Chapter 4: Doubt

The tavern had stopped breathing. Voices faded. The fire hesitated. Even the air felt like it was listening.

The silver-haired man’s words lingered like a curse: “The Shadow Gorge does not forgive.”

Prometheus felt the bell at his waist grow heavier. The phrase echoed inside him — not just as a warning, but as memory. A mentor’s voice, long gone: “This is your burden now.”

A grizzled man rose from his seat. “They say the last team came back empty. Not of supplies — of soul.”

Hitomi glanced at her sword. Her smile remained, but her grip betrayed her. Laima’s fingers trembled against her bow. Noctua stood still, eyes scanning for answers that no one offered.

“Only fools accept missions like this,” someone muttered. “They’ll be crow food,” another laughed.

Brek didn’t flinch. He looked at his blade — not for comfort, but for clarity. “It doesn’t matter what we feel now. What matters is what we do when the time comes.”

Then Hitomi spoke, voice light but not carefree: “Couldn’t it be something more… fun? Like a festival? Or an archery contest?”

Her tone danced. But those who knew her… knew. That smile was no longer joy. It was armor.