Page 110 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

I gave her a look. “Then I’m functioning.”

“That’s worse,” Faith muttered.

Aurora drove like she had been born on these roads. The forest thickened as we moved away from the council chambers. The trail of stars was visible through the van window.

Nishi spoke quietly into her comms, coordinating hunters to continue containment elsewhere. Her voice remained controlled, but I heard strain under it. A leader could only stretch so far before something tore.

Greyson opened the case and checked the device again, fingers adjusting a dial. The runes along its frame were dull for now, waiting.

“Once we hit the shield edge, this will punch a seam,” he said. “It will not be subtle.”

Faith snorted. “Nothing about tonight has been subtle.”

Aurora slowed as the road narrowed into a rough track. She glanced in the rearview mirror. “We’re close.”

The air changed before we saw anything. The forest went quiet in a way that felt deliberate. The owls were absent. The wind seemed to hesitate. Even the mist looked thicker, as if it didn’t want to drift into a certain space.

Tegan’s trail of stars veered, then pointed straight ahead.

“That’s it,” she said.

Aurora parked on the edge of the clearing. We stepped out into damp air and the scent of pine. The ground was soft with needles and wet leaves.

At first, I saw only trees.

Then I saw the line.

Not visible like a wall, but felt. A pressure in the air that made my skin prickle. Like stepping too close to a high voltage fence.

Greyson crouched and set the device down on the ground, then placed his palm on top. The runes lit, one by one, brightening in sequence.

The air rippled.

A thin seam appeared, vertical and trembling, as if someone had sliced the world with a knife and the cut hadn’t decided whether to heal.

Faith leaned in. “That’s our door.”

“Don’t touch the edges,” Greyson warned. “Unless you want your hair to stand on end.”

Faith pulled back. “Noted.”

Nishi moved first, because of course she did. She stepped through the seam without hesitation. Aurora followed, then Faith, then Eve, then Tegan. I went last, Greyson right behind me, carrying the device like he was walking a temperamental dog.

The moment I crossed into the shielded space, my lungs tightened. The air inside felt heavier, damp and metallic, like something had bled into it. My skin prickled again, and the bond with the egg tugged hard, a sudden spike of distress.

I stopped, hand pressing to my ribs.

Eve saw it instantly. “Salima.”

“It’s stronger here,” I whispered. “The calling. It’s louder.”

Tegan’s trail was brighter here. “We’re close.”

We moved deeper into the forest. The trees inside the shield looked the same, but everything felt wrong. The shadows were too still. The ground seemed to swallow any sound.

The trail of stars appeared again, faint points in the air that shimmered when Tegan lifted her hand and whispered a short phrase. They floated in a line ahead of us, guiding like a breadcrumb trail made of light.

We followed it over a low ridge and down into a shallow ravine where moss clung to rocks. A narrow opening yawned at the base of a stone outcrop, half hidden behind ferns and a fallen branch.