The air outside the well was cool and still.
For a moment, Erynd wondered if the First Circle had been nothing more than a hallucination born of hunger and exhaustion.
But the mark in his palm was real. Black, faint, like ink soaked into the skin — and warm, as if it remembered where it came from.
He turned away from the well. The village was just beginning to stir. Smoke curled from chimneys, carrying the smell of thin porridge and woodsmoke.
Children darted between huts, their laughter brittle in the morning air. A hunched man hammered at a bent horseshoe, his work careful, deliberate.
It looked peaceful. But Erynd knew better. Peace here was fragile — the kind that could be shattered by a stranger's shadow.
He kept his hood low as he moved through the dirt paths. Heads turned. Eyes lingered.
A woman carrying a basket of fish stopped mid-step, watching him with open suspicion.
A young man leaned on a fence post, his gaze sharp and measuring.
They didn't say anything, but their stares were loud enough.
He was halfway to the edge of the village when she appeared.
The girl from yesterday — the one who had seen.
She stepped out from behind a hut, blocking his path.
Her hair was tied back in a rough braid, her clothes patched and worn, but her eyes… they were steady. Unafraid.
"You have it," she said.
Erynd stopped. "Have what?"
"The dark. The thing in your shadow."
He glanced around. A pair of farmers stood nearby, pretending to inspect a broken fence but clearly listening.
"You're mistaken," he said.
The girl tilted her head, studying him like she was peeling away layers. "It doesn't hide well from me."
Erynd felt the shadow under his feet coil, restless. He willed it still.
"You should go back to your family."
"I don't have one."
That caught him off guard.
Before he could answer, she stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"If you don't know how to control it, it'll eat you. I've seen it happen."
Erynd searched her face for a lie, but found none.
"You've… seen others?"
She nodded. "Not here. Beyond the marshes. There's a place where the ground is black and the air feels wrong. That's where they come from. That's where it grows."
The words made the mark in his palm pulse once.
He had never told her about the First Circle. But somehow, she spoke as if she knew the path ahead.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Lira."
Before he could say more, a shout came from across the square.
A man in a leather vest was hurrying toward them, a heavy cudgel in hand.
"Lira! Away from him!"
She didn't move. "He's not dangerous."
The man's eyes locked on Erynd. "You. Outsider. Keep moving."
Erynd met his gaze, weighing his options. He could walk away and keep the shadows quiet… or he could push back.
But then Lira spoke again, quick and low, so only he could hear.
"If you want answers, meet me at the north road tonight. When the moon's high."
She stepped aside, letting him pass.
The man with the cudgel followed Erynd with his eyes until he was clear of the village.
Erynd didn't look back — but his mind replayed the girl's words over and over.
Beyond the marshes. Where it grows.
By the time he reached the road, the mist was thinning.
He kept walking until the village was a distant smudge, then stopped beneath a crooked tree.
He rested the spear against the trunk, flexing his palm.
The mark there burned faintly, and in the silence, the book's voice stirred.
"She knows of the Circles."
Erynd frowned. "How?"
"Because she's walked part of the path. Not far… but far enough to see what waits."
That was more than he expected — and less than he wanted.
The thought of meeting her again twisted uneasily in his gut.
She might be the first person in this world who could help him… or the first who could betray him.
Either way, he would go.
Night would come soon enough.
And with it, the next step toward the Circles.