For a long moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, clipped words replaced silence as they spoke of routes, supplies, and contingencies. The cadence was brisk, but beneath it, disbelief was still heavy in the air. Their words were little more than scaffolding built to contain what none of them fully understood yet: the Claiming and the fallout.
She stayed where she was, warmth swelling in her chest, a strange certainty that whatever had just happened in that spring, whatever the fates had demanded, had bound her to this circle.
By the time they left the war room, the afternoon sun had climbed high enough to set the cathedral’s black spires blazing with light. The brightness hit Ella hard after the dim tunnels,forcing her eyes to narrow as Jakobav strode ahead, his pace unrelenting.
The remaining six of them fell into motion behind him. Ella kept step near the middle of the group, the formation tightening every time a passerby turned to look at her.
Jakobav didn’t slow as he crossed the courtyards, his stride cutting through attendants and guards until they reached the stables. Their horses were already saddled. Soren must have sent word ahead.
Jakobav mounted in a single motion, reins tight in his fist. “We leave now,” he said, his voice carrying a command loud enough for the entire castle to hear. “South Ridge.”
Thane frowned as he swung into his saddle, broad shoulders shifting with the motion. “We could test closer to the city.”
“Closer means witnesses,” Jakobav replied, his tone final, enough to close the subject. “The fewer eyes, the better.”
They set out at once, hooves striking sparks from the cobbles.
As they rode through the outskirts of Draethmar, Ella realized that word of the Claiming had already outrun them; the few who hadn’t crowded into the arena, travelers and servants bound to their posts, had clearly heard what took place.
From balconies, voices rose in Jakobav’s name, fists lifted in fervor, while in the courtyards below others gathered in clusters, whispering behind their hands as their eyes followed Ella’s every step. A pair of merchants dropped to one knee when Jakobav passed, while a cloaked woman gasped and staggered back as Ella’s shadow stretched across the dust at her feet.
The attention scraped at her nerves.
Bryn gave a low whistle that carried on the morning air. “Well. The kingdom’s talking, at least.”
“They always talk,” Savina muttered, her voice cold as steel. “The trouble starts when they act.”
The city of Draethmar soon fell behind them, its rooftops swallowed by distance.
The air grew crisp as the road climbed, the forest thinning into ragged slopes. The ridges rose in stark lines against the horizon, serrated like the spine of some long-dead beast.
Something about the ridge’s shape tugged at her memory—the faint glint of scales she’d thought she imagined on the night she first Threadwalked. She had dismissed it then, blaming shock and fear, because flying creatures with scales like that had been vanquished from the mortal realm for more than five centuries. But as sunlight struck the spine of the mountain again, a shiver threaded through her. Maybe their lineage wasn’t buried after all. At least…not in every realm.
The farther they pressed on, the stranger the world became. The wind shifted in uneven currents that tugged at their clothes and whispered against their ears like half-heard voices. Light bent oddly in places, shadows stretching longer than they should, crawling across stone outcrops and skeletal trees that clung stubbornly to the slopes.
Bryn was the first to break the silence. “You realize no one comes here on purpose, right?”
“That’s exactly why we are going,” Jakobav said, gaze fixed forward, unflinching.
“Most avoid it for fear of losing their minds,” Bryn continued, still irreverent, though his eyes focused uneasily on the uneven horizon. “The Ridges don’t just warp the air, they warp you. Thoughts get twisted, emotions heightened, sometimes for days afterward.”
Perfect. Exactly what she needed. More emotions. She was barely holding herself together as it was.
Jakobav’s reply was steady, almost too calm. “We’ll handle it.”
No one argued.
When they reached the wide clearing beyond South Ridge, Jakobav was the first to dismount. The others followed, the motion practiced, wordless. Without needing direction, they spread into formation: Maeren pacing east with her hand on her blade, Savina and Bryn taking the west, Thane and Soren flanking Jakobav like pillars at his back. Ella stepped into place opposite him, the wind pulling loose strands of her hair across her cheek as if to test her composure.
Jakobav’s eyes found hers across the clearing. “Out here, the damage is ours alone to bear,” he said, voice carrying into the stillness. “What we brought back from the spring is untested. If it breaks loose in the city, we risk more than whispers and rumors.”
Ella lifted her chin, though her pulse rattled fast against her ribs. “So you brought me here to burn you again?”
The faintest smirk tugged at his mouth. “If that’s what it takes.”
She let out a breath that was half a laugh. “Then you should hope the fates are still feeling generous.”
The smirk sharpened into provocation.
