Jason stood outside the bathhouse door for a moment, letting his heartbeat slow from the adrenaline rush. He could still hear water dripping inside, could still see Thalion’s pale shoulders disappearing beneath the steaming surface.

"Clean clothes " he reminded himself. "Find him clean clothes."

He found Ylva in their room, shoving the last of their belongings into the cloth sack. Her ears twitched when he entered, but she didn’t look up.

"Thalion needs clothes," Jason said. "Something that doesn’t have blood on it."

Ylva grunted and tossed him a folded bundle from the corner of the room. "Found these in a cabinet. Probably left by a previous guest."

Jason unfolded the bundle.

A robe. Deep blue, almost black, with silver threading along the cuffs and collar. The fabric was soft—silk, maybe, or something finer. It looked expensive. It looked like something a high-born elf would wear to a banquet.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "You found this in a cabinet?"

"The innkeeper owes us after that wraith-kin gave us this crappy room. Consider it even."

Jason didn’t ask Ylva anything regarding this but he was more surprised she was fine with theft. He just took the robe and walked back to the bathhouse.

He knocked once. "Thalion. I have clothes."

Silence. Then a soft splash.

"Come in," Thalion said.

Jason pushed the door open.

Thalion was standing beside the tub, water dripping down his thin frame. His silver hair was wet, hanging straight past his shoulders. His skin, no longer caked in grime, was pale as moonlight—almost translucent in places, with faint blue veins visible beneath the surface.

Jason tossed him the robe. "Put this on."

Thalion caught it with shaking hands and pulled it over his head. The fabric settled around his thin shoulders, draping elegantly down to his ankles. The silver threading caught the lantern light, glinting with every small movement.

For the first time in a while, Jason truly looked at him.

And he realized how young Thalion looked.

The elf had said he was over a hundred years old. Yet he looked like someone in his late teens. His face was smooth, unlined, almost delicate. His jaw was soft, his cheeks still carrying a hint of roundness that centuries of torture hadn’t completely erased.

Jason couldn’t tell before. The dirt, the grime, the matted hair—all of it had hidden the truth beneath. But now Thalion was clean. Washed. Dressed in robes that fit him like they were made for his slender frame.

He looked like a prince from one of those old stories. The kind that got locked in towers and needed rescuing.

Jason found himself glancing toward the door, toward where Ylva was waiting in the hallway.

He watched her face as she looked at Thalion. Watched for any sign of lingering eyes. Any flicker of attraction.

But to his comfort, Ylva did not care.

She treated Thalion the same way she had before the whole thing—the same flat stare, the same irritated ear flick, the same complete lack of interest.

"You clean up," she said flatly, "but you still look like you haven’t eaten in a decade."

Thalion’s lips twitched. "I haven’t."

"Then let’s get food before you collapse again."

-

They gathered their things and made their way down the stairs. The inn was still quiet—most people were still outside, gossiping about the dead orc. Jason kept his head down, Thalion kept his hood up, and Ylva walked between them like a shield.

They were almost to the front door when a massive figure stepped through it.

Kaelen.

The reptile’s yellow eyes swept the common room, then landed on Jason. His scarred snout wrinkled in what might have been a grin.

"Little meat," Kaelen rumbled. "Where are you going?"

Jason’s heart skipped. He forced a casual smile. "Just out. Getting food."

Kaelen’s gaze shifted to Thalion. The reptile’s head tilted, his slit pupils narrowing.

"Who is this?"

Jason’s mind raced. He had to think of a lie—something quick, something believable.

But before he could speak, Kaelen stepped closer. His massive nostrils flared. He inhaled deeply, once, twice.

"You," Kaelen said, pointing a clawed finger at Thalion. "You’re the one from the tavern. The sick one."

Jason blinked. He remembered.

"Yes," Jason said quickly. "He’s the one I was traveling with. Remember? The elf?"

Kaelen’s yellow eyes studied Thalion’s face. The robe. The silver hair. The pale skin.

"Why does he smell like that?" Kaelen asked.

Jason had no idea what he meant. "Like what?"

"Like death." Kaelen’s voice dropped lower. "Like inpurity. Like something that’s been buried and dug back up."

The dwarf behind him—Helga—shifted her weight, her warhammer clanking against her shield. "Kaelen. Leave them alone."

But Kaelen didn’t move. His yellow eyes were locked on Thalion, and something flickered in them. Recognition. Or suspicion.

"Why does he smell like that?" Kaelen asked again.

Thalion pulled his hood lower. His hands were trembling again.

Jason stepped between them, blocking Kaelen’s view. "He’s been sick. Traveling. We’re taking him to get food and rest."

Kaelen’s gaze didn’t waver. "There’s something familiar about him."

Jason’s stomach dropped.

Kaelen tilted his head, studying Thalion’s profile. The sharp jaw. The pointed ears visible beneath the hood.

"Where is he from?" Kaelen asked.

"Far away," Jason said. "Doesn’t matter."

"It matters." Kaelen’s clawed hand reached out, but Helga grabbed his arm.

"Kaelen. We have our own business. Leave the them alone."

Kaelen hesitated. His yellow eyes flickered between Jason and Thalion. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand.

"Fine," he grunted. "But I’m watching you, little meat. Something is off about your friend."

Jason forced a laugh. "Something is off about all of us."

Kaelen stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned and walked toward the back of the inn, Helga trailing behind him.

Jason exhaled.

"That was close," Ylva muttered.

"Too close." Jason grabbed Thalion’s arm and pulled him toward the door. "Let’s move. Now."

They slipped out of the inn and disappeared into the crowded streets.