They left Hollowmere at dusk.
The sun dipped low behind the hills, casting long shadows across the broken village. Smoke still curled from the charred remains of the cottages, but the air was beginning to clear. What remained behind them was not just ruin, it was a memory of resistance.
Eira led the way, her steps slow but certain. She carried no torch. She didn't need one. The shard within her chest pulsed gently, guiding her forward. She couldn't see the Ember Path, not with her eyes. But she felt it. A faint warmth, like the heartbeat of something ancient and waiting.
Behind her, the others moved in silence.
Thorne walked just behind her, his gaze sharp, every step measured. He hadn't said much since the battle. But he was always near. Close enough to protect her. Far enough to remain apart.
Torin limped along beside Lena, who had fashioned a sturdy walking stick from an old axe handle. His leg was tightly wrapped, and he refused help unless he stumbled. Kaela had tried to make him ride one of the few remaining carts, but he'd refused.
"I've bled for worse causes," he said. "I can walk for this one."
Kaela took up the rear, her sword drawn. She watched the trees like they might lurch forward at any moment. There was no room for rest in her shoulders, no peace in her eyes.
The villagers moved slowly. Some were carried. Others leaned on makeshift crutches. The children stayed close to the center of the group, protected on all sides. What they lacked in strength, they made up for in determination. They had nowhere else to go.
As the light faded, the trees thickened around them. The forest seemed to close in, dark and full of secrets. But Eira didn't stop.
She reached a ridge just before nightfall fully settled and paused. Below, a winding trail cut through the woods, lit faintly by scattered stones that glowed with the same golden hue as her shard.
She exhaled. "This is it."
"The Ember Path," Lena said, stepping beside her. "It's real."
Eira nodded. "It was hidden. Like everything else they tried to bury."
Kaela moved forward, frowning. "What is it exactly? A road? A spell?"
Eira shook her head. "I don't know. My mother only said it would carry us forward when nothing else could."
Thorne finally spoke. "If it's magic, it might also be watched."
"It's a risk," Eira said. "But staying in Hollowmere was worse."
Torin dropped onto a rock with a groan. "If it leads away from the Veil, then I say we take it."
They rested briefly, just long enough to eat, drink, and breathe. Then, with the stars above them and the soft golden glow at their feet, they stepped onto the Ember Path.
As soon as they did, the air changed.
It wasn't warmer, but it was lighter. The heaviness that had clung to them since Hollowmere eased just slightly. The trees no longer felt so close. The ground beneath them was solid and sure.
For a moment, it felt like hope.
They walked deep into the night, the path winding through the forest like it had been waiting for them. Every time someone stumbled, the glow brightened. When a child cried, it pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.
Eira could feel it in her bones, this path was more than stone and light. It was memory. It was legacy.
It was a promise.
They made camp at a clearing just off the trail. No one built fires. They didn't need them. The ground still glowed faintly beneath them, casting a soft light over the camp.
Eira sat at the edge of the clearing, her knees drawn to her chest. She looked up at the stars. "Are you watching, Mama?" she whispered. "I'm still here."
Thorne sat across from her, sharpening one of his blades with smooth, steady strokes. He paused when he looked up and saw the look on her face.
"You did well," he said.
Eira blinked. "I nearly lost control."
"But you didn't."
She gave a small smile. "That's not the same as winning."
Thorne leaned back slightly. "Sometimes it is."
Silence passed between them, quiet but not empty. Then he added, "You were right to leave. This path… it's different. I don't trust it, but it's not trying to kill us."
"Yet," Eira said softly.
He didn't argue.
The wind picked up gently, rustling the leaves. Somewhere nearby, a child laughed in his sleep.