The forest east of the Many's hall did not thin. It deepened. The trunks grew taller, their pale bark shining in shafts of light like bone set upright. The leaves turned their blue undersides with each breath of wind. They did not rustle. They whispered, a dry, papery murmur that made Ari's brother grip her sleeve tighter.
Kael walked ahead, his spear angled low. The ground had moods here. Sometimes it shone with moss that pulsed faintly with light, like breathing skin. Sometimes it sagged where roots laced under soil, as if the earth were not sure how much weight to carry.
"Keep to the reeds," Ari murmured, remembering Selen's warning. The water path curled near, a thin ribbon flashing silver through undergrowth. Its banks grew thick with reeds that clacked when the wind moved them.
Her brother frowned. "They sound like teeth."
"Then we listen harder," Ari said.
The shard under her sternum hummed. Not loud, but steady. It was not warning. It was watchfulness, the way a hand rests on a doorframe before stepping through.
By midday the air shifted. The clean scent of the forest thickened with iron. It filled the nose with a metallic bite. Kael squatted, rubbing soil between his fingers. "Ore underfoot," he said. "Selen was right. We're close to the bridge."
The reeds thickened, almost shoulder-high. The path narrowed between them. Ari's brother walked close to her side, eyes darting. Birds sang overhead, but their notes were strange - two tones in quick succession, like whistles calling and answering themselves.
Then the reeds parted, and the low bridge came into view. It was little more than planks lashed to two ropes stretched across a slow river. Mist curled off the water, carrying a cold that stung Ari's skin. A figure stood at the center of the bridge, still as carved wood.
She was tall, draped in gray cloth, her hair bound back in a knot. Her hands rested on the ropes as if she had been waiting all morning. A satchel hung at her side.
"Mair," Kael whispered.
Ari remembered Selen's words: Speak my name. She stepped forward, careful. "Selen sends us," she said.
The woman's eyes flicked to the shard-glow at Ari's chest. Her voice was low, slow. "Selen's name buys you one bowl. No more."
Ari nodded. "One is all we ask."
Mair's gaze moved to Ari's brother. His face was pale. His lips pressed tight, but his jaw trembled. Mair reached into her satchel and drew out a small clay bowl filled with broth. Steam curled up, carrying the smell of roots and marrow bone.
She held it out. "Who is hungry."
Her brother stepped forward before Ari could answer. His hands shook as he took the bowl. He sipped, eyes closing as warmth spread through him. His shoulders eased for the first time since their valley burned.
Mair watched, her face unreadable. "You are marked," she said to Ari. "The shard in you hums loud. It calls. That will bring more than safety. It will bring hunters."
"We didn't choose it," Ari said.
"No one does," Mair replied. She leaned closer, her voice almost kind. "But some survive it better than others. Some turn loud into song. Some turn it into scream. Be careful which you are."
A rustle cut across the reeds. Kael snapped his spear up. Ari turned. Shadows moved between the stalks - three, no, four figures. Their steps were too even to be animals.
Mair cursed under her breath. "Empire scouts," she hissed. "They sniff the hum already."
The shard pulsed hard under Ari's sternum, hot and urgent. Her brother clutched the bowl with both hands, eyes wide. Kael set himself between them and the reeds.
"They'll cross," he said. "We fight here."
"No," Mair said sharply. She cut the ropes of the bridge with a flick of her knife. The planks sagged, half falling into the river. Mist rose thicker. "This path is closed." She turned to Ari. "There's another way through. Follow me."
"But the scouts..." Kael began.
"They won't chase across water they can't read," Mair said. "Not at night. Not with the shard singing so close. They'll wait for daylight."
Ari pulled her brother close, the broth still trembling in his grip. She could feel the shard pushing against her ribs, a pressure like it wanted out. She whispered to it, low and fierce. "Not now. Quiet. We need silence more than fire."
The warmth eased, reluctantly.
Mair led them along the riverbank. The mist thickened until the reeds were shapes, then shadows, then gone. The world became sound - water whispering, Kael's boots on mud, her brother's shallow breaths. Ari followed the back of Mair's gray cloth like it was the only star left.
When they stopped, it was in a hollow where roots bent into a cage above. Mair crouched, her face close to Ari's. "You are in a story older than this bridge," she said. "The shard will write it whether you wish or not. Decide only if you are ink or knife."
She pressed a small packet into Ari's hand. Dried leaves, crumbling. "Boil when fear shakes his hands too hard to hold. It will calm the noise inside him. Sometimes that is enough."
Ari clutched the packet. "Why help us."
Mair's mouth tilted in something not quite a smile. "Because Selen asks. And because once I was loud too. I survived it. You may not. But I would rather you try."
A shout rose far behind, muffled by mist. Empire voices, harsh and clipped. Kael stiffened.
"Go east," Mair said. "Don't stop at the drums. Don't look back at the towers. The next place will not welcome you either. But it may not kill you first."
Ari gripped her brother's hand. Kael raised his spear. They stepped into the trees. The shard hummed once, steady and sure.
Behind them, the river carried the broken bridge away.