The ridge gave no comfort.
To the east, the land sagged into a sprawl of marshland, black water and tangled reeds, glimmering under the weak daylight like a wound in the earth. Mists clung low, veiling the distance, and every ripple on the surface hinted at hidden depths that waited to swallow hoof and wheel alike. Insects swarmed thick above the stagnant pools, their droning carrying faintly even across the ridge. The marsh was alive, but with the kind of life that fed on rot.
To the west rose the hills, jagged slopes of shale and thorn thickets, boulders strewn like the bones of some ancient beast. The wind hissed through their cracks, carrying the scent of dry stone and dust. There would be no water there, no fodder for the beasts, only hard climbs and hunger. The land itself seemed to bristle, as though daring them to enter.
Neither choice promised survival.
And behind them, the mob climbed.
From the valley below, fire spread like a tide. Horns blared, voices rolled together into a single seething roar. Torches moved in lines that widened with every heartbeat, crawling up the slopes like veins of flame. The sound of drums began, a steady, bone deep pounding.
"They're closing the noose," Owen muttered, his voice breaking as he clutched his trembling parchment. His half-drawn maps were smudged beyond use, lines running where sweat had bled the ink.
Sofia's gaze swept from marsh to hills, her jaw locked tight. "Marshes mean disease, broken wheels, drowning horses. Hills mean ambush, hunger, and no water." Her scar caught the pallid light as she turned back toward the mob, eyes narrowing. "Either way-"
"We bleed," Evelyn finished. Her voice was hoarse, raw from prayer and smoke. Her satchel hung slack at her hip, nearly empty now, the strap digging deep into her shoulder. Her eyes looked bruised with exhaustion, yet still she stood straight, chin high, as if defiance alone could keep her upright.
The guards shifted uneasily, their gazes darting from marsh to hills, but their silence weighed heavier than speech. In the end, all eyes turned to Sofia.
"Choose," she said. Her tone was iron, but the word rang hollow in the charged air.
Another horn split the silence.
Leo barely heard it.
The shard burned in his chest, hotter than ever before. A furnace, cracking its vessel. Each beat of his heart sent fire crawling through his veins until he felt hollowed, carved out for the flame within.
They are prey, the voice seethed. The mob. The beasts. Even those who doubt you. Do you feel it? The weakness in their knees? The fear choking their throats? You could end this chase with one thought.
Leo's hands shook, every muscle in his body taut with the effort of keeping still. The boy tugged gently at his sleeve.
"Leo," the child whispered. His voice was small, tremulous. "You're shaking again."
Leo tried to speak, but his throat locked. No words came.
The shard pressed harder, its voice sharpening into a hiss at the base of his skull. Let me through. One breath, and they will scatter. Their torches, their flesh, their screams will light your path.
The world tilted. Heat surged. His knees buckled as he doubled over, clutching his chest. His vision blurred crimson, streaked with gold. Fire crawled across his sight until every torch below, every ember of daylight above, looked like kindling waiting to be consumed.
Sofia was on him in an instant. Her gauntlet seized his shoulder, grip like iron. "Leo!" Her voice cracked across the storm in his head. "Look at me!"
His head jerked up, breath ragged. His pupils were gone, swallowed in a molten glow.
Owen swore under his breath. Evelyn staggered back, her hand flying to her lips. The guards froze, too afraid to move closer.
"Fight it!" Sofia's voice cut, sharp as steel. She shook him once, hard enough to drive pain through his shoulder. "You hear me? Not here. Not now. You fight it!"
But her voice was drowned in the roar. The shard's laughter shook his skull, louder than horns, louder than hooves, louder than blood pounding in his ears.
You cannot fight me. You never could. Give in, and the world burns for you.
Leo's lips pulled back from his teeth. "I… can't…"
The boy pressed into his side, fingers clutching the folds of his cloak. His voice cracked, high and desperate, but it carried. "You can. You saved me. You saved us. Don't let it take you."
The words pierced like cold iron into the firestorm.
For one fragile moment, the shard recoiled. Fire hissed back as if doused with sudden rain. Leo's vision cleared just enough to see the boy's face, streaked with dirt and ash, eyes wide with fear but fierce with belief.
His hands steadied. His chest still burned, but the inferno drew back, caged, for now.
Sofia held his gaze a heartbeat longer, then released her grip. Her voice dropped, steady again, iron layered over exhaustion.
"We go west," she declared, turning toward the jagged hills. "The hills will hide us better than the marsh ever could. Move."
The caravan lurched into motion once more. Wheels ground against stone. Hooves slipped on shale. Men groaned but obeyed, dragging themselves and what remained of their burden up the broken path.
Behind them, the horns bellowed again, closer, sharper, exultant.
Leo stumbled after the others, sweat running cold down his spine. His hands shook despite himself. The shard's whisper had quieted, but its presence lingered, coiled tight around his heart.
You denied me, it murmured, silk over steel. But I am patient. You cannot run forever, not from them, and not from me.
Leo lowered his gaze to his trembling fingers, the knuckles white where he clenched his spear. He had no answer.
The boy walked at his side, small hand gripping his sleeve as though afraid that if he let go, Leo himself might vanish into fire.