“Then I am… late,” it murmurs.
I search for the threat I’d been bracing for and find only loss. A vast, aching absence where something vital should have been.
“You were not meant for me,” it says to Elias. “But youshinelike those who were.”
Elias swallows and moves to my side, one hand still buried in my fur. “You’re not hunting,” he says carefully. “You’re looking, right?”
The Shade’s head tilts. “Yes.”
The admission is bare and completely unguarded.
“I seek ground,” it continues. “Not land.Belonging.I cannot root. I cannot echo. I walk, and the world does not remember me.”
Walkers without roots, the old texts had called its species.
Failed lines. Dangerous isolates.
“I have crossed oceans,” the Shade says. “Followed power. Followed convergence. This place sings with it—vast wilderness, unclaimed paths, ancient watchers. I thought… perhaps….” It trails off.
Elias tightens his hold on me. I can feel his heart pounding, empathy rolling off him. That, more than anything, makes my hackles rise.
“You can’t stay,” I say firmly.
The Shade looks at me again. This time, there’s no challenge in its gaze. In its place is resignation.
“I know,” it replies. “I am not welcome where bonds are strong.”
The wards surge in response—not violently, but insistently. A reminder of the boundary.
Bob’s presence crackles into being at the edge of the clearing, lightning dim but contained. He takes in the scene in a heartbeat—the standoff that is no longer a standoff, the sorrow standing where menace should be.
Bob steps closer, authority settling over him like a mantle. “You’ll leave the wards tonight. Fully. At dawn, after the festivities, we’ll talk. With witnesses and terms.”
The Shade considers him for a long moment. Then it nods.
“I have no name,” it says, almost apologetically. “But I will answer.” It turns its searching gaze once more to Elias.
“You are kind,” it tells him. “That is rare for a human.”
Elias opens his mouth, then closes it again, swallowing hard. I tighten my hold on him, a silent warning and a promise all at once.
The Shade steps backward, retreating toward the ward line. This time, it doesn’t test it. It simply withdraws, folding itself inward, presence thinning until it slips away like fog burned off by sun.
The wards hum as they reseal, whole and unbroken. Silence rushes in.
Elias sags against me. I catch him easily, hauling him against my chest, holding him so tight it borders on desperate.
“I stayed,” he whispers. “I didn’t leave.”
“I know,” I murmur into his hair. “I know.”
Christopher arrives, stepping next to Bob. The tension eases, but it’s not fully faded. Bob exhales slowly, eyes tracking the place where the Shade vanished.
“It wasn’t attacking,” Christopher says quietly.
“No,” I agree. The truth tastes strange in my mouth. “It was searching.”
Bob nods once. “And now it found what it can’t have.”
