They didn't stop walking until the sun started to dip and the trees grew dense again.
The rescued family—merchant, mother, children, old man—moved in a tight cluster behind Maera. Every snap of a twig made them flinch. Every gust of wind sounded like another bolt.
Elowen stayed at the rear, one hand under her cloak on my hilt, the other ready to catch anyone who stumbled.
I kept my glow folded in, quiet as a covered lantern.
But inside my steel, that whisper lingered like frost.
GOOD GIRL. KEEP PROTECTING.
I hated how it tried to sound kind.
Elowen hated it too—because the bond pulsed with her anger every time my runes went cold.
At last, Maera raised her fist again.
Ahead, the second mile-stone waited—taller than the first, cracked and weathered, carved with the same older runes. When Maera touched it, the ward dome bloomed outward with a soft thrum.
The moment we crossed the threshold, the air changed.
Less sharp.
Less watched.
The family sagged with relief like their bones had been holding them upright out of pure fear.
The mother whispered, "Is… is it safe here?"
Maera answered honestly. "Safer."
Elowen glanced at me under her cloak. Can you hold quiet? she asked through the bond.
Yes, I replied. But I need a minute.
Elowen moved behind the mile-stone itself—out of sight from the road—and crouched.
"All right," she murmured. "Come back."
I released my sword form carefully.
Light wrapped inward—not flaring, not beaconing—just a clean shift.
A heartbeat later I was small again, sitting against Elowen's knee, hood up, legs tucked in.
I exhaled like I'd been holding my breath for hours.
Elowen's hand immediately rested on my head—gentle, steady—like she was checking that I was still real.
"You did well," she said quietly.
I tried to sound grumpy. "I know."
My voice wobbled on the last syllable.
Elowen's thumb brushed my temple. "You're tired."
"I'm fine."
Elowen gave me the look.
I sighed. "I'm… medium."
Maera approached, eyes scanning the wardline while she spoke. "You held concealment, blocked a marking thread, fought constructs, and didn't burn out. That's not 'medium.' That's progress."
I blinked at her. "Was that… praise?"
Maera stared at me like I'd asked if stone could sing. "No."
Elowen's mouth curved.
The merchant family gathered near a small ring of old stones—someone had camped here before. Maera allowed it, but kept them close to the mile-stone.
Elowen knelt and helped the old man sit, then checked his arm with quick, practical movements.
"We can bind it," she said. "No infection yet."
The mother's voice trembled. "We thought we were going to die."
Elowen's gaze softened. "You didn't."
Her eyes flicked—briefly—to me.
"And you won't, if you stay close to the ward until morning."
The children stared at Elowen like she was a story walking out of a book.
Then the younger one stared at me.
I froze.
Kids had radar. Kids could tell when something was weird even if adults refused to.
The little girl pointed. "Who is that?"
Elowen paused.
Maera's posture tensed—ready to shut it down.
But Elowen didn't lie.
Not fully.
"She's… with me," Elowen said carefully.
The girl blinked. "Like your little sister?"
My face heated instantly. "I'm not—"
Elowen's hand slid to my shoulder, a gentle warning to stay quiet.
Elowen nodded once, choosing the simplest safe answer. "Something like that."
The girl smiled, then held out a tiny scrap of sweetbread from their supplies.
"For you."
I stared at it like it might explode.
No one had offered me food since I woke up in velvet darkness. The thought was oddly overwhelming.
I took it with both hands, very carefully.
"…Thank you."
The girl beamed and ran back to her mother.
I stared down at the sweetbread in my hands.
Elowen sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched.
"You see?" she murmured. "Person."
My throat tightened.
I looked away fast and stuffed the sweetbread into my mouth to avoid saying anything embarrassing.
It worked for exactly three seconds.
"Mommy," I mumbled around a bite, "this is good."
Elowen froze.
Then she coughed once like she'd inhaled the word by accident.
Maera turned her head away very slowly as if inspecting the trees.
Elowen leaned closer, voice low and warm. "Yes, Rin. Eat."
My face burned, but the warmth in my chest was worse—because it wasn't embarrassment anymore.
It was comfort.
Night settled in.
The family slept in uneasy shifts inside the ward dome. Maera stood watch near the mile-stone, silhouette still as a blade.
Elowen sat with her back against the stone marker itself, knees drawn up, cloak wrapped around both of us like a tent.
I curled against her side, hood down now, listening to her heartbeat again.
It was the safest sound in the world.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then Elowen whispered, "Rin."
"Yeah?"
Her voice was quiet. "When you hear that voice… what does it feel like?"
I swallowed. "Like it knows me."
Elowen's hand tightened slightly on the edge of her cloak. "Does it feel… like you?"
I hesitated.
"I don't know," I admitted. "It feels familiar. But not in a good way. Like a memory that wants to rewrite me."
Elowen's jaw tightened. "Then we won't let it."
I stared at the dark trees beyond the ward dome. "What if it's connected to why I'm like this?"
Elowen's answer came instantly, steady and fierce. "Then we find the truth the right way. Not the way it wants."
My eyes stung again—annoying, unfair.
I whispered, "Mamma…"
Elowen's breathing hitched softly, but she didn't correct me.
"Yes?"
I fidgeted with the edge of her cloak. "If I… remember something awful… will you still—"
Elowen cut me off gently, like she wouldn't let the sentence finish.
"I'm not leaving," she said. "Not if you're scared. Not if you're angry. Not if you remember something you hate."
Her hand moved to the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair.
"You're mine to protect," she added, quieter. "And you protect me too."
The bond flared—warm, anchoring, stronger than any rune.
I let out a shaky breath.
Then, because my brain hates peace, I whispered the question that had been haunting me since the mile-stone had throbbed.
"…Did you hear it call me something? Back there. It said… Serin."
Elowen went still.
Maera, across the dome, shifted her stance—just slightly—like she'd heard too.
Elowen's voice stayed calm, but the bond tightened with concern. "I felt something. I didn't hear the word."
I stared at my hands. "It sounded like… my real name. Or a name that used to be mine."
Elowen's hand covered mine, warm and firm. "Then we'll treat it like a clue. Not a command."
I nodded, throat tight.
The fire crackled low.
The ward dome hummed softly.
For a moment, it almost felt like we could rest.
Then Maera's voice cut through the quiet, sharp and low.
"Movement."
Elowen's body tightened instantly. "Where?"
Maera pointed beyond the wardline, toward the road. "Lanterns. Three. Coming slow."
Elowen pulled me closer under her cloak. "Stay quiet."
I nodded, heart hammering.
The lantern light grew nearer—stopping just outside the invisible edge of the ward dome. Voices murmured. Metal clinked.
A patrol.
Then a voice carried through the trees—official, clipped.
"By order of the Sanctum Council, we are searching for Lady Elowen and the awakened relic."
My stomach dropped.
Elowen's grip tightened around me like a shield.
I whispered without thinking, barely audible.
"Mommy…"
Elowen pressed her forehead to mine for a heartbeat—steadying me, anchoring both of us.
"Shh," she breathed. "I've got you."
Maera didn't move. She watched from the mile-stone like a statue.
And outside the ward dome, the lanterns hovered—probing, circling—unable to cross, but close enough to remind us:
The Sanctum wasn't just compromised.
It was hunting us too.