The road was quieter with someone walking beside me, but not easier. Every crunch of our boots on the gravel, every shift of Kaelen's sword at her side, was a reminder that I wasn't alone anymore. And I wasn't sure if that was comfort, or danger of a different kind.
Kaelen didn't talk much. Her eyes stayed sharp on the horizon, scanning the fields and trees as though every rustling leaf hid a threat. She carried herself with the ease of someone who had lived too long with a blade in her hand. I felt clumsy next to her, awkward, my knife a toy compared to her steel.
By midday, silence had stretched so far between us I couldn't take it anymore.
"Why did you help me?" I asked.
She didn't look at me. "Because you would've died."
"That's all?"
A pause. Then: "Do you need more?"
I faltered, then shook my head. "No. I just… it feels strange. People don't usually help me."
Her eyes flicked toward me, unreadable. "Then you've known the wrong people."
We walked on.
By late afternoon, the trees thickened, and the air grew damp. Merek's map showed a river ahead, a crossing point we'd need if we were to reach the Ashen Peaks. My stomach clenched at the thought. If the Stonekeepers sent one shadow, what else might be waiting?
We reached the river at dusk. The water ran fast, swollen from rains, black with the reflection of the sky. A rotting wooden bridge stretched across, its ropes sagging, boards missing.
Kaelen stopped, her jaw tightening. "We cross quickly," she said. "Don't look down."
I nodded, though my legs already felt weak. Heights and I had never been friends.
Kaelen went first, moving with careful precision. The bridge creaked under her weight but held. I stepped onto the boards, gripping the fraying rope rail. Every gust of wind swayed the bridge, every step a groan of protest.
Halfway across, I froze. In the corner of my vision, shadows gathered along the riverbank. Tall, thin shapes, faceless. More of them.
The Stonekeepers' shades.
"Kaelen!" I called, my voice breaking.
She turned sharply. Her eyes narrowed, and she drew her sword. "Don't stop. Keep moving!"
The shades did not cross the bridge. They stayed at the water's edge, whispering in unison, voices like dry leaves. The air grew heavy again, pressing on my lungs. My vision blurred. The bridge seemed to stretch longer, endless, as if it were pulling me away from safety.
"No," I gasped. "Not now—"
A hand clamped onto mine. Kaelen's. She had crossed back, her grip strong, dragging me forward. "Breathe, boy. They can't touch you here."
I stumbled after her, my knees weak. Together we pushed across the last few planks until our boots struck solid earth. The whispering behind us cut off like a snuffed flame.
Kaelen didn't let go of my hand until the bridge was behind us, and only then did she sheath her sword.
"You see?" she said quietly. "This is why you needed me."
I collapsed against a rock, trembling. My chest heaved, my knife useless in my belt. "They'll never stop, will they?"
"No," she said. "Not until you reach what you're chasing. Or you stop running."
I looked up at her, at the firelight glinting in her eyes, at the sword that had carved away death from my path twice now. For the first time since leaving the village, I realized: maybe survival wasn't something I could do alone.
"Then," I said, my voice rough but steady, "don't leave me behind."
Kaelen's gaze lingered on me, searching. Then, with a small nod, she sat beside me. The silence that followed was no longer heavy. It was shared.
That night, as the river roared in the dark, I dreamed again of the stone. But this time, when the line burned away, I did not see myself alone before it. I saw two shadows — one of them mine, the other holding a sword.
For the first time, I woke without fear.