The cold was changing, bit by bit. Not gone, not yet. But the frost had begun to recede in places, and the snow was patchy. The closer we got to these lands, the darker everything became. Not just the sky, but the trees themselves. Light bent strangely here. Shadows clung longer. And their voices stirred louder in my head.
Not whispers. Not memories. Not even guilt, though there was plenty of that to go around. These were older. Wilder. Echoes of Keepers who had once vowed to protect the balance, buried here with their secrets when the Rebellion failed. Their energy lingered in the branches, in the hush between footfalls. And now, with dusk slipping toward true night, it rose like breath from the soil.
I’d believed every Keeper had died here or been bound to Nyxarra, like I was. But maybe I was wrong.
If the village we searched for existed, it meant someone had escaped. Someone had carried the flame further than I’d imagined. And it meant… maybe we weren’t the last.
We made camp just before the treeline gave way to the deeper woods.
Even the mares grew uneasy. The one beneath me tossed her head, muscles bunched under the saddle, half a thought from bolting. Her ears pinned and flicked, white showing at the edges of her eyes. A few lengths ahead now, Santiago’s mare sidestepped hard, tail snapping, forcing Lysara to grip tighter at the shift.
I drew my reins short and laid a steadying hand against my mare’s neck. Slow breath, firm seat. She shuddered once, then blew hot through her nostrils, the sound sharp in the cold air. The other answered with a snort of her own, and after a few more steps, both mares settled—still taut, but moving forward.
The forest ahead wasn’t like the others. It lived on the border of realm and nightmare, a place that seemed to have never chosen which it belonged to. The old stories said gods had died here, but their bodies never rotted—only split open into bone, their remnants wandering until they forgot what they had once been. Most called them monsters.
Those who vanished here did not vanish quietly. In the years after the Rebellion, their voices clawed back through the Veil in fragments—screams, bargains, the scrape of bone on stone. At first they were deafening. Later, only whispers. Whole villages. Whole families.
We called them lost. As if that could soften what really happened. As if naming them gone made it easier than admitting they’d been devoured.
And Aurelia had walked through it. Alone.
I slowed the mare to a halt just as the trees began to thin near a moss-covered rise. The Veil stirred just beyond—a soft shimmer in the air.
“Aurelia,” I said gently, pressing a hand to her arm. Shestirred, head still resting against my chest. “We’re stopping here for the night.”
Her lashes fluttered. She blinked up at me, disoriented for a beat, and then straightened without a word, sliding down from the saddle with practiced ease.
I watched her as she helped Lysara unpack the tents—hands sure, steps steady, her scar catching the faint firelight as she bent to anchor a stake. It burned under her skin. A mark that hadn’t dimmed.
“I’ll share with Aurelia,” Lysara said, already tossing a blanket inside.
Santiago paused mid-stride. “Shouldn’t she be with me? I’m very good at keeping people warm.”
“No,” I said, sharper than intended. “Maybe not a good idea.”
Lysara froze. So did Aurelia. Gabriel turned slowly, brows raised. “Why?”
“She’s not finished transitioning,” I muttered.
Silence.
Santiago frowned. “Transitioning into what? My spy days are long behind me—I couldn’t hear a godsdamned thing you two were muttering.”
I looked at Aurelia, who was staring at the ground now. The set of her shoulders was too still.
“Kaelith started the turning,” I said. I didn’t need to say more.
Gabriel went still, his gaze darkening as he stared into the fire.
They knew what that meant. She would be tied to Kaelith now. What none of us could name was how that bond would twist with the power already stirring beneath her skin.
Aurelia didn’t look up.
Lysara moved first, stepping close and placing a firm hand between Aurelia’s shoulder blades.
“It changes nothing,” she said softly. “You’re still you.”
Gabriel didn’t speak at first. He only watched the flames.