The glow of the valley had faded behind them.
The guardian was gone. The silence had lifted. The trees no longer shimmered with unnatural light, and the wind—though cold—carried sound again. It rustled leaves, stirred cloaks, and howled gently through the narrow canyons they now crossed. The world had let them pass.
But more than that—
It had changed for Argolaith.
The moment the guardian faded into the roots and the last glow vanished from the trees, something had settled into him. Not pain. Not weight. Not pressure.
A presence.
Faint. Quiet.
Like a thread tied to his ribs, gently tugging with each step.
They had left the valley by morning. Now, with gray daylight filtered through skeletal branches above them, Argolaith led the way—faster than before, with more certainty in his stride.
Kaelred finally noticed. "You're not hesitating."
Argolaith didn't stop. "Because I know where to go."
Malakar's burning violet gaze narrowed. "The tree is calling."
