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The tunnels widen into a natural cavern, stalactiteshanging like stone teeth from the ceiling. Tisera pauses while she consults a small map.

Ellie sits on a flat stone, and takes out her waterskin. Her eyes find mine across the dim chamber while she sips, and the questions filling them are clear. The argument we had, her frustration at being kept in ignorance is entirely justified.

Yet I can’t tell her what I don’t know with certainty myself. It’s not just about what I don’t have answers for, though. It’s about control.Mycontrol, and what happens if I lose it.

The fire’s manifestation troubles me more than I want her to know. Such phenomena have occurred before, not often, but enough to recognize the signs. Powerful emotions trigger latent abilities. Just as the frost patterns that bloomed across the tower floor when she broke my binding. Just as the ice that spread from her hands when she reopened the door that freed us both. Each incident leaves a signature in the magical currents that my senses can't ignore, like a scent that lingers long after its source is gone.

What is she? Why does she affect magic without any awareness of it? How did she cross between worlds?

I have theories, of course. Suspicions that grow stronger with each unexplained incident. The way my familiar responds to her. But theories without confirmation are dangerous, particularly when shared prematurely. If I'm wrong, I risk sending us down false paths, wasting precious time we don't have.

If I’m wrong, I mislead us both. If I’m right … she’s in far more danger than she realizes. Not only from the Authority, but from some who claim to stand against it. There are those among my people who would not see her as a person. Only as a weapon.

“We should continue.” Tisera folds her map. “Two more hours to reach the exit.”

We resume our journey, the tunnels narrowing and twisting. Some are natural formations, others carved by human hands. In places, ancient support beams brace crumbling walls, wood long blackened by centuries below ground. I can detect the remnants of older magic in these deeper tunnels. Faint traces of power cling to the deeper stone. Protective wards from a time before the Authority’s rise, now faded almost to nothing.

Ahead of me, Ellie moves through a particularly uneven section. As she steps across a broken stone, my familiar surges forward, the raven’s head breaking free of my chest for half a second. She continues onward, unaware of the effect her presence has triggered, while its reaction troubles me, another piece of a puzzle I can’t yet solve.

The tunnel bends sharply, then begins a gradual ascent. The air quality changes, carrying hints of pine and night-blooming flowers. Tisera extinguishes her lamp, and we emerge into a small clearing surrounded by dense forest.

“We’ll stop here for a while, then continue toward the ridge before dawn.”

Tisera moves to the edge of the clearing, and scans our surroundings. “We should be safe for now. The Authority is unlikely to come here. The journey to Stonehaven will take us threedays, if we can keep a good pace. It will take longer if the weather turns against us.”

“Is the northern pass still a viable route?”

“It will be treacherous after recent storms, but navigable. Authority patrols avoid it because of the dangers.”

Ellie tracks my movement across the clearing as I walk over to a fallen tree and sit on it.

“We’ll follow the ridge line northeast,” I tell her. “The Authority keeps checkpoints on all main roads, so we’re going to try to avoid them. The mountain paths are largely unpatrolled.”

“Because they’re dangerous?”

“Yes.” I don't elaborate on exactly how dangerous. Better she remain alert but not terrified.

Tisera hands out small portions of journey bread. The dense, herb-flecked loaf is designed to sustain travelers. It’s hardy, long-lasting, and light to carry. Ellie nibbles at it cautiously, her expression suggesting she finds the taste strange but not unpleasant. Her fingers turn the bread over, examining it with the same curiosity she's shown toward everything in this world.

“What will they make of me when we get there?” I catch the underlying tension in her question. She’s not asking about introductions. She's worried about being unwelcome. About being viewed as an intruder in a conflict that isn't hers.

I consider how much truth to offer. "A stranger traveling with me will naturally generate curiosity. I won't lie, some will be suspicious." I meet her eyes. "Others may see significance in your arrival coinciding with my return.”

Her eyes move over my face. She might not understand the language of Meridian, but she understands the way people look at me. The silence. The reverence. The shock. The hope that borders on dangerous expectation.

“I just want to go home.” Her voice is soft. “I don’t want to get caught up in this rebellion, or war, or whatever it is.”

“Stonehaven contains resources unavailable elsewhere. Texts. Artifacts. Knowledge preserved beyond the Authority’s reach. If answers about your situation exist anywhere under our control, they’re most likely to be found there.”

My answer seems to satisfy her for the moment, but I know it won’t be long before she asks again. And when she does, I’m going to need more than theories.

The sky lightens as we continue into the forest, following game trails that wind between ancient trees. Stars fade as the first hint of morning touches the eastern horizon. Tisera leads us along a path that climbs steadily upward, moving deeper into the mountains.

I keep checking our surroundings through shadows, monitoring for pursuit or unexpected patrol patterns. So far, I’ve encountered nothing more dangerous than ordinary forest creatures, though that could change at any moment, if we stray too near a patrolled route.

Birds are waking up, voices raised in their morning songs, just as we reach a vantage point overlooking the valley below. Ravencross is visible in the distance, the town appearing deceptively peaceful from our elevation. I send out my familiar. Ellie gasps behind me, as the raven launches itself from my chest in a burst of shadow. Myawareness rides with it, soaring over rooftops and alleyways, watching the patterns of movement between buildings.

“They’ve begun the sweep. Teams of four, moving through each district.”