Chapter 59

  From my perspective, it looked as if Maira had been struck by an invisible force. Without warning, she collapsed, her eyelids dropping shut, her body slumping forward. Instinctively, I reached out to catch her before her face hit the snow—but just as my fingers were about to touch her shoulder, her eyes snapped open again. With a sudden jolt, she pushed herself onto her knees, gasping for air like someone who had just returned from a free fall into the abyss. It was as if she’d never truly been gone, and yet... something had changed.

  The entire scene had lasted no more than a blink of an eye in our world. Two seconds, maybe three. But in her eyes flickered something that couldn’t be measured in seconds. She looked at me, took a deep breath, and immediately began to speak.

  Her words came quickly, almost rushed. She spoke of Erebos, her patron, how he had appeared to her. She described a realm so grotesque that even her usually calm voice trembled when she spoke of the breathing walls, the pulsing membranes, and the monstrous gardens. She said he had granted her an “inner compass,” a feeling that would lead her directly to the rebel camp.

  And yet—as detailed and convincing as her report was—a shadow remained. I sensed it instantly. There was more, something she didn’t tell us. Her gaze drifted away twice—once when she tried to describe the bone-man, and again when she mentioned Erebos’s final words. It wasn’t much, just subtle hesitations, tiny pauses—but they were there. And I… decided not to call her out. Not yet.

  I pushed the thought aside and focused on what mattered: We now had a way to find Vin faster. A goal. A direction. A clear advantage. Everything else could wait.

  Maira pulled her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders, brushed a few snowflakes from her black hair, and forced herself to her feet. She looked steady, but the lightness in her movements was gone. Her stride was tenser, her eyes darker. The price for that gift was plain to see.

  Arik, on the other hand, reacted completely differently. The Ashblood stood beside us with his arms crossed, steam rising from his breath. He’d watched the whole scene like a theatre performance that neither impressed nor interested him. His stance was that of a man who considered all things divine to be nonsense—which wasn’t unusual among the Ashbloods. They prided themselves on living without patrons, without cults, without gods. Another reason why the Inquisition hunted them—and why Arik wore the word “atheist” not just as a conviction but as a shield.

  He shrugged like someone who had just witnessed something utterly mundane. “Should I go ahead and scout?” he asked dryly, his eyes scanning the white wall of snow around us. “If you tell me the direction?”

  I was about to object. In this frozen hell of mist and snow, where visibility barely reached ten meters, splitting up would’ve been madness. But before I could speak, Maira responded—her voice calm, almost too calm:

  “The direction we’re already walking.”

  She pointed straight ahead, without hesitation. No riddle, no doubt. The compass within her had spoken.

  Arik merely nodded, as if he'd taken on this task a thousand times before—no big deal, nothing special. Then he dissolved. Wordlessly. Just like that. His outline disintegrated, his contours faded into fine, gray dust that was instantly swept away by the wind. No sign of pain, no transformation, no magical effects. Just ash, flowing in deliberate streams straight ahead, as if it had a goal.

  I watched him until even the last flicker of particles vanished among the swirling snowflakes. This ability of the Ashbloods was one of the reasons their species had survived despite being hunted by inquisitors and kingdoms alike. They were hard to catch—literally. More elusive than smoke, yet still able to observe, feel—maybe even hear. I had no idea how it worked. I’d ask him someday. Maybe. If we weren’t currently marching straight into what might be a death trap.

  We stayed where we were. I didn’t want to risk him returning and not finding us—though I wasn’t entirely sure how real that risk was. Maira pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, looking thoughtful but not nervous. I, on the other hand, felt the weight of every minute grow heavier. Not because I was worried about Arik—well, maybe a little—but because every minute spent standing around in this endless cold felt like wasted time. Vin was out there. With strangers. And I was standing here, waiting on a man made of ash.

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  Then, right in front of us, a cloud formed again—first diffuse, then sharpening. A swirl of dust took shape, gained definition, became whole. Within seconds, Arik stood before us as if he’d never left. He brushed some snowflakes out of his hair and grinned.

  “There’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “The bad.”

  “Between us and the camp where the elf girl is, there’s a mountain range. A pretty massive one. And there’s only one known way through it—an underground cave system. Tight, dark, dangerous. You know the drill.”

  Of course. Caves. The damp, echoing nightmare of every adventurer. Places where monsters lurk, ancient traps wait, and every wrong step could mean death. I closed my eyes for a moment.

  “And the good news?”

  “I’m pretty sure the camp is right behind the mountains. Close enough that we’ll reach it soon after we get through.”

  I nodded slowly, letting the information sink in.

  “You think we could fly over the mountains?” My thoughts went straight to Gravor. He’d probably love the chance to stretch his wings—at least partly—in the open air. As fresh as it got here, anyway.

  But Arik shook his head with regret. “Too high. The wind up there is brutal. Even a dragon would struggle. And then there’s the Veil. I saw it from above—like a second roof made of magic. Impenetrable.”

  Maira stepped forward, her voice quiet but clear. “I think the rebels are using a network. Some kind of old teleportation system. Maybe artifacts. Maybe runes. Either way, they’re able to travel between the Veils—without light magic. I can’t think of any other explanation for how Vin or the others got through.”

  I looked at her. It made sense. And reminded me that our plan—as shaky as it was—had worked in at least one way.

  “Yesterday…,” I began slowly, “the Veil reacted to my light magic. Just for a moment, but it was enough. Maybe it was luck. Maybe fate. Or maybe the damn thing just reacts to paladins.”

  No one disagreed. And that probably meant we all knew: the easy part was over. The dangerous part—the real path—started now.

  Underground.

  -

  In truth, Vin’s time hadn’t been any harder than Luken’s or Maira’s—at least not physically. She received regular meals, though the term “warm” was relative. The meat was tough, often barely seasoned, but filling. The soups were watery, but hot. Water was plentiful—taken from the melt chambers of the Hasks, those strange, fur-covered creatures that lived in the ice, whose frozen nests were raided by the hunters.

  Her shelter was… acceptable. A round tent made of thick pelts, sturdy enough to keep out the wind, but not thick enough to muffle the sounds outside: the crack of firewood, the wheezing breaths of exhausted returners, the quiet sobbing of children in distant tents. Vin slept on a pile of rough blankets, curled up like an animal. They treated her like one of their own.

  Especially Vex.

  He visited her regularly. Not intrusively, not overly friendly—but curious. Again and again, he asked questions.

  “How big is Thulegard now?” he’d once asked while grabbing a small stool beside her fire.

  “Is that giant statue still in the city center?”

  “How many guards patrol the upper districts at night?”

  Most of the time, he asked between bites of salted meat or while mending his boots. Sometimes out of nowhere.

  On the day Luken and Maira took their first steps into the caves, Vin and Vex were sitting together again, blankets draped over their shoulders, hot steam rising between them from a shallow bowl of water.

  “I left when the first ones vanished,” he said quietly, almost offhandedly, while cutting a piece of leather with his knife. “And no one asked about them. It was like they’d never existed.”

  His voice was calm, but Vin could hear the echo of anger in it. Or fear. Or both.

  She didn’t know where Luken and Maira were. Didn’t even know if they were still alive. But she firmly believed that one day, she’d stand before them again—and then she’d show Luken the truth. The truth about Reyn. The truth about everything.

  And she wouldn’t fight him. Never. Even if Reyn had fully taken control of him. Even if Luken looked at her with cold eyes, spoke in a stranger’s voice, and raised his sword with foreign hands. She wouldn’t fight.

  Then a hand rested on her shoulder.

  Vex. Calm. Serious. Not cold, but resolute.

  “You have to let go,” he said. “When the time comes… if he’s not himself anymore… then he can’t matter to you. Not too much.”

  He didn’t mean death. He meant the change. The loss of what made Luken who he was. When control became permanent. When the man Vin once knew was just a shell.

  She didn’t answer right away. Swallowed hard. Then whispered, barely audible—more to herself than to him:

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Vex didn’t nod. He didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned toward the tent’s entrance as a dull scraping echoed outside in the snow. Something heavy. Ropes dragging over ice. And voices. Muffled, but clear: Quin and Freya had returned.

  “Come on,” Vex said at last, his tone lighter now. Almost inviting. “They probably brought something to eat. And if Freya was hunting, it’ll taste better than usual.”

  He didn’t wait. Pushed aside the flap and stepped out into the pale light of afternoon.

  Vin lingered a moment. Thought of Luken. His voice. His hand on her shoulder. His crooked jokes—even the ones she never found funny. Then she took a deep breath and followed Vex outside—into a world that still had plans to test her.