He's quiet for a moment. "I've been seeing it too. Not the same way you do, but the edges of it. Futures where Phoenix Sanctuary is emptier than it should be." His hand finds my wrist, cold fingers pressing against my pulse point. "Carrying the worstparts alone doesn't protect them. It just means two of us are drowning instead of one."
"Since when are you the emotionally mature one?"
A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "I'm dead. It gives you perspective." He holds my gaze for another beat, something passing between us that doesn't need the bond to communicate, two people who see the dark futures and choose to keep walking anyway. He leans in to press a soft kiss to the edge of my lips, lingering there for several moments before letting go of my wrist and turning toward camp. "Tell them about Liz. Not now, but soon. They deserve to know what we're walking toward."
"We should move." Jade is the first to pull away, his demon form rippling as he stretches muscles that have been coiled for too long. "Ambrose's surveillance picked up Council presence about six miles east. If we swing north, we can avoid them entirely."
"Or we can walk straight through." I push myself to my feet, testing my legs and finding them steadier than expected. "I'm tired of skulking around like we have something to hide."
A sharp, surprised laugh comes from Rumi. "The Praestes wants to pick a fight with Council bureaucrats before breakfast. I think I'm rubbing off on you."
"You're definitely rubbing off on me. That's not the point." I reach for the bond marks on my arm, letting my essence rise to the surface until the symbols glow with soft pink light. "Dmitri's power comes from making us hide. From convincing everyone that different means dangerous, that connection means weakness. Every time we sneak past a checkpoint or avoid Council territory, we're playing by his rules."
"And every time we announce ourselves, we give him more information about where we are and what we're doing," Ambrose counters, though I can feel his reluctant agreementbleeding through our connection. "There's a middle ground between hiding and painting a target on our backs."
The compromise we reach involves walking openly on the main road but keeping our more obvious features concealed. Rumi tucks his wings away, Jade shifts to a more human appearance, and Harlow maintains just enough solidity to pass for alive. Only Stellan remains unchanged, his fire burning slightly at the center of our group, without being fully shifted. A fire elemental traveling with companions isn't too far outside the normal. It's enough to raise eyebrows without triggering alarms.
The first checkpoint appears three hours later, a small outpost manned by Council officials who look like they drew the short straw for remote assignment. Their eyes go wide at the sight of us, six figures moving with the kind of unconscious synchronization that only comes from deep bonding. One of them fumbles for a communication device, probably trying to figure out whether we warrant a report to someone higher up the food chain.
"Purpose of travel?" The lead official's voice cracks on the second word. He's young, probably fresh out of whatever training program the Council runs for its bureaucratic arm, and the fear rolling off him is sharp enough to make Jade's nostrils flare.
I let my authority settle over my shoulders. "We're heading north to visit allied communities. Diplomatic outreach on behalf of Phoenix Sanctuary."
The name gets a reaction, though not the one I expect. The official's eyes narrow slightly, recognition flickering across his face. Phoenix Sanctuary has most likely been in the news since Stellan's demonstration and the hunter scandal, but out here in the remote territories, the stories have probably been filtered through Council propaganda. We're troublemakers at best, dangerous radicals at worst.
"I'll need to see documentation," the official says, finding his footing now that he has a reason to be suspicious.
"You'll need to let us pass." I don't raise my voice or let any threat creep into my tone. I simply state a fact, letting my essence underscore the words with quiet certainty. "Unless you'd like to explain to your superiors why you delayed a diplomatic mission sanctioned by the sanctuary that just exposed Council corruption to the entire world."
The checkpoint clears in under a minute. As we walk away from the stammering officials and their hastily abandoned paperwork, I feel Rumi's amusement bleeding through our bond. "Sanctioned diplomatic mission?" he murmurs. "That's a generous description of wandering through the wilderness collecting strays."
"Perception is reality," Ambrose says, approval warming his voice. "If we act like we have every right to be here, people will believe we do. Dmitri's spent three centuries convincing everyone that his way is the only way. We can use the same tactics against him."
2
Ambrose
Iwakebeforetheothers because old habits die hard, and this particular habit has kept me alive longer than most civilizations have existed. Even at Grimrose, surrounded by students and staff and the constant noise of people who couldn't control their essence, I was always the first one up or at least conscious to watch and plan and make sure nothing caught us off guard.
The difference now is that I'm not watching alone.
Green light flickers between my fingers as I extend the contract threads outward, checking the web I've maintainedsince we left Phoenix Sanctuary. The connections pulse back with varying degrees of stability. Phoenix Sanctuary reads strong, Dante's signature steady beneath the wards we reinforced before leaving. The Northern Mountain Sanctuary where we found Rumi's father holds firm. The smaller communities we've contacted over the past day are nervous but intact, their essences flickering with the particular anxiety of people who've spent their whole lives hiding and are now being asked to hope.
What concerns me more are the signatures I don't recognize.
There are at least twenty of them, maybe more, holding position about three miles to our south. They appeared sometime during the night and haven't moved since, which tells me everything I need to know about their intentions. Dmitri's loyalists must be tracking us, cataloging our movements, and waiting for orders or opportunity.
I spend the next hour mapping their essence types and planning contingencies. Two earth elementals, strong enough to reshape terrain if they coordinate properly. A wind user who could scatter our group if we're not careful. Several signatures I can't identify at all, which worries me more than the ones I can. The unknown is always more dangerous than the known.
"How long have you been awake?"
Rumi's voice cuts through my concentration, and I look up to find golden eyes watching me from across the dead campfire. He's sitting with his wings tucked close, the black threads in his aura barely visible in the pre-dawn grey. I don't know when he woke or how long he's been observing me, and the fact that I missed his attention entirely says something uncomfortable about how distracted I've let myself become.
At Grimrose, I never would have let anyone watch me without noticing. But Grimrose was different. At Grimrose, Rumi and I circled each other for years without ever really seeing whatwas underneath the masks we wore. We had an understanding, unspoken but clear. We used each other for what we needed and stayed out of each other's way for everything else.
"A while," I answer, which isn't really an answer at all.
He doesn't push. He just holds my gaze for a moment longer, then looks away toward the horizon where the first hints of color are starting to bleed into the sky. I look back at my contracts and pretend I don't feel him still watching me.
