Chapter 44 — Selia Nore Watches the Fire
(Selia "Whisper" Nore POV)
People think I don't notice things.
That's the joke.
That's the mask I wear better than any cloak.
Laugh loud. Talk fast. Tease the scary ones. If you make them underestimate you, they stop hiding their hands.
And tonight?
Too many hands were hidden.
The fire crackled low, orange light licking at armor, bone mask, and tired faces. Meat sizzled. Bran laughed too loudly. Vaelric drank like he was trying to drown a thought. Shadeblade sat just outside the brightest ring of firelight, sword across his knees, mask tilted slightly downward.
Watching.
Always watching.
I leaned back against a log, spinning a dagger between my fingers, eyes half-lidded. Anyone looking would think I was relaxed.
I wasn't.
The forest hadn't forgiven us for killing those beasts.
It was quiet in the wrong way. Not dead. Listening.
I flicked my gaze to the edge of the clearing.
Aris sat there, as usual—not fully with us, not fully apart. Hood up. Back straight. Hands calm. Eyes open.
She hadn't blinked in a while.
Interesting.
"Hey, Quiet," I called lightly, tossing a pebble near her boots. "You always stare at fires like they owe you money?"
She looked at the flame, then at me.
"I'm watching the shadows."
I smiled. "Good habit."
It was also the correct answer.
Bran was telling a story—badly—about how he once punched a swamp lizard so hard it decided to become soup.
Vaelric snorted. "That's not how anatomy works."
"It did after I punched it!"
Shadeblade didn't laugh.
That bothered me more than it should have.
He usually did. Not loudly. Not openly. But there was always a tilt of the head. A subtle breath. A reaction.
Tonight?
Nothing.
I shifted closer, lowering my voice. "You alright, Skeleton?"
His mask turned toward me. "Fine."
Liar.
Not a dangerous lie. The quiet kind. The kind people tell when they're thinking too hard.
Korran sat across from us, sharpening his blade with slow, even strokes. His eyes lifted briefly—met mine—then flicked toward Vaelric.
Ah.
There it was.
Vaelric Dorn was calm.
Too calm.
Yesterday, he'd been sharp. Defensive. Annoyed. Tonight he was… observing. Like someone already counting pieces off a board.
I didn't like that.
Later—when Bran finally passed out face-first into his plate and the fire burned lower—I slipped away.
Quietly.
The forest welcomed me like an old accomplice.
I moved through shadow and root without sound, circling the clearing, checking what my gut had been screaming about for an hour.
And then I found it.
Footprints.
Not monster. Not ours.
Human. Light. Careful.
Recent.
They led away from camp.
Toward the ravine.
I followed for maybe twenty paces before stopping.
Because someone else was already there.
Vaelric.
He stood at the edge of the ravine, moonlight catching the edge of his cloak. Hands behind his back. Posture relaxed.
Waiting.
I didn't step out.
Didn't breathe.
A shape emerged from the trees opposite him.
Tall. Hooded.
Not Aris.
This one moved like someone who knew they were being watched—and didn't care.
"You're late," the stranger said.
Vaelric's voice was calm. "I had to be sure."
"Of what?"
"That I wasn't wrong."
A pause.
Then: "And?"
Vaelric exhaled slowly. "They're stronger than expected."
My fingers tightened around my dagger.
The stranger chuckled softly. "That's not a no."
"No," Vaelric agreed. "It isn't."
I backed away.
Slow. Silent. Careful not to disturb even a leaf.
Whatever game was starting?
I didn't like the rules.
Back at camp, Shadeblade was still awake.
Of course he was.
He looked up the moment I returned.
Didn't ask where I'd been.
Smart boy.
I sat beside him, staring into the embers. "You ever get the feeling," I said lightly, "that someone's about to knock over the table while you're still eating?"
"Yes," he replied instantly.
I glanced at him.
He was watching Vaelric's empty bedroll.
Good.
Very good.
The fire popped.
Somewhere deep in the forest, something answered.
And for the first time since I joined this crew, I wondered—not if someone would betray us—
—but how many of us would survive it.