Riven pulled Aren into the shadows just as the flying machines dipped lower, slicing through the canopy with sharp, metallic wings. They weren't like the gentle gliders of Solis — these were sharper, darker, built for speed… and pursuit.
Aren crouched beside him behind the thick roots of an ancient tree, heart pounding so loudly she was sure the machines could hear it.
"What are those?" she whispered.
"Sky Reavers," Riven muttered. "They hunt anything that falls from the clouds."
Aren blinked at him. "That sounds extremely personal."
"It is."
The machines hummed overhead, scanning the forest with beams of pale blue light. Leaves turned silver where the light touched them. The beams swept back and forth in slow arcs.
Searching.
For her.
Riven reached for her hand — not gently, but urgently.
"Don't breathe when the light passes."
"Why—"
"Just don't."
Aren clamped her mouth shut just as one of the scanning beams glided across the forest floor. It passed over her leg, her arm, the case lying on the ground between them. For a terrifying moment, the light lingered on the case, flickering as if confused.
Then it moved on.
Aren exhaled shakily. "Okay. That wasn't terrifying at all."
Riven didn't smile. Instead, he stood abruptly. "We need to move deeper into the forest. The Reavers won't give up easily."
Aren reached for the case, but he placed a hand on her wrist.
"Don't open it," he warned.
"I never said I would."
"You thought about it."
She scowled. "…maybe."
Riven didn't argue — he simply turned and slipped between the trees, moving with a silent grace that told Aren he'd lived down here a long, long time. She hurried after him, boots crunching over leaves.
The forest grew thicker, darker. Strange vines glowed faintly at their edges. Small lights zipped between branches like fireflies, but not quite — too sharp, too purposeful.
"What are those?" Aren asked.
"Don't touch them."
"Why?"
"They explode."
Aren yanked her hand back immediately. "Okay, I officially hate this place."
"Most people do," Riven said.
They walked until the hum of machines became distant, swallowed by the dense canopy. Only then did Riven slow.
Aren finally spoke the question burning in her mind.
"You said the case has been calling for me since before I was born. What does that even mean?"
Riven hesitated — long enough for Aren to see the battle in his eyes.
"It means," he said at last, "that you're not the first Aren Kai."
Aren stopped walking. "Come again?"
"There was another," Riven said. "Aren Kai… from the world before the fall. The world that existed before Solis was built."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"I know."
"So what — you're saying I'm some kind of… reincarnation?"
Riven paused. "Not exactly."
Aren opened her mouth to demand an actual explanation, but a rustling noise cut through the trees. Louder. Closer. Not mechanical.
Riven stiffened. "Get behind me."
Aren obeyed, clutching the case to her chest as the bushes ahead trembled.
Footsteps.
Light. Careful.
But definitely human.
Riven drew his sword.
A figure stepped out.
A woman — tall, wrapped in patched leather armor, hair braided tightly against her head. She carried a staff made of polished bone, glowing faintly at the tip.
Her eyes locked on Aren.
"So," the woman said slowly, "the girl with the shadow is real."
Riven lifted his blade defensively. "Lysa, don't—"
Lysa slammed her staff into the ground.
A ring of pale fire burst outward, circling Aren like a trap.
Aren gasped and stumbled back. "Hey! What—!"
The fire didn't burn her.
It scanned her.
Then it faded.
Lysa's expression turned grim.
"It's true," she whispered, staring at the case. "The shadow has chosen her."
Riven stepped protectively in front of Aren. "We don't know that yet."
Lysa shook her head. "We know enough. And so do the Reavers."
Aren swallowed hard. "What does that mean?"
Lysa met her eyes.
"It means, Aren Kai… the world has been waiting for you."
She paused.
"And now everyone will try to kill you for what you're carrying