Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee

Freya doesn’t answer right away.

She keeps watching me across the table, her face as cold as the real chill her skin carries to anyone who gets near.

Rhayne sits across from me, more composed than she should be after taking an arrow to the lung and waking from a skill that nearly swallowed the plaza. Veric occupies the chair beside her, too elegant for someone crumpled by an ice scythe a few hours ago. Mira picks the corner next to Freya. Zhang Xi settles near the door on Veric’s side, serene, as if private bar rooms were just another kind of infirmary. Come to think of it, every place looks the same to her.

The silence stretches until it turns uncomfortable.

Then someone knocks.

The attendant pokes his head in, cautious the way you get from serving Divers who are sour over losses and overexcited about wins.

"Will you order now?"

Freya raises an eyebrow at me, as if his arrival just demolished my attempt at drama. I breathe through my nose. "Yes. We’ll order now."

Rhayne lifts her face in the same instant. The change is small but visible. Her eyes catch a shine the arrow, the Void, and all the plaza’s tragedy couldn’t kill. She looks at the wooden menu the attendant hands over as if that slab of board had just promised a less terrible world.

"Do they still have those tide dumplings?" she asks.

The attendant seems relieved to finally hear a normal question. "We do. With sweet kelp sauce or spicy."

Rhayne looks at me. I look back. "Order both."

She tries to hold the smile. Fails without much resistance. "Then I want tide dumplings with both sauces, crispy fish, hot coral soup, black garlic bread, and... what was that dessert shaped like a shell?"

"Lunaria honey shell," Veric says, without consulting the menu.

Rhayne points at him, making a V with her fingers, with almost religious gratitude. "That."

Veric orders Soline juice and a light portion of grilled meat, in the tone of a man faking moderation because he still wants to look like a prince after being saved by Zhang Xi the same day. Mira orders dark ale and roast with bitter root. Freya picks cold water, pale wine, and a dish the attendant describes as "blades of raw fish in blue brine." It suits her in a tedious way. Zhang Xi asks for hot root tea and plain rice with broth.

I order a Blood & Sand, less alcohol than last time, and the same crispy fish Rhayne chose. Then I tell him to bring water for everyone too.

No one complains. Even Freya accepts that order without turning it into a contest, which already says something about the room slowly improving.

When the attendant leaves, the tension doesn’t vanish, but it changes rhythm. Rhayne follows the sound of footsteps down the corridor with an anticipation too quiet to call childish and too sincere to ignore.

Veric notices, of course. He always notices when something touches Rhayne and her feelings start speaking louder than she does.

"You nearly erased a plaza," he says, straightening his sleeve. "And your priority is still a dumpling."

Rhayne lowers her eyes, but the smile stays. "I erased a plaza without remembering it. The hunger I remember... all the time."

Mira lets the air out through her nose, then a real laugh. Freya looks at Rhayne a moment longer than before. Her respect for Rhayne seems to want to turn into affection. It’s contagious, with everyone. What scares me is that Freya with affection would probably be more dangerous than Freya with contempt.

The food arrives on two large trays. The smell of hot fish, dark bread, and broth cuts through the rest of the room with a brutal humanity. After blood, burned OXI, and crater dust, it feels almost normal. Almost earthly.

Rhayne takes the first dumpling in both hands, blows on it fast, and bites before it cools. Her face changes again. This time it’s pure, simple pleasure, the small happiness of someone still alive with hot food in front of her.

For some reason, that lands deeper in me than Freya’s icy stare.

Zhang Xi drinks her tea in silence, but her shoulders visibly ease. Veric eats slowly, watching Rhayne with a softness he probably thinks is invisible. Mira devours her meat like someone unwilling to admit she needs to rebuild her body. Freya drinks the water first, then tastes the wine without hurry.

I let everyone eat a few minutes, watching each of them, letting the mood settle without forcing it. Not only out of kindness. Hard conversations go down better when the body isn’t bracing to flee.

When Rhayne finishes her second dumpling and starts deciding whether the sweet sauce beats the spicy, I rest my fingers against the side of the glass.

"Freya."

She lifts her eyes. The room catches the shift before I continue. Rhayne stops with the dumpling halfway to her mouth. Veric leans back. Mira sets her mug down without a sound.

"I said what I’m about to tell you could save your life," I say. "But before you decide whether to hear me out, let me make one thing clear. I won’t ask for faith."

Freya turns the glass between her fingers. "What a relief. Faith looks terrible on you."

"I also won’t tell you everything."

"Then you’re asking for trust."

"No. I’m asking you to recognize a pattern."

Her face loses a little of its irony. It’s the most I can ask for on the first cut. "A pattern of what?"

I look at Veric, then Rhayne, then Zhang Xi. "You think they follow me because I’m pleasant?"

Veric says nothing. His silence answers better than any joke.

"They follow me because I was right when being wrong would have cost blood," I continue. "Not once. Not by luck. Over and over."

Mira crosses her arms. "That sounds a lot like someone selling luck as strategy."

"You fought Rhayne today. From outside, it looked like she was backing off in fear inside your Amazon Hunting Ground. Inside, she was choosing where to bleed so she could stay alive." I look at her. "The appearance of a thing isn’t the thing."

Mira doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t push back either.

Freya rests her chin on her fingers. "And where do I fit in your pattern?"

"How long did it take you to reach Rank C?"

The question doesn’t seem to surprise her. It offends her a little, maybe, too personal in public. But Freya is Freya. Pride in her always finds a chair before discomfort does. "Two years," she says. "And before you try to use that against me, that was fast."

"It was."

She narrows her eyes, as if expecting poison.

"I went from F to D in two months."

The silence that follows is different from the first. Mira looks at me without hiding her disbelief. Freya doesn’t look at Veric, but I see the urge. She hates needing confirmation.

Veric gives it to her anyway. "He’s being annoyingly modest. The growth was worse up close."

Zhang Xi sets down her cup and remarks serenely. "His body carries signs of adaptation too recent for the ordinary pace. And the way he understands runes, OXI, and wounds doesn’t match his age or his official experience."

Rhayne nudges the dumpling with her thumb. "He also knew things about me before I knew how to say them."

That leaves the room quieter than I wanted.

Freya studies me long enough for the wine in her glass to stop moving. "So you’re a prodigy with good informants."

"If that makes you comfortable, start there."

"It doesn’t make me comfortable."

"Good."

Mira frowns. "You said this could save her life. I haven’t heard anything that sounds like a threat."

"Because we still have to clear out the old garbage."

Freya understands before the others. "The battle royale..."

I nod. The temperature of the room drops a little. Freya leans back, but her eyes go harder. This is the point where any bridge can break.

"Care to explain why you acted like a cornered animal?"

"I didn’t act like an animal."

"Could’ve fooled me."

"A cornered animal bites anything close. I chose targets."

Her mouth curves into something almost like a smile, without humor. "And that should improve my opinion? You chose my friends."

"No. It should make your memory less lazy."

Mira goes still. Veric drinks his juice as if he heard nothing. Rhayne looks at me, worried for my life, but doesn’t try to interrupt.

I keep going before Freya decides to turn pride into ice. "You saw the result. You didn’t see the first blade. I was surrounded, pressured, and marked as a target before I chose the tone of my answer. In the battle royale, hesitation wasn’t a virtue. Some tried to kill me first. I answered with enough force to make the next one think twice. Isn’t that what you do?"

Freya doesn’t blink. "And I should accept your version because you say so?"

"No. You should accept that there’s a version you didn’t see but already know, because you’ve lived it before."

That sentence stays between us. I’m not demanding surrender. Just a crack in her guard.

Freya looks at Rhayne for an instant. Maybe she thinks of the arrow. Maybe the Hunting Ground. Maybe of how a fight seen from outside always looks simpler than it was inside.

"You’re good at leaving doors half-open," she says.

"Doors open too wide become problems."

"And you want me to walk through one of them?"

"I want you to stop automatically trusting the doors other people opened for you."

That lands. Not deep enough for her to admit it. But it lands.

Freya goes very quiet. Mira notices and straightens. Veric notices too, and that tells me I stepped near the right place.

I lower my voice. "There are things moving around you. People, interests, choices that feel like yours because they were dressed in your language. Discipline. Excellence. Duty. Pride. I won’t ask you to believe me today. I just want a few days to show you where to look."

Freya doesn’t answer right away. Rhayne starts breathing again. I hadn’t noticed she’d stopped.

After a while, Freya takes the wine glass, drinks a small sip, and sets it down with perfect control. "A few days," she says. "But if this turns into theater, Sands, I walk out before the second act. With your head."

"Fair."

She stares at me. "And if you’re trying to manipulate me?"

"I am."

Mira nearly chokes on her ale.

Freya goes still. I continue, "I’m just not the only one. The difference is that I’m telling you, honestly."

For the first time since we sat down, Freya smiles for real. Small. Cold. Interested. "Then talk," she says.

I look at Rhayne’s plate, then at everyone here. Then back to Freya.

"Let’s start with what you call control."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!