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I cross to her, and offer a waterskin. “We’ll be moving soon. How do you feel?”

“Like I ran a marathon without any training.”

“A … marathon?”

She accepts the waterskin, and takes a drink. “It’s a long-distance run.”

“For what reason?”

“I ask myself the same question all the time.” Her answer leaves me no less puzzled.

When she looks up, the silver in her eyes catches what little light filters through. “That thing yesterday … with the bandits. I didn’t mean to do it. It just … poured out of me.” Her fingers twist together in her lap, the only outward sign of her distress.

“I know.” I crouch beside her, and lower my voice. “Their deaths were inevitable from the moment they saw us. You didn’t cause it. You accelerated what could not be avoided.”

And the one who touched you deserved worse than the ending I allowed him. His death was swift. It should have been slower.

“But we do need to work on suppression techniques before we reach Ashenvale. The silver in your eyes is becoming more noticeable.”

And more beautiful. The thought stops me short. It’s a dangerous observation that I immediately lock away.

Her fingers touch her face, tracing beneath her eyes as though she might feel the change. “Will the Authority recognize what it means?”

“I’m not sure. They’ve purged the bloodlines. Few remain who would recognize the signs immediately. But we can’t rely on their ignorance.”

She rises to her feet, still a little unsteady but determined, and rolls up her blanket. Her pack goes onto her back. “I’m ready to go.”

Her resilience continues to impress me. Her refusal to surrender to circumstances that would break others is becoming a constant rather than a surprise.

Once everyone is ready, we move deeper in the Veil Mists. Varam guides us through what appears to be a featureless landscape, but he’s following subtle markers only the Veinwardens know.

The mists part occasionally, revealing glimpses of the valley. Twisted trees with bark that seems to shimmer from within, moss that glows faintly green, flowers that fold closed when a break in the mist allows the sun to fall across them.

“This place.” Ellie’s voice is hushed. “It’s not just fog, is it?”

“The Veil Mists occupy a threshold.” I move closer to her. “A place where boundaries between normal and magical weaken. The Authority avoids it because their command structure depends on rigid control … and that’s impossible here.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Only to those who don’t respect its nature.” I point to a section where the mist has thinned. “Stay on the path. The mists disorient those who wander off it.”

As if to emphasize my warning, a sound echoes through the fog. Something between a sigh and a moan, impossible to pinpoint accurately.

Ellie’s steps falter. “What was that?”

“The mists themselves, or the creatures that dwell within them. It’s best not to investigate too deeply. Curiosity has a way of killing people here.”

She moves closer to me, eyes darting around. I drop back a step, resting a hand on her shoulder and guide her in front of me.

“The path narrows here. Watch where you’re walking.”

Roots break through the soil, forming barriers that force us to focus on every step. Ellie occasionally reaches back, touching my arm, my chest. I’m not sure if she’s checking for my presence, or anchoring herself. I doubt she’s even aware that she’s doing it.

Varam and Mira keep throwing glances my way when I don't stop her, and stay silent. My attention is on how she negotiates her way along the path. Her movements are growing more confident as she adapts to the otherworldly environment surrounding us.

“We’ll stop ahead.” I lean forward and point over her shoulder toward an upcoming clearing barely visible through the swirling vapor. “There’s something you need to learn before we go any farther.”

Varam and Mira move ahead, sweeping the area. Rock formations rise from the misty ground, creating a rough circle that offers some protection from whatever might lurk beyond our vision.