Celestial Remnant: The Eternal Ascension

The forest stretched endlessly ahead, morning mist curling between the trees like ghostly fingers. Damian and Evelyn moved in silence, their footsteps muffled by damp earth and fallen leaves. The remnants of their battle lay behind them, bodies cooling in the morning air, but neither spared them a second glance.

Damian felt the weight of the encounter settling in his mind. The bounty on his head wasn't just a coincidence. Someone was actively hunting him. And considering the level of his current strength, that was a problem.

Evelyn was just a few steps ahead, her posture relaxed, but he knew better. She was listening, sensing, waiting.

"You're quiet," she finally said.

"Thinking," Damian replied.

"That's dangerous."

He smirked. "For me or for them?"

Evelyn shot him a sidelong glance. "Both."

They continued through the dense foliage, moving toward the nearest town. If they wanted answers, they'd need information. And information always had a price.

---

The Whispering Veil

The town of Redbrook was a crossroads for travelers, mercenaries, and merchants alike. Nestled between rivers and rolling hills, it was a place where coin dictated everything—from loyalty to silence.

Evelyn led him through winding streets, past vendors shouting over one another, hawking everything from dried meats to questionable alchemical concoctions. The scent of roasted spices mixed with the underlying musk of unwashed bodies.

"We're meeting someone?" Damian asked.

"A contact," Evelyn confirmed. "Goes by Milo. Runs a small operation here—information, stolen goods, and sometimes people, if the price is right."

Damian arched an eyebrow. "And you trust him?"

Evelyn chuckled. "No. But I trust that he values his neck, and crossing me would be bad for business."

She led him to a small establishment nestled between two larger buildings. The Whispering Veil.

Inside, the scent of incense masked something darker. The room was dimly lit, velvet curtains draping over private booths, where shadowy figures murmured in hushed voices. A den of secrets.

A wiry man leaned against the counter, his blond hair slightly disheveled, sharp green eyes scanning them the moment they entered. Milo.

"Well, well," he drawled, flashing a grin. "Evelyn, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."

"Wishful thinking," Evelyn said dryly.

Milo's gaze flickered to Damian, eyes narrowing slightly. "And who's your friend?"

"None of your concern."

Milo chuckled. "Everything's my concern. But fine, let's pretend I don't care." He motioned toward a private booth. "Sit. Let's talk business."

They settled into the booth, Milo leaning forward with casual ease. "What do you need?"

Evelyn didn't hesitate. "Someone put a bounty on him." She tilted her head toward Damian. "I need to know who."

Milo whistled low. "That's expensive information."

Damian reached into his coat, producing a small pouch of gold. He tossed it onto the table. "Start talking."

Milo weighed the pouch in his hand before smirking. "Alright. Let's see…"

He drummed his fingers against the table. "Word on the street is, a high-ranking noble from the capital put out the request. Discreet, but with serious coin attached. Enough to attract the best hunters."

Damian's jaw tightened. The capital.

He hadn't been there since his fall, but if someone from within its walls was after him, that meant they knew.

Evelyn studied him carefully. "Recognition?"

"Possible," Damian muttered.

Milo watched them both, amused. "Seems you've got quite the past, friend."

"More than you need to know," Damian said.

Milo laughed. "Fair enough. Just be careful—whoever's after you isn't some low-level lord looking for revenge. They have resources. And they want you gone."

Damian leaned back, absorbing the information. Someone from the capital. But why now?

Evelyn tapped the table. "That's enough. We're done here."

Milo smirked. "Pleasure doing business."

---

The Night's Confession

They found an inn on the quieter side of town. A two-story structure built from dark oak, offering modest rooms with privacy.

Evelyn tossed a coin to the innkeeper and secured a single room—not for lack of funds, but because neither of them fully trusted the town.

As the door closed behind them, Damian exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"Someone from the capital," he murmured.

Evelyn leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You want to tell me why that matters?"

Damian hesitated. He hadn't told her everything.

She had suspicions—she knew he wasn't an ordinary man—but the truth? That was a different matter.

Evelyn pushed off the wall and walked toward him, her eyes searching his face. "You don't have to tell me everything, Damian. But if I'm risking my neck for you, I deserve to know something."

He looked at her, really looked at her.

She wasn't just another sword-for-hire.

She had stayed.

And that? That made a difference.

Damian sighed, his fingers grazing his belt as he chose his words carefully. "I was… more than what I am now."

Evelyn tilted her head. "That's vague."

He smirked. "I thought you liked mystery."

Evelyn stepped closer, the firelight casting golden hues in her eyes. "Not when it gets people killed."

For a moment, neither spoke. The tension between them shifted. Not just from secrecy, but from something deeper.

He noticed how close she was—how her body almost touched his.

Evelyn exhaled, her breath warm against his skin. "Damian."

He swallowed. "Yeah?"

Her fingers brushed against his wrist, deliberate. Testing.

"Is it just the bounty that has you tense?" she murmured.

Damian chuckled low. "You tell me."

For the first time, Evelyn hesitated.

They had been circling each other since the moment they met.

They were both warriors. Both guarded. But right now? The battle wasn't on a battlefield.

Evelyn's gaze flickered to his lips for a split second before she smirked and stepped back. "Get some sleep. We leave at dawn."

Damian exhaled. "Tease."

Evelyn chuckled as she settled onto the small couch, stretching out comfortably. "Call it strategic patience."

Damian shook his head, running a hand through his hair. The storm between them was only growing.

And sooner or later, it would break