Ethan let his head rest back against the rock for a single breath longer, letting the taste of quiet sit on his tongue.
The forest quickly reclaimed itself, insects softening their hum, leaves shifting like they hadn't just seen a fight.
Everly stretched her arms out with a groan, then dropped them like the weight wasn't worth carrying.
Evelyn tapped the edge of her blade once on the stone before sliding it home, her motions clean and practiced, not wasting a gesture.
Ethan pushed himself back up to his feet. He didn't say they had to move; the twins already knew. They always did.
The path wound narrow now, a cut of earth leading them down into a canyon carved not by water or time but by the will of whoever had built this trail.
The walls pressed close on either side, stone rising high and red with streaks of black. The floor wasn't still.