The fire had long since died.
Ash remained where flame once danced—gray, powdery, and cold. Beneath it, embers still lingered, glowing faintly like memories trying not to fade. Kael crouched by the remains, stirring the coals with a stick, not to reignite them but simply to watch the way the glow scattered before vanishing.
Behind him, Liora still slept. Her breath came slow and even, her small form curled beneath the thick traveling cloak. She had insisted on staying awake the night before, whispering about dreams and firelight and voices that weren't hers. But eventually, exhaustion won. And now, even in her sleep, she frowned—eyelids flickering as if chasing visions only half-formed.
Kael glanced at her again, then at the forest beyond the glade. The snow had fallen heavier during the night, coating everything in an almost unnatural stillness. It was too quiet.
Wren approached from the trees, her boots barely leaving marks behind her. "There's movement," she said softly, not even bothering with a greeting. "Two figures, maybe three. Keeping distance, shadowing our trail."
Kael didn't need to ask if she was certain. If Wren said she saw something, it meant they were already too close.
"Same ones from the village?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Different rhythm. They don't walk like hunters. Or soldiers. But they know how to vanish when watched."
"Scouts?"
"No," she said, folding her arms. "Messengers. Or watchers. They're waiting for something."
Kael looked back toward the ash. "Or someone."
Seran emerged moments later, chewing on a frozen root with a grimace. "This trail's only getting worse," he said, his words muffled. "If we don't break off soon, we'll walk into something we can't see coming."
"We already have," Wren muttered.
Kael's jaw tightened. He had known this moment would come. Liora's presence—her power—was like a flare against the night sky. Sooner or later, something would come to find it. But the question that gnawed at him now was whether it had already arrived, hiding behind trees, pretending patience, waiting for the right silence to strike.
He knelt beside Liora and gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open—gold-touched, wide, and still fogged by sleep.
"Morning?" she mumbled.
"Almost," he said. "We need to move."
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "They're watching again, aren't they?"
Kael paused. "What do you mean again?"
She didn't answer right away, only looked toward the trees. Her gaze lingered on a spot where the frost had melted in a strange shape—a circle, ringed by melted snow, as if something warm had stood there in the dead of night.
"I heard them in my dreams," she said quietly. "They don't talk. They hum."
Wren and Seran exchanged a glance. Kael kept his expression calm, but inside, the knots began to pull tighter.
"Describe it," he said.
She frowned, brow furrowing. "It wasn't like a song. More like… pressure. Like something was humming inside my chest, and I could feel it in the bones behind my ears. Like when you press against the ground and feel thunder miles away."
Wren crouched beside her, brushing snow away from the strange ring in the dirt. "They're not just following," she said. "They're reaching."
Kael rose, fists clenched at his sides. "Then we go deeper. Off the path."
"That might be exactly what they want," Seran said.
"Then they'll find more than they're looking for," Kael replied.
They veered off the road just before noon.
The forest darkened as they descended, snow swallowing up the trail behind them. The sun, pale and reluctant, barely pierced the thick canopy above, and the wind carried a sharpness that made Kael wonder if something unseen moved with it.
Liora remained close to him, her hand brushing his cloak whenever she stepped too far. She didn't complain, didn't ask where they were going. She trusted him.
That trust was both a comfort and a burden.
He remembered her as a child—small, stubborn, eyes bright with too many questions. He remembered how she used to sleep with her hand tangled in his shirt, afraid he'd vanish if she let go. Now, she was older. Still young, still fragile in many ways, but there was something hardening beneath the softness. Like steel cooling into shape, forged by everything she didn't yet understand.
They reached a ridge that overlooked a half-frozen lake, silent and still. Wren signaled for them to stop, and they settled behind a fallen tree to rest.
Seran muttered, "Lovely place. Reminds me of my first near-death experience."
Kael gave a humorless grunt. "Only your first?"
"I stopped counting after five. I figured it was bad luck."
Liora leaned over the log and pointed. "There's someone on the other side."
Kael's heart stopped for a beat. He followed her gaze—and there, across the lake, a lone figure stood at the edge of the trees. Cloaked, unmoving, face hidden beneath a hood.
Not a hunter. Not a beast.
Just watching.
Kael stood. "Get ready to move. Quietly."
But the figure didn't advance. It didn't flee, either. It simply raised a hand—not in threat, but in greeting.
Then it turned, and disappeared into the forest without a sound.
Wren hissed. "That was no scout. That was an invitation."
They traveled until twilight and made camp in a cave carved into the hillside. It was small, just enough for four bodies and a fire. The entrance was masked with fallen branches, and Wren laid charms again, but even those felt thinner here. Fragile.
Liora sat near the flames, arms wrapped around her legs. She hadn't spoken since the lake.
Kael sat beside her. "What did you feel?"
She blinked slowly. "Sadness. But not mine. It came from them. The ones who follow. They feel... lost. Not angry. Not hateful. Just… wrong. Like they don't know who they are anymore."
Kael stared into the flames. "That's what makes them dangerous."
She rested her head on his shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. "What if I end up like them?"
"You won't," he said without hesitation.
"But what if something in me wakes up and it wants that? What if it calls to them?"
Kael didn't speak immediately. He placed his arm around her, pulled her closer.
"Then I'll be the one who answers first."
That night, Kael couldn't sleep.
He stood outside the cave, snow crunching under his boots, eyes scanning the dark.
Behind him, Liora slept again, dreams flickering behind her closed lids. Wren and Seran were curled in their cloaks, both keeping knives close.
And in the distance, past trees and snow and wind, something hummed.
But not threatening.
It was low. Soft.
Almost mournful.
And Kael, listening to it, felt something stir—not fear, not even dread.
Recognition.