he wind shifted, carrying with it the faint scent of burnt resin and iron. Kael didn't like it. He'd smelled it once before, years ago — on the night House Vorrin fell.
Sera kicked the limp puppet nearest her, flipping it over with her boot. Up close, the thing was worse. The bones were yellowed but polished, lashed together with silver wire where sinew should have been. Strips of blackened cloth clung to it, stitched with symbols that made Kael's eyes ache to look at for too long.
"No rot," Sera murmured. "No smell of death. Whatever made these, it's not necromancy."
Kael crouched beside her, examining the severed arm she'd shaken free from earlier. Its fingers still twitched faintly, as if reluctant to admit they were no longer part of a whole. The rune-sword hummed when he brought it closer. The twitching stopped.
"They can be cut off from their strings," Kael said.
Sera frowned. "Meaning they're being controlled… remotely?"
Lina hovered near the edge of the clearing, her wide eyes darting between them. "Like… toys?"
Kael glanced up at her. "Not toys. Weapons."
The girl wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "Then who's playing with them?"
"That," Sera said, straightening, "is the real question."
They moved on quickly. Kael insisted on keeping to thicker ground cover, even if it slowed their pace. The memory of those puppets didn't fade — especially not the way they had turned in perfect unison toward some unseen signal before retreating. Whoever had sent them knew exactly where he was now.
The forest began to thin by mid-afternoon, giving way to a stretch of rocky ground where sparse pines clung to life. The mist that had haunted them since dawn finally broke, and sunlight spilled across the valley beyond. It should have felt like relief. It didn't.
Kael spotted movement on a distant ridge — not close enough to make out details, but enough for the shape of a figure to register. Dark cloak. Still as stone. Watching.
He didn't say anything. No point in alarming Lina until he was sure. But Sera followed his gaze and gave the smallest nod. She'd seen it too.
By sundown, they found a shallow overhang of stone to shelter under. Sera set about building a small, smokeless fire while Kael stood watch. He kept glancing toward the ridge, but the figure was gone.
When the fire was ready, Lina curled up near the heat, exhaustion pulling at her eyelids. Sera sat across from Kael, her face lit in soft amber.
"Those things," she said quietly, "aren't just here to kill you. You realize that, right?"
Kael kept his eyes on the dark beyond the firelight. "They said something to me before. The one in the Vale."
"What?"
"'Return the flame.'"
Sera's brow furrowed. "And you have no idea what that means?"
"I have an idea," Kael admitted. He touched the scroll hidden inside his cloak. "But I'm not ready to say it out loud."
Sera leaned back, studying him for a moment. "You're dangerous, Vorrin. Not just because you can fight. Because someone out there thinks you're holding something worth sending nightmares after."
Kael didn't deny it.
The wind picked up, sighing through the pines. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled — but there was something off about it. Too long. Too hollow.
Sera's hand went to her bow. Kael stood, drawing the rune-sword.
The sound came again, closer.
And then, from the darkness beyond the stones, two points of pale light appeared — like eyes, but not. They flickered faintly, as if seen through water.
Lina stirred, her small voice trembling. "Kael…"
He tightened his grip on the blade.
Whatever was out there wasn't a wolf.