Dawn had not yet broken when they left the river crossing.
The world still wore night like a secret.
Mist clung low to the ground, sliding through the trees in pale ribbons as Elara and Draven moved along the narrow forest path. The deeper current beneath Elara's skin pulsed steadily, guiding her in a direction she could not quite explain but somehow trusted.
The new awakening was close.
Too close.
And if she could feel it, the council would soon.
Draven walked beside her—not ahead, not behind. The difference was subtle, but Elara noticed it with a quiet awareness that sent warmth flickering through her chest.
He was no longer trying to lead her.
He was choosing to move with her.
The forest thickened around them, branches arching overhead as if the land itself had drawn a breath. Every so often the current beneath her power flared faintly, tugging her attention toward the east.
"There," she murmured.
Draven followed her gaze.
