"Dammit, Amriel, wait!" Thalon's voice rang out behind her, sharp with frustration but edged with something softer—concern, perhaps. "Stop!"
But Amriel didn't stop. She couldn't. Her friends needed her, and thoughts of danger pushed her onward. She forced her petite frame forward, her dark hair whipping across her face as she ran. Her bare feet tripped over fallen branches and snarling roots, nearly sending her sprawling twice.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the vaulted forest canopy, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for her like spectral fingers. Her breath tore from her chest in ragged gasps. Her legs already burned. Her body was reminding her it wasn't quite what it used to be.
A fallen tree blocked her path, its massive trunk covered in emerald moss despite the winter chill. She tried to scramble over it, the rough bark tearing at her palms, and she stumbled, falling to the forest floor.
Her chest heaved and her lungs screamed in protest. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filled her nostrils as she lay there, momentarily defeated.
Simon, Niamh, I have to get to them, her mind screamed. But her body ignored it, her legs refusing to work.
Behind her, Thalon had already caught up.
"Are you all right?" he asked gently.
No, she thought bitterly, I'm not alright. Nothing is alright.
For a moment, Amriel said nothing as she lay on the forest floor. The dampness soaked into her clothes where her small body lay against the ground.
"If I can survive having a hole blown in my chest, I think I can handle a scraped knee," Amriel grumbled dryly, her cobalt eyes flashing with defiance.
"Technically, you didn't survive the first one," Thalon said matter-of-factly.
Amriel's eyes narrowed in irritation at the correction, even if he was right. Technically.
Before she could snap back, a firm set of hands scooped her up off the ground as gently and effortlessly as if she'd been a baby. Amriel froze as he held her close for a moment, her muscles rigid. She could smell those familiar scents on him—pine and leather and smoke.
"Please stop running, Amriel," he said softly as he set her back on her feet. His hands lingered at a distance for a moment, hovering near her shoulders, just in case she wasn't quite ready to be upright. "I assure you, they are safe, Amriel. I made sure of that before I came for you."
The top of her head barely reached his shoulder as he steadied her. Her cobalt eyes went wide with disbelief. "They're safe?" she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.
Thalon nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes," he said, his emerald eyes locking with hers. "You're going to have to trust me on that."
Amriel's heart thundered in her chest. The urge to run was still there, a gnawing fear deep within her, but she knew realistically her body wasn't ready for it. She took a shuddering breath, her slender shoulders rising and falling beneath her tattered tunic.
"How can I be sure?" she asked, her voice steadier now but still tense with worry. "Simon and Niamh—"
Thalon paused, his gaze softening just slightly as he reached into his belt and drew something out. "Here," he said, his voice steady and calm. "Niamh gave me this. She said it would prove my words to you."
With deliberate care, he extended his hand in which Niamh's favorite hairpin lay nestled in his palm along with a note.
With steady breaths Amriel opened the letter to see Niamh's familiar handwriting peering back up at her: We're safe, Riel. As you better be. The simple note was followed by the elegant scaling letters of Niamh's signature.
Relief washed over Amriel's features, softening the worry lines that had formed between her brows. Her dark hair fell forward, dirty and matted strands partially obscuring her face as she bent her head over the note.
"Alright," Amriel folded the letter and held it close to her heart as she peered up into Thalon's eyes.
"Ah, I also have this," he said, and pulled her bone blade from his waistband.
Amriel's breath caught in her throat. For a long moment, she stood frozen, staring at the weapon in his hand. The hilt was worn smooth with age and use, the metal slightly dulled, but there was no mistaking it—it was hers.
Thalon nodded, relief visible in the slight easing of his shoulders. "We should get back to camp. Night's coming, and Meeko has probably devoured half the rabbit by now."
She nodded silently, falling into step beside him. Her shorter stature meant she had to take quick steps to match his longer stride, but she moved with a natural grace despite her earlier exhaustion.
"That insufferable forest cat," Thalon said, a hint of fondness in his voice. "He's appointed himself your guardian, whether you want one or not."
As they turned back toward camp, Amriel clutched her recovered blade, wondering what lay ahead on this journey she was on. The forest around them deepened into twilight, the last rays of sunlight turning the leaves to burnished copper before fading away.
What had just happened to her life? How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly?
Thalon had led her back to their camp as the day's light began to fade, painting the western sky in hues of amber and violet. Towering trees swayed gently in the evening breeze, their shadows lengthening across the forest floor with each passing minute. The scent of resin hung in the air, mingling with the earthy fragrance of damp soil and decaying leaves.
Meeko awaited them by the dying fire, his massive form unmistakable even in the dimming light. The ebony and tawny forest cat—nearly the size of a wolfhound—moved to her side with a feline grace that left her mesmerized. His silver eyes, intelligent and watchful, fixed on her face as if assessing her condition.
At some point she had sat down on a fallen tree trunk, opposite Thalon across the fire. Her mind spun with a storm of unanswered questions while her body still hummed with the remnants of fear. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away, leaving behind a hollow, unsettling emptiness that made her limbs feel leaden. The wound in her chest, though healed, throbbed dully as a reminder of how close she had come to true death.
Her gaze fell on the cooking rabbit, its skin crisping to a golden brown, fat dripping into the flames with a satisfying hiss. The flickering flames danced and twisted beneath the rabbit, her thoughts moving just as erratically.
Her fingers absent-mindedly threaded through Meeko's thick, warm fur as he lay nestled beside her, his purring a soft, steady rhythm against her side that anchored her to the present moment, though it did little to quiet the disquiet stirring in her heart.
She had escaped the Dreadfort, but what now? She couldn't return home; they were probably waiting for her. And the capital writhed with eyes. She knew she wouldn't last a second on those streets.
Her gaze lingered on the flames. For a moment, her mind drifted to memories of home. Would she ever see her cottage again, with its thatched roof and the climbing roses her mother had planted? Or the great weeping willow that bowed over the pond at the forest's edge, where they had laid her father to rest? How he had loved to spend his days reading beneath the shelter of its weeping branches and delicate leaves, the leather-bound books always in his hands.
What of Simon and Niamh and their twin girls?
Evening had fully descended now, the first stars appearing in the indigo canopy above the trees. Across from her, Thalon worked with deliberate focus, his hunting knife slicing through the roasted rabbit meat with practiced ease. Each piece he cut, he speared carefully on the tip of his blade, offering it to her silently.
She accepted the first piece without hesitation, her hunger—which had been gnawing at her insides since her escape—demanding satisfaction. The warmth of the meat spread through her, the taste rich and savory after days of the Dreadfort's meager gruel.
Meeko lifted his head, his nose twitching at the scent of food.
"There's a small stream nearby that you can wash up in, and I've a change of clothes for you," Thalon said as he carved a hunk of meat from the rabbit and handed it to her on the tip of his knife. "But first, you eat." His voice was low and steady, a counterpoint to the crackling of the fire.
Amriel looked up, surprised by the sudden break in silence. The firelight cast half his face in shadow, but she could see the intensity in his emerald eyes, the firm set of his jaw beneath the faint stubble of a beard.
Thalon then cut a generous piece of meat and offered it to the cat. Meeko took it delicately from his fingers, a stark contrast to his usual territorial behavior around strangers.
She watched Meeko return to her side, his massive form pressing against her leg as he settled once more, his eyes half-closed in contentment. The knowledge that her companion had sought help—had somehow known to find Thalon—added yet another question to the growing list in her mind.
Yet, Thalon didn't push her to speak further. He simply continued preparing their meal, his movements efficient and calm, his gaze occasionally meeting hers across the flames before returning to his task. The night deepened around them, the forest canopy now a dark lattice against the star-filled sky.
When she'd had her fill, Thalon led her to the stream that ran through the forest just beyond their camp. Meeko followed close by her side and settled down to sit near the river, his silver eyes reflecting in the shafts of moonlight that filtered down through the canopy.
"Here are your clothes, Niamh picked them out," he said, settling a bundle down on a rock near the stream. Next to them he placed a pair of sturdy leather boots. "I'll be just over there if you need me. Promise I won't look." He said and vanished back through the undergrowth to their camp.
Amriel shivered in the cool night air as she stripped the filthy clothes from her body and cast them aside. Her flesh trembled as she used the river water to clean the grime from her skin and hair as best she could.
Unlike the baths she'd enjoyed in the Coven Tower, with its heated water and scented oils, this one Amriel kept brief and shivering. The frigid water numbed her fingers as she scrubbed days of filth from her skin, wincing as she passed over the raised, jagged scar on her chest. The mark was still an angry red—a permanent reminder of her death and impossible resurrection.
Teeth chattering, she hurriedly shrugged her trembling body into the clean clothes Niamh had provided—a simple tunic and trousers of sturdy wool. Next she slipped on the boots and laced them up.
As she dressed, Meeko remained vigilant, his massive form a silent sentinel against the darkness. Occasionally his ears would twitch, tracking sounds in the forest that human ears couldn't detect. His presence was reassuring, a constant in her life when everything else had become uncertain.
With her wet hair clinging to her neck and shoulders, Amriel made her way back to camp, her mind racing with questions yet finding no answers. The bone blade hung at her hip now, its familiar weight both comforting and strange—like returning to a childhood home after years away.
Thalon was tending the fire when she returned, adding small branches to keep the flames alive. He looked up as she approached, his expression unreadable in the flickering light. For a moment, neither spoke, the crackle of the fire filling the silence between them.
"Better?" he asked finally, gesturing to a spot near the fire.
Amriel nodded, settling herself on the fallen log again. The heat from the flames began to chase away the chill that had settled deep in her bones. Her body felt heavy with exhaustion, but her mind was alert, buzzing with too many thoughts to allow for rest.
"How long was I unconscious?" she asked, her voice rough from the cold water and lingering fatigue. She pulled her damp hair away from her face, twisting it over one shoulder.
"Since yesterday," Thalon replied, leaning back against the trunk of a tree. His eyes remained fixed on the flames that danced inside the fire, casting his features in shifting shadows. "You collapsed as we were leaving the Dreadfort. Your body had reached its limit."
The heat from the flames caressed her skin, and she realized how deeply cold she had been—not just from the stream, but from days of fear and captivity. The warmth seemed to reach places within her that had been frozen for too long.
After several moments of silence broken only by the fire's crackle and Meeko's soft purring, a question that had been gnawing at her finally found its way to her lips.
"Why did you come for me?" she asked, looking up to meet his gaze directly. "Why risk your life to free someone you barely know?"
Meeko stirred beside her, raising his massive head as if interested in Thalon's response. The forest cat's silver eyes reflected the firelight, giving them an almost supernatural glow in the darkness.
Thalon's eyes flickered with something—surprise, perhaps, or uncertainty.
"I need to know what you are," he said levelly, his emerald eyes holding hers.
The fire crackled between them, sparks ascending like departing spirits into the darkening sky above.
His response caught Amriel off guard. Her hand instinctively moved to the scar on her chest, the mark of her death and impossible return.
He's trying to figure me out? Well, isn't that a turn of the tables, she thought, a hint of bitterness rising within her. All this time, she'd been wondering who he was, and it turned out he was just as uncertain about her.
Amriel let out a short, bitter laugh. "What I am? That's... not what I expected." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the fire. "Funny thing is, I've been asking myself the same question."
Thalon raised an eyebrow. "The tome. The ancient language. The prophecy only you could read. Coming back from the dead." He gestured vaguely at her. "There's something about you that doesn't quite... fit."
The mention of the prophecy sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the night air. The strange symbols that had swirled on the page, meaningless to all eyes but hers, had haunted her dreams since the day she'd first seen them in the dusty archives of the Coven Tower.
"So you've brought me here to interrogate me?" Amriel asked, her voice tight, fingers curling into the fabric of her new tunic.
"No," Thalon said, slowly shaking his head. "I have questions, and I'm taking you to those who have answers."
"That's wonderfully vague," Amriel muttered. "Who exactly are these mysterious people, and where are you taking me?"
Thalon's mouth quirked into something almost resembling a smile. "To the Veil," he said simply.
"The Veil," Amriel repeated. The name stirred no recollection from her studied with either her mother or the Lyceum. "Where is that?
"That," Thalon said, meeting her eyes again, "is something you'll have to see for yourself."
"You're not big on straight answers, are you?" she said. "This Veil—is it far?"
Thalon poked at the fire with a stick, sending a fresh shower of sparks into the night air. "A day, if we keep a good pace." He glanced at her. "Maybe two."
"Two days of your charming company," Amriel said dryly. "Lucky me."
A hint of amusement flickered across Thalon's face. "I've been told I grow on people."
"Like mould on bread?" Amriel countered, but there was less edge to her voice now. The food was restoring not just her strength but something of her spirit.
Thalon broke off another piece of meat for himself. "Something like that. At least it won't be worse than the company you had in the Dreadfort. I hope, anyway."
As Meeko stretched out beside her, his warmth against her leg a comforting presence, Amriel found herself studying Thalon's profile against the firelight. He was an enigma—this man who had rescued her only to tell her he didn't know what she was.