The chill of the Endless Woods had begun to seep into my bones, a damp counterpoint to the raging fire of my hair. I’d walked for hours, pushing past the pain of shredded clothing and the memory of Elijah Frost’s dungeon. Now, the scent of roasting meat and woodsmoke promised warmth, drawing me to the distant glow of the Immortals Den.

As I neared, the ancient tavern loomed, its worn sign creaking in the whispering wind, a single, luminescent tooth carved into its white paint. I peered through the window, seeing only cloaked figures, their tankards clinking softly. No King Eternus’ knights. A small relief.

"A drink, Mum?" The barkeep's voice, surprisingly gentle, greeted me as I pushed through the heavy door, a wave of heat enveloping me. I kept my head down, cloak pulled tight, knowing the danger that lay in my eyes.

"Just a room please," I whispered, sliding a coin across the counter, gloved finger retreating quickly. The less skin, the less allure. But his eyes, they drifted over my head, seeking permission. That familiar flood of power, chilling and potent, washed over me, making my own magic recoil. Impossible. I’d travelled all day to get out of his reach. But then, my eyes landed on him, seated in the west windowsill, pale blonde hair catching the moonlight, fierce blue eyes fixed on me. Gray.