He’s walking near the back of the group, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets. But his attention isn’t on me—it’s on the shadows. Small ones, drifting out of the trees, drawn toward us like moths to a flame.
He watches each one arrive.
Counts them.
His jaw tightens when another slips from the underbrush, and he glances at me for half a second before looking away again. He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking.
Every time I look back, Darian is pretending to study the trees.
He’s keeping his distance. Too much distance. Like he’s afraid to breathe near me after that night in the garden, afraid that getting too close will shatter whatever fragile thing we built.
And Kieran—
Kieran is watching me like a hawk. Silent. Intense. His eyes track every movement I make, but he hasn’t said a word since we left the village.
Bob bristles at my shoulder. Patricia’s notebook flickers nervously. Even Mouse seems on edge, his tail twitching like he can feel my anxiety.
Knowing him, he probably can.
They’re all carrying something.
And I don’t know how to help any of them.
Malrik falls into step beside me.
I smile to myself, because he appears at my side like he was always meant to be there, quiet and steady and grounding.
I exhale.
I didn’t realize how tight my chest was until he showed up.
“Where does Revna keep disappearing to?” Torric asks breaking the silence.
“The sanctuary.” Kieran doesn’t look up. “She reports back. Keeps me informed of what’s happening there while we travel.”
“That’s… a long flight.”
“She’s done it for hundreds of years. I doubt she notices anymore.”
Something about that — the quiet loyalty of it, centuries of the same pattern — settles warm in my chest.
We walk in silence for a while, our footsteps syncing without either of us trying. The jagged road stretches ahead, winding toward the mountains in the distance. Toward Sorrow’s Keep.
Toward whatever’s waiting for us there.
“We’re running low on supplies,” Malrik says quietly. “Another day, maybe two, and we’ll need to forage or stop somewhere.”
My stomach sinks. One more thing I hadn’t been paying attention to.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he adds, softer now.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He gives me a look. Flat. Unimpressed.
“Try again.”
I sigh.
