LYANNA’S POV
The forest did not return to silence after we moved.
That was the first lie I told myself.
The Eldertide settled into something quieter, yes, but not peaceful. The mist thickened unnaturally, pressing close to the ground, curling around roots like living things. The air felt heavy, charged, as if the forest were holding its breath, waiting.
Behind us, I felt it before I heard it – the retreat.
Three presences pulled away from the clearing we had left behind. One staggered, limping badly, pain echoing sharp and wet through the trees. One fled in blind terror, heartbeat frantic, thoughts fractured and loud. The third was controlled. Focused. Watching us retreat with intent burnt cold and steady.
“They’re not following,” I whispered.
Ronan didn’t slow. “They don’t need to.
