The moon sank lower by the time Seris and Ravel reached the rise overlooking the bridge. The air had grown colder, heavy with the night's weight, and every breath clouded faintly as they approached the edge of the hill.
Ravel wiped the moisture from his brow, though the cold air had kept sweat from forming fully. His legs ached from the long stretch of walking through icy water and over uneven plains. Seris had slowed her stride only once, and even then she moved with a hunter's quiet urgency. It was clear she was pushing them to reach the bridge before the night reached its deepest point.
Ravel finally saw it through the tall grass. A skeleton of stone and rotted wood. Thornwater Bridge. Or what was left of it.
A wide arch once crossed the river where the plains thinned. The arch now lay broken, the center collapsed into the water. The remaining pillars leaned at angles that made it look like they were frozen mid-fall. Wood planks dangled from frayed ropes, swinging lightly whenever the wind shifted. Moonlight cast pale silver lines across the structure, giving it the appearance of a tired, ancient creature stretched across the riverbank.
Seris stopped at the crest of the hill and crouched behind a collection of boulders. Ravel did the same. Her eyes scanned the horizon again and again, daring the night to reveal movement.
"No patrols," she said at last. "That is a small victory."
Ravel let out a slow breath and looked toward the ruined bridge. "People used to come through here often, right?"
"Years ago," Seris said. "The empire stopped maintaining the trade routes once the river grew unpredictable. The terrain shifted after the first siphon test in this region. The riverbed changed. This bridge fell apart the year after."
"So no one has used it since?"
"No one who cares about survival," Seris replied.
Ravel tried to laugh, though it came out thin and uneasy. "Then why are we using it?"
Seris did not smile. "Because no sane patrol will check near a river crossing that no longer exists. The broken structure gives us cover and it leads directly to Stonebrush Woods."
Ravel felt a cold shiver slide down his spine. "And the owls."
"And the owls."
They began descending toward the ruins. The grass thinned into patches of dirt. Stones littered the slope. Ravel stumbled twice before he reached the bottom, but Seris steadied him with a quick, gentle grip each time.
When they reached the shadow of the broken bridge, Ravel felt the temperature drop sharply, as if the mass of stone absorbed the night's chill. The river's sound deepened into a low roar here, pressed between the stone pillars that jutted like broken ribs.
Seris guided Ravel to the underside of one of the fallen sections. The stone created a shallow shelter, angled just enough to keep the wind from hitting them directly.
"This will do," she said.
Ravel sat on a rock and rubbed his cold hands together. The sphere warmed faintly through his shirt, almost as if reacting to the way he trembled. He felt a small surge of comfort and frustration. The warmth helped, but the reminder of the object beneath his clothes made him uneasy.
Seris crouched near him and retrieved a small bundle from her pack. She unfolded a thin sheet of waxed cloth and laid it out. Inside were dried fruit, hard bread and a small flask of water. She passed Ravel a share and took a piece for herself.
Ravel chewed the bread slowly. It was stale enough to require effort. The dried fruit softened it in his mouth just enough for swallowing.
"Seris," he said quietly, "how long will we have to travel like this?"
Seris swallowed her bite before answering. "Until we are far enough from the empire's immediate reach."
"That could be days."
"It will be," she said simply.
Ravel sighed. "I still do not understand why I cannot just give them the sphere."
Seris leaned forward. "Because what you saw in the ravine confirms something the empire has feared for centuries. A power older than its own rule. Something they cannot shape or suppress. If you give them the sphere, they will not thank you. They will silence you."
Ravel's hand tightened around the fruit. "But why me? Why did it show me that vision?"
"Because you touched it first," Seris replied. "Because you were there when the seal reacted."
"That is not an answer."
"No," she said softly. "It is not."
Ravel looked toward the dark water, watching it surge between broken stones. He tried to imagine what the empire would do if they discovered the ravine. If they felt the ancient pulse that had moved through the ground. He thought of the siphon firing again, the vibration in the earth. He thought of the villagers in Serrin waking to that sound.
"Is there no one we can trust?" he asked. "No one who would know what to do?"
"There are scholars who study forbidden history," Seris said. "But they live far from the empire's reach. They hide their work because speaking of the old world is considered treason. The empire does not want people believing power existed before it."
"What about the Order of the Deep Sky?" Ravel asked. "My father always said they kept old records."
Seris's jaw tightened. "The Order serves the empire, even if they pretend neutrality. They may have knowledge, but they will not share it freely. They obey the emperor's decrees."
Ravel looked away. He had hoped that mentioning the Order might bring some comfort. Instead it made him more aware of how alone he felt.
The sphere pulsed again under his shirt. A warm, steady beat.
Seris's eyes shifted toward it.
"Does it always do that?" she asked.
"No. Only… only when I think too much about it."
"That concerns me."
"It concerns me too."
Seris shifted, her expression thoughtful. "Have you tried speaking to it?"
Ravel stared. "Speaking to it?"
"Relics sometimes respond to intention. Not words, necessarily, but quiet thought. Focus. You could try."
Ravel hesitated. The idea felt absurd, but the ravine, the vision and the pulse in his chest had already pushed him far past what he once believed possible. He closed his eyes and placed his hand over the cloth where the sphere rested.
He did not say anything aloud. He simply thought the words he wanted to ask.
What are you?Why me?What do you want?
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the heat grew slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to be unmistakable. His breath hitched.
He waited for more. A whisper. A thought. A memory.
But nothing else came.
Seris watched closely. "Anything?"
"No. Only warmth."
She nodded. "That might be all we get tonight."
Ravel lowered his hand and leaned back against the stone. His eyelids felt heavy. Exhaustion sank into him like cold water. Seris noticed and placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Sleep," she said. "You need it."
"What about you?"
"I will take first watch."
Ravel wanted to protest. He wanted to sit up and keep lookout too, but he felt his body giving in despite his intentions. He lay down on the makeshift ground, using his satchel as a pillow. The stone above them gave a small sense of shelter, and the roar of the river became a strange comfort.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep did not come quickly. His mind churned with fragments of the vision. The drifting stars. The gate that waited. The hand reaching for him.
At last, exhaustion pulled him under.
He dreamed, but the dream did not feel like a dream.
He stood on the same path of drifting lights he had seen before. The air was weightless. The path stretched to infinity. His feet made no sound when they moved.
Ahead of him, the gate of light pulsed softly, as if breathing. It felt closer this time. Clearer. More defined. Its shape formed a tall arch with patterns that shifted like living symbols.
Someone stood in front of it.
A silhouette. Human in shape. Still. Waiting.
Ravel approached slowly. He felt the presence long before he reached it. Not threatening. Not welcoming. Simply aware.
When he was close enough to see the outline shift, the figure raised its head.
Ravel opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
The figure moved one step closer. Ravel felt a faint vibration in the dream, like the hum beneath the ravine.
Then the figure spoke.
Not with a voice. With thought. Gentle but immense.
You have awakened the first signal.
Ravel tried to respond, but his body refused to move.
More will follow.Be ready.
The light at the gate surged, bright enough to wash everything white.
Ravel jerked awake with a gasp.
Cold air hit his lungs. His heart pounded. The river roared behind him. Seris was by the entrance of the shelter, kneeling, gripping her sword with both hands.
She turned toward him sharply.
"You felt it."
It was not a question.
Ravel nodded, still breathless. "A vision. Someone spoke to me."
Seris stood slowly, alert as a drawn bowstring.
"What did they say?"
Ravel swallowed, the words feeling heavy.
"They said the first signal is awakened. And more are coming."