Always away.
Walter hovers at a safe distance now, watching me with those inscrutable not-eyes. The reproach in his silence is worse than any words could be.
I force my shadows back under control, wrapping them tight around myself like armor. Like chains.
The memory hits without warning—her at six years old, bouncing on her toes as she asked if I could really turn into a dragon. The way she'd clapped and laughed when I shifted forher, creating shadow shapes to chase me through the air while I showed off with aerial acrobatics. Her shadow magic had danced with mine that day, perfect harmony between two powers that recognized each other.
When she hugged my scaled neck and demanded I promise to come back, I thought that moment would anchor us forever. That being the first to see her magic, to play in that meadow where wonder mattered more than fear, would mean something when she returned.
Now I watch her surrounded by others who understand her in ways I never will. Aspen, who grounds her chaos. Torric, who burns away her doubt. Malrik, who matches her shadows with his own royal darkness. Finn, who makes her laugh even in the depths of Absentia.
And me? I'm the one who forced the bonds before they were ready. The one who stole her choice. The one who stands apart, watching her heal from wounds I helped create.
She doesn't need you, I think bitterly.She's got them. All of them.
The path ahead curves around a bend, and that's when I see him.
Callum emerges from the mist like a wraith, his Guardian attire pristine despite the rough terrain. There's something about his approach—too calculated, too perfectly timed—that sets my teeth on edge.
"Commander," he says, inclining his head with military precision. "I bring word from the advance scouts."
The others tense, hands moving instinctively toward weapons. But there's no immediate threat in Callum's posture, just that familiar blend of competence and barely concealed ambition I've grown to distrust.
"What word?" I ask, though part of me already knows I won't like the answer.
"The eastern pass is compromised. Corrupted creatures moving in organized patterns." His silver eyes flick briefly to Kaia before returning to me. "I've mapped an alternate route through the southern valleys. Safer, but it will add two days to our journey."
Torric frowns. "Two days we don't have."
"Better than walking into a trap," Callum replies smoothly.
But something about his arrival grates against my already frayed nerves. Maybe it's the way Kaia immediately moves forward to listen, or how the others defer to his expertise without question. He's too composed, too helpful, arriving exactly when we need guidance.
Another voice she'll trust more than mine,I think bitterly.
Kaia moves forward, studying the map Callum produces from his pack. "This route," she says, tracing the path with her finger, "it takes us closer to the old battlefields."
"Unavoidable, I'm afraid," Callum replies. "But the corruption there is dormant. Safer than the active threats to the east."
I watch this exchange, noting how easily she trusts him. How quickly the others gather around his map, hanging on his words. It's not strategic thinking that makes my jaw clench—it's the sick certainty that I'm watching myself get replaced again.
By someone younger. Clearer. Less broken by centuries of failure.
"We follow the original route," I say, cutting through their discussion.
Callum's expression doesn't change, but something flickers behind his eyes. "Commander, with respect, the intelligence suggests—"
"I don't care what your intelligence suggests." My voice carries more edge than I intended. "We don't have time for detours."
The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken tension. I can feel the others' confusion, their concern at my apparentdismissal of sound tactical advice. Even Kaia looks at me with something that might be disappointment.
Let them think I'm being unreasonable,I tell myself.Maybe I am. I just—don't trust him. Not when she's already listening to him like he has answers I don't.
"We make camp here," I announce, my voice carrying the authority I've always wielded. "Rest while you can."
But as I dismount, as I busy myself with tasks that don't require looking at her, I hear her voice behind me. Soft. Curious. Already drawn to this new piece of the puzzle that is her destiny.
She doesn't look back.
