Elara's eyes flicked to Drake again, sharper this time. "And we're confirming whether the delay follows the route… or follows us."
Xander blinked. "Wow. That's comforting."
Luna didn't look amused. She stepped closer to Drake again, lowering her voice. "You're still trying to compensate."
"For what?" he asked.
"For something that hasn't happened yet," she replied.
He opened his mouth, then stopped himself. He hadn't rushed. He hadn't drawn mana. He hadn't forced the terrain.
Still, every decision felt like it arrived half a beat late.
Kara started assigning watch rotations, her tone calm, practiced. Elara volunteered to scout the upper ledge at first light. Xander argued briefly, then relented. Luna said little, listening more than speaking.
Normal. Functional.
But Drake noticed something else.
Whenever the conversation stalled, eyes drifted back to him. Not accusatory. Not fearful.
Checking.
He shifted his stance, then deliberately stilled himself.
"I'll take second watch," he said.
Kara looked up. "You sure?"
"Yes."
She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "All right."
As the group settled in, Drake sat with his back to the stone, knees drawn slightly upward. He focused on breathing evenly, counting the rise and fall of heat along the canyon walls.
No pressure. No force.
Just presence.
And still, the sense lingered — not that something was wrong, but that something was being tested.
Luna's earlier words returned to him.
Not yet.
Drake stared into the darkened passage ahead, jaw set.
Whatever this was, he wasn't going to be the reason they stalled.
Even if he didn't yet understand why that resolve felt like the first mistake.
Xander broke the quiet first. "So," he said, staring into the dim glow of the canyon, "about earlier."
Kara didn't look up. "Not now."
"That wasn't a 'now' thing," Xander replied. "That was a—"
"I know what it was," she said. Her voice was steady, but firm enough to end it. "And we're not unpacking it here."
Elara hesitated. "At some point, we'll need to—"
"At some point," Kara agreed. "Not while we're still inside the same system that watched it happen."
Silence followed. Heavier this time.
Drake kept his eyes forward.
Luna spoke last, quietly. "Whatever that was," she said, "it noticed him first."
No one argued.
Kara folded her arms. "Which is why we move carefully," she said. "And why we don't speculate."
Xander exhaled. "Great. Another mystery."
"Not a mystery," Kara corrected. "A boundary."
She glanced at Drake then. Not accusing. Assessing.
"We get out," she said. "Then we decide what questions we're allowed to ask."
The conversation ended there.
No one slept easily after that.
Sleep came in shallow stretches.
Drake took second watch. He hadn't argued when Kara assigned it, and she hadn't explained why. That, more than the duty itself, kept him awake.
The canyon looked different at night—not darker, exactly, but flatter. Depth was harder to judge. Heat shimmered low along the stone, blurring edges that should've been sharp.
He stood near the bend they'd descended earlier, arms folded, eyes moving in slow, methodical sweeps. Same rhythm he'd used a hundred times before.
Nothing moved.
That was the problem.
Footsteps approached behind him, light and unhurried. Drake didn't turn.
"You're staring holes into the rock," Xander said quietly.
"Habit," Drake replied.
Xander leaned against the stone beside him, rolling his shoulders. "You ever notice how nothing dangerous ever shows itself when you're actually ready?"
Drake glanced sideways. "You trying to be reassuring?"
"Nope," Xander said. "Just annoyed."
They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the distant hiss of molten flow.
"Hey," Xander said eventually. "You good?"
Drake answered without thinking. "Yeah."
Xander hummed. "That wasn't what I asked."
Drake exhaled slowly. "I'm functional."
"That's… worse," Xander said, but there was no bite in it. "You don't usually sound like that."
Drake didn't respond.
Xander straightened. "Look, whatever this place is doing, it's not personal. We'll adapt."
Drake nodded. "I know."
Xander studied him for a second longer, then pushed off the wall. "Try not to glare the canyon into submission," he said over his shoulder. "It seems petty."
When Xander was gone, Drake shifted his stance—just slightly.
The ground slid again.
Barely a fraction, but enough that his weight redistributed wrong. He caught himself, boots scraping softly against stone.
Drake froze.
He hadn't stepped poorly. He was sure of that.
He waited a few breaths, then stepped back to where he'd been standing before. The stone held.
He frowned, then forced himself to relax his shoulders.
Don't compensate.
The thought came unbidden.
He stayed where he was until his watch ended.
—
Morning brought little relief.
They broke camp efficiently, conversation muted but steady. Kara reassigned positions without comment. Elara took point this time, wind coiling low around her ankles as she tested the air ahead.
"Still funneled," she said after a few minutes. "No lateral openings."
Kara nodded. "We take it slow."
Xander adjusted his pack and grimaced. "We're dipping into reserves earlier than planned."
"How much earlier?" Kara asked.
Xander checked, then shrugged. "Enough that I noticed."
That earned a quiet look from Elara.
Luna said nothing, but she moved closer to the packs, hands working briefly before stepping back. When Drake glanced down later, he realized his water canister had been topped off.
He didn't remember asking.
They moved.
The route bent when it shouldn't have. A ridge forced them to detour. A narrow ledge required single file longer than expected.
Nothing dramatic.
Just inefficient.
At one point, Elara stopped short. "Hold."
Everyone froze.
She crouched, fingers brushing the stone ahead. "This section's unstable."
Drake leaned forward. "I can—"
"No," Kara said immediately.
He stopped.
Kara moved beside Elara, studying the ground. "Alternate?"
Elara shook her head. "Not without backtracking."
Silence stretched.
Kara exhaled slowly. "Then we anchor and cross one at a time."
They did. It took longer than it should have.
On the far side, Xander let out a breath. "I miss when paths just… stayed put."
Drake didn't smile.
As they pressed on, Kara fell back into step beside him. Not confrontational. Just close enough to be heard over the canyon's low hum.
"You're doing fine," she said.
Drake glanced at her. "That wasn't a question."
"No," Kara agreed. "It's an observation."
He waited.
She continued, eyes forward. "But if something feels off, you say it. You don't push through alone."
Drake nodded once. "Understood."
Kara slowed her pace slightly, matching his stride. "We adjust together," she added.
That helped.
A little.
They stopped again sooner than planned. When they did, the canyon felt tighter—not hostile, not threatening. Just present.
Watching.
Drake sat, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared down the path ahead.
They were still moving.
They were still capable.
But for the first time since entering the canyon, he felt certain of one thing:
Getting out wasn't just about finding the right path anymore.
It was about not becoming the wrong one.