The world was still vibrating when Kael woke.
The light in the shrine was wrong—too bright, too alive. The red glow that once came from the basin now pulsed faintly along the walls, like veins under skin. The Lines on his arms echoed that same rhythm, brighter than before.
He sat up too fast and gasped. His chest burned—not pain, but pressure, as if the air itself were thicker around him.
The girl was standing near the archway, pack slung over her shoulder, hair unbound and tangled from the climb. Her torch was out. She didn't need it. The entire chamber glowed on its own.
"You're awake," she said without turning.
Kael rubbed his temples. "Barely."
"You shouldn't have touched the water."
"I didn't touch it."
She finally looked back, eyes cold in the crimson light. "It touched you then."
He met her gaze, unflinching. "And now what? I'm supposed to just—pretend nothing happened?"
"No," she said. "Now you run."
They left the shrine at dawn—or what passed for dawn beneath the canopy. The forest was alive in ways Kael hadn't seen before. The trees leaned toward him, bark pulsing faintly with red light as if reflecting his own Lines. The ground hummed under each step, echoing his heartbeat.
It wasn't just him hearing it anymore. The world was answering.
"Why is it doing this?" he asked.
The girl's expression didn't change. "You woke something that shouldn't wake. The shrine isn't just a place. It's part of the lattice that binds the Vire lands. When one node flares, others respond."
He frowned. "You mean I… changed it?"
"Not changed." She adjusted her pack. "You reminded it to breathe."
Kael's stomach twisted. "And that's bad?"
"Only if the Empire feels it."
By midday, the wind carried sound—deep, distant thunder rolling across the peaks behind them. The girl stopped on a ridge and listened, eyes narrowing. Kael followed her gaze.
Smoke was rising from the direction they'd come.
"They found it," she said.
Kael's jaw clenched. "The soldiers."
She nodded once. "They'll see the light. They'll think it's a weapon."
"Is it?"
Her silence was answer enough.
They started running.
The forest changed as they moved. The air thickened, every breath warm, metallic. Birds fled from branches, and the earth cracked in places, steaming faintly. Kael's senses stretched beyond sight—he could feel everything. The rhythm of the wind, the heartbeat of the ground, even the vibrations of the girl's steps beside him. It wasn't hearing or seeing—it was knowing.
The power should have terrified him, but part of him felt… whole.
When they reached the river gorge, the girl stopped abruptly. Below, a narrow bridge of stone crossed the current—a natural span, slick with frost. She crouched and scanned the opposite side.
"Movement," she said.
Kael squinted. Through the mist, faint shapes flickered between trees—armor catching light, crimson banners snapping in the wind.
"The Empire," he whispered.
"They moved faster than I thought." Her tone sharpened. "We can't go back, and they'll cut the ridge if we stay. The only path left is through."
She drew her knife. The blade glowed faintly with the same energy as his Lines. "If they see you, they'll call for priests. They'll want to test what you are."
Kael's pulse quickened. "And if I don't let them?"
"They'll burn the forest to find you."
They crossed fast.
Halfway across the bridge, a shout echoed behind them—metal boots on stone, the unmistakable ring of swords drawn. Kael turned. A squad of soldiers was descending the ridge, red cloaks whipping in the wind.
"Keep going!" the girl barked.
Kael ran, but halfway across the bridge something cracked beneath his feet. The stone trembled. The vibrations weren't from footsteps—they came from below. The river's roar deepened into a guttural hum that shook the gorge walls.
"Kael!" she yelled.
The ground buckled. The bridge split down the center with a deafening crack. Kael lunged forward, grabbing the ledge as the slab behind him fell away into churning red water.
The girl dropped to her knees and reached out. "Give me your hand!"
He grabbed hers. For a second, the world froze. His Lines flared, her scars glowed, and the two lights connected—a current of red and white threading between them. Energy surged upward, turning the air molten. The soldiers on the ridge stopped, shielding their faces from the blast.
The stones beneath them pulsed once—then exploded outward.
Kael and the girl were thrown clear, landing hard on the opposite bank. Rocks and fire rained into the gorge. The river boiled where the light touched it, steam rising in great pillars that swallowed the bridge whole.
When the sound faded, Kael coughed, chest heaving. His body buzzed with power and exhaustion.
"What—what was that?" he rasped.
The girl staggered to her feet, face pale. "The shrine's breath followed you."
He looked back across the gorge. The soldiers were silhouettes in the mist, weapons raised, hesitant to approach the molten rock. One stepped forward—and the ground beneath him cracked, swallowing him in a flash of light.
Kael flinched. "I didn't—"
"I know," she said quickly. "It's not you. It's reacting to you."
He stared at his hands, trembling. "How do I stop it?"
"You don't." Her voice hardened. "You learn to aim it."
They didn't rest until nightfall. When they finally stopped beneath a canopy of frost-black pines, Kael's body felt like it was filled with lightning. The girl handed him water from a leather flask, then crouched opposite him.
"From now on," she said, "you can't breathe freely. Every exhale feeds the Lines. You'll have to measure it, like a song with too few notes."
Kael took a long breath, feeling the air drag across his lungs. The ground around him pulsed faintly red, then dimmed. He nodded. "I can do that."
She studied him. "You're adapting fast."
"Or falling apart slower."
That earned the smallest flicker of a smile. "Both mean you're alive."
He leaned back against a tree, eyes on the stars barely visible through the branches. "You said the Empire will feel it. What will they do?"
Her gaze drifted east. "They'll send someone who can listen as deeply as you can now."
Kael frowned. "A priest?"
"No." Her tone dropped, colder. "A Listener."
The word lingered like a blade in the dark.
The night passed without sleep. The forest never stopped moving; it shifted, breathed, murmured faint sounds beneath the soil. Once, Kael thought he heard a whisper—his name, carried on the wind.He didn't answer.
When dawn finally broke, the girl was already walking toward the valley ahead. The air shimmered faintly above her shoulders, and Kael realized the glow wasn't fading—it was spreading, leaving faint red lines along the trees where they passed.
"Where are we going?" he called.
"West," she said. "There's a place where the Lines don't reach. Maybe it'll stop there."
Kael followed, the earth humming under his boots, the forest whispering behind him.
For the first time, the hum didn't sound threatening. It sounded alive.
And in the rhythm of it—steady, endless—he felt something new.
Not fear.Not rage.Purpose.