The silence after Kshatri left was the worst part.
Not the cold stone pressing against my back.Not the sharp ache in my arms from trying—again and again—to pull myself free.Not even the presence of the Guardian, looming somewhere beyond the mist, unseen but felt.
It was the silence.
The kind that presses into your chest until breathing feels like work.
"Kshatri…" I whispered, my voice barely more than breath. The sound vanished into the mist almost immediately, swallowed whole. I knew he couldn't hear me anymore. He was already gone, racing back toward the village, toward help.
And I was alone.
My tail twitched nervously, brushing against damp stone. The narrow crevice held me tightly, jagged rock biting into my palms whenever I shifted. My patterns glowed faintly, pulsing in irregular rhythms—reacting not just to fear, but to something deeper.
The life inside me.
It stirred gently, like a soft echo beneath my heartbeat. Not panicked. Not frantic.
Aware.
That realization made my throat tighten.
"It's okay," I whispered, pressing one hand to my stomach instinctively. "I won't let anything happen. I promise."
The Mist responded.
Not with sound—but with movement.
The shadows shifted, curling closer, as if listening.
Then I felt it again.
A presence.
Not the Guardian. This one was quieter. More deliberate.
I turned my head slowly, ears flicking as I scanned the narrow opening above me. The mist there thinned, revealing a tall silhouette standing just beyond the reach of the crevice. Pale light traced unfamiliar patterns along their body—moon-bright but sharper, almost fractured.
They didn't move closer.
They were watching.
"Are you going to help," I asked hoarsely, "or just stand there until I break?"
The figure tilted their head.
"I am not here to save you," they said calmly. "Only to observe what you choose to do."
I clenched my jaw. "That's… comforting."
A faint sound—almost like amusement—escaped them.
"You carry Moonclaw light," they continued. "And something older. Softer. More dangerous."
My tail curled protectively around myself. "If you're talking about my child—"
"I am," they interrupted gently. "And that instinct—to protect—is why the Mist hasn't crushed you yet."
That sent a chill through me.
"The Mist reacts to intent," the figure said. "Not strength. Not rank. Intent."
I swallowed, breathing slowly. "Then tell me what it wants."
They stepped closer now, just enough for me to see their face clearly.
They were feline—but not like Kshatri. Their features were sharper, eyes a pale silver instead of amber, pupils narrow and calculating. Their fur shimmered like fractured moonlight, patterns shifting constantly, never settling.
"I am Aeshryn," they said. "Of the Veiled Path."
"I've never heard of that tribe."
"You wouldn't have." Their gaze flicked briefly to my stomach. "You are not meant to."
Great. Of course.
"What do I do?" I asked quietly.
Aeshryn crouched, peering into the crevice with unsettling calm. "Stop fighting the stone."
My hands trembled. "If I stop trying, I'll be stuck here forever."
"No," they said. "If you keep trying the wrong way, you'll collapse the path entirely."
That made my breath hitch.
"The Mist opened this crevice because you ran," Aeshryn continued. "Fear pulled you down. Fear will keep you here."
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe past the panic, past the ache in my limbs.
Fear won't save me.
Slowly, I let my claws retract. Let my shoulders relax. Let my tail loosen its tight coil.
The moment I did—
The stone shifted.
Not collapsing.
Opening.
I gasped as the pressure around my ribs eased slightly, the crevice responding to the change in my posture. My patterns flared softly, glowing steadier now, no longer erratic.
"Oh," I whispered. "Oh… I feel it."
Aeshryn nodded. "Your child feels it first. You follow."
Emotion welled up unexpectedly, burning behind my eyes. "They're not even born yet."
"And already shaping the world," Aeshryn replied. "That should terrify you."
It did.
And yet… it didn't.
I shifted carefully, letting instinct—not panic—guide me. The rock seemed to soften beneath my palms, responding to my movements, opening just enough to allow me to slide one shoulder free.
Pain flared—but it was manageable.
Then—
A deep vibration rolled through the ground.
The Guardian.
The Mist darkened instantly, shadows surging like a tide.
Aeshryn straightened. "You don't have much time."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "Kshatri—he's coming back."
"Yes," Aeshryn said quietly. "And the Guardian will sense him."
"What happens then?"
They met my eyes.
"The Mist will choose."
Before I could ask what that meant, the ground trembled violently. A low, resonant growl echoed through the forest, so deep it vibrated in my bones.
I screamed as the crevice shifted again—this time violently—throwing me forward.
Stone cracked.
Light poured in.
I tumbled out of the crevice, landing hard on damp earth, gasping for breath. My tail lashed wildly as I scrambled away just as the ground behind me collapsed entirely.
I was free.
But the Guardian was close now.
Too close.
I staggered to my feet, dizzy, heart pounding, one hand instinctively pressed to my stomach.
"I'm okay," I whispered. "We're okay."
The shadows parted.
The Guardian emerged.
Massive. Ancient. Eyes glowing like cold stars.
And then—
Another presence stepped beside me.
Aeshryn.
Their patterns flared brightly as they drew a symbol in the air, one I didn't recognize. The Mist reacted instantly, folding inward, bending space itself.
"You have a choice, Luna Moonclaw," Aeshryn said sharply. "Run toward the Guardian—or step onto the Veiled Path."
"What does that mean?" I cried.
"It means leaving the path your mate expects."
The Guardian roared.
The ground split.
I had seconds.
I thought of Kshatri—running, desperate, blaming himself.
I thought of Zaya—waiting, sensing something wrong.
I thought of the life inside me.
And I chose.
I stepped toward Aeshryn.
The Mist swallowed us whole.