Gabriel stepped forward.
“You can’t do this alone—”
“I won’t engage,” Viktor cut in. “Just draw it off. That’s all.”
Storne’s mask cracked, just slightly. His eyes flicked to the bark again.
“You truly believe she’s in danger?”
“If that fire touched Glaston cedar,” Viktor said, “it wasn’t lightning. And if it wasn’t lightning…”
Silence fell.
Storne exhaled.
“Take what you need.”
Viktor gave a short nod.
He turned on his heel and exited the tent without another word.
Gabriel followed close behind.
He caught Viktor’s arm as they stepped into the darkness.
“What was that?”
Viktor kept walking.
“Not out here.”
They moved fast—quiet—until they reached Viktor’s tent. Once inside, he lit a taper with a flick of his fingers.
Gabriel paced.
“You asked to speak to Storne. You planned this. What’s going on?”
Viktor sat, unlaced his boots, swapped them for his worn runners—the soles still scuffed from the flats.
“I couldn’t let you take a whole unit into those woods.”
“Why?”
Viktor hesitated, then pulled a piece of black shale from his pack.
“Oustinon is alive, Gabriel,” he said, voice rough. “I got past the chasms. I saw what lives beyond.”
Gabriel turned the rock in the light.
“This is from there?”
“Strike it wrong,” Viktor warned, “and it ignites. The whole mountain burns.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes.
“And the cedar?”
“Only one thing burns that hot.”
