Miles away, the mood was very different. Sophie, Ragnar, and Bran walked in a tight formation through a rocky, barren section of the Vale.
The air here was dry and tasted of dust.
The silence between them felt heavy, weighed down by everything they didn't say.
Ragnar walked at the front, his axe resting easily on his shoulder, while the others followed behind him in silence.
His usual boisterous energy was gone, replaced by a sullen brooding.
He missed Daniel. He missed the way Daniel would point out a safe path before anyone else saw it.
He missed the 'lucky' feeling that they were going to make it. Bran walked in the middle, his head down.
He looked small and fragile, with his shoulder bandaged, and his steps hesitant.
He played the part of the confused victim well, flinching at every shadow as if danger lurked in every corner, and constantly looking at Sophie and Ragnar with wide, grateful eyes, hoping for guidance or protection.
Sophie walked at the back, with her eyes scanning the rocks with her [Tactical Eyes]. She was frustrated.
"We are better off," she said suddenly as her voice broke the silence.
"He was holding back. He was lying to us. You can't build a team on lies."
Ragnar didn't turn around.
"He saved us, Sophie." "He manipulated us," she shot back. "He used us as cover. Who knows what else he was hiding? Maybe he was using us as bait all along."
"He saved Bran," Ragnar grunted. "He took a psychic hit for him. That doesn't look like bait to me."
Sophie scoffed. "Or maybe he just wanted to protect his asset. We don't know what he is. We don't know what he wants."
"We have all we need right here," Sophie insisted, her voice rising slightly. "We have a tank, we have a scout, and we have support. We are a balanced unit."
Ragnar stopped. He turned around slowly, his stone-grey eyes boring into hers. "Which is?" he asked, his voice low. Sophie blinked.
"What?" "You said we have all we need," Ragnar said. "Which is? Who is the support, Sophie? The kid who can barely walk straight? Or you? Because right now, it feels like we're just wandering in the dark waiting to get eaten."
Sophie opened her mouth to argue, to use logic, but she closed it again. "Just us," she said finally, her voice losing its edge. "The three of us. We have to be enough."
There was silence again. Absolute silence.
They continued walking. The ground got rougher, and the rocks sharper.
Suddenly, a figure appeared around a bend in the canyon.
He was tall and thin, wearing a long, worn cloak that matched the grey stone. He moved quietly, his feet barely making a sound on the gravel.
Ragnar gripped his axe tighter. Sophie's hand went to her weapon. The stranger didn't attack.
He raised a hand in a peaceful gesture. As he got closer, they recognized the uniform underneath the cloak.
It was standard Academy gear, but customized with extra leather padding.
"Easy," the stranger said. His voice was smooth. "Just a fellow traveler." He had a pale face, while his eyes darted around, taking in everything.
He wasn't from their conditioning group. He was a loner from the main group.
"You're far from the extraction point," Sophie said, her [Tactical Eyes] scanning him for weapons. She saw daggers hidden in his boots and sleeves.
"We go where the hunt takes us," the stranger smiled.
It didn't reach his eyes. He walked past them, not stopping. He moved with the confidence of someone who didn't fear the Vale.
As he passed Bran, he didn't just walk by. He stepped to the side.
He reached out and grabbed Bran by the undamaged arm. It looked like a friendly gesture, a pat on the arm. But his grip was tight.
He leaned in close to Bran's ear. He whispered some words into his ear, but his last words were a bit louder. "How long will you continue?" the stranger whispered. The words were barely audible, carried away by the dry wind.
But Sophie and Ragnar heard them. They were strange words. Not 'Are you okay?' or 'Good luck.'
How long will you continue?Bran didn't flinch. He didn't look confused.
For a split second, the terrified boy vanished. His face went blank, completely devoid of emotion. He looked the stranger in the eye and gave a single nod.
A silent acknowledgment. A signal between wolves in sheep's clothing.
The stranger smirked, like he knew something cruel that no one else did.
He let go of Bran and without a word, walked away, disappearing around the bend just as quickly as he had appeared.
Ragnar stared after him, confused. "What was that about?" Sophie turned to Bran. Her eyes were narrow, suspicious.
"Who was that, Bran? And what did he say to you?" Bran looked up at her. The mask was back in place instantly.
His eyes were wide and innocent, filled with nervous energy. "Oh, him?" Bran gave a shaky, harmless laugh.
"Just an old friend from the dorms back at the Academy. I didn't think he'd made it."
"He asked you a question," Sophie pressed.
"He just asked if I was holding up okay," Bran lied smoothly. "He knows I'm... you know, timid. He was checking on me."
"It sounded like he said 'How long will you continue'," Ragnar said, frowning. "Yeah," Bran nodded eagerly.
"Continue... surviving. You know? Like, how long can I keep going." He rubbed his arm where the stranger had grabbed him.
"He's a bit weird. Always was." Sophie studied him. Her analytical mind screamed that something was wrong.
The body language didn't match. The stranger's smirk didn't match. And Bran's nod... it was too precise.
But she looked at Bran, this thin, hurt kid who could barely walk, and she couldn't find a logical reason to push it.
"Fine," Sophie said, letting out a breath. "Let's keep moving. We need to find shelter before nightfall."
She turned and walked on. Ragnar followed, casting one last look behind them.
Bran stood there for a second, watching their backs. "Not much longer," Bran whispered to himself.
"Wait for me!" he called out, his voice trembling just the right amount. "Don't leave me behind!"