They walked in silence for a long time after leaving the hut.
The valley opened slowly, grass thinning into dry soil and stone.
No one spoke.
But Lira felt it.
Something had changed.
"Kael… do you feel that?" she asked softly.
He did.
The trace stayed, his intent replied. It didn't fade.
The Seer slowed his steps.
"That's new," he said.
"Usually presence dissolves once you leave."
Lira frowned slightly.
"I didn't try to hold it there," she said.
"I just… didn't pull it back."
The Seer stopped fully now.
"Then you've crossed another threshold," he said.
Sera looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
"It means the bond isn't only between two people anymore," the Seer explained.
"It can leave marks others can feel later."
Jon swallowed.
"So… people can follow you?"
Kael shook his head.
Not like a trail.
Lira understood and added,
"It's more like reassurance left behind.
Only those who need it notice."
They continued walking.
As the sun lowered, Lira felt it again.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Recognition.
She stopped abruptly.
"There," she said, pointing toward a cluster of broken pillars ahead.
Kael felt it too—faint, familiar.
They approached carefully.
Two figures sat near the stones, backs against the ruins.
Older than the others they'd met.
Worn.
Alert.
The woman stood first, hand hovering near a blade.
"Don't come closer," she warned.
Lira raised her hands calmly.
"We're not here to fight."
The man beside her squinted.
"…You left something behind," he said slowly.
"In the valley."
Lira's heart skipped.
"You felt it?"
The man nodded.
"Like a reminder," he said.
"That we weren't forgotten."
Kael felt a quiet shock pass through the bond.
It reached this far.
The Seer exhaled slowly.
"That settles it," he murmured.
"They're connecting."
The woman studied Lira closely.
"You're dangerous," she said—not accusing.
Observant.
"Yes," Lira replied honestly.
"So are you."
Silence stretched.
Then the woman laughed once—short and tired.
"Fair enough."
They lowered their guard.
As the groups sat together, sharing food and fragments of story, Lira felt something take shape.
Not lines anymore.
Clusters.
Places where fear had once lived alone
now holding memory.
Kael felt it too.
This isn't spreading fast, his intent noted. But it's spreading deep.
As night fell, Lira looked up at the stars.
Somewhere far away, the heir's messengers would be reporting.
Movements without pattern.
People without banners.
No leader to strike.
What they wouldn't understand—
Yet—
Was that the resistance no longer needed direction.
It remembered itself now.
And once memory spreads
Power loses its edge.