They didn't speak for a long time after leaving the ruin, just walked.
Slowly.
Warily.
Every sound felt louder than it should: the crunch of their boots, the whistle of thin wind through broken branches, the scrape of Kaal's dagger as he cleaned it against his sleeve.
The ruin was behind them, tucked into the side of a hill like a secret swallowed by time.
And still, Kaal could feel the echo of what had happened there, like a second heartbeat under his skin. He could remember every step he'd taken in that fight, and none of it made sense.
Lyra finally stopped on a ridge overlooking a valley that shimmered faintly with mist. A line of blackened trees cut through the center, like a scar.
She turned to face him.
"What happened back there?"
Kaal didn't answer immediately. He was still holding the dagger loosely in one hand, blade now clean, but his knuckles pale from how tight he'd gripped it during the fight.
"What do you mean?" he played dumb
"You might have been trained, but months of no training doesn't just disappear with no practice"
"I know."
"And it wasn't just instinct," she added.
He looked at her. "You think I'm lying."
"I think you're hiding."
"What about you?" He projected "You were in prison for months."
"Don't try to avoid. I was in prison, doesn't mean I stopped practicing."
He exhaled and sat on a boulder, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not on purpose. I don't understand it either. The ruin reacted to me. The markings… the light. It didn't feel threatening."
He shook his head. "It was like… My body moved before I thought. And the wall of light, it wasn't spellwork. I didn't cast anything. I just did it."
Lyra crouched in front of him, studying him like a puzzle missing its middle.
"You ever use magic before?"
"No. Never." A pause. "When the illness started, the palace mages tested me."
"They found nothing?"
"Not nothing," he said quietly. "Just nothing they could name."
Lyra leaned back on her heels. "So either you've been hiding this for years…"
"I haven't."
"Or something out here woke it up."
Kaal didn't respond.
Because that part, at least, he believed.
They moved again before the sun hit its highest point, cutting through frosty trails and rooty slopes. The terrain had changed. It was subtle, but growing more obvious by the hour.
The trees bent slightly toward the same direction. The air shimmered faintly when the wind paused. Once, they saw a deer, standing completely still in a clearing, watching them with eyes that glowed faintly gold or amber, before vanishing without sound
Everything felt… observed.
Kaal's wrist still tingled where the ruin's light had touched him.
He didn't tell Lyra, but the hum inside him hadn't faded. It had grown deeper. Resonant. It was like something had nested in his chest, not painful, but undeniably alive.
His thoughts drifted back to his mother, to her face when she told him this journey was about healing.
Was this what healing looked like?
Or transformation?
Or something else entirely?
They stopped for water at a crumbling riverbed. The water was strange, too still. But cold and clean. Lyra dipped her flask first and sniffed it before drinking.
Kaal drank in silence. Then, out of nowhere, "Do you ever wonder if we're meant to be here?"
She gave him a look. "I wonder how we're not dead yet."
"I'm serious."
She shrugged. "I don't believe in fate."
"But you follow instinct."
"Mine's earned," she said. "Not whispered or dreamt."
He almost said mine is both, but didn't.
Instead, he sat on a flat stone and watched the wind pass over the grass. The blades shimmered faintly, almost like the surface of water, then stilled again.
Then came the sound.
Low.
Distant.
A thrum, like drums heard from underground.
Lyra froze. "Did you...?"
"I heard it."
They both stood.
A second thrum. Closer now. Followed by a rush of wind that shouldn't have existed in the still valley.
Lyra drew her blades.
Kaal stood still.
"It's coming from the pass ahead," she said.
He nodded.
"Something bad?"
He didn't answer.
She glanced at him. "You're going to freeze again, aren't you?"
"No," he said softly. "Not this time."
They moved to higher ground, finding shelter beneath a jagged ridge with a good vantage point. Lyra crouched at the edge, scanning the pass below. The trees had thinned to low brambles, and in the center of the valley, the air rippled.
Then the first shape emerged.
Broad-shouldered. Armored in a fashion too old for this age. Its face hidden beneath a mask of twisted iron. Behind it, more figures began to step into view, slow, coordinated, unnatural.
"Those aren't beasts," Lyra whispered.
"No," Kaal said. "They're something else."
The lead figure stopped. It raised a hand.
And as if pulled by a string, the others scattered into formation, surrounding the pass.
Lyra looked at him. "They're waiting."
"For what?"