“And that buys us time,” my dad said with a nod.
Caleb studied my face, something like respect settling into his expression.
“You’re not trying to win,” he said. “You’re trying to prevent her from cornering them.”
“Yes,” I said. “Because once she has them desperate and isolated, there won’t be a way back.”
Keegan’s hand brushed mine, grounding. “Then let’s not give her that opening.”
The decision was settled among us, and the group began to move, vampires pairing off, shifters slipping into fluid motion, Nova murmuring coordinates under her breath.
“She may know we’re out here,” I said softly, more to myself than anyone else. “But at least, we’re already moving.”
This wasn’t about beating her in a show of power. It was about arriving with enough time, enough compassion, enough truth to offer the orcs something other than manipulation.
The air shifted around us, paths unfurling like possibilities.
And with the Priestess watching from wherever she waited, we broke into motion, racing not just against her, but against the moment desperation became destiny.
Chapter Forty-One
The Northern Luminary didn’t announce itself with fanfare. It slipped into the world the way cold slipped beneath a door until you realized you’d been shivering for several minutes and couldn’t quite remember when it started.
We’d been moving in careful threads since leaving the basin, splitting and rejoining as the terrain allowed, and still the air changed. My breath began to catch at the back of my throat, not from exertion, but from a thin frost that seemed to lace itself through the space between my ribs. just like the last time I’d gotten close to the Luminary.
The path ahead narrowed into a corridor of birches, their pale trunks standing like quiet sentries. Keegan kept to my left, close enough that I could feel him without needing to look, while Lady Limora’s vampires flowed behind us like a dignified tide, their steps making no sound even when the ground should have crunched beneath them. The shifters stayed to the edges, shoulders angled outward, noses lifting now and then as if scent could read the wind like a book.
The convergence was happening right on time.
Twobble, perched atop the bramblemule, scanning ahead with a grave look on his face.
“If anyone asks,” he announced, voice carrying back through the line, “I’m in charge of morale.”
Skonk, walking beside the mule, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Nobody asked, but that’s a terrifying thought.”
Twobble tried to kick him in retaliation, and Skonk whapped his ankle.
I tried to hold on to that small thread of normalcy, but the quiet kept tightening around us. It was the kind of quiet that made even Twobble lower his voice.
Nova slowed and lifted her staff. The crystal at its top caught the thin light and scattered it like fractured ice. She drew a small circle in the air and pressed her palm outward.
The world shimmered.
A web of possible routes unfurled before us, faint lines of silver and blue curling away into the distance like veins on leaves. For a heartbeat, relief warmed my chest, but it soon darkened as each viable path showed a shadow bleed.
“Of course,” Stella murmured, sounding equal parts offended and impressed. “She’s everywhere and nowhere, just like lint.”
Nova’s gaze remained fixed on the shimmering map.
“Not everywhere,” she said quietly. “But she’s seeded the routes.”
“At least we made it a good chunk before she planted herself again.” I shook my head. “We’re so close.”
“She’s made false trails,” Caleb said, stepping closer. His expression had hardened, his attention sharp. “She wants the scouts confused.”
The shifters behind him went still, eyes narrowing. “But not our scouts.”
“Orc scouts,” I said, the realization settling heavy in my stomach. “She’s trying to divert them. Separate us from them.”
