( Aria’s POV )
The Northern Path wasn’t a road. It was a wound.
Frost clung to every branch, every root, every breath. The further they went, the quieter the world became, like the Hollow’s hum had been swallowed whole by the cold. Even the wolves moved in near silence, their boots crunching softly through the snow, their breath misting like ghosts.
Aria’s senses prickled with unease. The forest here wasn’t dead; it was listening. The trees leaned inward, branches heavy with ice, forming arches that almost looked carved. Every few steps she caught faint impressions in the frost, claw marks too large to be from wolves, trails that vanished mid-step.
“Something’s tracking us,” she murmured.
Kael glanced over his shoulder. His golden light pulsed faintly beneath his gloves as he flexed h
