By dawn, they moved again.
On the dusty road north, they encountered travelers—a black caravan with no banners. Silent guards, blank stares.
Kael tensed as the lead wagon slowed beside them. The driver, cloaked and smiling, spoke in a dry, melodic tone.
"Travelers of ash, do you seek truth… or refuge?"
Eira stepped forward cautiously. "What is this caravan?"
The man's smile widened. "We are merchants of memory. We deal in the forgotten and the forbidden."
He pointed to Kael's crystal shard.
"That piece belongs to us."
Kael tightened his grip. "Then you're too late."
Tension sparked in the air.