Sebastian’s grip doesn’t tighten so much as itsteadies, as if he’s bracing himself for the truth he’s been circling without ever quite touching. His fingers curve just beneath the fabric at my elbow, warm despite the chill rolling off the rotting cottages. His eyes stay on mine, searching, trying to stitch together pieces of me I’ve spent years tearing apart.
I step in, not enough to close the distance, just enough to make him feel it. Enough to make the air shift, to force him to decide whether to pull back or follow.
“Careful,” I say quietly, my voice low enough that only he can hear it. “You’re touching one.”
The words sink in slowly. A crease forms between his brows. Shock flickers in the brown of his eyes, chasing out some of his practiced composure. His hand loosens on instinct, not from fear, but from the weight of what he’s just realized might be standing in front of him.
I tip my chin up, letting the truth hover like a blade between us.
“Still want to know my secrets?”
There’s no taunt in my tone, just a warning, muted and dangerous. His throat works as he swallows. His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes, as if reassessing everything he thought he knew. For a moment, neither of us moves. The village seems to lean in around us, holding its breath, waiting for whatever unravels next.
Liam shifts behind me, sensing the tension coil into something sharp.
Theo angles his head, listening with that uncanny awareness of his, worry etched into the soft line of his mouth.
Before Sebastian can respond, before he can choose whether to question me or pull me closer, a sound splits the air.
A deep crack rolls across the distant ridge, too heavy to be mere branches snapping, too sharp to be anything natural. It echoes off the derelict cottages, crawling beneath my skin.
Sebastian’s hand drops from my arm.
Liam freezes.
Theo’s head snaps toward the tree line, the color draining from his face.
All three of us stand in the dying light of Myrindale, listening as the echo fades into an unnatural silence, one that feels far too familiar.
18
HARPER
Athick, oppressive silence settles over Myrindale as we move toward the source of the sound. The path winds between sagging cottages and empty animal pens, the ground wet beneath our boots. Everything smells of damp earth and illness. Sebastian paused only long enough to press Anne gently back inside the cabin, lowering his voice so she'd listen, urging her to bar the door, to stay hidden, to keep quiet until he returns. She nodded, timid and pale, clutching her blanket like armor as she disappeared through the warped frame.
The rest of us pressed on.
Villagers peek from behind broken shutters as we pass, though most are too frightened, or too exhausted, to bother hiding their fear properly. Liam keeps close at my side, his jaw tight, his breathing uneven. Theo walks slightly ahead of him, wand glowing lightly as he finds his bearings, his other hand lifted just enough to catch the vibrations of the air. Sebastian leads us through a narrow alleyway that opens onto the village square.
And that’s where we see them.
Four Shadeborne scouts stand in the center of the clearing, dressed in black leather so dark it seems to swallow the overcast light. Their hoods cast their faces in shadow, but the sigils burned into their chests glow with a faint, silver pulse, an unmistakable mark of their allegiance. The runes look almost alive, shifting with the scouts’ movements.
A small group of villagers has been forced into a looseformation before them. Old men and women with hollow cheeks. People who look like they haven’t eaten in days. The kind who would have nowhere to run even if they dared try. One elderly man kneels on the ground, his wrists bound behind him with rope. His shirt has been split open cleanly, exposing the curve of his spine.
A whip cracks across it.
The sound is jarring, sharp enough to make the villagers flinch and several of them cry out. The man trembles violently, his whole body shuddering, but he doesn’t make a sound. His breath comes in pained, wheezing pulls, each one shallower than the last.
“We warned you,” the largest scout snarls. His voice carries through a distortion charm, rolling through the square like a threat made of stone. “Your tribute is past due. All of you.”
Another scout prowls behind him, boots grinding into the dirt. “Shadeborne law exists for a reason. You do not ignore it. You do not test us. And you do not forget what happens when debts go unpaid.”
Sebastian goes completely still beside me, shoulders squared, hands balled into fists at his sides. Rage radiates off him like heat from a forge. Myrindale is his home. These people are the only connection he has left to anything resembling family. Seeing them hurt turns him into something I’ve never seen before.
Theo tilts his head slightly, his expression tightening. “There are four,” he murmurs, voice low. “Three standing evenly spaced. One with the whip. He’s… focused. Almost too focused.”
Liam swallows, his voice strained. “Shadeborne scouts don’t normally go this far into Vireldan territory more than once. They must think no one here has the strength left to fight back.”
