The voice comes from ahead.
A human male steps out from between two partially collapsed buildings. Scarred. Worn. Alive in the way only long survival creates. His gaze flicks over the group. Then lands on me. Then Kael. And lingers.
Drazan stops.
“Still standing,” the man says.
“Barely,” Drazan answers. “Have the others arrived yet?”
“Only the first caravan.”
Drazan nods sharply.
“We need rest. Then we see the Council,” Drazan says.
“Only Rosalind and Amara are here,” the man answers.
“They’ll do,” I say.
I don’t like being talked around. Not after everything it took to get here. The man’s gaze shifts to me again. Longer this time. Assessing.
“You’re confident,” he says.
“I don’t have time not to be.”
A beat. Then he exhales through his nose.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure you don’t.”
Kael’s hand slips into mine. A brief squeeze. Steadying. It helps. Not enough to erase the edge, but enough to keep it from cutting deeper.
“Lead,” Drazan says.
The man hesitates just a moment longer, then turns and we follow.
The rest of the escort peels away, breaking off without ceremony, but Drazan stays with us as we’re led deeper. The structures close in, rising higher, thicker. Broken, but reinforced. Open gaps sealed. Pathways narrowed. It presses in.
I’ve heard about this place, but hearing isn’t the same as standing in it. I was supposed to arrive later. After everything was moved. After all the planning and the work I was meant to finish.
The thought tightens something in my chest. If Kael hadn’t taken me I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have him.
The buildings rise higher still. Massive. Damaged. Held together by will and necessity. This place survives because it refuses not to, but it wouldn’t survive what’s hunting him.
I’ve seen what that thing can do. This wouldn’t stop it. The realization settles cold. We didn’t leave the danger behind. We brought it here.
The man ahead of us grabs a slab of stone and strains to move it. Drazan steps in without a word, helping shift it aside. A narrow opening reveals itself and we slip inside.
The air changes instantly. Quieter and still. It should feel safer, but it doesn’t.
The space inside isn’t large. Nothing like what I expected, but it’s functional. Stone. Metal. Reinforced seams where cracks were forced closed instead of repaired. A long surface set in the center, not polished, not decorative, used.
Rosalind is there with Amara beside her. They both turn as we step in, their attention landing on me first with sharp relief clear on their faces, then they look at Kael. It’s not hostile, but not welcoming either.
“You made it,” Rosalind says.
Her voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it. Something tight. Controlled.
“I did,” I answer.
