A shadow loomed in the centre of the road.
Not a shadow. A mountain.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Riven hit the brakes.
The car locked up. We skidded, the rubber screaming against the asphalt, sliding sideways towards the figure standing immovable in the mist. The smell of burning rubber filled the cabin. The car shuddered to a halt, the bonnet less than two metres from the man’s knees.
It was silent again, save for the idling engine and the deafening thud of my heart.
The figure stood immovable in the sweeping rain. Water streamed off his long, tattered coat, and his broad shoulders seemed to block out the rest of the road. He was colossal, holding a stillness that felt older than the forest around him.
Riven slumped back in his seat. He released the wheel, let out a long, defeated exhale, and killed the engine.
“Who’s that?” I asked, my hand instinctively dropping to the door handle, ready to run. “Is it one of Korenth’s?”
Riven stared through the rain-streaked windshield. The man in the road tilted his head, his dark eyes catching the glare of the headlamps.
“No,” Riven whispered. “It’s Goran.”
Riven openedthe driver’s door and stepped straight into the storm. He held his hands raised slightly, palms open—a gesture of surrender I’d never seen him make.
I scrambled out after him, adjusting my bag against the extra bulk of the ledger. Goran held his ground, ignoring the blinding headlights and the biting rain. He watched Riven come.
“You’ve grown,” Goran said. His voice was a low rumble, deeper than the thunder rolling off the coast. “Since the last time I saw you.”
Riven stopped a few feet away, rain plastering his hair to his skull. A faint, crooked smile touched his lips—a familiar, weary expression.
“And you haven’t changed a bit,” Riven replied. “Same old brooding wolf.”
Goran stared. His black eyes shifted to me, dark and unreadable. He watched me with a slow, cold focus, as if deciding whether I was worth the space I occupied. I braced for an attack, my magic pressing hot against my veins, demanding an outlet. I glanced at Riven, waiting for the shadows to bleed from his fingers the secondthe man twitched. Riven remained perfectly still, his stance completely relaxed.
Then Goran looked past us, up the winding road towards the Manor.
“The wards are shattered,” he said flatly. “You lit the sky up, boy. They’ll be here in minutes.”
“I know,” Riven said.
“Then we move.” Goran turned, his coat swirling around his boots. “Hide the car. The side track, past the pines. It’s overgrown, but it will hold.”
Riven returned to the driver’s seat without a second of hesitation. He steered the car off the road, forcing it through a dense thicket of gorse until the branches swallowed the chassis. The headlights cut out, plunging us into grey gloom.
I stood on the verge, clutching my bag tight against the rain to protect the books inside. Goran waited beside me, silent and solid as a rock formation. I kept my guard up, but I let Riven take the lead.
Riven emerged from the brush a moment later, the iron box locked in his arms.
Goran turned immediately to a gap in the old hedge and marched through, expecting us to keep up.
“We should follow him,” Riven said, his voice low.
We plunged into the dark. The path was narrow, an animal trail through wet bracken and stinging nettles. We moved fast, slipping on the mud. Goran set a punishing pace, silent as a ghost despite his bulk.
He led us away from the cliffs, cutting inland towards a cluster of derelict outbuildings that belonged to a farm long since reclaimed by the sea mist.
He stopped in front of a small, stone shed. The roof was caved in; the door hung off one hinge. It looked like a ruin.
Goran crossed the threshold. Riven moved to follow, but I stopped, taking a defensive stance.
