Chronicles of Fates Path

Keshan Hamlet's old storehouse was cramped, and the faint smell of damp grain lingered in every corner. Still, it was drier than any place the trio had seen in days. Lan Zhuoran wiped the table with a ragged cloth, clearing a spot for Yin Feiyan to rest her injured arm. Gao Tianrong lingered near the door, his keen eyes flicking to every shadow.

Before long, the promised warm water arrived—carried by a thin young man with wide, curious eyes. He set a steaming bucket on the table and left without a word, as though wary of these newcomers. Yin Feiyan offered a subdued nod of thanks, but the boy had vanished before she could say anything else.

"We should see if Yao or anyone else has medicinal herbs," Lan Zhuoran said quietly, inspecting Feiyan's wound yet again. Fresh blood had stained the bandages. He frowned. "It's getting worse."

Gao Tianrong looked at Feiyan with concern. "I'll go check. Keep your guard up." He slipped outside, bow in hand.

A moment later, a knock sounded at the door. Lan Zhuoran tensed, then relaxed when it opened to reveal Siqin, the female escort from earlier. She held a small bundle of herbs and a jar in her other hand. "Linghu said you needed these," she murmured, stepping inside cautiously.

Lan Zhuoran offered a grateful smile. "Thank you. We appreciate your kindness."

She nodded, setting the bundle on the table. "The jar has crushed hua-lan root. Boil it and apply as a poultice. It's not the best, but it might help the swelling."

Yin Feiyan forced a brave grin. "You're saving me. Thank you."

Siqin hesitated, glancing around. "We don't have much, but we look after each other here. The bandits rarely come because there's little to steal. But we've heard rumors of mercenaries in the area."

Lan Zhuoran's stomach clenched. He stepped closer, voice low. "Have you seen them? Wearing black cloaks, a wolf emblem?"

She shook her head. "Not personally, but travelers who pass through sometimes mention them. They say these mercenaries move quickly, attacking small villages if there's profit."

Yin Feiyan closed her eyes, frustration radiating from her tense posture. She felt partially responsible—Skyfire Protocol was the reason for the Syndicate's ruthless presence. Yet countless innocents, like the hamlet's residents, were caught in the crossfire. "We'll leave soon," she promised softly. "We don't want to bring trouble here."

Siqin gave a faint nod, as if relieved. "I'll be outside if you need help."

She departed, and Lan Zhuoran busied himself with boiling water in a battered tin pot they'd found near the barrels. He crushed the hua-lan root into a bowl, mixing it with the heated water to form a paste. Carefully, he removed Yin Feiyan's soiled bandages and applied the warm poultice to her wound. She hissed, tears pricking her eyes, but she endured.

"This might help draw out infection," he said, voice hushed. "We just need to give it time."

She exhaled shakily. "Thank you."

As they worked, Gao Tianrong returned, ducking through the doorway. Rainwater dripped from his cloak, and his amber eyes shone with urgency. "I spoke with Yao. He confirmed rumors of mercenaries skirmishing with bandits in the next valley. No mention of the Syndicate specifically, but it's enough to keep me on edge."

Lan Zhuoran's jaw tightened. "Then we can't stay long. But Feiyan needs at least a night to rest."

Yin Feiyan arched an eyebrow, voice firm despite her pain. "You're both forgetting that I'm still here. One night is all I need. We move tomorrow."

Gao Tianrong didn't argue. Instead, he helped place a small bench for Feiyan to lie on, propping up her wounded arm. The storehouse provided minimal comfort, but the chance to nurse her injuries in relative safety was a precious gift. Outside, the rain continued, pattering on the roof like a reminder of passing time.

Eventually, Yao himself visited, stamping mud from his boots as he entered. He nodded at the three travelers, curiosity and mild distrust blending in his gaze. "I hear you'll be gone tomorrow. That's for the best. We don't want outsiders sticking around long—sorry to be blunt."

Yin Feiyan tried to sit up straighter, wincing. "We understand. Thank you for letting us stay."

He grunted. "For what it's worth, we don't want the mercenaries after us, either. If you can stand by morning, you'll find a dirt path leading out of the hamlet to the southeast. From there, it's another two days to the next region. Not sure if you'll find any bigger towns, but it's the best we can offer."

Lan Zhuoran exchanged a quick look with Gao Tianrong, then nodded to Yao. "We appreciate your help. We'll keep our promise and leave at first light."

Yao said nothing more and left, pulling the door shut behind him. They heard a muffled conversation outside—likely villagers questioning their presence. The uneasy alliance was clear: the hamlet offered shelter, but wanted no part in any larger conflict. Lan Zhuoran couldn't blame them.

As the evening wore on, the travelers shared a subdued meal of dried rations and whatever hot water they could spare. The barn offered no privacy, so they arranged a watch schedule in case of trouble. Gao Tianrong took first watch, perched near the door, bow across his lap.

Lan Zhuoran settled near Yin Feiyan, who gingerly shifted her posture on the bench. "Try to sleep," he urged softly. "We'll handle the watch."

She let out a shuddering breath, exhaustion clear in her eyes. "I'll try."

Before drifting off, she murmured, "We're close, right? To the capital?"

Lan Zhuoran hesitated. "We've still got distance to cover, but we're past the worst. I promise."

She managed a weak smile. "Then I'll keep trusting that promise."

His heart constricted at her quiet faith. Resolving not to fail her, he adjusted the poultice on her arm, then leaned back against the storehouse wall. Outside, the rain lessened to a soft patter. For once, they had walls and relative peace. Tomorrow would bring another stretch of hazardous roads, but for tonight, they could gather their strength.

Time slipped by, the storehouse echoing with the drip of water through cracks in the roof. Gao Tianrong maintained his silent vigil by the door, while Lan Zhuoran fought off his own weariness. Yin Feiyan finally drifted into a restless slumber.

In that somber hush, each companion harbored unspoken fears of what lay ahead—Syndicate ambushes, hidden perils, and the heavy burden of Skyfire Protocol. Yet the gentle lullaby of rain offered a momentary grace, holding back the chaos for just a night longer.