kade pressed, steel steady.

“Dozens—his best. They’ve got the orb, or near it. I just count the take, I swear!” Sweat beaded on his brow, his voice cracking. “Let me go—I won’t tell.”

Kade hesitated, the saber trembling. The man’s fear was real—pleading, not defiance. Not like the scout, not like Iron Hand. Just a cog, not a killer. His father’s voice ghosted through—strength’s in what you fight for—and Kade saw Mara’s face, her rag doll limp in the dirt. This wasn’t her vengeance.

“Run,” he said, pulling the blade back. “Far and fast. They ask, you never saw me.”

The bookkeeper nodded, scrambling up, and bolted out the back flap, disappearing into the dark. Kade exhaled, sheathing the saber, but the choice lingered—mercy, not blood. It felt right, yet fragile.

A shout snapped him back—the lieutenant, outside, voice rising. “Hey! Where’s Ty? Check the tent!” Boots thudded, shadows shifting. Kade cursed, ducking low as the flap flew open. The lieutenant loomed, blade in hand, eyes narrowing.

“You,” he snarled, spotting Kade. “Shen’s brat—”

Kade lunged, saber flashing. The lieutenant parried, steel clashing, but Kade twisted, Wei’s flow guiding him—low slash, then up. The blade bit the man’s arm, blood spraying, and he staggered, roaring. Kade kicked him back, saber arcing for the kill, but a rifle cracked—another Red Talon, firing from the firelight. The shot grazed Kade’s thigh, a hot sting, and he stumbled, rolling behind the table as bullets splintered wood.

The camp erupted—shouts, boots, blades unsheathing. Kade gripped the saber, leg burning, and bolted out the back, the lieutenant’s curses chasing him. He sprinted north, weaving through tents, when a whistle pierced the chaos—Lila’s signal. Shadows shifted ahead—three riders peeling off, drawn by her distraction. Kade didn’t look back, racing for the ridge, pain lancing with every step.

He crested it, collapsing behind a boulder as Lila slid in beside him, breathing hard. “Told you not to be stupid,” she panted, sticks flecked with blood. “What’d you do?”

“Got a lead,” he said, clutching his thigh, blood seeping through his fingers. “Vane’s at the ruin—two days north, black ridge. They’ve got the orb, or close.”

“And woke the damn hive,” she muttered, peering down. The camp swarmed, torches flaring, but the riders circled back, search widening. “We’re clear—for now. You hit?”

“Grazed,” he said, grimacing. “I’ll walk.”

She smirked, tugging a rag from her pack and tossing it. “Wrap it. You’re a mess, Shen.”

He bound the wound, the saber steady at his side despite the ache. “Let one go,” he said, quieter. “Bookkeeper. Didn’t fight—just begged.”

Lila’s smirk faded, her eyes searching his. “Mercy’s a risk. Could’ve squealed.”

“Could’ve,” Kade agreed, tying the knot tight. “But he wasn’t them. Wasn’t Vane.”

She nodded, slow, a flicker of something—respect, maybe—crossing her face. “Your call. Hope it don’t bite us.”

“Me too,” he said, standing, testing his leg. The camp’s clamor faded below, the peaks stretching dark and silent ahead. The ruin waited—Vane, the orb, Starfall’s last gasp. Kade gripped the saber, its steel a vow renewed, and started north, Lila at his flank, the night swallowing their trail.