Rain began to fall by the time they reached the edge of the Blistering Forest. Not a storm nothing loud or furious but a slow, steady drizzle that soaked into leather and bone, seeping into the fabric of cloaks and the cracks between armor plates.
No one spoke.
They didn't need to.
Kael's double was buried beneath the roots of a hollow tree, his illusion peeled away by Seris's magic until nothing remained but an unfamiliar face and bones that didn't belong to any man.
Alera stood over that grave longer than she should've.
Not because of grief.
Because of doubt.
Because something inside her still questioned whether she'd killed a man, a puppet, or a memory that didn't belong to her.
They set up camp near the riverbend, avoiding the tainted springs that ran black with silver algae. The fire burned low, shielded by stones and tired hands. Saphine moved through the perimeter silently, double-checking every route, her mouth set in a line of frustration she didn't bother hiding anymore.
Lysandria sat cleaning her dagger by the fire.
Seris stared into the trees.
Alera sat with her back against a stone, eyes half-lidded, listening.
The child stirred again quiet, like turning in a dream.
And then, for the first time in days…
It spoke.
Not with words.
But memories.
She saw her mother.
Not in a throne room. Not draped in silk or gold.
But kneeling beside a small garden, hands in the dirt, humming to herself.
The world behind her was crumbling fires in the hills, ash falling like snow.
But the woman had smiled.
"They will take everything from us, little ember. So hold what cannot burn."
The vision faded.
Alera blinked, chest tight.
Then stood, walked away from the fire, and disappeared into the trees.
No one followed.
She moved until the campfire glow vanished behind her.
Until the rain soaked her fully.
Until the silence welcomed her.
It wasn't peace.
It was stillness.
And in that stillness, a whisper.
Low. Dry. Crawling.
"You've begun to remember."
Alera turned slowly.
There was no one there.
Only a tree.
Old. Blackened. Split down the center like it had once been struck by lightning and never healed.
She stepped closer.
And something stepped out.
It wasn't a person.
Not entirely.
Wrapped in bark and shadow, skin tattooed with runes she didn't recognize, it took the shape of a man but the voice belonged to something older.
"You seek the Sea of Sorrow."
She didn't answer.
It didn't wait.
"You'll never find it with maps. Or magic. Or the bones of the past."
Alera's fingers hovered near her blade.
"What are you?"
The thing tilted its head.
"A guide. Or a warning. That depends on who you are when you leave this forest."
"I have no time for riddles."
"You have nothing but time. You just haven't died enough yet to understand that."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You want something."
The bark-creature nodded.
"Everything wants something. But I want only to offer."
"Offer what?"
It raised its hands.
And the rain stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
Every droplet froze mid-air, suspended between leaves, clinging to blades of grass.
Time held its breath.
"A door."
Alera felt her spine stiffen.
"To where?"
"To the truth you were never supposed to find."
The thing walked to the tree and placed its hand on the bark. A pulse of dull gold spread out across the wood.
A crack opened in the trunk like a mouth.
A scent poured out: salt, old pages, blood, and something sharp like lightning.
"Beyond this tree is not the Sea. But the path to it."
"You'll walk through flame. Memory. Sacrifice."
"And not all of you will return."
She looked at the door.
Then back at the creature.
"What are you, really?"
It didn't smile.
"I was the first thing your ancestors buried."
When she stepped into the hollow, the bark closed behind her.
No sound. No light.
Only breath.
And then...
A flash.
She was in a tower.
Stone walls carved with names.
Alera turned in a slow circle, heartbeat loud in her ears.
The air buzzed with static.
And then footsteps.
From the stairwell.
She readied herself.
But when the figure appeared, her grip loosened.
It was her.
Younger.
Blood on her dress.
Fire in her eyes.
The girl stared at her.
And spoke.
"Why did you let me become this?"
Alera stepped back.
"I didn't choose."
"You did. Every time you looked away. Every time you stayed silent. Every time you let them bury us."
She shook her head.
"No. I tried to protect us."
"You protected what was left. Not what could've been."
The girl stepped forward.
"We're not done. Not until you face the truth."
"Which truth?"
"The one buried under Kael's name."
The scene shattered.
Alera gasped, falling to her knees.
The bark parted behind her.
She stumbled out into rain again this time harder, louder, with wind whipping her hair and mud slick under her boots.
The creature was gone.
But the message was clear.
Kael's name wasn't just a name.
It was a door she hadn't opened yet.
And whatever was on the other side wasn't meant to love her.
She returned to camp soaked, shivering.
Saphine met her at the edge.
"You were gone."
"I went looking."
"Find anything?"
Alera looked at her for a long time.
Then nodded once.
"Too much."
That night, she sat alone by the fire.
Lysandria approached with two mugs.
Held one out.
Alera took it.
It was bitter. Warm. Real.
The silence between them was heavy, but not unkind.
"You're changing," Lysandria said at last.
"I know."
"You're quieter now."
"I have to be."
"Is it fear?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Alera stared at the flames.
And whispered, "It's grief."
Lysandria said nothing for a long time.
Then reached over, rested a hand on her shoulder.
"We'll find the Sea. We'll face her. The Prophet. The thrones. All of it."
Alera met her eyes.
"And if I don't come back?"
"You will."
She hesitated.
"And if I do, but I'm not me?"
Lysandria's voice never wavered.
"Then I'll bring you back."
The fire popped.
The wind screamed once, far off, in the trees.
And the rain kept falling.
But in Alera's chest, something quiet began to rise again.
Not strength.
Not rage.
Just… breath.
And that would be enough.
For now.