Eryndor
Most people think fear feels loud.
Sharp breathing. Shaking hands. Panic clawing its way through the body like an animal trying to escape.
That isn’t real fear.
Real fear is quiet. Cold. Controlled.
The kind that settles into your bones and waits there patiently while you pretend you’re still thinking clearly.
Right now?
All four of us are terrified.
The farther east we travel, the older the world feels. The mountains twist unnaturally around us, black stone rising high enough to
choke out sunlight while ancient magic hums beneath the earth like something sleeping badly beneath our feet.
I hate it here.
Which is unfortunate.
Because I know exactly where we’re going.
Aria flickers weakly through the bond again. Alive. Hurting. Fighting. The relief lasts half a second b
