The sanctuary faded behind them, its once-soft glow sputtering, trembling, then dimming entirely as they crossed the last warded threshold. The moment the final ripple of blue light vanished, the world felt colder. Not by temperature, but by something deeper, something Aelindra felt in the hollow behind her ribs.
For the first time since arriving at this hidden refuge, the air offered no sense of safety.
Just open sky. Just mountains. Just danger.
And the knowledge echoing in her skull like a struck bell:
Severin is a prince.
She walked near him, close enough to hear his breathing, far enough that she didn't have to look directly at him. If she did, she wasn't sure what would show on her face. Confusion. Disappointment. More hurt than she thought she had room for.
He hadn't lied.
But he hadn't told the truth either.
The early morning frost clung to the grass, crunching under their boots as the group moved swiftly along the narrow ridge path. Below them, a valley stretched wide and shadow-drenched, dotted with dying trees and patches of silver mist that curled along the earth.
"Keep your steps tight," Arveth called from the front, staff clicking. "If you fall here, we will not have time to climb down to collect you."
Caelan muttered, "Comforting."
Mira elbowed him. "He's warning you specifically."
"Me? I walked cliffs before you even learned how to..."
"Children," Arveth snapped over his shoulder without turning. "Both of you hush."
Aelindra almost smiled. Almost.
Caelan moved up beside her, giving her a long, sidelong look, like he was trying to read something in her expression.
"You're being quiet," he murmured.
"I'm thinking."
He raised a brow. "Ah. Dangerous."
She let out a breath that wanted to be a laugh. "Caelan…"
"Yeah?"
"Did you know?"
He didn't pretend not to understand. His features tightened.
"No," he said firmly. "Not a whisper. From the moment you both stepped into the settlement? He was just some idiot with a stubborn streak and being annoyingly good at skipping rocks. A prince would've been… I don't know, terrible at having fun?"
"That's not helpful," she muttered.
"I'm serious," Caelan said softly this time. "We didn't miss anything, Ael. He hid it. And he hid it well."
She looked forward again.
Severin walked a few steps ahead, Mira beside him, Arveth several strides before them. Marienne kept to the back, hands occasionally brushing the bow slung across her shoulder, like she needed the reassurance that it was real, that she could still do something.
The path tightened, curving into a climb. Aelindra followed in silence, but inside her thoughts churned relentlessly.
Severin.
Prince.
Of Solis.
A crown lost. A kingdom fractured. A power the Herald desperately wanted.
Why didn't he tell them?
Why didn't he tell her?
Every memory she held of him, his quiet moments, the protective softness he tried to hide, the nights by the fire, shifted, just slightly. Enough to sting.
He wasn't someone who had nothing. He wasn't someone who'd stumbled into their lives with a broken past and nowhere else to go.
He chose not to share everything.
And that choice gnawed at the edge of her heart more sharply than she expected.
____
Around midday, the sky darkened with rolling gray clouds. Not storm clouds, something heavier. More watchful.
Arveth stopped abruptly.
"Pause," he ordered.
Everyone halted except Severin, who took one more step before realizing.
Arveth's gaze was fixed on the sky. "Do you hear that?"
Aelindra listened.
At first, nothing.
Then
A low hum.
Barely audible.
Like distant chanting buried beneath layers of wind.
Severin's jaw clenched. "He's calling again."
"Not to you," Arveth corrected. "This time, he's speaking to the mountain."
"The mountain?" Caelan repeated. "That's not concerning at all."
"It is," Arveth said. "The Umbral Range responds to powerful magic. If the Herald can stir its roots from this distance…" He grimaced. "We must quicken our pace."
Marienne stepped up. "But we can't run blindly. If he's watching..."
"He is watching," Severin said quietly.
Aelindra's head snapped toward him. His voice was too steady, too resigned.
"How do you know?" she asked.
He hesitated, then looked at her fully for the first time since leaving the sanctuary.
"I can feel him," Severin said. "Like a thread pulling tighter. Each hour that passes, it becomes harder to, to ignore."
Aelindra's heart tightened. That wasn't just dangerous. It was terrifying.
"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" she asked.
He didn't look away.
"Because I didn't want you to worry."
The words landed between them, heavy and clumsy.
Caelan rolled his eyes. "Ah yes, nothing says 'don't worry' like being hunted by a magical tyrant obsessed with your soul."
"Caelan," Mira hissed.
"What? He's not wrong!" Caelan threw up his hands. "If the Herald's crawling around in Severin's ribs, maybe we should talk about that!"
Arveth cleared his throat with a thunderous growl. "We will address the Herald's influence once we reach the foothills. Until then, mouths closed, feet moving."
They resumed the climb.
But Aelindra's thoughts didn't settle.
She walked closer to Severin now, not to question him again, not to confront him, just to remind herself he was still here. Still himself. Still breathing.
Even if she didn't know every part of him.
Not yet.
Not the parts he kept locked away like they'd hurt him if let out.
Not the parts that made him a prince.
Not the parts that made him hunted.
But she wanted to.
Just… not now. Not when grief was still sharp-edged her thoughts.
The terrain grew harsher. Loose stone. Jagged roots. Cliffs that fell away into dizzying nothingness. As they neared the first ridge of the Umbral Range, Mira slowed beside Aelindra.
"You're quiet today," she said softly.
"So everyone keeps telling me."
Mira nudged her shoulder. "You don't have to pretend you're fine."
"I'm not pretending."
"You're avoiding."
Aelindra bit the inside of her cheek. "…Maybe."
Mira didn't push. She never did.
They descended into a narrow gorge, the walls rising steep and sheer on both sides. The air dropped several degrees, cold enough that Aelindra's breath fogged.
The gorge took them into shadow, thick and unmoving. Their footsteps echoed.
Aelindra felt the shift again, the one she hated, the one she always felt when danger pressed close.
Her pulse accelerated.
Severin noticed.
He slowed, stepping near. "What is it?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"Well, you don't look like someone who hears voices whispering to him from the mountains, but we can't all match our insides, can we?"
He blinked. Mira snorted behind them. Caelan whispered, "Burn," under his breath.
Aelindra immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."
"No," Severin said quietly. "I deserved that one."
Her chest tightened.
She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him she wasn't angry, that she was scared, that she didn't know how to process the fact that he carried a crown he never mentioned. But the gorge pressed in around them, suffocating and cold, and this wasn't the place.
Instead, she said, "We should keep moving."
He nodded.
They walked.
And though they were side by side, Aelindra felt a distance between them she didn't know how to cross.
Not yet.
By late afternoon, the gorge opened abruptly into a wide plateau overlooking the first true sweep of the Umbral Range.
It was breathtaking in a terrifying way.
Black stone peaks rose jagged against the sky, sharp enough they looked like they could tear the clouds. Mist pooled between them, silver-white and restless. Strange lights flickered occasionally, blue, then violet, then gone.
Marienne inhaled sharply. "Gods…"
Arveth looked grim. "Welcome to the threshold. From here on, we are beyond any place the Crown Knights ever marked. No road. No paths. Only instinct and caution."
"Perfect," Caelan muttered.
Severin stepped forward, the wind whipping his hair. He stared at the mountains like they held a piece of him, something painful, something inevitable.
Aelindra watched him, the ache in her chest shifting.
She didn't want the space between them anymore.
So she walked up beside him.
His eyes flicked toward her, uncertainty flickering across his face.
"Severin," she said quietly, careful, "we'll talk later. But not now. Just… stay close."
He swallowed.
"Always."
And for the first time since dawn, something eased inside her.
They traveled along the plateau for another hour before Arveth finally stopped.
"We camp here," he announced. "Nightfall in the Range is unpredictable. And violent."
Caelan frowned. "Violent how?"
Arveth set down his pack. "You'll see."
"Fantastic."
They worked quickly, Marienne gathering dry grass, Caelan arranging stones for the fire, Mira scouting the parameters. Aelindra knelt beside Severin, who hovered his hand over the tinder, jaw tight, trying to summon even the smallest spark.
A faint glow flickered at his fingertips… then sputtered out.
He exhaled sharply, frustration tightening his shoulders.
"Let me," she murmured.
He shook his head once. "I can do it. I just..."
Another attempt. Another flicker. Another failure. His magic trembled, unstable, shaken by the Herald's pull… or by fear he wouldn't admit.
Aelindra gently covered his hand with hers.
"You don't have to force it," she said softly. "You're tired."
His fingers curled instinctively around hers, warm even without flame. For a heartbeat, they both stilled, soft, grounding contact in a world turning sharper by the hour.
A breath. A moment.
Then Aelindra lowered their joined hands toward the tinder.
"Try with me," she whispered.
This time, when Severin summoned heat, it came, steady, controlled, blooming into a small, steady flame that caught the grass and spread.
He let out a slow breath, something unspoken loosening in his chest.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"You don't have to burn yourself out," she answered.
Their hands lingered together a moment longer before she pulled away.
"You're shaking," she said.
"So are you."
"Not as much."
His lips twitched faintly. "Argumentative as always."
"That's rich coming from you."
The fire sparked to life, small and flickering. They watched it burn quietly for a moment.
Then Severin exhaled. "Aelindra… I should've told you."
She stiffened, though she tried not to. "It wasn't my right to know."
"Yes," he said firmly. "It was."
She looked at him then. Really looked. And she saw it: shame, exhaustion, fear, and something she didn't want to name.
"Why didn't you?"
He hesitated.
And that was when the wind changed.
Sudden. Icy. Heavy with whispers.
A voice slithered through the air.
"C r o w n f i r e…"
The Herald.
Severin doubled forward with a sharp intake of breath, fists clenched. Aelindra grabbed his shoulders. "Severin!"
Arveth spun, staff raised. Mira shouted a warning. Caelan reached for his daggers. Marienne nocked an arrow.
The flames guttered.
Shadows rippled along the far ridge, coalescing into something almost humanoid, tall, thin, wrong.
Not solid.
Not real.
A projection.
But its presence shook the ground.
Arveth roared, "Hold your ground!"
Aelindra pressed herself to Severin, shielding him, even though she knew she couldn't stop what was happening inside his mind.
The shadow tilted its head.
"Crownfire," the Herald whispered through Severin's clenched teeth, "come home."
Severin gasped,
and the shadow vanished.
The wind died in an instant.
Silence collapsed around them.
Aelindra held Severin's face between her hands, breath trembling. "Look at me."
His eyes fluttered open.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm, I'm here."
She pulled him into her arms before she could think.
He didn't resist.
He collapsed into her like someone finally allowing themselves to fall.
And above them, the Umbral Range loomed, dark, ancient, waiting.
Their journey had only just begun.