After several minutes—maybe more—Cain glanced at the faint ember in his brother's hand.
"Does that hurt?"
"A little," the man admitted. "I haven't shaped flame freely in a long time. The sanctum… restrains expression."
Cain shot him a look. "Then don't force it. I'll handle the light."
"You can't," the man said simply. "Not here."
"Why not?"
His brother looked at him with eyes that glowed faintly in the dimness.
"Because this place responds to lineage. Only one of us is recognized by the space at a time."
Cain blinked. "And it recognized you?"
"For now."
Cain let the irritation pass. Barely.
He scanned the path ahead—an opening between the trees, narrow and shrouded.
"Something's following us," Cain muttered.
His brother didn't look surprised. "It would be strange if nothing was."
Cain stopped walking. "What do you mean by that?"
The man gestured weakly upward. "This forest is a boundary. It draws attention. Old attention."
