The horn blast rolled across the field like a warning from the heavens. Birds scattered from the nearby trees. Shadows shifted on the wall as soldiers scrambled into new positions. Ravel froze for half a heartbeat before Seris grabbed his wrist.
"Move!"
They sprinted through the tall grass. Stalks whipped against Ravel's legs as he pushed forward, lungs tightening. Behind them, the horn sounded again, shorter and sharper.
"That's a targeting signal," Seris called over the wind. "They're tracking movement outside the wall. We have maybe thirty seconds before someone gets eyes on us."
Ravel risked a look back. Figures clustered along the battlements. Some carried long-range sight lenses. Others aimed resonance rifles that glimmered under the sun.
He lowered his head and ran harder.
The grasslands spread wide and open. Too open. Nowhere to hide. No trees until the distant low hills. No ridges deep enough to duck behind. Just an exposed plain beneath a perfect blue sky.
Seris veered right. "There's an old irrigation ditch ahead. If we reach it—"
A crack split the air.
Ravel flinched as a streak of bright white energy slammed into the grass two steps to his left, scorching the ground. Smoke rose from the scorched dirt.
Seris cursed and shoved him forward. "They're firing warning shots now. Next ones won't miss."
Ravel tightened his grip on the satchel. The sphere pulsed with a rapid, irregular beat. Not warning him. Urging him. Pointing him.
South.
Seris cut left through the grass. Another crack. A burst of white light seared the air above them, close enough that the heat brushed the back of Ravel's neck.
"Your family's hunters," Seris said between breaths. "They're trained to capture heirs alive. But the rest of the legion doesn't have to."
Comforting.
They pushed toward the faint outline of the irrigation trench now visible ahead. Ravel could make out a dip in the land, the grass sloping downward like a shallow scar running across the plain.
Almost there.
Another shot tore through the grass behind them. Dirt exploded upward, showering Ravel's boots.
"Faster!" Seris shouted.
Ravel didn't answer. His chest burned, his breath sharp and ragged. He wasn't a soldier. His body wasn't trained for endurance like Seris's. His strength was in his mind, not his muscles.
He stumbled, but Seris caught his arm and kept him upright.
The trench was fifty paces away.
Forty.
Thirty.
The soldiers shouted something from the wall.
A mechanical hum stirred the air.
Seris's face blanched. "Damn it. They activated the gliders."
Two sleek shapes launched from the battlements. Metallic wings unfolded as they dove, catching the wind like hunting birds. The riders wore dark armor, their silhouettes cutting through the sky.
Glider units. Fast. Deadly. Built to swoop down on fleeing targets.
Ravel's heart slammed against his ribs.
Seris angled them straight toward the ditch. "Don't stop! Once we're below the ridge, they'll lose line of sight."
But the gliders were closing in fast, shadows crossing over the grass. The hum of their engines grew louder, sharper.
Ravel's pulse spiked. The sphere burned hotter in his satchel. He could feel it throbbing like a second heartbeat.
"Seris," he said through clenched teeth, "something's happening."
"Unless it's wings that can carry us, ignore it!"
But he couldn't. The sphere felt alive. Vibrant. As if it were drinking in the fear, the danger, the urgency. His skin tingled. His vision sharpened.
Twenty paces to the trench.
The first glider swooped low. The rider extended an arm. A capture chain fired forward, hurtling toward Ravel like a coiled bolt.
Seris yanked him sideways.
The chain skimmed past his shoulder and wrapped around a patch of grass, slicing deep grooves into the earth before retracting.
The glider pulled up sharply, circling for another pass.
"Ten paces!" Seris shouted.
Ravel ran, legs screaming, lungs burning.
Now, five paces.
Four.
The second glider descended in a perfect dive, straight at them. Its rider aimed another chain.
Ravel felt panic claw up his throat.
Then the sphere responded.
A pulse shot through his body, spreading from his ribs outward like a shockwave made of light. His sight blurred. The air around him trembled.
A single sharp tone rang in his skull, like a chime struck at the center of the world.
The glider's chain fired.
Ravel raised his hand without thinking.
Light erupted.
A translucent barrier flashed into existence between them and the glider, forming in the exact shape of Ravel's outstretched palm. The chain hit the barrier and bounced back with enough force to rip the glider off-course.
The rider swore as the wings tilted out of balance. The glider spiraled upward, struggling to stabilize.
Seris stared at Ravel, stunned. "What—"
"Go!" Ravel shouted.
They reached the trench and dove inside. The ground dropped suddenly, sending them sliding down the dusty slope until they reached the bottom where a narrow channel of dry earth wound between tall walls of grass.
For a moment, Ravel lay still, chest heaving. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His hand trembled. The echo of the pulse still hummed beneath his skin.
Seris crouched beside him. "What was that? You… formed a barrier."
Ravel swallowed hard. "I didn't do anything. The sphere did."
"Then it reacts to danger."
"It reacts when it wants," Ravel said quietly. "Not when I ask."
Seris's eyes narrowed, but she didn't question further. Above them, the glider shadows swept past overhead, but the ditch kept them hidden.
"We follow the trench until it bends," Seris said. "Then we break south."
Ravel wiped his forehead and forced himself to stand.
The sphere pulsed again, calmer now, almost satisfied.
He didn't know what the sphere was.He didn't know why it chose him.
But as they hurried deeper into the trench, he realized something simple and terrifying:
The empire wasn't the only thing chasing him.
Something else was pulling him forward.
Something vast.
Something ancient.
Something waiting.