The forest thickened as afternoon bled toward evening.
Branches knitted overhead, filtering the light into fractured silver and green. The path—if it could still be called that—narrowed until it became instinct more than direction. Kael moved with quiet certainty, every step measured, every pause deliberate. I followed without question, trusting the way the bond hummed softly when we were aligned and tugged when I strayed.
It wasn’t loud.
That was the strangest part.
Power, I was learning, didn’t need to shout.
We crossed a ridge where the land dipped suddenly, revealing a stretch of valley below—wide, untamed, dotted with stone ruins half-swallowed by moss and time. My breath caught.
“What is that?” I asked.
Kael slowed, gaze sharpening. “Old watchgrounds. Pre-pack era.” He hesitat
