The Villain's Retirement Plan

The morning air was crisp, biting against their skin as Harris and Liam began their journey to Valebrook. The sun had barely risen, casting a gentle golden hue over the countryside, and a fine mist clung to the earth, giving everything a dreamlike quality. The earthy scent of damp soil mixed with the faint sweetness of blooming wildflowers, creating a comforting aroma. Harris adjusted the strap of his overstuffed satchel, his gaze drifting over the narrow dirt path ahead. For now, Greenhollow was behind them, but its weight still rested heavily on his mind.

Liam, walking beside him, was practically bouncing on his feet. “You know, I’ve never been to Valebrook before. They say the food there is amazing. Especially the pies,” he said, grinning. His excitement was palpable, a stark contrast to Harris’s subdued demeanor.

“I’ll try to contain my enthusiasm,” Harris replied dryly, casting Liam a sideways glance. He couldn't help but smile, though it was fleeting. The truth was, he didn’t share Liam’s optimism about Valebrook—not with the artifact, not with Varian, and certainly not with the memories that place dredged up.

As they walked, the road twisted through the forest, the canopy above filtering the light into soft, scattered beams. The cool shade provided a welcome relief from the growing warmth of the sun, and the scent of pine needles filled the air. The silence between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the rustling of leaves, the occasional call of a bird, and the crunch of their boots on the gravelly path. Harris let himself get lost in the rhythm of their footsteps, the journey giving him time to think—perhaps too much time. Every step took him farther away from Greenhollow, from the peaceful life he had fought so hard to carve out, and deeper into territory that seemed to pull at the darkest parts of himself.

“So,” Liam said, breaking the silence, “you and Varian go way back, huh?” There was a subtle curiosity in his voice, one that Harris had come to recognize. Liam had been respectful, mostly, but his questions had grown more frequent lately, each one probing at the edges of Harris’s carefully constructed façade.

Harris sighed, the weight of the question settling over him like a shroud. “You could say that.” He kept his gaze fixed on the path. “It’s complicated.”

Liam nodded, his eyes studying Harris’s profile. “I get it. I’m just trying to understand, you know? Whatever it is that’s got Finnian breathing down your neck—I’m here to help. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Harris looked at him, startled by the sincerity in Liam’s voice. It was moments like these that made everything more difficult. The kindness, the loyalty—the trust. It was all so fragile, and Harris knew that a single slip could shatter everything. He forced a smile. “I appreciate that, Liam. But some things are better left buried.”

They continued in silence, but Liam’s expression remained thoughtful, as if he was weighing Harris’s words, trying to decide how far to push.

By midday, the sun was high, and they came upon a narrow bridge spanning a small, rocky stream. The bridge looked ancient, its wooden planks warped and splintered, and the sound of the water rushing below filled the air with a steady, soothing roar. Harris paused, frowning. “We’ll have to cross one at a time. It doesn’t look particularly sturdy.”

Liam shrugged, stepping forward. “I’ll go first. If it breaks, you can always fish me out.” He grinned, and before Harris could protest, he started across.

Harris watched, his heart pounding slightly faster as the bridge creaked under Liam’s weight. The boards groaned, and for a moment, Harris had a vision of the entire thing collapsing, plunging Liam into the churning waters below. Liam took another tentative step, the wood bowing beneath him. Harris's breath caught, and his hands twitched as if ready to act, dark magic pulsing in his veins. The ropes strained, and the bridge swayed with a sudden gust of wind, making Harris's heart skip a beat. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to reach out—to do something. Dark magic whispered at the edges of his mind, promising a simple solution, a way to strengthen the bridge, to ensure Liam’s safety without question. He could almost feel the power coursing through him, ready to weave itself into the fibers of the bridge, to make it unbreakable. But he knew what that would mean—what it would cost. The last time he had used that kind of power, it had left scars, both on him and those around him. But Harris knew better. That kind of power always came with a price.

Liam made it across with a triumphant smile, waving Harris over. “Your turn!”

Harris took a deep breath, stepping onto the bridge. The wood creaked beneath his boots, the rough texture of the planks pressing into his soles. He moved carefully, each step deliberate. The sun glinted off the water below, the cold spray from the stream occasionally misting his face. He felt the magic thrumming in his veins, eager to be used. He pushed it down, focusing instead on his breathing, on the feel of the rope railing beneath his fingers. He wouldn’t give in—not here, not now.

Halfway across, there was a sharp crack, and Harris’s foot plunged through the wood. He stumbled, catching himself on the rope railing, his heart lurching into his throat. The jolt sent a shock of pain up his leg, and for a second, he hung there, his foot trapped in the splintered plank.

“Harris!” Liam’s voice was frantic, and Harris could see him starting back onto the bridge.

“Stay there,” Harris barked, his voice sharper than he intended. He pulled his foot free, carefully testing the rest of the plank before shifting his weight. The rough edges had scraped against his shin, and he could feel the sting of the shallow cut. “I’m fine.”

Liam hesitated, his eyes wide with concern. Harris could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands twitched as if wanting to reach out, to help. But Liam stayed put, watching as Harris slowly, painstakingly made his way to the other side.

When Harris finally stepped off the bridge, Liam let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. “You sure you’re okay?”

Harris nodded, brushing the dust from his trousers. “Nothing broken. Just... old bridges and poor planning.” He tried to inject some humor into his voice, but the tension lingered.

Liam shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “You know, you could’ve just asked me to carry you. Would’ve been a lot safer.”

Harris raised an eyebrow. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

They continued on, the forest gradually giving way to rolling hills. The scent of wild grasses and distant flowers replaced the earthy musk of the forest, and the sun warmed their backs as they walked. Harris could feel Liam’s gaze on him from time to time, the unspoken questions hanging between them. He knew Liam wanted to understand, to help. But there were parts of his past—parts of himself—that Harris wasn’t ready to share. Not yet.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, they found a small clearing to set up camp. Liam busied himself gathering firewood while Harris unpacked the supplies—Martha’s bread, her pickled vegetables, the wool blanket she insisted they take. The smell of fresh bread and the sharp, vinegary tang of pickles filled the clearing, and Harris smiled, despite himself. It was hard to feel alone when you had people like Martha and Liam looking out for you.

When Liam returned, they lit a small fire, the flames crackling merrily as the sky darkened above them. They sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire warding off the evening chill. The smoky scent of the burning wood mixed with the crisp night air, wrapping around them like a protective cocoon.

“You know,” Liam said, breaking the silence, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” Harris replied, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Liam rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. About Varian—are you sure we can trust him? I mean, I know he’s your... friend, or whatever, but something about this whole thing doesn’t sit right with me.”

Harris stared into the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. He had been having the same doubts, though he hadn’t voiced them. Varian was an old ally, yes, but he was also cunning, always with his own agenda. Harris recalled a time when Varian's schemes had nearly cost them everything, a betrayal disguised as an opportunity. He couldn't let his guard down now, not when so much was at stake. Harris knew better than to trust him completely.

“I don’t trust him,” Harris said finally, his voice quiet. “But I need that artifact. And for now, he’s our best chance.”

Liam frowned, poking at the fire with a stick. The flames crackled, sending a few glowing embers floating into the night. “I just hope we’re not walking into a trap.”

Harris glanced at Liam, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest. He didn’t want to drag Liam into this, into his past and all the danger that came with it. But there was no turning back now. “We’ll be careful,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “And if things go south, we get out. No heroics.”

Liam snorted. “You say that like I ever listen to you.”

Harris chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “Just this once, try to make an exception.”

The night deepened, the stars slowly emerging above them, and Harris found himself relaxing, if only a little. The road ahead was uncertain, full of danger and shadows from his past. But for now, in this moment, with Liam beside him and the fire warming his face, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.