Morning came without sunlight.
A pale gray haze clung to the land as Kael and the others broke camp. No one spoke much. Chapter 18 had changed the rhythm of the group—magic was no longer distant or theoretical. It had touched them, frightened them, and for Kael, reshaped the path ahead.
Lysa walked beside him as they followed the riverbank downstream. The water here was slow and dark, flowing toward lands claimed by the Downys, the underwater kingdom. Kael could feel something stirring beneath the surface—not magic exactly, but awareness.
"You're quieter than usual," Lysa said.
"I'm thinking," Kael replied.
"That's what worries me," she said with a faint smile, then turned serious. "The others are nervous. Some of the knights think Mask is leading us into something we won't return from."
Kael glanced ahead. Mask walked alone, staff in hand, his presence dividing the group without a word. "They're not wrong to be afraid," Kael said. "But fear doesn't mean he's wrong."
Lysa studied Kael for a moment. "You trust him."
"I trust that he wants the kidnapper stopped," Kael said. "I don't know if that's the same thing."
By midday, they reached the ruins.
Stone pillars jutted from the earth like broken teeth, half-swallowed by moss and water. This had once been a border outpost—built by humans centuries ago, abandoned when the Downys claimed the river below.
Mask raised a hand. "We rest here. Briefly."
That was when the tension snapped.
One of the knights—Sir Edric, broad-shouldered and sharp-tongued—stepped forward. "No. We're done following riddles and shadows."
Several others murmured in agreement.
Edric pointed at Mask. "We were promised glory, land, wishes granted by the king. Instead, we're chasing whispers and training a swordsmith's boy in forbidden arts."
Kael felt heat rise in his chest. "Watch your words."
Edric scoffed. "Or what? You'll curse me?"
Before Kael could respond, Mask spoke. Calm. Cold. "This division is precisely what the kidnapper wants."
Edric laughed. "You say that about everything."
Mask turned his masked gaze to the group. "Because it's true."
The argument escalated—knights accusing swordsmen, swordsmen accusing nobles, humans blaming elves for hoarding magic. Old resentments surfaced like rot beneath clean stone.
Then the river exploded upward.
Water surged into the air, spiraling, forming a towering figure of liquid and light. The group fell silent as a Downy sentinel rose before them—humanoid, translucent, eyes glowing like deep currents.
"You trespass on watched waters," the sentinel said, voice echoing as if spoken from underwater. "And you carry unrest with you."
Kael stepped forward before anyone could stop him. "We seek the human princess. She was taken. We believe she passed near this river."
The sentinel studied him. "You smell of forge-fire and awakening magic."
Mask stiffened.
"The kidnapper has disturbed more than land," the sentinel continued. "Influence bleeds into currents long untouched. Even we feel it."
"What do you know?" Kael asked.
The sentinel raised an arm, and the river's surface rippled, showing fleeting images: masked figures recruiting in secret, symbols carved into stone, whispers traveling faster than messengers.
"The shadow grows not by force," the sentinel said, "but by belief."
A chill passed through Kael. "Can you help us?"
The sentinel hesitated. "Aid is costly. Balance must be kept."
Mask stepped forward. "Then name the cost."
The sentinel's eyes flicked to Kael. "The boy must descend. Alone. To the place where currents remember lies."
Gasps broke out behind them.
Lysa grabbed Kael's arm. "No."
Kael didn't pull away. He looked at Mask. "Is this how you planned to teach me?"
Mask was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, "No. But the world is accelerating."
Kael turned back to the sentinel. "I'll go."
As the river parted, revealing a dark, descending passage beneath the water, Kael felt it again—the same hollow silence he had touched before.
Somewhere deep below, truth waited.
And above, unseen by all of them, the kidnapper adjusted a piece on the board.
Cold swallowed Kael whole.
The river closed above his head without a splash, the water parting and sealing as if it had never been disturbed. For a heartbeat, panic flared—old instincts screaming for air—but then the current shifted around him, gentle, guiding. He could breathe. Not through lungs alone, but through something else, something that hummed along his skin like a second pulse.
Light bled into the depths, pale blues and greens weaving together, illuminating a sloping stone passage that descended beneath the riverbed. Symbols were carved into the walls—curving lines and spirals that seemed to move when he didn't look at them directly.
Don't name it, Mask's earlier words echoed in his mind. Listen.
Kael let himself drift downward.
With every step, memories pressed closer—not his own at first, but impressions left behind by the water itself. He felt fear soaked into stone, desperation dragged like anchors, bargains whispered and broken. This place was old. Older than borders. Older than kings.
At the bottom, the passage opened into a vast chamber. Columns of stone rose into darkness, wrapped in slow-moving currents that carried motes of light like drifting stars. At the chamber's center hovered a pool—not water, but something denser, darker, its surface rippling inward rather than out.
"The remembering basin," a voice said.
Kael turned. A Downy stood nearby, smaller than the sentinel above, features fluid and calm. "I am Thalorin," they said. "Keeper of currents."
"What happens here?" Kael asked.
"Here, water keeps secrets," Thalorin replied. "And reveals them—when paid."
Kael stepped closer to the basin. The hollow silence returned, stronger now. He knelt and touched the surface.
The world lurched.
He stood in a stone corridor, torchlight flickering. Masked figures moved with purpose. A woman walked among them—head high, wrists bound, eyes sharp with defiance.
The princess.
Kael's heart thundered. He reached out—
—and the vision shattered.
Pain flared behind his eyes as he stumbled back. Thalorin steadied him. "You pulled too hard."
"I saw her," Kael said, breathless. "She's alive. Still fighting."
"Yes," Thalorin said softly. "And changing."
The basin stirred again, unbidden. Another image rose: the broken-circle symbol etched into mountain rock; whispers traded for protection; a hand offering power to a desperate soul. Faces blurred, but the influence was unmistakable—spreading, adapting, learning where resistance bent easiest.
"This is how it grows," Thalorin said. "Not conquest. Conviction."
Kael clenched his fists. "How do we stop it?"
Thalorin's gaze sharpened. "By understanding the cost of truth."
The basin surged, and this time it showed Kael himself—standing before the king, before Mask, before Lysa—each moment branching into different outcomes. In some, he spoke. In others, he stayed silent. The consequences rippled outward, beautiful and terrible.
Kael tore his hand away. "I don't want to choose who suffers."
"No one does," Thalorin replied. "Yet choice is the price of learning."
Above, at the river's edge, tension coiled tight. The group waited, arguments subdued by fear. Lysa paced, eyes fixed on the water. Mask stood apart, unmoving, but the current around him trembled faintly—an admission of concern he would never voice.
Then the water stirred.
Kael emerged, gasping, collapsing to his knees on the riverbank. Lysa was there instantly, steadying him. "You're back," she breathed, relief breaking through her composure.
Mask knelt, voice low. "What did you see?"
Kael met his gaze. "Enough to know we're already late. And that stopping the kidnapper won't be enough—we'll have to unmake what he's building."
Mask's shoulders eased—just a fraction. "Then the lesson held."
From the water, Thalorin's voice rose one last time. "The currents will watch you, Kael of the forge. Remember: lies travel fast, but truth leaves deeper marks."
As the river stilled, Kael looked to the horizon. Somewhere ahead, the princess endured. Somewhere closer, the shadow gathered believers.
And within him, magic listened—waiting for the next choice.