I let out a slow sigh, pushing myself off the back wall. "I’m a swordsman, Elder. Not a businessman who knows negotiation."

"Merchants respect two things, Ren. Coin and power," the Elder said smoothly. "Lyra will handle the coin. You just need to stand there and remind them that the man who broke the Blood-Iron Tribe is watching their scales. They won’t dare cheat us. And also disguise yourself as a demon so they don’t discover you being a human."

"Fine, I will go then" I muttered.

The council meeting adjourned shortly after. The atmosphere in the village was electric. People were already sweeping their porches and pulling out whatever meager silver they had saved over the years, preparing for the arrival of the caravan.

I walked alongside Lyra as we made our way toward the southern gates. The afternoon sun cast long, peaceful shadows across the snow. For the first time, there were no armed patrols looking over their shoulders toward the northern peaks.

Lyra walked quietly, clutching a leather-bound ledger to her chest. She hadn’t said a word since we left the hall.

"You don’t have to be nervous," I said, breaking the silence. "The Elder is right, merchants are cowards. If they try to lowball you on the winter pelts, just look at me, and I’ll glare at them until they fix the price." I flashed a charming smile at her.

Lyra offered a small, appreciative smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stopped walking, looking out over the quiet, snow-covered roofs of the village.

"It’s not about the merchants, Ren," she said softly.

I stopped beside her, slipping my hands into my pockets. "Then what is it?"

Lyra let out a long breath, a plume of white in the cold air. She looked down at the ledger in her hands, her fingers tracing the worn leather binding. "Everything feels... strange," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Since my husband died... I’ve woken up every single day with this heavy, suffocating weight sitting on my chest," Lyra explained, looking up at the clear blue sky. "Fear became a habit for me to survive. I planned my days around it. I planned Mira’s life around it."

She turned to look at me, her green eyes shimmering with a complex mixture of relief and absolute exhaustion.

"And now... it’s just gone," she whispered. "The fear is gone. And I don’t know what to do with this peace. I don’t know who I am without fear."

It was a profoundly mature, deeply humane admission. Trauma didn’t just vanish because the monster was dead. It left behind an echoing, empty space that the mind didn’t know how to fill.

"You aren’t supposed to know yet," I said quietly, keeping my voice grounded. "You’ve been treading water for years, Lyra. Just trying to keep your head above the surface. You finally found solid ground. It’s okay if your legs feel a little shaky when you try to stand on it."

Lyra held my gaze for a long moment. A genuine warmth slowly entered her eyes, chasing away the lingering ghosts of the past few weeks.

"You always know what to say," she said softly. Not just for the words, but for the space to say them.

"MAMA!" The quiet, emotional moment was instantly shattered by a small, chaotic blur of motion.

Mira came sprinting out from between two cabins, her little demon tail wagging so fast it was practically a blur. She skidded to a halt in front of us, her eyes wide as saucers, completely out of breath.

"Mira, slow down," Lyra laughed, her motherly instincts instantly taking over the quiet melancholy. "What is it?"

"The boys said there are wagons coming!" Mira gasped, pointing frantically toward the southern gates. "With merchants! From the big cities!"

"Yes, they are," Lyra smiled, smoothing down her daughter’s messy hair. "Ren and I are going to go meet them now."

Mira spun around, looking up at me with an intensity that rivaled the Blood-Iron vanguard.

"Ren," Mira demanded, entirely serious. "Do merchants bring candy?"

I blinked, taken aback by the sheer gravity in her tone. "I... assume so, yeah. Usually."

"What kind?" Mira pressed, stepping closer. "Do they have the sugar rocks? Or the honey sticks? The old peddler brought honey sticks once when I was little, but he dropped them in the mud."

"I don’t know their inventory, Mira," I deadpanned.

"Can you ask them?" Mira asked, grabbing my coat and tugging sharply. "When you negotiate. Can you negotiate for candy? I have heard they are tasty. I wanna try them."

"I think your mother is handling the negotiations," I said, pointing a thumb at Lyra, who was now covering her mouth to hide a massive smile.

"Mama won’t buy candy," Mira groaned dramatically, dropping her head back. "She’ll buy boring things like flour and rice grain. You have the sword, Ren. You have to make them give us the candy."

"I’m not holding a merchant at sword-point for honey sticks, kiddo."

"But Ren—!"

A deep, echoing horn blew from the southern gates, cutting Mira off. The heavy wooden doors were slowly groaning open.

"We have to go," Lyra said, gently prying Mira’s hands off my coat. "Go wait with Uncle Korin, Mira. I promise I’ll look for the sugar rocks."

Mira cheered, immediately sprinting back toward the village square to spread the news of her impending sugary victory. I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips, and followed Lyra toward the open gates.

As we stepped out of the gates, the merchant caravan finally came into full view. It was a staggering sight. Six massive wagons, each pulled by a pair of massive, six-legged beasts covered in thick, shaggy wool.

The wagons were weathered but brightly painted, flying the colorful, geometric banners of the Merchant Guild. Men and women in strange, foreign clothing walked alongside the beasts, carrying exotic polearms and wearing armor forged in styles I had never seen before.

The isolation of Elderglen was officially over. The wider, massive world of this continent had finally arrived at our doorstep, bringing with it new faces, new goods, and undeniably, new problems.