Violet and Astrid had packed early and said their goodbyes without ceremony. By the time the city stirred awake, the two of them were already seated inside a runewain, gliding out of Viremont and onto the road toward Gaspinn.

  The runewain bore the shape of a classic carriage—arched roof, reinforced body, and a narrow driver’s bench set at the front like an afterthought from another age. Two rune-etched levers flanked the bench, one for turning and one for stopping, though neither was needed while the path remained straight. A semi-transparent windshield of aetherglass curved around the front, and beneath the carriage, runes traced the road itself, binding the vehicle to its course.

  So long as the way was clear, the runewain guided itself.

  Affectionately, people called it a Stillroad.

  There were two doors: one along the side of the cabin, and another set at the forward corner that opened directly onto the front bench. Inside, Violet held the true control—a large runic disc etched with layered sigils, warm to the touch, light pulsing faintly beneath her fingers as it maintained their speed and alignment.

  People liked to say cities like Molwen and Gaspinn were close to the capital, but that was always subjective. Compared to the outer cities, perhaps. Even so, the journey still took two full days—even with a stillroad running five times faster than a six-horse carriage.

  Distance remained distance.

  They had started early, hoping to reach halfway past the forest by nightfall and avoid any unwanted encounters with its inhabitants. It was optimistic, but Violet preferred optimism to dread.

  They’d talked for most of the day—about markets, food, unfamiliar streets—but as the sun lowered, conversation faded into comfortable silence. The cabin filled with the soft hum of aether flowing through the runes and the steady rush of wind sliding past the glass.

  Astrid lay stretched out, reading, while Violet rested against the seat, one hand loosely on the runic disc.

  Then something struck them.

  The impact slammed into the runewain’s aetheric shield with brutal force, throwing both girls forward as the entire carriage lurched sideways. Runes flared violently along the undercarriage, resisting the blow. Without the shield, the stillroad would have overturned—and at that speed, neither of them would have lived.

  Astrid jolted upright.

  Violet reacted instantly, pressing her palm flat against the runic disc and forcing the stillroad back into alignment before it could veer off the road.

  “Contact,” Violet said sharply.

  Astrid was already moving. She slid the Sigilflint into Violet’s hand while pulling down the narrow firing gap in the windshield, bracing herself to aim from inside.

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  Violet didn’t hesitate. She pushed open the forward corner door and stepped out onto the front bench, wind tearing at her hair as she took manual control of the levers—better handling, wider range.

  Twin light-runes flared to life at the front of the stillroad, spilling pale illumination into the forest. Shadows recoiled, revealing black wolves circling the road, their forms massive and their eyes burning with reflected light.

  One lunged.

  The Sigilflint roared.

  The shot cracked through the night, clean and sharp. The wolf collapsed mid-charge, its body tumbling back into darkness and vanishing behind them as the stillroad surged forward without slowing.

  As the girls fired at the carriage-sized wolves, the Stillroad roared forward. Slowing down meant death—giving the massive giants time to encircle them, to drag them down through sheer weight and persistence.

  Of course it had to be Darkmount wolves.

  These behemoths never left the deep forest. Not unless something had gone terribly wrong. Off-chance encounters didn’t happen with creatures like this, which meant it was simply their terrible luck to run into them on the road to Gaspinn.

  One thing was certain about Darkmounts: they never gave up.

  They hunted until they had their prey—or until they died. Always in parties of seven to ten, never a full pack. The girls counted quickly. Not a full hunting force.

  That meant they had a chance.

  If they didn’t waste time.

  If they didn’t waste ammunition.

  Knowing that and surviving it, however, were two very different things.

  Darkmount wolves were enormous, but they were also agile—unnervingly fast. Even with the Stillroad surging ahead, the wolves kept pace, their massive bodies gliding through the forest as if it slowed them not at all. Violet didn’t dare push the Stillroad to full speed; one sharp twist in the road, one misjudged turn, and she’d slam straight into the treeline.

  So they fought while running.

  The Sigilflint thundered again and again. Its circular side cartridge fed tiny ammunition pallets into place, firing fifteen per shot in a wide spread. The weapon was designed to wreak havoc on smaller creatures—to shred, not pierce.

  Against Darkmounts, it was barely enough.

  Unless a pallet struck the head or a vital point, the wolves shrugged off the damage. Their thick hides absorbed the rest. Precision wasn’t what the Sigilflint was built for, and Violet could feel the ammunition running low far too quickly.

  Worse, the wolves were growing desperate.

  Desperation made them reckless.

  Recklessness made them vicious.

  This couldn’t drag on.

  “Astrid,” Violet called out sharply, breath already heavy. “Pass me Burst.”

  Astrid didn’t hesitate.

  Burst was Violet’s own creation—a shotgun-like rifle built to fire compressed aether directly. It had one critical flaw: the weapon didn’t supply its own power. The user had to.

  Only aetherists and rune masters could fire it at all, and even among them, very few possessed enough aether to use it more than a handful of times.

  Violet included.

  She took it anyway.

  Only four wolves remained.

  That would be enough.

  Violet steadied herself on the front bench, forced her breathing to slow, and raised the weapon.

  She aimed.

  And—

  Bloom.

  Blue light erupted from Burst, a flash of compressed energy that lit the forest as bright as day for a single heartbeat. In that same instant, the aether tore forward and struck the lead wolf.

  It dropped dead before it even understood what had hit it.

  Three more flashes followed in rapid succession.

  Three more wolves fell.

  When the light faded, Violet collapsed forward, drenched in sweat, her limbs trembling as if she’d run a marathon twice over. She could barely keep herself upright.

  Astrid was already there.

  She pulled Violet back through the door and into the cabin before she could fall, laying her down carefully.

  “Rest,” Astrid said firmly, settling her in place. “I’ve got the rest.”

  The Stillroad thundered on.