Veiled Eyes

Chapter 11

Change – noun: the act or instance of making or becoming different.

I woke to the faint crackle of dying embers and the steady thud of a heartbeat beneath my ear. For a disoriented moment, I stayed still, warm, cocooned, my cheek pressed against the solid heat of Kael’s chest. The blanket was still wrapped around us, his arm still draped over my shoulders—loose now, but there.

Memory returned in fragments—the cold, the fire, his muttered warning not to read into it. I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, but the motion stirred him anyway. His breathing hitched, then evened out as his eyes blinked open, meeting mine in the hazy half-light.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His gaze was unreadable, steady, until he finally pulled his arm back and sat up, running a hand through his hair. The blanket slipped from my shoulders, letting the morning chill creep back in.

“Fire’s almost out,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. No mention of the night. No acknowledgment of how we’d spent it.

I pushed myself upright, ignoring the faint sting of disappointment that curled low in my chest. “Guess we should get moving, then.”

He nodded once, already gathering the pack. But as he passed me, his hand brushed mine—just for a second, quick enough to pretend it meant nothing. Quick enough that maybe it did.

“Come on—we still need food. And now firewood,” Kael said, kicking dirt over the embers until the last faint glow disappeared.

We maneuvered back through the narrow opening we’d squeezed through the night before, the stone scraping against my shoulders. The tunnel’s warmth returned little by little, wrapping around us like a muted blanket compared to the biting cold of the alcove. Somewhere far ahead, the air shifted—fresher, carrying the faint mineral tang that meant we were getting closer to an opening.

It had to be early morning, though I couldn’t be sure. Time meant nothing down here, with no sky to track the sun and no clocks to mark the hours. I had no way of knowing how long I’d truly been trapped underground.

How long I’d lain at the bottom of that cave before Kael found me.

He’d said I’d slept through a whole night after ripping out the All C lenses. If that was true, then by my best guess… three days had passed.

Which would make today the day.

The day I was supposed to be standing in Haven’s ceremonial hall—draped in sterile white, my hand bound to the stranger they’d chosen for me. My “match,” picked from a list before I’d even been old enough to understand what the word meant.

A cold shudder rippled through me—not from the damp air this time, but from the thought of that life closing in on me like a cage. The longer I walked through the shadows with Kael, the harder it was to picture going back. The harder it was to imagine trading this unpredictable, dangerous freedom for the gleaming walls and suffocating order of Haven.

And the more I wondered if I’d even want to.

The air in the tunnel thinned, cooling until each breath carried the crisp bite of the outside. I could taste it on my tongue—sharp, wild, alive. Somewhere above, the wind roared against the rock face, a steady, distant growl that told me we were close to an opening.

Kael slowed, his body shifting into a quieter, more deliberate posture. His movements lost all excess—each step placed with intent, each breath measured. Without looking at me, he slid the knife from his belt and held it low, his gaze scanning the darkness ahead. Then he jerked his chin toward my side, wordlessly telling me to arm myself.

We stepped out onto a cliffside. The world beyond hit me like a cold slap—gray light spilling over jagged peaks and a sky bruised with low, churning clouds. To our right, the mountain wall rose in sheer, wet stone. To our left… nothing but open air and a drop so steep it made my stomach clench.

A narrow ledge clung to the cliff face, barely wide enough for a single set of boots. Its surface was uneven, crumbling in places, as though one wrong step would send it shearing away into the void.

“We’ll follow the ledge,” Kael murmured, his voice almost lost to the wind. “Stay behind me. Step where I step.”

I nodded, slipping the blade he’d lent me into my waistband. My leg still ached with each shift of weight, but I locked my jaw and ignored it. I wasn’t about to give him another reason to see me as dead weight. Not out here—not when one falter could be my last.

We edged along the ledge, Kael moving with the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of knowing exactly where to place his feet. His steps were sure, measured, yet careful. I wasn’t nearly as graceful. My shoulder scraped the cold stone as I kept one hand pressed hard to the wall, my gaze flicking between the sliver of rock under my boots and the dizzying plunge to my left.

I wasn’t afraid of heights—not anymore. Haven training had beaten that out of me years ago. But training had also involved harnesses, ropes, and safety rails. Out here, with no tether but my own stubborn will, the high wind tugging at my coat felt a lot more personal.

The ledge finally widened, spilling us out onto a natural landing. Beyond it stretched a massive expanse of open land—dry, pale earth broken only by scattered shrubs and the occasional jagged boulder. I didn’t recognize this part of the Barren. It was past the boundaries Rise patrols were permitted to cross. Off-limits. Uncharted.

Kael crouched low, his weight balanced like he could spring in any direction at a moment’s notice. He motioned me down beside him, his eyes scanning the dust. “Tracks,” he murmured, running calloused fingers over a shallow indentation in the earth. “Deer.” His mouth twitched in the faintest suggestion of satisfaction. “That’s good.”

We moved along the ridge, following the trail in slow, deliberate steps. The ground here was quiet underfoot, absorbing sound, but the wind carried far. Every crunch of grit under my boots sounded too loud.

A soft rustle broke the stillness, the whisper of something moving between two spindly shrubs ahead. My breath caught. My hand tightened on the hilt of my blade.

Kael’s arm shot out, steady and unyielding against my forearm. His head tilted slightly, eyes locked on the source of the sound. “Wait,” he mouthed, barely a breath.

Kael’s hand stayed firm on my arm, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the brush. His head tilted slightly, almost like he was… listening. Not just listening—tuning into something I couldn’t hear at all.

The wind carried nothing to me but the faint tang of dust, but Kael’s nostrils flared as if he could read a whole story in the air. His gaze tracked a point I couldn’t make out, his pupils narrowing, the muscles in his jaw tightening in focus.

I realized he had sensed something I hadn’t even registered. My training back in the Rise had honed my senses to be sharp—sharper than most—but compared to him, I might as well have been blind and deaf.

“Wind’s wrong,” he whispered without looking at me. “If we circle left, it won’t catch our scent.” He didn’t wait for me to answer, just moved like water along the ridge, silent despite the loose grit.

I followed, matching his pace as best I could, watching his every step. He used the terrain like a shield, keeping low behind boulders, skirting shadows, always moving when the wind gusted so it would mask our sound.

We closed in on the shrubs. The faintest flicker of movement caught my eye—just the twitch of an ear in the pale light. A deer, lean and alert, its head down as it picked at the dry brush.

Kael eased his knife into his hand, but instead of rushing, he crouched and motioned for me to mirror him. “Wait for its head to drop again,” he murmured.

The deer’s head lifted, ears flicking. My heart thumped. Then it lowered once more.

“Now,” Kael breathed.

We moved together, slow and silent. My injured leg protested every step, but adrenaline drowned most of the ache. Kael’s hand brushed my back once, steadying me as I shifted around a rock, his eyes never leaving the animal.

When we were close enough, Kael flowed forward in a single, precise motion. His arm lashed out, the knife flashing as he struck true and clean. The deer dropped before it could cry out, its final breath puffing into the cold air.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, the quiet pressing in on us again. Then Kael wiped the blade on the grass and glanced at me—not with the cold dismissal I’d come to expect, but with a flicker of something else.

Approval.