Marrowvale didn't have mornings. Not really.
Just a thinning of the dark. A pale, half-hearted gray that filtered through the ever-churning clouds, casting everything in dull shadow.
Cael walked in silence, boots crunching over frostbitten dirt. Behind him, the others moved too—slow, stiff, worn. No one had slept well. No one spoke of what they'd seen in the ruins.
Ahead, the remains of a road stretched into fog. Dead trees lined its sides like rotting sentries.
"We'll rest once we reach the hollowed tower," Elise muttered, voice thin. "It's marked on the old maps."
Cael just nodded. His thoughts were still on the night before. The shard. The ache in his chest. The way Sela had looked at him before walking into the dark.
She was beside him now, quiet. Armor dull with ash, eyes always scanning the mist. She hadn't spoken to him since.
They walked for what felt like hours.
Then Cael noticed it.
Where's Myka?
He glanced back.
She was farther behind than usual—maybe ten, fifteen paces. Her boots dragged a little. Her gaze seemed unfocused, drifting through the fog.
"Myka," Jarrik called, trying to sound casual. "You good back there?"
She jerked slightly, then nodded too fast.
"Yeah. Sorry. Just… the trees. They feel like they're watching."
Everyone paused.
Elise frowned. "They're trees."
Sela didn't speak. Just watched.
Cael felt a chill—not from the air, but from the look in Myka's eyes. Distant. Too calm. Like something had settled behind them.
"What's that in your hand?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Myka blinked. Then tucked her hand into her pocket
"Just a stone. I found it yesterday."
"It's warm. It makes me feel… less scared."
Something throbbed in Cael's coat. The shard. As if responding.
He said nothing.
The fog thickened as they walked, swallowing their voices.
That night, after they reached the old tower ruins, they made camp inside a broken stone hall. Moss grew up the shattered walls, and claw marks scarred the old floor. Blood stains long dried into the stone.
"Whatever lived here isn't here anymore," Elise muttered.
"But something was wrong with it."
Later, as the fire burned low, Cael sat apart from the others. Sela was sharpening her blade. Jarrik was wrapping a new bandage. Elise slept with one eye open.
Myka sat alone, by a crumbled wall.
She was humming.
The same tune she always did. But slower. Out of tune. Just barely.
"She's just scared," Cael told himself.
"We all are."
But as he watched her, rocking gently in the dark, hand still in her pocket—
He wasn't sure if that was all