That morning, before the peaks swallowed them whole, Silas paused at the fork in the path.
"This is where I leave you," he said, adjusting the clasp of his cloak.
Astrid frowned. "Wait—what? Why?"
"The Council will be combing every inch of this region by now. If I split off and lay a false trail, I can lead them east. You two keep heading toward the peaks."
Kurai didn’t protest.
But Astrid stepped forward.
"Thank you for your help— but will you be alright?"
Silas nodded. "I’ll return to the hidden city. I’ll tell Myrren you’ve made it this far. He’ll be glad to know the fire hasn’t gone out."
“You know Myrren?” Kurai spoke up
Silas nodded, “he’s the one who asked me to follow you, but I’ve done all I can, the rest is up to you two”
Astrid hesitated, then added, "If you can — check in on the Forge. Galgur helped us. He deserves to know we’re okay."
Silas gave her a solemn look, and something softened behind his eyes.
"I’ll find him."
He turned to go, then paused.
"The road ahead will test you both," he said.
"It already is. But you're stronger than you think. And not just because of magic." Then looked over to Astrid, “or lack thereof”
His gaze then moved over to Kurai and lingered— who, for once, didn’t look away.
"And remember," Silas added, voice dropping lower, rougher, "the mountain has its own memory. It will know you, whether you wish it to or not."
Astrid shivered slightly at the weight of it.
"Good luck, both of you."
Then he was gone, his cloak vanishing into the morning fog like a memory half-remembered.
Astrid stood still for a moment, watching the empty path.
I should’ve said more.
Thanked him better.
Too late now.
For the first time since entering this world, she realized how few allies they really had.
And how far there was still to go.
---
The air was thinner here.
Ash clung to the sky like smoke that had forgotten how to rise.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The peaks loomed ahead — jagged and scorched — like the bones of a world trying to remember how to breathe.
Astrid stumbled over loose stone, catching herself on a twisted root.
Behind her, Kurai said nothing.
His steps were slow, deliberate. Controlled.
Too controlled.
They hadn’t spoken since the collapse.
The silence wasn’t comfortable.
It wasn’t angry either.
It was heavy.
Astrid could still feel the heat of his magic.
Not just in memory — but in the way her skin prickled when he got too close.
Like standing too near a bonfire you couldn't quite turn away from.
They reached a ridge and paused.
The peaks opened like a cracked mouth below them — a valley of blackened rock and creeping mist.
"We should rest," Astrid said, not looking at him.
Kurai didn’t answer.
He just nodded and sat down on a shelf of stone, arms resting on his knees. His eyes were distant.
Astrid sank down a few feet away, drawing her knees to her chest.
Her body ached. Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the spellhound.
The way Kurai had lit up the tunnel.
The way he’d held her like she mattered more than anything.
She stole a glance at him.
His hands were resting in his lap, wrapped loosely in the edges of his sleeves.
Hiding something.
"You okay?"
Kurai nodded again.
"Just tired."
It was a lie.
A careful one.
Astrid leaned forward.
"Let me see your hands."
He looked over, startled.
"What?"
"Your hands, Kurai. Please."
He hesitated — too long.
She crawled closer, reaching out.
He tried to pull away, but not fast enough.
She caught his wrist and pushed back the sleeve.
Scorch marks.
Faint, but real.
The skin around them angry and raw.
Her chest tightened.
"You burned yourself."
"It’s nothing," he said quickly. "It happens when I— when it gets out of control."
She let go, sitting back on her heels.
"And you were going to just... what? Pretend it didn’t happen?"
He didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched so tightly she thought it might crack.
She stared at him, searching for something — some crack in the armor.
"Don’t act tough," she said, pulling a waterskin from her pack and wetting a scrap of cloth.
She wrapped his hands delicately, her fingers brushing over old scars she hadn’t noticed before.
When she traced one with her thumb, he flinched — but not from pain. From something deeper.
Kurai looked away.
"I didn’t want to worry you."
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. His hands trembled slightly, as if the memory of the fire hadn’t left. But also something else.
"I know something is going on," she said softly.
"You don’t have to tell me everything. But you have to remember — we’re a team."
He didn’t respond, but his posture softened.
Just slightly.
Enough to notice.
Astrid looked down at her hands.
"I don’t want to lose you," she whispered.
"So please don’t shut me out."
His breath hitched.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The ash settled around them like snow.
Then Kurai stood, pulling his sleeves down over the bandages.
"We should get some rest. I’ll get firewood. You set up."
Astrid stood too.
But not before saying quietly:
"You’re not alone.
Even if it feels like it."
He didn’t look back.
But his shoulders dropped.
And that was enough.
He disappeared into the woods.
---
Astrid unpacked their supplies, the motions mechanical.
Unrolling sleeping mats.
Prepping food.
Building a small fire in the hollow of the ridge.
The orange light fought back the grey, but the mountains still pressed heavy against the sky.
Eventually, Kurai returned — an armful of kindling cradled against his chest.
He didn’t speak.
Just knelt beside the fire and began laying the wood with careful, deliberate precision.
Astrid passed him some food.
Their fingers brushed.
She looked away quickly.
He didn’t.
They sat in silence again, the fire crackling between them.
Its warmth couldn’t quite reach the strange quiet that hung in the air.
Kurai glanced at her.
And this time, he didn’t hide it fast enough.
Astrid caught it — the confusion.
The softness.
Not fear.
Something else.
There is that look again. What is going on in that mind of his?
Kurai shifted slightly, his voice low:
"I don’t know what’s happening inside me," he said, staring into the flames.
"I’ve never felt like this before.
But I’m glad you’re here."
Astrid’s heart twisted.
She remembered the way he’d flinched when she touched his scars.
The way he avoided her gaze — not out of shame, but fear.
Like he was scared of what she might find if she looked too long.
He didn’t look at her.
Just stared into the fire, voice rough:
"When that thing went for you — the spellhound — I lost it.
I didn’t even think.
It just... snapped something in me."
She could see it now — beneath the quiet, beneath the control —
something fraying.
Not weakness.
Just someone who has been holding too much inside for too long.
Something she knew to well.
And maybe he didn’t know the word for it.
Maybe he didn’t want to.
But when his gaze drifted back to her, just for a moment, she saw it.
Not duty.
Not fear.
Something that ached when she wasn’t close.
Astrid leaned forward slightly, her voice barely a whisper:
"You didn’t lose it.
You protected me."
He finally looked at her —
unsure, exposed, and so fiercely human it made her throat ache.
And for the first time since the tunnel collapsed, Astrid smiled.
Just a little.
He didn’t bleed his heart out but it’s something and that will do for now, but I will crack the nut that is Kurai.
