They left the forest before the sun reached its highest point.
Not in haste—but with purpose sharpened by inevitability.
Elara felt the shift the moment they crossed the river again, the warded water closing behind them without resistance this time. The bond didn’t go quiet. It tracked. Threads adjusted as if learning a new posture, testing how far they could stretch without snapping. This was different from before. Less reactive. More… aware.
That awareness came with weight.
The land beyond the forest sloped into rolling country—old farmland reclaimed by grass and stone, hedgerows thick with thorn and memory. Villages lay scattered across the distance, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. Ordinary places. Lives unfolding without any sense of the ancient currents stirring beneath them.
