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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 that formed 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?—”

“Keep moving.” She’s already striding forward. “If they’ve been discovered, we need to get to the meeting point.”

“But—”

“We can’t help them now, Ellie. But they are not without resources. We continue on our path. That’s what Lord Torran will expect.”

“What if they can’t get out?”

“Between them, they know every escape route in Ashenvale.” Her voice is confident. Too confident. Forced. “If escape is possible, they will find a way.”

We reach the treeline, and Mira leads me into the forest. I can’t resist glancing back before we go too deep, but I can’t even see the walls surrounding Ashenvale from here.

The trees crowd close, shadows clinging to the undergrowth, every rustle setting my nerves on edge.

I follow Mira through the trees, as she confidently follows a path I can’t even see.

After what feels like hours, we reach a small clearing where a narrow river cuts the forest in two. The two fighters we left behind emerge from the trees when we approach.

“Any sign of them?” Mira asks.

“Not yet,” the taller of the two, Rasha, replies. “We heard the alarm horns. Does that mean?—”

“We have to assume their presence has been discovered. All we can do is wait.”

“What will happen now?” I accept a waterskin from Mira. My hands are shaking, the leather sloshing cool water against my fingers.

“They will start wherever the discovery was, and expand outward, checking all streets and exits. Be calm. The Vareth‘el and Varam have been chased by Authority scum before. They will be here.”

But time doesn’t move like it should. It stretches, elastic and wrong, every heartbeat too slow or too fast. I can’t stop scanning the treeline, flinching at every snap of a branch.

“They should have been here by now,” Mishak says as the sun begins to lower.

“They may have needed to take a longer route to avoid being caught.” Mira’s voice remains calm, but her tension is clear in how often she checks the sun’s position in the sky. The tightness in her mouth says what she won’t. That she agrees with Mishak. They should already be here.

Another hour passes without any sign of them. I can’t sit still any longer, anxiety twisting my stomach .

“I need to know what’s happening. Is there anywhere we can move to and see more of our surroundings?”

Mira hesitates, eyes shifting to look over my shoulder. “Not for Ashenvale itself. But there is a hill that will allow us to see above the forest, and down to the lake which feeds this river. We might see something from there.”

She signals to the fighters, assigning Rasha to stay at the river, while Mishak comes with us, then sets off, leading us through the forest, heading toward higher ground.

The climb feels endless. My legs ache from crouching, the rough ground rubbing against my palms as we half-crawl up the slope. My heart thuds against my ribs in a frantic rhythm. Too fast. Too loud.

The hill she talked about rises gradually from the surrounding forest, offering clear views across the trees to the main road leading back to Ashenvale. To the left, the hill dips into a lush valley, where the water from a nearby lake shines beneath the setting sun.

It looks peaceful, beautiful. It feels like a lie.

“Stay low. While we can see everything from up here, anyone looking up will also see us.” She pushes me lower to the ground, and we crawl up the hill until we’re at the top.

“There!” Mira points toward movement on the main road. “That’s an Authority pursuit force.”

Lifting my head, I see horse-mounted figures riding at speed along the road. At least thirty riders, their crimson uniforms bright against the darkening landscape. They’re moving fast, organized, a wave of blood rolling downhill.

My stomach knots tighter .

Then something else pulls my attention west, like an invisible thread tugging at my consciousness. The silver light inside me whispers, pulling at my senses. I turn, crawling through the grass for a better view.

“Look, there.” I point toward a distant section of the road where it curves around a small hill. “They’re coming from that direction.”

Mira gives me a sharp look. "How can you be sure?"

I don't answer because I don't fully understand it myself. The pulse of silver matches the beat of my heart, drawing my gaze unerringly to the west. To something, or someone , drawing nearer.

We reposition to watch the western approach, and after a few minutes, two figures emerge from the tall grass beside the road.

Even from this distance, I know it's Sacha.

There's something about the way he moves—economical, precise, always alert—that makes it unmistakable. The sight of him is like a jolt of lightning, relief so sharp it’s painful.

Varam follows slightly behind him, and we watch as they navigate from one patch of cover to another.

“They made it,” Mira breathes, her relief breaking through her control.

But my relief won’t settle.

Whatever abilities I'm developing respond to Sacha's proximity, even at this distance.

The connection between us strengthens with each step he takes—a current passing back and forth like a conversation without words.

Except the current is growing wilder now, harder to hold.

It crackles through me, firing every nerve ending.

For a moment, I swear I can feel an echo of his determination, his focused calculation as he plots their path forward. Then movement on the hill opposite our position catches my eye.

“What’s that?”

Mira stiffens, hand moving to the knife in her belt. “Authority soldiers. Not regular guards. Look at their cloaks. Elite unit.”

I squint, making out around a dozen soldiers moving parallel to Sacha and Varam’s approach. Unlike the mounted guards down on the road, these move quietly, unnoticed from Sacha and Varam’s vantage point.

“They’re setting up an ambush,” Mira says. “Cutting off the route to the river.”

“We need to warn them.” I don’t know why I whisper.

“We can’t. They won’t see us from here, and we won’t reach them before the soldiers.”

“But they’re walking into a trap!”

“The Vareth’el will sense them before they attack.” But her words lack confidence. I can hear the worry in them. I can feel it in the air.

We watch in growing dread as the situation unfolds below. Sacha and Varam continue their approach, unaware of the soldiers moving into position ahead of them. The Authority unit splits, some taking higher ground while others establish blocking positions at key points along their most likely route.

“This isn't a standard pursuit,” Mishak says, voice tight. “They know exactly where to position their forces. They know the Vareth’el is heading for the river.”

“ How ?” The word barely makes it past the tightness in my throat .

Both Veinwardens stare at me, then Mira sucks in a sharp breath, her expression darkening.

"Someone must have betrayed us. There is no other explanation." Her fingers curl around the hilt of her knife.

More soldiers materialize from concealed positions in the forest ahead. Not just a dozen now, but twenty or thirty, forming a closed circle around the approaching men.

"There are too many." Nausea rises in my throat, bitter and burning. My silver light flares in response to my fear, surging in thick, uneven pulses. "They can't fight that many."

I should feel afraid, but beneath the fear rises something else. Fury. After everything Sacha endured, after twenty-seven years of darkness, to be hunted like this feels profoundly wrong. The injustice of it stokes something fierce and protective inside me.

Mira's face is grim as she looks down the hill. "We need to create a diversion. Something to draw some of them away, give them an opening."

But before she can formulate a plan, a figure emerges in the center of the road ahead of Sacha and Varam. Even at this distance, his bearing communicates absolute authority, crimson robes catching what remains of the early evening light, guards flanking him in protective formation.

"Sereven." The shock in Mira's voice mirrors the horror unfolding in my chest. "The High Commander himself."

Below, Sacha and Varam stop abruptly, seeing the figure blocking their path.

"How is that possible?" I whisper. "He was at the ceremony. "

"This isn't just a random patrol." Mira's voice hardens. "This was planned. Coordinated. They knew exactly when and where to position their forces. They were expecting him. They forced their flight to take this path."

Soldiers emerge from concealment around Sacha and Varam, cutting off all escape routes. There's something strange about their equipment. Instead of standard armor, theirs gleams with an unnatural blue glow.

One that reminds me of something.

Below, Sacha and Varam move back-to-back, turning in a slow circle as the soldiers close in.

I can't hear what's being said, but Sereven's posture suggests satisfaction, a predator who has successfully cornered long-pursued prey.

Even from this distance, I can see the moment Sacha's eyes find Sereven.

His body goes completely still, then tenses like a coiled spring.

“We have to help them!” Fear turns my voice shrill.

"We can't." Mira catches my arm, yanking me back down. "There are too many. We'd be captured alongside them."

"But Sacha—" The connection between us flares to life, violent and unsteady—his emotions bleeding into mine—determination, calculation, and beneath it all, a terrible resolve.

"Will expect us to keep you safe above all else," Mira insists. "That's why we separated in Ashenvale. Your safety was paramount in his planning."

The ambush below reaches its culmination as soldiers close to within striking distance. Sacha's stance shifts, shoulders squaring as he faces Sereven directly. Shadows gather around him, swirling and darkening even at this distance. I can feel the air pulling tight.

"He's going to fight," Mishak says, torn between admiration and horror. "Against those numbers ..."

Mira’s breath catches. “He was like this once.” Her voice is low and fierce. “Before the prison carved the fire out of him. Reckless. Defiant. Ready to challenge the world with nothing but his will.”

Her hand tightens on my arm. “And if he unleashes it now… it will not be calculation, it will be fury.”

There’s not just light burning inside me now, there’s a storm surging against the dam of my body. A pressure too vast to contain. My skin hums with it, my teeth ache from it.

And under it all, under the panic and rage, words from a dream whisper through my mind.

Where shadow leads, storm will follow.