My chest tightens.
“To what?” Illadon asks.
Rverre’s eyes lift. They land on me first. Then flick to Korr.
“To the change,” she says. “To pressure.”
The desert wind slides between us, a warm breath shifting the loose surface of sand. I force myself to breathe slowly, grounding myself in the familiar even as something shifts.
“Land reacts all the time,” I say. “Heat, movement, imbalance. We’re not?—”
“Different than yesterday,” Rverre says, quietly cutting me off.
I close my mouth, unsure how to respond to that. I know, as well as anyone, that she knows things no one should. Korr is breathing heavily as he studies her for a long moment. I’m lifted with the rise and fall of his chest. The subtle shift of his arms as he continues to cradle me as if I weigh nothing.
“Does it want us to stop?” he asks.
She shakes her head.
“No. It wants us to keep going.” Her gaze drifts again, unfocused. “Just… not the same way.”
Illadon glances at me then stops himself, rerouting his attention to Korr instead, instinctive and immediate. That hurts like a bruise being pressed.
“We move,” Korr decides. “Slower through this stretch. No shortcuts.”
Illadon nods and adjusts course without hesitation, guiding Rverre forward without a backwards glance. I don’t say anything, though it feels like I’m losing them. The kids, they’re not mine, but I’ve taught them for so long there is a sense of… not ownership. Responsibility.
Korr shifts me as we start again, compensating for a subtle change in grade. His forearm tightens at my back. The motion feels restrained, careful to not be claiming or comforting, purely structural.
The problem is I hate how safe it feels.
My ankle flares as my body reacts late to the motion, pain spiking sharp enough to steal my breath. I ride it out with clenched teeth and a practiced calm that fools no one.
Korr’s hand lifts reflexively then stops before he touches me. The restraint is clearly deliberate and no matter how I try to deny, it hurts more than help would have.
I look out at the horizon, jaw tight, and refuse to meet his gaze. If the land is listening now, if it’s reacting to imbalance and pressure and change—then I cannot afford to let it see me break. Not while I’m being carried, forced to forfeit free will.
The stone beneath Illadon’s boots shudders. It’s not a collapse, or quake, it’s a subtle, wrong vibration that carries up through the ribs of rock like a breath drawn too deep. I feel it secondhandthrough Korr’s body. His stride falters half a fraction and then he stills.
“Stop,” he barks.
Illadon freezes. Rverre stiffens, wings flaring instinctively before she reins them in.
The sand ahead sloughs sideways in a slow, unsettling slide, spilling into a shallow depression that hadn’t been there moments ago.
“That wasn’t weight,” I say quietly.
“No,” Korr agrees. “It wasn’t.”
Rverre’s clamps her hand onto Illadon’s forearm.
“It’s testing,” she murmurs.
Illadon swallows. “Us?”
She hesitates, swallows, then nods. My stomach tightens. The urge to be on my feet—to do something—flares hot and immediate. I shift in Korr’s arms without thinking.
Pain lances bright and sharp and I hiss before I can stop myself.
