A week had passed since the noble’s blade cut across Tamemoto’s chest.

  Life in Camp Tile tried to return to what it once was — quiet mornings by the river, the distant rumble of caravans on the road, the constant murmur of the market square. But nothing felt the same.

  Gray sat on the porch of their small hut, back against the weathered wood, watching the Tile River flow past.

  His arms still ached from the fight — a deep, grinding pain that flared every time he moved too quickly.

  The old break from months ago had healed, but the new strain had woken it up again.

  He clenched his teeth and stayed silent.

  Inside the hut, Tamemoto was still recovering.

  The slash across his chest had been shallow, but it had bled heavily.

  Rebecca changed the bandages every morning, her own hands trembling from the sickness that never left her.

  Gauis went out every day with the small cart, scavenging near the Ashfall outskirts or trading at the market to bring back food and medicine.

  Gray stayed behind to watch over his brother, the guilt sitting heavy in his chest like a second heartbeat.

  The days blurred together.

  Gray would help Tamemoto sit up, bring him water, change the bandages when Rebecca was too tired.

  They didn’t talk much about what happened.

  The noble’s name — Lirian el Calder — hung in the air like a shadow they didn’t name.

  Tamemoto’s POV (that first morning he woke up)

  Tamemoto opened his eyes to the sound of Rebecca coughing softly in the corner.

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  His chest burned. The bandage was tight and sticky with dried blood. He tried to sit up and a sharp gasp tore from his throat.

  “Gah—!”

  The pain was immediate and vicious, like fire across his skin.

  He looked toward the door and saw Rebecca and Gauis preparing to leave — Rebecca’s steps slow and unsteady, Gauis’s shoulders hunched from the old wound that never healed right.

  They were going out again to get food because he was too weak to help.

  Gray was beside him, quietly wiping his forehead with a damp cloth.

  Tamemoto felt something crack inside his chest.

  I’m the most incompetent one here.

  He wanted to cry. The tears were right there, hot behind his eyes. But he swallowed them down.

  No more crying.

  The thought was quiet but fierce.

  I won’t cry anymore. I will grow. I will protect my family.

  From that day forward, something in Tamemoto changed.

  He stopped complaining about the pain.

  He started asking Gray to help him stand and walk around the hut even when it hurt.

  His voice became steadier. He watched everything — how Gray moved, how Gauis taught, how Rebecca smiled even when she was tired.

  He began helping with small things: folding bandages, sorting herbs, carrying water when his chest allowed it.

  Gray noticed.

  His little brother talked differently now — not like a scared kid anymore, but like someone who had decided something important.

  Tamemoto was becoming more proactive, offering to help without being asked, his eyes sharper.

  Gray didn’t say anything about it. But he felt a quiet pride mixed with something heavier.

  Today, Tamemoto was finally able to move on his own again.

  He waited until Gray was busy helping Rebecca with the laundry by the river.

  Then he walked slowly to where Gauis was sitting alone on a log near the water, sharpening his knife.

  Gauis looked up. His good eye softened when he saw his younger son.

  “You’re walking better,” Gauis said.

  Tamemoto stopped in front of him. His small hands were clenched at his sides.

  “During the fight with the female guard from Solvaris…” he began, voice steady despite the memory.

  “I felt something different. Not like before. It was… flowing. Like it wanted to come out. I think… I think I touched aura.”

  Gauis set the knife down slowly.

  “You did well, my son,” he said quietly. “That experience will help you more than you know. If you want to grow… if you want to learn more about aura… I will teach you. Everything I know.”

  Tamemoto’s eyes shone with determination.

  “I want to be stronger,” he said. “For Gray. For Rebecca. For you.”

  Gauis reached out and placed a rough hand on Tamemoto’s shoulder.

  “Then we start tomorrow.”

  Tamemoto nodded once.

  He turned and walked back toward the hut, steps still careful but no longer hesitant.

  Gray watched from a distance, the river flowing steadily beside him.

  And for the first time in a long time, Gray felt like they might actually have a chance.