Daybreak finally came.
The light crept over the ribs in pale gold bands, and the weight beneath my eyes felt unbearable. Keeping them open was like carrying the Hallow itself—heavy, endless, pressing down no matter how hard I resisted.
I stayed seated. Standing felt like too much effort to justify.
Trace turned slowly, listening and orienting herself as she surveyed the surroundings. "There are so many," she said. "Clearing them all will take time."
Sare looked toward her, then toward the ribs stretching farther into the distance. "We have to," she replied calmly. "If we want to continue toward the city."
She studied the other ribs carefully. Not a single Venomclasp had moved during the night.
"As long as someone keeps watch," Sare continued, "we'll be able to sleep."
"My Knight and shadow can do that," I said quietly. "They'll alert me if anything moves."
The warmth of the rising sun washed over my face, just enough to keep me conscious. It felt gentle—almost kind.
Trace stiffened after finishing her scan. "Sare and I will take watch too. In turns."
I lifted my head slowly. "You don't have to. They'll let me know."
Sare crossed her arms. "It's better this way. More eyes, less trouble. And you'll get the rest you need."
I sighed—a long, exhausted sound that let some of the weight finally fall away. I didn't argue.
"Trace," I said after a moment, "you can't see."
"I know," she replied. "But the light from my ability will give me some sight. Even if it's limited."
I nodded faintly, then glanced down at my leg. "Can you heal this? Just enough so I can walk."
She froze.
When I looked up, the expression on her face stopped me.
"What?" I asked, squinting through the blur.
"You've never asked for help before," she said quietly.
"I'm only asking because it's necessary," I replied. "I know how much it hurts you."
"How do you—" She stopped.
She turned her head slightly toward Sare.
Sare looked away at once.
I understood.
"It's good she told me," I said slowly. "Abusing that power isn't worth it. Especially in my condition—you'd be out for days."
Trace clicked her tongue. "Fine."
Light bloomed over my leg—warm, blinding, almost alive. Strength seeped back into the muscle as the torn flesh knit itself together, a faint flame-like glow lingering over the wound. It didn't hurt.
Trace did.
She winced, her breath hitching.
"That's enough," I said immediately, grabbing her wrist. "It'll hold."
She pulled back, breathing hard.
"What rank is your ability?" I asked. "Healing and destructive power like that… clans would want you."
Her expression hardened. "I'll never join any of them."
Then, quieter, "It's Divine rank."
The word hit me harder than any blow.
I flinched, and the accumulated pain in my body surged in response, tearing through me all at once. My head burned, pressure spiking behind my eyes as I fought to stay upright.
Divine.
I exhaled slowly.
We really aren't normal.
Touched rank. Divine abilities. Killing monsters that should have ended us—barely surviving each time.
My head throbbed relentlessly, the ache deep and unyielding. The Shadow Realm had taken more than I realized. Whatever it had left me with… it wasn't much.
But day had come.
And for now, that was enough.
"Trace," I said, my voice rough but steady, "can you take out some food and cook it?"
She nodded and began preparing the meat, heat blooming softly around her hands as she worked.
Sare glanced between us, then adjusted her pack. "I'm going to find water and refill the canteens," she said, confidence settling easily into her tone. "I'll be back."
"Okay," I replied. "Just come back before night."
She didn't argue—just turned and disappeared between the ribs.
I moved slowly toward the edge of the massive bone and sat down, letting my legs dangle over the side. Below me, nothing stirred. Above me, the sky stretched wide and impossibly blue, so clear it felt unreal—like the storm from last night had never existed at all.
The sun hung high above, bright and warm.
I tilted my head back, squinting at it, feeling something strange tighten in my chest. I couldn't understand why it felt so close, as if there were nothing between us—no clouds, no distance, no weight.
I closed my eyes.
Warmth washed over me, gentle and steady. It didn't demand anything. It didn't pull at me or test me. It just was.
I breathed it in.
The starry night sky had always been my favorite. I'd loved the quiet of it, the way it swallowed sound and thought alike, the feeling of being small beneath something infinite.
But now—
Now, for the first time, the sun felt different.
Soothing. Kind.
I sat there longer than I meant to, letting the light sink into my skin, into places that still ached, still trembled. It didn't fix anything. It didn't erase the pain.
But it eased it.
I frowned faintly at the thought forming in my mind.
I like this.
No.
That wasn't right.
I opened my eyes, staring up at the endless blue.
I love it.
The realization settled quietly, without fanfare or doubt.
I loved the sun.
And for once, that didn't feel like something I needed to explain.
As the sun lit every part of me—even the places I'd kept buried—I felt a gentle weight rest on my left shoulder.
"Are you okay, Asher?"
I turned and found Trace sitting beside me, closer than I'd expected. Close enough that the warmth I felt wasn't only from the sun.
"Yeah," I said after a moment. "I'm good. I just… feel calm."
She tilted her head slightly, listening more than looking, then turned her face toward mine. Though she couldn't see my eyes, it felt like she was looking straight into them.
"It's ready," she said.
"Thank you," I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.
We sat there for a moment in silence, the breeze light, the sky impossibly blue. Then I spoke again, quieter this time.
"Hey, Trace… what do you think about all this?" I gestured vaguely, not needing to be specific. "Our situation. Everything."
She didn't answer right away.
"Well," she said slowly, "I wouldn't say we're in the best spot."
I let out a soft breath. "Then why does it feel like you think it's a good one?"
She turned a little more toward me. Our shoulders brushed, and neither of us moved away.
"I mean," she continued, "what we're doing is hard. And whatever's ahead of us…" Her voice softened. "It's probably going to get worse."
I met her gaze instinctively, even knowing she couldn't see it. "So how is that good?"
Her expression changed—not dramatically, not all at once. Her brows lifted slightly, the tension easing from her face, and a small, gentle smile formed. The kind that didn't need to be big to be certain.
"Because," she said, simply, "we have each other."
The words settled between us, warm and steady.
For the first time in a long while, the future didn't feel like something I had to face alone.
We sat there in silence, watching the forest breathe.
The trees swayed gently below us, their leaves whispering as the breeze passed through, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and old wood. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, clear and vast, as if the world had decided—just for now—to stop pressing down on us.
The warmth was constant.
Not harsh. Not demanding. Just there—steady and gentle, wrapping around me without asking anything in return. It didn't fade. It didn't overwhelm. And for once, I didn't mind it.
What I noticed most, though, was Trace.
Her presence beside me was unmistakable, grounding in a way I couldn't explain. It wasn't loud or intrusive—it was simply there, calm and unwavering, like an anchor sunk deep beneath the surface. Sitting next to her, the chaos inside me felt distant, muted, as if it belonged to someone else.
The feeling was almost unnatural.
Too calm. Too easy.
I realized, with a quiet start, that I didn't want to move. Didn't want to think about the ribs, or the monsters, or what waited beyond the forest. I wanted to stay exactly where I was—watching the trees sway, feeling the breeze brush past us, letting the sun linger on my skin.
Just watching.
Just existing.
And for a fleeting moment, that felt like enough.