The pass widened into a plateau littered with broken pillars, each carved with spirals that seemed to shift when Kaelen wasn't looking directly at them. The mist from the Veil lapped at the far edge like a living tide, retreating and advancing with no regard for wind.
Orien stopped in the center of the plateau, scanning the horizon. "We rest here," she said, though her eyes never stopped moving.
Kaelen set down his pack, but his pulse hadn't slowed since the voice first spoke. He could still feel it — faint now, but present. Waiting.
You've come so far carrying me.
The words slid into his thoughts without warning, smooth as oil.
Why keep pretending you do not wish to know my name?
He shut his eyes, forcing himself to remember Orien's warning. Don't answer. Don't think at it.
But the Shard — if that's what it was — seemed to listen to his restraint, curling around the edges of his mind like smoke seeking a crack.
I could tell you where she hides the truth. Why she walks beside you but will never let you touch her shadow.
Kaelen's breath hitched.
"You're pale," Orien said suddenly, stepping closer.
"I'm fine," he lied.
She studied him for a long moment, then reached into her cloak. Her hand emerged holding a small pouch bound with silver thread. "If it speaks again, hold this to your temple. It won't silence it, but it will dull the pull."
Kaelen hesitated before taking it. The pouch was warm — too warm.
"That's… not an ordinary charm," he said.
"No," Orien replied. "It's older than the Shard you carry. Older than the stones here."
The voice surged in his head, sharper now.
'She fears you. She fears what I'll show you. Let me speak freely, and I'll make her tell you why.'
Kaelen clenched the pouch so tightly the silver thread bit into his palm.
And then, from somewhere beyond the mist, a deep, echoing howl rolled across the plateau — not human, not animal, but something that made the stone beneath them tremble.
Orien's head snapped toward the sound. "They've found us."