By dawn, the camp looked like a disturbed anthill. Horses were saddled, tents folded, dogs barking, Temir running in circles because he "lost his lucky pot lid," and Kanykei threatening to leave him behind if he mentioned it one more time.
Ayisulu tried to appear calm while tying her saddle straps, but her hands shook. Too much had happened too quickly — the raiders, the new travelers, the prophecy-like symbols she somehow understood, and the promise Arslan whispered last night still echoing in her bones.
When she glanced sideways, she caught Arslan already looking at her.
He didn't pretend otherwise. He simply said:
"Stay close to me today."
Kanykei, tightening her hair braid, muttered, "Again."
Temir nodded importantly. "He says that an average of six times a day."
Arslan ignored both of them.
He didn't ignore Erlan, though — Erlan rode up on her other side, offering Ayisulu a small piece of dried apple.
"You didn't eat," he said.
"I'm not hungry," she replied.
"You still should."
Arslan bristled. "I can feed her."
Erlan raised an eyebrow. "Do you want a medal for it?"
Ayisulu inhaled sharply. "Can both of you stop acting like wolves fighting over the same sheep?"
"I am not a wolf," Arslan said.
"I am not fighting," Erlan said.
Snow-Mouth, riding ahead, looked back and murmured to Ayisulu,
"Your men are noisy."
Ayisulu nearly fell off her horse from embarrassment.
---
They rode north. The wind grew colder, carrying scents of pine, wet stone, and distant smoke. Cagan entertained Temir by juggling stones while riding horseback, which horrified Kereg and impressed no one else.
At midday, the group stopped near a cluster of standing stones carved with ancient spiral symbols. Snow-Mouth knelt, placed one palm on the stone, and whispered something Ayisulu couldn't hear.
The stone pulsed faintly.
"The spirits here are restless," Snow-Mouth said. "Something has disturbed them."
Ayisulu shivered. She didn't like the way the wind changed direction, circling her like a curious animal.
Orin approached her. "Try touching the stone."
Arslan was instantly beside her. "No."
"Oh for the love of Tengri," Kanykei groaned. "Let the girl breathe."
Ayisulu lifted her hand hesitantly and pressed her fingertips to the cold stone.
For a moment — nothing.
Then—
Her vision blurred.
The world thinned.
The wind sharpened.
And she saw her.
A woman in a red veil, masked, her hands weaving threads of black smoke. Her presence felt wrong — too cold, too hollow, too hungry. Around her, illusions twisted like ribbons caught in a storm.
The Shadow Weaver.
Ayisulu's heart slammed painfully. The woman turned — as if sensing Ayisulu watching — and formed the shape of a smile beneath her mask.
"Ayisulu!" someone called distantly.
The vision snapped.
Ayisulu staggered backward. Arslan caught her before she hit the ground, his arms strong and warm around her.
"You're pale," he said, voice tight. "What did you see?"
Ayisulu swallowed hard. "A woman… wrapped in smoke. She was weaving illusions. And she knew I was watching."
Erlan's face went hard. "She's close."
Snow-Mouth nodded. "Closer than we thought."
Temir whispered, "Are we about to die? Because I still haven't returned Kereg's bowl—"
"You WHAT?" Kereg barked.
Ayisulu barely heard them. Her pulse didn't slow — her bones vibrated with something she didn't understand yet. Something that left the air feeling thin.
Arslan touched her cheek softly.
"Tell me everything you saw."
She described the red veil, the mask, the smoke threads twisting like serpents. When she finished, Arslan's hand slid down to her shoulder — a grounding touch.
"She's hunting you," he murmured. "Not just the Falcon."
Ayisulu nodded. "I think… she wants to steal my visions. Or destroy them."
"That will not happen," Arslan said, voice low and absolute.
Erlan stepped forward. "We protect her together."
Arslan's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.
Ayisulu exhaled shakily. "I don't want to be protected. I want to understand what's happening to me."
Snow-Mouth tilted their head. "Then you must learn control."
"From whom?" Ayisulu asked.
"From the only people who ever trained dream-walkers," Snow-Mouth said. "The Cloud Monastery."
Arslan froze.
"That place is a myth."
"No," Orin said. "It is real. Hidden in the cliffs. And if Ayisulu is to survive the Shadow Weaver… she must reach it."
Temir gasped. "A secret monastery?! On cliffs?! We're going on a QUEST!"
Kanykei groaned. "Why am I living inside Temir's fantasy book?"
But Ayisulu's thoughts spun faster than the wind.
A monastery.
Dream-walker teachings.
Answers to what she was becoming.
But also—
A long, dangerous path.
And enemies who were already far too close.
"Arslan," she whispered, "if I go there… the Falcon will know."
"He already knows everything," Arslan said. "But he will not reach you first."
His voice softened then — barely audible, only for her.
"I won't let him."
Ayisulu felt heat rise in her chest — fear and hope tangled together.
She didn't know what waited at the Cloud Monastery.
Or what she would become when she learned the truth of her power.
But she knew one thing:
The Shadow Weaver had seen her.
And now she was coming.