Naomi looked up into Elara’s eyes, searching, her small fingers twisting into the fabric of her tunic. “Was I brave? Did I do it right?”

  Elara’s response was immediate. She pulled Naomi into a tight embrace, arms wrapped protectively around the child. “Yes, Naomi. You were very brave, and you did an amazing job.” Her voice was soft but firm, a steady warmth against the lingering echoes of fear in the girl’s expression.

  She pressed a kiss to the top of Naomi’s head. “You are a truly incredible young Dreamwalker, and I bet you’re the bravest girl in all of Stonebridge.”

  Naomi let out a delighted giggle, a bright sound that cut through the tension still clinging to the air. Del watched as the last traces of fear melted away from her small frame, replaced by the quiet pride of someone who had done something important.

  “Braver than Nate,” she declared confidently, straightening her shoulders before hopping off Elara’s lap.

  Del smirked. “That’s not a high bar, lass.”

  Naomi ignored him, already bouncing on her heels. “Can I go home now? It’s getting late, and Mummy will want me home for supper.”

  He nodded. “Aye, straight home now. No getting sidetracked, you hear?”

  “I won’t!” she promised, already halfway to the door.

  Elara’s lips parted as if to say something, but she hesitated, watching Naomi’s retreating figure.

  “Be careful, Naomi,” she finally called after her, her voice softer, more worried than she probably intended.

  Naomi just waved over her shoulder and disappeared out the door, her footsteps fading into the growing noise of the town outside.

  Del exhaled, only now realising just how much tension had coiled through his body. He stretched, rolling his shoulders, grimacing as something cracked in his spine. Damn, I was wound up tighter than I thought.

  He offered his hand to Elara, helping her up from the couch.

  “We need to go see Paolo,” he said, his tone shifting from the warmth of Naomi’s farewell to something colder, more focused.

  Elara nodded, her expression already sharpening into something more serious.

  The moment they stepped outside, the mood hit them like a wall.

  The market square had transformed from its usual lively bustle into something harsher. Urgent. The air crackled with tension, thick with the sound of boots thudding against packed earth, weapons clanking as they were pulled from storage, and voices barking orders over the low murmur of worried conversations.

  Stonebridge wasn’t a town built for war, but tonight, it sure as hell looked like one.

  Del’s eyes swept the scene.

  Men were strapping on mismatched pieces of armour—some dented and old, others clearly borrowed or hastily fashioned from whatever they could find. A few carried proper weapons, but most wielded whatever was available—woodcutting axes, long hunting knives, even a couple of rusted pitchforks.

  Among them, he spotted familiar faces.

  Jake and Merl stood near the well, their conversation hushed but serious. Merl absently tested the edge of his sword with his thumb as he spoke, his usual easy grin nowhere to be seen. The butcher—Mr Willis—stood beside them, arms crossed, nodding along grimly.

  Further along, Del recognised Naomi’s father, last seen plaining staves just days ago—Mr Cooper, was it?—strapping a thick leather belt over his tunic.

  His gaze flickered.

  ‘What was his wife doing with Mr Tyler the other day?’ He smirked to himself before pushing the thought aside. ‘Focus, Del.’

  Elara tapped his arm, drawing his attention back.

  Paolo was striding toward them, frowning as he fought with a stubborn buckle on his jerkin. The usually unshakable leader of the militia looked stressed, his movements sharp, impatient.

  “I saw Naomi leaving,” he said the moment he reached them. “Was she able to tell you anything?”

  Del felt Elara stiffen beside him, and her voice came out clipped. “She’s fine, thank you for asking.”

  Paolo blinked at the unexpected sharpness.

  Del shot Elara a quick look. ‘Easy, tiger.’

  He turned back to Paolo. “She gave us more details, but we’ll know more once we get there.”

  Paolo’s jaw worked, as if he was debating whether to push for more. Then, quieter, almost hesitant—

  “Are they…” He swallowed, lowering his voice. “Are they alive?”

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  Del met his gaze. ‘Ah. That’s what’s really weighing on him.’

  He took a breath, steadying his own nerves before answering. “Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “Emily and Vita were both alive when she saw them.”

  Paolo closed his eyes for the briefest moment, exhaling through his nose. The tension in his shoulders shifted—less of that tight, coiled dread, more of a razor-sharp focus. They can still be saved.

  “She wasn’t able to check on anyone else,” Del continued. “The Night Man—” He hesitated, then grimaced. “—butted in.”

  Paolo let out a pent-up sigh of relief as his focus shifted, now he had something to work on, it was time to get stuck into the rescue. Time was of the essence if they were to get the taken villagers out alive.

  Elara took over then, her voice smoothing out, the earlier annoyance at Paolo gone—replaced with something heavier.

  "Whoever he is, he may be a lot more dangerous than we’ve been thinking.”

  Paolo’s face darkened. His fingers rubbed anxiously together, an unconscious tell.

  Elara pressed on. “From what Naomi was able to tell us, he could definitely see her astral form. That means, at the very least, he has some magical ability.” She shrugged, but the gesture didn’t hide the unease in her voice. “She couldn’t describe him, though. Said it was like... he was more of a presence than a person. But she was too scared of him to push it.”

  Del watched the elder nod, absorbing the information with a grim expression before turning sharply on his heel. His voice boomed across the square as he began issuing orders to the hastily gathered militia.

  Del exhaled slowly, staring at the ground.

  This is going to be a shit show. I just know it.

  His gut churned. It was one thing fighting goblins—little bastards were small, clumsy, predictable. Even bandits, for all their brutality, were just men with knives.

  But this?

  This was something else.

  Del lifted his gaze to the sky, not looking for anything in particular—just needing something to focus on beyond the gnawing feeling twisting inside him.

  ‘How the fuck do we fight magic?’

  The weight of his situation pressed down hard, heavier than before. I don’t belong here. Even with Elara standing right beside him, even with familiar faces just feet away, a sharp and bitter loneliness clawed at his ribs.

  The alienness of this world was getting to him.

  Then, a gentle pressure nudged against his mind, warm and steady.

  He blinked and looked down.

  Misty sat at his feet, her golden eyes locked onto his, tail curled neatly around her paws.

  ‘Not alone,’ he felt her say, the words rippling through him, calm and quiet.

  The tightness in his chest loosened, just a little.

  Letting out a slow breath, he reached down and ran a hand over her head.

  ‘Thank you, girl.’

  The moment stretched between them, unspoken but understood.

  Then, straightening, Del rubbed his hands together and dusted an imaginary speck off his leg. He turned to Elara with a small, wry smile.

  “Shall we?”

  Del stepped forward, raising his voice to be heard over the general hubbub.

  “Right, lads, if we’re doing this, we need to move now—before the last of the light’s gone.”

  At first, the crowd hesitated.

  A few exchanged uncertain glances.

  Then, a gruff voice broke through the murmurs.

  “And who exactly put you in charge?”

  Del turned his head, locking eyes with a stocky, grey-bearded man near the front—one of the older hunters, judging by his thick leather vest and well-worn bow slung across his back. His face was carved with deep lines, eyes sharp with suspicion.

  “That’s what I’d like to know, too,” a younger man added, arms folded. He stood near the blacksmith’s stall, his bare forearms streaked with soot. “No offence, stranger, but we barely know you.”

  A few voices muttered their agreement. The ripple of doubt spread, small but noticeable.

  Del clenched his jaw. Of course.

  He should’ve expected this—he wasn’t from Stonebridge, wasn’t one of them. They might have fought beside him once or twice, but leading a rescue mission? That was another matter.

  His first instinct was to snap—to tell them he’d done more to track this bastard than any of them had. But he forced himself to hold steady. Losing his temper wouldn’t help.

  He spread his hands, keeping his voice level but firm.

  “You’re right,” he said, meeting the older hunter’s gaze directly. “You don’t know me. But I know this—while you lot were still guessing, I was already out there tracking this bastard down.”

  A flicker of uncertainty crossed the older man’s face, but Del pressed on.

  “I know how he works. I know where he is. And I know we have one shot at this before he disappears for good.” His eyes swept the gathered men. “If you’d rather argue, be my guest. But every second we waste standing here is another second he’s got to do whatever the hell he wants to Emily and Vita, Breeda… all of the others he has taken”

  Silence.

  A few men shifted uncomfortably. Someone muttered a curse.

  Then, Merl’s voice cut through the tension.

  “He’s right.”

  The burly man stepped forward, his fingers tapping against the pommel of his sword. “Del may be new, but I think he has a good head. He’s also fought before; he took out the arses that killed Lucas and brought us word.” He glanced at the older hunter. “And we don’t have time to stand around pissing about.”

  Jake followed, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Besides, if he gets us all killed, I’ll make sure the first round’s on his tab.”

  A ripple of nervous laughter broke the tension, but the challenge had been met.

  Paolo stepped in smoothly, his voice steady.

  “Del has been leading the search—figuring out what’s happened and where our people have been taken. For now, he’s in charge of the rescue.”

  The older hunter exhaled through his nose, then gave a curt nod. He still looked sceptical, but he didn’t argue.

  Del held his gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the rest of them.

  That seemed to settle most of the villagers, though a few still exchanged wary glances.

  Merl caught Del’s eye and gave him a firm nod of approval, gripping the hilt of his sword in a way that suggested he was more than ready for a fight.

  From the crowd, Jake’s voice rang out, casual but confident. “First drink is on the house when we get back with them.”

  A ripple of laughter followed, easing some of the tension.

  Even Del, wound up as he was, couldn’t help but chuckle. Good man, Jake.

  He took a breath, steadying himself, and let his voice carry.

  “We don’t exactly know what we’re walking into,” he admitted, scanning the faces before him. “But we do know this—whoever this bastard is, he’s got something up his sleeve. We know he uses Listwort to subdue his victims, and we know he’s got some level of magical ability.”

  A low murmur rippled through the gathered men at the mention of magic. Fear. Uncertainty.

  Del raised a hand, silencing them.

  “But we also know this—right now, those people are alive.” His words were firm, cutting through the unease. He let that sink in. He saw relief flicker across some faces, saw the weight in Paolo’s shoulders shift as his worst fear was confirmed not to be true—at least, not yet.

  He glanced at Elara, who gave him a subtle nod of approval.

  “So,” Del continued, his voice hardening, “let’s get to that quarry. Let’s finish this. And let’s make sure that bastard never takes another soul again.”

  A loud cheer rose from the militia.

  Weapons were shouldered, shields adjusted, boots scuffing against the ground as men steeled themselves.

  The people of Stonebridge were ready.

  Del adjusted the grip on his own weapon, jaw set.

  No more waiting.

  It was time to move.