16 Harvestmere – 11 Bloomingtide 9:31
Despite the tension that had been building in the camp, there were moments of levity that reminded Ariana of what she had been missing since leaving Kirkwall. Shared meals around the fire, trading stories of past adventures and imagined futures. Eshara’s biting humor, Malcolm’s gruff encouragement, Valentina’s relentless teasing—they were small but meaningful threads that bound them together in an otherwise chaotic world.
One particular night the campfire burned low, its embers casting a warm, flickering glow across the faces of those gathered around. Lamberto, who often seemed content to remain in the background, surprised everyone by pulling out a battered lute from his pack. He strummed a few notes, testing the instrument’s weathered strings, before launching into a haunting melody that stilled the conversation.
The music wove through the camp like a balm, easing the aches of the day’s battles and the weight of their shared uncertainty. Ariana closed her eyes, letting the mournful tune wash over her. For the first time since the Blight began, she felt something close to peace. It wasn’t the safety she had felt in Kirkwall with Varric or in Honnleath with Cullen but it was something—something fragile yet real.
Ariana appreciated moments of camaraderie like this. They were rare but she cherished them. She looked forward to the nights around the campfire, as stories were exchanged—some humorous, others harrowing. Lamberto, his dry humor a constant companion, recounted tales of near-misses during high-stakes heists, his deadpan delivery drawing laughter from even the most stoic among them.
Valentina and Linnea, ever the provocateurs, frequently teased her. “The noble among savages,” Valentina would call her, a sly grin on her face. Linnea often chimed in, weaving ridiculous tales about how Ariana probably ate off golden plates before the Blight. Ariana would roll her eyes but secretly found comfort in their lighthearted banter. For all their teasing, their warmth was unmistakable, and it filled a void she hadn’t realized was so deep.
Malcolm and Eshara, though quieter, contributed in their own ways. Malcolm, his voice rough and deliberate, occasionally shared snippets of his days as a Templar—lessons learned, regrets borne. Eshara, her Dalish heritage woven into every word, spoke of traditions and rituals that seemed both foreign and achingly familiar. Ariana couldn’t miss the note of longing in her voice, a reminder that they all carried losses they rarely spoke of aloud.
Then there was Riley. Always observant, always steady. Riley had a way of looking out for her that was both subtle and constant. She’d nudge her to eat when she skipped meals, toss her a training blade when she grew restless, and find excuses to interrupt when Krieger’s attention lingered too long. It was as if Riley could sense Ariana’s unease before she even voiced it, deflecting conversations or offering a well-timed distraction.
Riley’s protective presence was a source of quiet strength, and Ariana found herself leaning on it more than she realized. They didn’t need many words to communicate—a glance, a gesture, and they understood each other.
Through these moments, Ariana began to feel a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected to find. The camaraderie wasn’t perfect—it was rough around the edges, shaped by hardship and necessity—but it was real. She still missed some of the people she’d left behind but here, among this ragtag group of misfits, she found fragments of something she hadn’t expected. A family.
~~~
Krieger’s obsession with Ariana had always simmered beneath the surface, but now it was boiling over. The patience he once displayed was gone, replaced by a possessive determination that made her uneasy. His compliments, once shrouded in flattery, had become sharp, his tone edged with entitlement. He didn’t just speak of her skill—he spoke of her as though she were something he had forged, something he owned.
The camp was quiet that evening, the aftermath of another grueling mission settling over them like a heavy fog. Ariana sat by the dying fire, sharpening her daggers. The rhythmic scrape of the whetstone against steel was soothing, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos. She didn’t notice Krieger approaching until his shadow loomed over her.
“You handled yourself well today,” he said, his voice smooth but carrying an undertone that sent a chill through her. “Better than most of the others.”
Ariana didn’t look up, her focus on her blade. “They all fought hard,” she replied evenly. “We wouldn’t have made it without them.”
Krieger crouched beside her, his movements slow and deliberate. The firelight played over his sharp features, highlighting the piercing blue of his eyes. “Don’t be so modest, Ariana. You stood out, as always. You’re special—unique. I’ve seen it since the day we saved you.”
Ariana froze for a fraction of a second before resuming her work. “I’m just doing my part,” she said, keeping her tone neutral.
“You’re selling yourself short,” he continued, leaning closer. His hand brushed her arm lightly, and she stiffened. “You’ve grown under my guidance. You’ve become something extraordinary. Don’t you see it? We make a good team. Together, we could accomplish so much more.”
She stood abruptly, creating distance between them. “We’re all part of the same team,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “It’s not about me.”
Krieger rose as well, his smile faltering. There was a flicker of frustration in his expression as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab her wrist. Before she could pull away, his other arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer.
“Ariana,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know what you’re capable of. What we’re capable of. Let me take care of you. I can keep you safe, give you everything you need—everything you deserve. All you have to do is trust me, be mine.”
His words struck her like a slap. In that moment, the warnings from Riley, Valentina, and the others rushed back to her, crystal clear. The way Krieger had isolated her, elevated her, made her feel indispensable—it all clicked into place. Her chest tightened, and she felt a surge of anger rise to the surface.
“I’m not yours, Krieger,” she said, her voice low but firm. “And I never will be.”
His grip tightened briefly, his expression hardening. “You don’t understand what I’ve done for you. What I could still do.”
Before he could continue, a voice cut through the tension. “Krieger!” Riley’s tone was sharp, carrying across the camp like a whip.
Krieger’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as Riley approached, her gait casual but her expression anything but. “We’ve got a situation with the perimeter,” she said, her voice calm but insistent. “Need your input.”
The distraction was all Ariana needed. She jerked her arm free and stepped back, putting distance between herself and Krieger. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart racing as she felt his eyes on her back.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Ariana,” Krieger called after her, his voice cold. “We’re not finished.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t look back. But as she walked into the shadows, she clenched her fists, the realization settling like a stone in her stomach. She had to get out, and soon.
~~~
Krieger’s plan that day teetered on the edge of madness: an ambush on a heavily armed caravan rumored to carry valuable supplies deep in Ferelden’s wilderness. As he outlined the operation, Ariana couldn’t hold back.
“This is reckless,” she said, her tone sharper than she intended. “We don’t even know their numbers, let alone their training.”
Krieger’s icy glare turned to her, silencing the murmurs around the campfire. “We know enough,” he snapped. “And what we don’t know, we’ll figure out. That’s what we do.”
The tension hung heavy, but Ariana pressed on. “And if what we don’t know gets people killed?”
Krieger’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “That’s why you’ll lead the flank. Prove to me you’re more than just words, Ariana.”
The sting of his dismissal lingered as Ariana prepared her group. As the ambush unfolded, her worst fears were realized. The caravan guards were not just prepared—they were trained and disciplined, cutting through the initial assault with brutal efficiency. The Blades’ formations broke, chaos spreading through the battlefield as Krieger shouted over the clash of steel to press forward.
Ariana’s instincts screamed otherwise. Ignoring his orders, she signaled her group to fall back and regroup. “We can’t win this like this,” she told them, her voice steady despite the turmoil. They retreated, managing to avoid the worst of the bloodshed.
When they returned to the battlefield after regrouping, it was a scene of devastation. Valentina was crouched beside Linnea, her hands slick with blood as she tried to stop the bleeding. Malcolm’s normally stoic face was tight with anguish as he and Eshara worked to stabilize another wounded comrade. Dead and dying mercenaries littered the ground, their cries echoing in Ariana’s ears.
Her stomach twisted as she saw Krieger, unscathed, barking orders at the survivors as though the loss was inconsequential. His focus was on the few crates of supplies the Blades had managed to secure, not the lives that had been shattered to get them. Something inside her snapped.
Back at camp, with the wounded tended to and the fires burning low, Ariana marched straight to Krieger’s tent. She didn’t bother announcing herself, throwing open the flap and stepping inside.
“You call that leadership?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the humid air like a dagger. “You sent them to die for what? A handful of supplies we didn’t need?”
Krieger, seated at a makeshift desk, didn’t even look up at first. When he did, the usual charm in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating fury. “You disobeyed my orders,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “You’re alive because of me, Ariana. Don’t forget that.”
Ariana’s fists clenched at her sides. “I’m alive because I didn’t follow orders that would have gotten me—and everyone else—killed. You can’t lead with recklessness and expect loyalty.”
His eyes narrowed as he stood, towering over her, the firelight casting his features in harsh relief. “You think you’re better than me?” he hissed, stepping closer. “You think you can survive without me? Don’t test me, girl. I made you.”
Ariana didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a defiance that burned brighter than the flames outside. “Maybe I am,” she said evenly. “And maybe I don’t need you to survive anymore.”
For a moment, the tension in the tent was suffocating, Krieger’s hand twitching as though he might strike her. But instead, he sneered, leaning in so close she could feel his breath. “You’ll regret this,” he said, his tone dripping with menace. “Mark my words.”
Ariana stepped back, her expression unyielding. “The only thing I regret,” she said, her voice ice-cold, “is ever believing you were worth following.”
She turned and left, the weight of the camp’s stares heavy on her as she emerged. Her hands were shaking, but her resolve was stronger than ever. She wouldn’t let him control her—not now, not ever.
~~~
After Ariana stormed out of Krieger’s tent, her mind was a storm of anger and unease. She hadn’t gone far before Riley found her, her approach swift and deliberate. “Come with me,” Riley said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Riley led Ariana to a secluded part of the camp where Valentina, Linnea, Lamberto, Malcolm, and Eshara were already waiting. Their faces were grim, their body language tense, as though they’d all been anticipating this moment.
Riley was the first to speak, her voice quiet but steady. “You know he’s obsessed with you, right?” she said bluntly, her dark green eyes locking onto Ariana’s.
Ariana exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice soft but resolute. “I’ve known for a while now.”
“And now that you’ve defied him,” Riley continued, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, “it’s made him unstable. I don’t think he ever expected you to push back, Ari. Not like this. And now that you have…” She shook her head, her voice trailing off.
Valentina, sitting cross-legged by the fire, joined in. “That mission today wasn’t about strategy—it was about control. He’s dragging us into these reckless plans because he’s desperate to prove something. And he’s putting you at the center of it.”
Malcolm, ever the pragmatist, crossed his arms and leaned back against a tree. His voice was firm, tinged with frustration. “We’ve seen this coming for a while. Krieger’s unraveling, and the more you reject him, the worse it’s going to get. He’s dangerous, Ariana. To all of us.”
Eshara, who rarely spoke unless she had something important to say, nodded slowly. “He’s not just dangerous,” she added, her tone calm but heavy with meaning. “He’s unrelenting. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants—or until there’s nothing left.”
Ariana’s gaze flicked from one face to the next, absorbing their words. She felt the weight of their concern, their shared fear. But what struck her most was their unity—their willingness to stand by her, even as the situation grew more perilous.
Lamberto, leaning against a nearby tree, his long hair falling into his face, finally spoke up. “If we leave, we leave together. But we’ll need a plan. He won’t let us go without a fight.” His eyes rested on Ariana. “Especially not you.”
Ariana hesitated, the reality of their words settling in her chest like a stone. She had tried to navigate Krieger’s obsession without escalating things, hoping she could outlast his fixation. But it was clear now that avoidance was no longer an option. He wouldn’t stop.
She drew a steadying breath, meeting the eyes of each of them in turn. “You’re right,” she said finally, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her. “We can’t stay like this. But if we leave, we have to be smart about it. Krieger’s dangerous, and if we’re not careful, he’ll tear us apart before we even have a chance to fight back.”
Valentina leaned forward, her expression intense. “So what’s the plan, then? Because if we’re doing this, I’m not about to let him have the upper hand.”
“We watch,” Ariana replied. “We plan. We move when the time is right. No rushing, no mistakes.”
Eshara tilted her head slightly, her calm demeanor masking the gravity of her words. “We’ll need allies. If there are others in the camp who are as tired of him as we are, they could tip the scales.”
Malcolm nodded. “I can speak to a few of the others. Quietly. Gauge where their loyalties lie.”
Riley placed a hand on Ariana’s shoulder, her grip firm and grounding. “Whatever happens, we’re with you,” she said simply. “You don’t have to face this alone.”
Ariana felt a surge of gratitude, the camaraderie of these people bolstering her determination. “Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere. “We’ll get through this. Together.”
The fire crackled softly as the group exchanged solemn nods, their resolve hardening. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but they had made their choice. They wouldn’t follow a leader who had lost his way, and they wouldn’t let Krieger’s obsession destroy them. For the first time in months, Ariana felt the stirrings of hope. She wasn’t alone—and that made all the difference.
~~~
Krieger’s patience had worn thin, but his usual air of charm lingered like a poisonous mist. That evening, he found Ariana alone near a stack of crates, sharpening her blades in the dim light of the campfire. The rustle of his boots on the dirt was the only warning she got before his shadow loomed over her.
“Ariana,” he began, his voice carrying a calculated warmth. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Her grip on the whetstone tightened, but she didn’t look up. “I’ve been busy,” she replied evenly. “There’s always work to be done.”
“Work?” he echoed with a soft chuckle, taking a step closer. “You’ve done more than enough. More than anyone else here. You’ve earned the right to rest, to let others shoulder the burden.”
“I’m fine,” she said curtly, still not meeting his gaze. “I prefer to keep busy.”
Krieger crouched beside her, forcing her to look at him. His piercing blue eyes were sharper than the blade in her hand. “Ariana,” he said, his tone dropping, “you’re remarkable. You know that, don’t you? The way you fight, the way you lead… It’s inspiring.”
Ariana stood abruptly, trying to put space between them, but Krieger was faster. He stepped forward, backing her against the crates. His hands came down on either side of her, trapping her in place.
“You and I,” he continued, his voice soft but insistent, “we could be unstoppable together. You don’t have to be alone. Let me take care of you, Ariana.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she said, her voice firm despite the tension radiating from him.
Krieger’s expression darkened, the mask of charm slipping. His hands gripped her arms, pulling her closer as he pressed his weight against her. “You’re lying to yourself,” he hissed. “You want this. You want me.”
Ariana’s stomach churned, her mind racing. “Let me go,” she demanded, her voice sharp and unwavering.
But Krieger didn’t move, his grip tightening. “Don’t make me regret everything I’ve done for you,” he said, his tone low and menacing. “You have no idea how far I’m willing to go for you.”
Without thinking, Ariana acted. She slammed the hilt of her dagger into his wrist, breaking his hold on her arm, and spun out of his reach. As he stumbled back, she drove her knee into his side, sending him reeling. She darted out of reach, her stance ready to defend herself if he tried again.
Krieger straightened, clutching his side as his lips curled into a snarl. “You’ll regret this,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you’re untouchable? You’ll see. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Ariana didn’t wait for him to recover. She turned ran towards the rest of the group, her steps brisk and her heart pounding. She didn’t dare look back, but his words echoed in her mind like a curse. For the first time since joining the Blades, she felt the full weight of the danger she was in—and the resolve to find a way out.
~~~
Krieger’s patience had run its course. That night, he stood outside his tent, watching as two of his most loyal mercenaries approached him. “Bring her to the center of the camp,” he ordered, his voice sharp and low. “Make sure everyone sees.”
The men hesitated only a moment before nodding and disappearing into the shadows. Krieger stood by the fire, his blue eyes cold and calculating. He wasn’t just punishing Ariana—he was making an example of her. She had defied him for the last time.
When they dragged her into the open, Ariana was struggling, her breath visible in the icy night air. Her arms were bound, and she was dressed only in her undergarments, her skin pale and vulnerable in the flickering firelight. The camp grew silent as the spectacle unfolded, the other mercenaries watching with a mix of unease and morbid curiosity.
Krieger approached her slowly, his boots crunching against the frozen ground. The flames reflected in his dagger as he pulled it from his belt. “You think you’re strong,” he said, his tone as icy as the wind cutting through the camp. He motioned for the men to tie her to the post, ensuring she couldn’t move.
Ariana glared at him, her hazel-green eyes defiant even as the cold made her shiver. That look stoked the fire of his fury and something else—something darker. He stepped closer, leaning in so only she could hear. “Let’s see how long that fire in your eyes lasts,” he murmured.
At first, the punishment was simple humiliation. He stood back, letting the cold do its work, his eyes scanning the crowd to ensure they were paying attention. This wasn’t just for Ariana; it was for everyone. A reminder of who was in charge.
But as the hours dragged on and Ariana refused to yield, Krieger’s patience eroded. He approached her, the blade in his hand catching the firelight. Without ceremony, he grabbed her left arm, dragging the edge of the knife across her skin in a shallow, deliberate cut.
The first flinch of pain from her was small, but it wasn’t enough for him. He pressed the blade again, opening another line, this time just deep enough to draw more blood. “All you have to do is submit,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Say you’re mine, and this ends.”
Ariana didn’t respond, her jaw clenched, her breath coming in short bursts from the cold and pain. That defiance infuriated him.
Krieger tightened his grip on her arm, his fingers digging into the fresh wounds as he whispered words under his breath. The blood he’d drawn began to glow faintly, and the agony hit her like a storm. It was a searing, relentless pain that coursed through her veins, fire and ice meeting in a torment that made the cold seem distant.
She gasped, her body trembling, but still, she said nothing. Her silence was louder than any scream, more damning than any curse. Krieger saw it in her eyes—the refusal to break—and it maddened him.
The next day, he returned, his dagger gleaming as he reopened the cuts on her arm. Each time, he used her blood as a conduit, each time whispering the same words: “Submit, and this will end.”
The camp whispered about what was happening, but no one dared to intervene. Riley, Valentina, Lamberto, and the others kept their distance, though their anger and unease were evident in their eyes. Krieger saw it but didn’t care. His focus was solely on Ariana.
Every night, she met his gaze with the same unyielding defiance, her silence a weapon he couldn’t disarm. And every night, as he walked away from the post, his frustration grew. She would regret this, he thought. She would break, and when she did, she would see that she was his.
~~~
Riley sat on a fallen log near the outskirts of the camp, her knuckles white as she gripped the hilt of her sword. She could hear the faint, muffled sounds of Ariana’s pain in the distance, the soft gasps and sharp intakes of breath that cut through the icy air like knives. The others were gathered around her, their faces grim, their eyes flickering to the center of camp where Ariana was still tied to the post.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Valentina said, her voice a harsh whisper. She sat cross-legged on the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees as if trying to contain the storm of emotions threatening to boil over. “I knew Krieger was losing it, but this… this is beyond anything I imagined.”
“No one expected this,” Malcolm replied, his tone gruff but tinged with guilt. He stood with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly. “But we should have. He’s been spiraling for months, and we all saw it.”
Riley shook her head, forcing herself to look at them instead of the post. “Seeing it and stopping it are two different things. None of us thought he’d… hurt her like this. And whatever he’s doing to her, it’s not just the cold or the cuts.” She glanced at Linnea, who was sharpening a blade with tense, precise strokes. “You’ve seen her wounds. They’re shallow. They shouldn’t cause this kind of pain.”
“They shouldn’t,” Linnea agreed, her voice tight. “But every time he’s near her, it’s like something changes. She flinches like she’s being burned alive.”
“Blood magic,” Eshara said quietly, her voice carrying a chill that rivaled the night air. Everyone turned to her, startled. The Dalish mage met their gazes with grim certainty. “I’ve seen it before, among the clans. Not like this, but enough to recognize it. He’s using her blood to hurt her in ways we can’t see.”
Valentina swore under her breath, her fist pounding into the frozen earth. “Magic? Krieger is a mage? We need to get her out of there. Now.”
“We can’t just walk in and cut her loose,” Malcolm cautioned. “Krieger’s got his loyalists watching her every second. If we’re not careful, this turns into a bloodbath, and none of us make it out.”
Riley nodded, her jaw tightening. “He’s right. If we’re going to do this, it has to be clean. We’ll only get one chance.”
Lamberto leaned against a nearby tree, his long hair falling into his face as he spoke. “I’ve been talking to some of the others. At least nine of them are on our side. They’ve seen enough to know Krieger’s lost it.”
“Good,” Riley said, her tone sharpening with purpose. “We’ll need every one of them.”
Eshara shifted, her fingers tracing the edge of her staff. “What about Ariana? Even if we free her, she’s too weak to fight. Whatever he’s done to her has left her barely standing.”
Riley looked toward the center of camp, her green eyes narrowing. “Then we carry her if we have to. We get her out, and we make sure she survives. No one’s leaving her behind.”
Valentina straightened, her gaze hard and determined. “What’s the plan?”
Riley stood, her shoulders squaring as she looked at each of them in turn. “We wait until the camp’s quiet. Eshara, you create a distraction—something loud enough to draw attention away from the post. Lamberto, Linnea, and I will take out the guards and cut her loose. Malcolm and Valentina, you rally the others and secure the horses. Once we’ve got her, we move fast.”
“And if Krieger shows up?” Lamberto asked, his voice laced with unease.
Riley’s hand tightened on her dagger. “Then we deal with him. Together.”
The group fell into a tense silence, their resolve solidifying in the flickering light of the fire. Riley’s gaze drifted back to the post where Ariana hung in quiet agony, her defiance still visible even from this distance.
“She’s held out this long,” Riley said, her voice soft but fierce. “The least we can do is make sure it wasn’t for nothing.”
~~~
Ariana’s body ached in ways she didn’t know were possible. The cold had seeped into her bones, her left forearm throbbed with an unrelenting pain, and every breath felt like it came with the price of fire in her veins. She barely noticed the passage of time anymore; day and night blurred together into an endless haze of torment.
Krieger had come to her earlier that evening, his voice like poison dripping into her ears. “You’re strong,” he had said, dragging the blade across her arm again, fresh blood seeping into the frozen earth. “But strength has its limits. You’ll break, Ariana. They always do.”
But she hadn’t broken. Not yet. And she wouldn’t—not for him.
Her head was slumped forward when she heard the faint crunch of footsteps on the snow. At first, she thought it was Krieger again, coming to gloat or inflict more pain. She forced herself to lift her head, her hazel-green eyes meeting the dim light of a lantern.
It wasn’t Krieger. It was Riley.
“Hold on,” Riley whispered as she knelt before Ariana, her hands already working to untie the ropes that bound her to the post. The tension in Riley’s jaw told Ariana everything she needed to know—Riley had seen enough.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ariana managed, her voice hoarse and weak.
“And leave you with him?” Riley’s voice was sharp, her anger barely contained. “Not a chance.”
As the ropes fell away, Ariana slumped forward, her legs too weak to support her. Riley caught her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “We’re getting out of here,” Riley said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“What about the others?” Ariana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“They’re ready,” Riley replied. “We’ve got a plan. Let’s go”
“But first—” She paused, glancing toward Krieger’s tent. “I need to settle things before we go.” her body trembling not just from the cold but from the simmering rage building inside her.
Riley knew her well enough to know she was determined to do something. She didn’t argue instead just guiding her to the tent.
The camp was eerily quiet, most of Krieger’s loyalists either asleep or distracted by the diversion Eshara had conjured—a distant blaze that had drawn attention away from the main camp. Lamberto and Linnea were already clearing a path, their movements swift and silent.
When they reached Krieger’s tent, Riley handed Ariana her daggers. “You don’t have to do this,” Riley said, her voice low but steady.
“I do,” Ariana replied, her grip tightening on the blades.
She stepped into the tent, her heart pounding in her chest. Krieger was seated at a small table, a map spread before him. He looked up, his surprise quickly shifting to a smirk. “Well, well,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Finally come to your senses, have you?”
Ariana didn’t respond. She moved with a precision she didn’t know she still possessed, driving one dagger into his thigh before he could rise. He roared in pain, reaching for a weapon, but she was faster. The second blade found his other leg, pinning him to the chair.
“You think this is going to stop me?” he spat, his voice filled with venom. “You’ll regret this, Ariana. I didn’t teach you everything.”
Ariana leaned in close, her voice cold and steady. “You’re right. But I’ve learned enough.” She drew the blade across his face in a deliberate motion, leaving a deep, jagged scar from his cheekbone to his jaw. “Pray you die tonight, Krieger. Because if you come after me, I’ll finish what I started.”
She stepped back, leaving her blades pinning him to the bench. Krieger writhed in pain. Riley appeared at the entrance, her expression a mix of relief and pride. “Time to go,” she said.
Ariana nodded, her resolve hardening as they slipped out of the tent and into the shadows. The others were waiting near the edge of camp, their horses ready. Malcolm gave her a curt nod, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders and helping her up on her horse, while Valentina offered a small, encouraging smile. Lamberto was already mounted, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of pursuit. The others had formed a perimeter making sure no one came near them while they waited for her.
As they rode into the night, Ariana felt a weight she couldn’t ignore. The weight of her own mistakes. Of not having seen what was coming.
What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move? his words echoed in her mind now more than ever.
~~~
The group rode hard through the night, silence save for the thundering of hooves and the labored breaths of horses. They didn’t stop until they were sure they had put enough distance between themselves and Krieger’s camp. By the time they finally set up camp, everyone was on edge, their exhaustion mingling with relief at having made it out alive.
The camp quickly bustled with quiet activity. Percy and Paulette scouted the perimeter, while Aldor kept watch, bow in hand, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness. Annika and Senhel worked together to prepare healing spells for those injured in the escape. Olga barked instructions at Cador to gather proper firewood while she sharpened her axe, muttering something about needing a decent meal.
Ariana sat close to the fire, silent and withdrawn. Riley knelt beside her, unwrapping the bandages on her left forearm. The wounds, shallow but angry and inflamed, stood out starkly against her skin. Riley’s jaw tightened as she worked, her green eyes darkened with worry.
“They’re healing too slowly,” Riley muttered, her tone laced with frustration. “This isn’t normal.”
Eshara approached from the other side of the camp, a soft glow of magical energy flickering around her hands. She crouched down beside Ariana, her expression calm but serious. “Let me see,” she said gently. Riley hesitated before stepping back, giving Eshara room.
Ariana shifted uncomfortably, but she didn’t protest as Eshara examined the wounds. The Dalish mage ran her glowing hands just above the cuts, her brow furrowing. “It’s blood magic,” Eshara confirmed quietly, her voice tinged with disgust. “He was using your blood as a conduit. The pain, the slow healing—it all fits.”
Ariana exhaled slowly, her gaze falling to the flames. “I don’t know much about blood magic,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But that would explain it. He… he kept reopening them, making them fresh again. It wasn’t just to hurt me—it was to keep control.”
Eshara nodded, her hands glowing brighter as she began to channel healing magic into Ariana’s wounds. “I’ll take care of this,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “But you’ll need time to recover.”
As the soft warmth of Eshara’s magic eased the pain in her arm, Ariana let out a small sigh. Around her, the camp had fallen quieter, the others pausing their tasks to listen. Valentina and Linnea exchanged a guilty glance, while Malcolm stood a few paces away, his arms crossed and his expression grim.
Eshara nodded solemnly, her expression a mix of guilt and frustration. “I should have suspected sooner.”
Valentina, sitting across from Ariana, shook her head. “We all should have. We let it go on too long. I’m sorry, Ari.”
Linnea leaned forward, her tone unusually gentle. “You shouldn’t have had to endure that. We failed you.”
Malcolm, ever the stoic, added, “We won’t let anything like that happen again. You have my word.”
Ariana looked around at them, her throat tightening. These were the people who had risked everything to save her. They had seen what Krieger was capable of and had still chosen to stand with her. She felt a surge of gratitude so profound it was almost overwhelming.
“No apologies,” she said firmly, her voice carrying the quiet strength they had come to admire. “None of this is your fault. You were there when it mattered most. You got me out. That’s all that matters.”
The camp slowly returned to its quiet rhythm as the others resumed their tasks. Annika prepared simple rations, while Lamberto muttered something about needing better supplies. Percy and Floriana were bickering over who had scouted further during their retreat, their voices low but animated.
Riley sat down beside Ariana, offering silent support. Without a word, Ariana shifted, resting her head in Riley’s lap as her body gave in to exhaustion. Riley’s hand moved instinctively to Ariana’s hair, brushing it back gently.
Ariana’s gaze drifted upward to the stars, her eyes catching the faint glimmer of the Visus constellation. The sight stirred memories of a different life, of a night when the world felt much simpler. Her eyelids grew heavier as she stared at the sky, the tension in her body finally ebbing away in Riley’s protective presence.
“Get some rest,” Riley murmured softly, her tone carrying both command and comfort. “We’ll keep watch.”
Ariana’s eyes fluttered closed, the warmth of the fire and the steady hum of the camp lulling her to sleep. Riley glanced down at her, her hand still resting protectively on Ariana’s hair. For the first time in days, there was no fear or hesitation in her expression—only quiet resolve.
Around them, the camp buzzed with quiet activity, the rest of the group working together to secure their safety. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t home, but it was theirs. And tonight, it was enough.