Mist swirled thicker now, coiling around their boots as if the sea itself had begun to breathe. The glowing water between stones pulsed faintly, timed with an unseen heartbeat. Every jump felt longer, every landing heavier.
Aric rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension creeping up his spine. The Mirror against his ribs was cold, a silver weight pressing into bone. He thought, 'This Domain wants us to stop. Wants us to drift.'
Lyra muttered behind him. "I keep thinking I'm stepping on someone's grave."
"You might be," Aric said. "Don't let it spook you."
"That's comforting."
"I'm full of comfort."
She gave a sharp laugh and launched herself to the next stone, landing cat-light. Threads flicked from her fingers and anchored on the edge before she pulled herself upright again. The black stone was dry but warm now, almost pulsing underfoot.
Aric landed beside her. He crouched and touched the surface. Beneath his palm the stone trembled like a heartbeat. "It's alive," he murmured.
"Everything in this place is alive."
"Everything in this place is hungry," Aric corrected.
Ahead, the stones forked into two paths. The left looked closer but shimmered faintly. The right path zig-zagged wider gaps.
Lyra squinted. "Which?"
Aric closed his eyes. The Mirror hummed, a spiderweb of lines mapping the hidden currents. He opened his eyes. "Right. Left's a mirage."
She took a breath. "I hate how sure you sound when you're guessing."
"I don't guess."
"You lie."
He smiled without humour. "Both true."
They jumped to the right. The gap was long enough that Lyra had to use her threads like a sling; she landed hard, knees bending. Aric followed, boots scraping the edge. The moment they landed, the mist around them shifted—soft voices threading through like silk.
Lyra stiffened. "Do you hear—"
"Voices. Yes." He frowned. "Ignore them."
The mist thickened and a shape formed at its centre. This time it wasn't family or friends. It was Aric himself, but older—grey streaking his hair, Mirror glowing like a star in his hand. The double stepped forward, eyes full of weary triumph.
"You'll waste it," the double said in Aric's own voice. "All your cunning. All your Paths. Let me take it now and save you the ruin."
Aric's pulse spiked. He thought, 'It's not me. It's bait.'
He spoke his Name under his breath. The double's eyes narrowed and then it broke apart into drifting blue sparks.
Lyra exhaled. "This place is a nightmare."
"Nightmares don't charge tolls."
"They just eat you."
"Exactly."
They moved again. The next stone was slicker still. As Lyra landed, the glow from the water rose up like mist and shaped itself into a boy—small, soaked, eyes wide. He reached for her. "Lyra," he whispered. "It's cold. Please—"
She froze. Her threads drooped. "Ryn…"
Aric grabbed her shoulder. "Anchor."
Tears glimmered at the edge of her eyes. "It's him."
"It's not."
She whispered her Name but her voice shook. The boy held out his arms, water dripping from his fingers. "Sister. Don't leave me."
Lyra's foot slid toward the edge.
Aric snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Lyra. Name. Path. Now."
She gasped, straightened, and spat her Name like a curse. The boy shuddered and dissolved, water splashing back into the glow.
Lyra pressed her hands to her mouth. "It sounded like him."
"I know."
"I could feel his skin—"
"I know." His voice was softer now. "That's how it wins."
She took a shaking breath. "Thanks."
"Next time you drag me back."
Her laugh was jagged but real. "Deal."
They turned to the next jump. It was a wide one—a gap of three strides. Mist roiled beneath them. Something dark moved under the water, parallel to their path. A tendril rose, just a ripple at first, then a black shape gliding like an eel, three, four times the length of a man.
Aric's hand went to the Mirror. 'Collector.'
It brushed the stone's edge and the glow dimmed. A thin hiss rose from the water, like steam from a kettle. Lyra's threads flickered nervously.
"Is it the Landlord?" she whispered.
"Not exactly." He squinted at the dark shape. "Smaller. A collector, maybe. A tax man."
"Great. The IRS of memory monsters."
Aric almost smiled. "Don't pay it attention."
"It's the size of a barge."
"That's still smaller than the Landlord."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
They jumped. The tendril glided under them as they landed. The stone trembled. The glow dimmed again. This time, instead of voices, the air filled with a sound like bells underwater, deep and slow. The fragment-child in the cage shuddered, its filaments glowing bright.
Aric crouched and pressed his palm to the stone, murmuring his Name. The glow flickered back. He thought, 'It feeds on hesitation. On unanchored names.'
Lyra knelt beside him, voice low. "We can't keep this up forever."
"We don't have to. Just until the arch."
She looked ahead into the mist. "How far?"
"Far enough for me to start lying about it," he said.
She snorted softly. "Good. I'd hate for you to change."
They stood and moved again. The next stone was higher, like a step. As Aric hauled himself up, he noticed bones—thin, human—caught between two slabs of black. A hand still clutching a lantern, long dead. He stared at it for a moment.
Lyra followed his gaze and went pale. "Vale…"
"Keep moving," he said, voice flat.
"Those are—"
"I know."
He thought, 'Names lost. Toll unpaid. The Landlord took them.'
He vaulted to the next stone. Behind them the tendril rose higher, almost breaking the surface now, a long tongue of black wrapped in faint blue veins. It was following.
Lyra hissed, "It's closer."
"I see it."
"What do we do?"
"Cross faster."
They ran the next three jumps. Mist whipped around them. The glow of the water grew brighter, pulsing like a heartbeat. At the edge of his vision Aric saw faces, hands, doors. His mind whispered, 'Step off, step off, you're so tired…'
He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. "Name. Path. Name. Path." Each word he spoke landed like a footstep.
Lyra echoed him, voice raw. "Name. Path. Name. Path."
The collector rose behind them, black tendrils slapping against the stones, leaving sizzling marks where it touched. A low growl vibrated through the mist.
Aric looked ahead. The path bent sharply left, a wider stone forming a kind of platform. Beyond it the mist parted slightly, hinting at the faint outline of the far arch. Almost there.
He grabbed Lyra's wrist. "Platform ahead. We hold there, then figure a way to shake it."
"I thought you said no stopping."
"Exception for emergencies."
"Nice to know this qualifies."
They jumped the last gap onto the platform. It was twice the size of the others, carved with spirals like a giant fingerprint. The collector's tendril lashed out behind them, splashing glowing water across the stones. The stones they'd just left began to sink, dissolving into mist.
Lyra spun, threads ready. "It's coming up!"
Aric planted his feet on the spiral and raised the Mirror. "Then we make it pay a toll."