The river carried a song of subtle menace as we moved alongside it, shadows stretching longer than the morning sun warranted. Sophia kept the wards shimmering faintly along the banks, weaving them into the dirt and stone, threading her magic like a spider weaving a web delicate enough not to alert the river—but strong enough to mask us.
Sarah led, silent as the mist curling over broken docks, while I followed, listening to the soft gurgle of water and the occasional creak of rope from abandoned boats. Every ripple seemed purposeful, every wave a whispered warning. We weren't moving through a city anymore. We were moving through a living trap.
"Keep your senses sharp," I murmured. "It knows we're here."
Sophia's eyes flicked toward me. "It senses something, but not who we are—not yet. My wards hide more than just presence—they hide intention. For now."
