Aria
We make camp before sunset.
Not because anyone says we should.
Because all five of us are exhausted enough that the bond itself begins pulling slower, quieter, heavier beneath our skin.
The mountain remains behind us, half‑buried beneath smoke and broken stone, but none of us are foolish enough to believe distance means safety anymore.
Not after the prison.
Not after the creature.
Not after learning the world already destroyed us once before.
The forest surrounding the clearing is ancient enough to block most of the fading sunlight overhead. Shadows stretch long across the
forest floor while cold wind moves softly through the branches.
Cassian immediately begins securing the perimeter.
Lucien reinforces the clearing with silver wards sharp enough to hum through the air.
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