The mountain looms ahead. Sorrow’s Keep. Closer now than it’s ever been.
My shadows press close around me. Bob at point. Mouse at my heel. Patricia’s notebook flickering back to life, already documenting. Finnick settling on my shoulder, finally still.
The group falls into formation around me. Different now. Heavier.
Finn still won’t look at me. Darian is keeping his distance from Callum’s unconscious body. Aspen hovers close to my left, frost at his fingertips. Torric’s heat near enough I feel it.
And Kieran walks beside Malrik, his eyes fixed on Callum’s slack face.
“Let’s move,” I say.
We start walking toward the Keep.
Whatever’s waiting for us there, we’re running out of time.
And I can’t shake the feeling that something is watching us.
Something hungry.
Something that already knows we’re coming.
The trees feel too quiet. Like they’re holding their breath.
Chapter 23
Kaia
We walk in silence.
The forest presses in around us, twisted trees reaching overhead like claws. The corruption hums against my skin, stronger now, but I barely notice it anymore. It’s just… there. Part of the landscape. Part of Absentia.
Ahead, Torric and Malrik carry Callum between them. He’s still unconscious, his head lolling with every step, and I can see the tension in Torric’s shoulders every time Callum’s body shifts. He keeps flicking glances back at me — protective, pissed and worried all at the same time.
Kieran walks beside them, his eyes fixed on Callum’s slack face like he’s afraid to look away. Like looking away might mean losing him again.
Bob is on high alert at my shoulder. The small shadows that have been following us since the village drift through the trees, keeping pace. More of them now than before. I don’t know where they’re coming from.
I hang back from the formation.
I need space. The guys let me have it.
Darian is walking too far from the group.
I notice because I’ve been watching him since we started moving again. His shadow magic flickers around his fingers — dark, uneasy — like something inside him is unsettled and he can’t make it stop.
He sees me looking and straightens. Tries to smooth his expression into something neutral.
He’s not fooling anyone.
I slow my pace until I’m walking beside him. He tenses but doesn’t move away.
“Are you okay?”
He laughs — short, hollow. “Fine.”
“Darian.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. The magic flickers again, and he stares at his hands like they belong to someone else.
