Kaela stood on the wall at seventeen, watching the eastern horizon for signs of silver light.
Ten years had passed since the Deepening's army scattered. Ten years of training, waiting, hoping. Her grey eyes were sharper now, her hands steadier. The void's mark pulsed faintly beneath her skin—the echo of the echo.
"There's nothing there," James said, climbing the wall beside her. He was eighty-three now, his back bent, his steps slow. But his eyes were still sharp.
"There's always something there. The Deepening is patient."
"So are we."
Kaela looked at her grandfather.
"Grandma says you're too old to climb walls."
"Grandma says a lot of things. I ignore most of them."
---
Elara joined them on the wall.
She was fifty-two now, her auburn hair streaked with grey, her face lined by de
