The carriage came to a stop outside the gates of Vernhart Manor—a towering estate of stone and glass nestled behind thick iron bars and patrolling guards. Snow coated the rooftops. A pair of servants rushed over to help the nobleman down as Azel stepped off the front bench, eyes scanning the property with mild curiosity.
The nobleman, though still pale and stiff from the wound, turned to Azel and gave a respectful bow.
"You saved my life, I'd like you to meet my father. He'll want to thank you himself. And… he rewards fairly."
Azel gave a short nod.
"Alright."
Inside, the manor was warm, lit by chandelier light and crackling hearths. The servants guided them past marble floors and dark oak hallways, eventually stopping outside a tall wooden door.
The nobleman opened it without knocking.
Behind a grand desk sat a man dressed in a heavy black cloak, a feathered pen in hand, a mountain of parchment before him. His hair was streaked with gray, his eyes cold and calculating even as he smiled.
Otto Vernhart.
He looked up as they entered.
"I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my son."
Otto said, rising from his seat. His voice was calm, even, but not without weight.
"You've done something few men could."
Azel said nothing.
Otto walked forward and extended his hand, then withdrew it when Azel didn't respond. Instead, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small black pouch, tossing it to the boy. It jingled heavily.
"Twenty gold coins. As promised."
Azel caught the pouch and tucked it away.
"Thanks."
Otto motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk.
"Sit, if you'd like."
Azel sat. Otto followed, settling back into his chair.
Otto smiled slightly.
"Bandits like that rarely leave survivors. Seems you turned the odds in your favor."
There was a pause. Otto leaned forward, folding his hands.
"What are you?"
Azel looked up.
"Alive."
Otto let out a dry chuckle.
"Fair enough."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Azel asked.
"Do you know anything about demons?"
Otto's expression didn't change.
"Plenty. They walk among us, some say. In the form of men. Others say they hide underground, biding their time. If you ask the Church, they're all around us. Personally? I think they live in the same cities, breathe the same air. Maybe they even run shops. Gods know where."
Azel stared at him for a long moment, then stood.
"Thanks for the coins."
Otto inclined his head.
"And thank you for my son."
Azel turned and left without another word.
Outside the manor, the snow was falling harder now. The cold didn't bother him much anymore. He walked alone past the gates, into the empty road beyond, leaving the warmth and lights behind.
Forbanna stirred in his mind.
"You let him live."
Azel didn't answer.
"You noticed it when you saw his eyes. Why didn't you expose him?"
Azel kept walking. His breath fogged the air.
"I didn't feel like starting another war."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm tired."
"Of running?"
"Of everything."
He stopped walking and looked up at the sky. Gray. Clouded. Heavy.
"I've spent my whole life escaping. From them. From the Church. From hunters, inquisitors, the Order. I've watched the people who protected me die. I've seen entire villages burn because of what I am."
He exhaled sharply, watching the mist trail from his lips.
"When does it stop? When do I get to just live?"
Forbanna was silent for a moment.
"You don't. Not while you still breathe. Don't you want vengeance?"
Azel looked down. His hand twitched at his side, flexing faintly.
"I'll fight, if my existence is threatened."
"And if it isn't?"
"Then I'll walk away."
Forbanna's voice faded again, leaving him alone with the cold and the quiet.
Azel looked down the road ahead. Snow blew across the path, untouched. Another direction. Another place to go.
He started walking again.
One step at a time.