We cross the threshold of the village, and the world shifts.
The air changes first — heavier, colder, carrying the faint tang of corruption. The wards fade behind us, their protection dissolving into memory.
Ahead, the road stretches toward the mountains. Toward Sorrow’s Keep.
I’ve been there once before. A long time ago, when it was just a relic. A monument to something ancient and forgotten.
It didn’t feel like this then.
It didn’t feel like it was waiting.
I glance over my shoulder.
Kaia walks in the center of the group, shadows swirling around her like a living cloak. Torric flanks her left, Aspen takes her right, as Finn trails behind, quiet but present. Malrik brings up the rear, eyes scanning the treeline.
Darian walks apart from the others, close enough to matter, far enough to give her space.
They’re all watching her.
They’re all following her.
Even if they don’t realize it yet.
I turn back to the road ahead.
I won’t lose you again.
The Keep waits.
Chapter 21
Kaia
Three days out from the village, and the exhaustion is starting to show.
Not just in me—in all of us.
Thinking back, the village disappears behind us like it was never there. Like those few days of rest were just a dream we all woke up from too soon. One second I can feel the wards humming at my back, steady and safe. The next, there’s nothing but open road and the faint pull of corruption seeping back into the air.
It’s subtle at first. A cold prickle at the base of my spine. The way the trees lean a little too close to the path. But by the second day, it’s undeniable—the corruption is returning, creeping in at the edges like mold.
My shadows curl tighter around my ankles.
I glance back once, but there’s nothing to see. Just the echo of something that felt, for a few days, almost like home.
Keep moving.
The group is quiet.
Too quiet.
Torric catches my eye and gives me a tight smile, his hand settling briefly on my shoulder as he passes. But his fingers linger a second too long, like he’s memorizing that I’m real. That I’m still here.
The tension in his jaw wasn’t there three days ago.
Aspen nods when I look at him, hovering closer than usual. Overprotective. Frost clings to the edges of his hair, faint and glittering in the weak sunlight. Like he’s been burning through his magic without realizing it.
Finn won’t look at me at all.
