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The streets grow narrower as we approach the outer wall, buildings pressing close on either side. There are fewer people around, most have gathered for the ceremony or are hidden away indoors to avoid attention.

Behind us, a voice amplified somehow carries across Ashenvale. Sereven’s ceremonial address has begun, his words aren’t clear at this distance, but the authoritative tone is unmistakable.

“Almost there. Have your papers ready.”

The gate stands partially open. The guards on duty appear distracted, their attention repeatedly turning toward the distant ceremony rather than focusing on arriving or departing travelers.

“Purpose for leaving?”

“Returning back to our farm before dark, after selling produce in the market.” Mira tells him.

He barely glances at our documentation before waving us through. Relief doesn’t loosen the ball of anxiety in my chest.

“Keep walking. They can still see us from the watchtowers.”

Fields stretch ahead, farmland surrounding Ashenvale providing food for its population while creating an open zone where approach can be easily detected. We stay on the main road, keeping a steady pace, but unseen eyes burn between my shoulderblades. The back of my head itches with the need to turn around, torun, even though I know it would only draw attention.

Behind us, the ceremony continues. Even at this distance, the crowd’s reaction carries. A coordinated roar rises. Not celebration, but something darker. The sound crawls along my spine like nails down a blackboard.

“What is happening now?”

“Sereven will recount the Authority’s triumph over theVareth’el.” Mira’s voice is tight. “He’ll describe the threat Lord Torran, and the rest of the Veinbloods posed, and how the purges brought peace and order to Meridian.” She almost spits the words. “Each high official will add symbolic items to the pyre, representing aspects of the different Veinbloods being purged.”

“And people believe it?”

“Some do. Others pretend to, knowing the cost of defiance.” Her eyes scan the horizon. “The Authority rewrote history in blood. For many, there’s nothing left to remember.”

I can’t shake the image. Not just Sacha’s effigy burning, but the idea of whole lineages reduced to ash under banners of peace.

We continue walking until we reach a small copse of trees marking the boundary between two farm properties. Mira leads us off the main road.

“River Crossing lies three miles ahead.” She increases her pace, now we’re out of direct sight of the city’s walls.

The path winds between fields where farmers work. They don’t pay us any attention, their focus on their tasks, and not people passing through.

"How long until Sacha gets out?" My voice sounds strained even to my own ears.

"If everything proceeds as planned, he should already have his ring." Mira glances back toward Ashenvale, now visible only as stone walls rising above the surrounding farmland. "Their escape should coincide with the ceremonial burning."

The moment she says it, the subtle pressure changes, intensifying in a way I haven't experienced before. It’s not just anxiety. It’s a hook, catching behind my ribs in a stabbing pain. It spreads across my chest and down my arms. I stop walking, closing my eyes, and press my palm between my ribs, where the feeling concentrates.

“What is it?”

"I don't know. Something feels..." The sensation shifts, silver light dancing behind my closed eyelids. "Something is happening." It feels like static building, with nowhere to go.

“Is it Lord Torran?” Anxiety threads through her voice.

I try to interpret what my body is telling me. The connection thatformed between us in Stonehaven, strengthened with every touch, every shared danger, it pulses now with warning. Not painful, exactly, but urgent and insistent. Similar to the moments before a panic attack, when your body knows something your mind hasn't yet processed.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s keep moving. The farther away from Ashenvale we get, the safer we are.”

But as we approach a small stream, three sharp horn blasts cut through the air behind us. Mira’s face drains of color.

“That’s a lockdown signal. They must have discovered the breach.”

My heartbeat picks up speed. “Sacha?—”