Nura's fingers ache around the wicker basket weighed down with bloodied cloth and gauze. She inches her way down the winding steps, praying to the Spirits that her trembling knees don't give out.

When a shadow fills the narrow stairwell, she's too exhausted to step aside and stops, willing the person to be kind and clear the way. When they don't, she lifts her eyes from the basket and meets the icy stare of Talon. Her mouth goes dry seeing his stony expression, devoid of any sort of emotion.

"We need to go," he says, his voice low.

Nura glances behind her, back up the steps where the priests and priestesses continue to work into the night. "These soldiers still need my help," she argues, her body beyond exhausted but her soul insists there's still more she can give.

"They know, Nura," he continues, his voice taking on a sharp edge that has her gaze darting back to him and a lump forming in her throat. "They know you're travelling with me, the Ice Elf they're hunting. Someone must have seen us together. I can only imagine what they'll do to you to get the answers they seek."

"What are you talking about?" she demands, but Talon grips her upper arm and tugs her down the steps. She stubbles with the weight in her arms but he doesn't relent. "What do you mean they're hunting you?" She'd suspected as much, suspected that he was the reason Tiran was suspicious of her and Rephas. Nura didn't put much thought to being an accomplice to whatever they're chasing him for, she was too worried about Witch Hunters.

They reach the bottom of the stairs and Nura dumps the basket, her arms stiff from its weight.

"Through here," Talon says and drags her down a shadowed alcove away from the clatter of the kitchens and the clanking armour of the soldiers.

Talon pushes through an aged wooden door at the end of the hall, the hinges creaking and the wooding grinding on the stone.

"Talon, you need to start explaining things," Nura hisses, even as she ducks through the narrow space he created and out into the crisp air where night blankets the fort and a hush has ensued, the place seeming to hold its breath as it waits for the injured to survive the night.

Nura should be staying, should be overseeing the soldiers to make certain they keep breathing until morning. Talon strides forward, towards the gates where only a few soldiers linger to keep watch. The shadows are dense and Talon slips into them with ease, but Nura hesitates by the door, her pulse fluttering in her neck.

Going back out there would mean facing the Shadow Elves again, being chased by Witch Hunters, and angry villagers. But in this fort is what she knows, amongst the smell of herbs and the quiet beside the healing. Here she's tired because she's been saving lives, not because she's terrified.

"Nura."

Nura glances up as Talon's voice reaches her amongst the dark. Her feet are stuck, indecision tugs at her insides, but her husband is still out there. Rephas is why she's thrown herself into danger, and sitting in a fort isn't going to get her any closer to him. She owes it to him to abandon safety and comfort and look for him. She owes him for helping her discover a life beyond Hold Tiore. She slanders all he's done for her by having second thoughts.

Nura forces herself to move forward and dashes towards the gate, eager now to continue her path towards Rephas. She doesn't know where it'll lead, but she knows it's time to find him.

Talon and her move towards the gate, their horses waiting in the trees beyond.

"Nura!"

She stumbles to a halt when someone steps out of the shadows of the gate, blocking their escape. Knight-Captain Tiran's gaze is sharp and his features are unforgiving as he looks upon them, his sword already drawn, glinting in the light of the moon.

His gaze flicks to Talon and the grip he has on the hilt of his sword tightens. "So, the rumours are true. The great White Dragon has come back to the Human lands."

Nura's breath freezes in her lungs as she looks at Talon, dread washing over her like icy water.

That can't be true. The White Dragon is a legend, their presence whispered about in every significant battle. Blessed by the Spirit of Frost, cursed with eternity.

Tiran raises his sword and points the tip at Talon, a snarl curling his lip.

Nura pushes through her confusion, wrestles with her inner turmoil, to stand between the two men, putting herself between Talon and Tiran's wicked blade.

"Get out of the way, ma'am," Tiran orders, but Nura swallows the lump that clogs her throat and shakes her head.

"Nura," Talon breathes from behind her, his voice a soft warning.

Nura glances over her shoulder at him. "Knight-Captain Tiran saved my life," she says, her voice trembling, but she refuses to back down. She turns her gaze back to the captain. "And Taliondil is a man of honour. He's escorting me to safety. I will not let you fight one another."

Tiran regards her with open contempt. "Do you know who you're travelling with? Do you have any idea what he's capable of?"

Nura clenches her jaw. "If you say 'the White Dragon' again, I'll have to remind you that such a thing is just a story."

"It's not!" he yells, his sword shaking in his grip.

"Listen to yourself!" Nura shouts back at him, beyond tired of myths and legends, of the Spirits and of questions she has no answers to.

"I am," Tiran growls and takes a step forward. "It was the White Dragon that turned the tide of battle in Bielfrit, the battle that killed our fathers." His eyes flash at he looks at Talon. "It was him that killed them, and I want his head."

Bile rises in Nura's throat and her knees threaten to buckle, but she shakes her head. "You're mistaken."

"Why are you siding with the man who killed your father, Nura?"

"He didn't," she hisses, even as Tiran's words hit her like a blow to the face.

"There are reports saying otherwise."

Nura's eyes flutter closed as she tries to process his words. But she can't possibly. Her father died seven years ago, was killed in battle because he was a soldier. He knew the consequences of war, yet he fought anyway. Seeking revenge against Talon for his death would be no better than seeking revenge against the Dark King for the deaths of thousands. It doesn't make sense.

Nura opens her eyes and glares at Tiran with all the strength she can muster. "I've saved many of your mens' lives tonight," Nura says, her voice steady. "The least you can repay me with is letting us go, putting aside your vendetta for this moment."

Tiran doesn't lower his blade, but his gaze does waver between Nura and Talon.

"Nura claims you saved her life," Talon speaks. "If I don't get her out of the Human lands then she'll die by the hands of Witch Hunters who have no doubt already discovered we're here. Your efforts would have been for nothing."

Tiran's mouth twists and he struggles with himself, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth and lowers his sword. Nura lets out a breath. "But we'll see each other again, Elf, and next time I won't be so merciful."

Talon inclines his head. "I'd expect nothing less."