The third day on the road at the foots hills of Zymrlian, began with a storm that never arrived.
The sky rumbled from morning to noon, but no rain fell. The air grew heavy, like the earth itself was holding its breath. Birds flew lower. Horses became twitchy.
Even Lyra stopped cracking jokes.
Something was wrong.
They moved slower now, the road narrowing into a trail that threaded between shadow-thick trees and slick stones.
The mountains loomed closer, their edges sharp enough to slice the sky. Mist coiled at their feet like living smoke.
"Anyone else feel like we're being watched?" Lyra muttered.
"It's probably the guards," Kaal said.
She shook her head. "They're too busy not wetting themselves."
He glanced behind them. The guards rode quietly, glancing often at the trees, hands resting too easily on their blades.
He frowned. "They weren't this tense two days ago."
Lyra nodded. "Because two days ago, the trees weren't humming."
Kaal blinked. "They're what?"
She gestured at the woods. "Listen."
They both paused. Beneath the rustle of leaves, a faint low tone thrummed through the trunks—like a distant note vibrating in the bones of the forest.
"It's magic," he whispered before he could stop himself.
Lyra's gaze sharpened. "What did you say?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he swayed in the saddle, grabbing at the reins.
Then...glow!
"Kaal?"
His skin had gone pale, almost translucent. His veins were glowing beneath the surface, soft silver lines pulsing under his jaw, down his neck, into his hands.
"Stop the horses!" Lyra barked.
The group halted. Kaal slumped in his saddle, sweat beading on his brow.
Lyra jumped off and caught his arm before he could fall.
"Hey... Hey, breathe. Don't you die on me before we reach the part where you dramatically confess your feelings."
He coughed weakly. "What feelings?"
"Oh good," she said, relieved. "You're alive."
One of the guards approached. "What's happening to him?"
"I don't know," she snapped. "Do I look like a royal physician?"
"We should turn back," the guard said quickly. "This is a bad sign. An omen."
Lyra looked down at Kaal's glowing veins. "Yeah," she said. "It's definitely something."
They found a crumbling watchtower a mile ahead and took shelter there for the night. It leaned like a drunk against the cliffs, but the roof held, and the walls kept out the cold.
Kaal lay against a pile of cloaks. His glow had faded. His breathing was steady again.
Lyra sat by his side, chewing on dried fruit and watching the fire dance.
"You're full of surprises, Prince Charming."
He opened one eye. "Don't call me that."
"Noted. But let's talk about the glowing. That… normal for you?"
He hesitated. "It's happened before."
Her brow arched. "Define before."
"Small moments. Flashes. Never like that."
"You tell your mother?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I didn't think she'd want to know."
Lyra let that sit for a moment.
"Well," she said finally, "she definitely knows if I already heard rumours. But good news, if you die glowing like that, it'll make a great legend. 'The Silver-Blooded Prince, last seen with an unlicensed assassin and a terrible attitude.'"
He frowned slightly and then almost smiled.
"Has a ring to it huh?"
He went back to frowning.
She leaned back against the wall and watched him gradually drift into a deep sleep.
Outside, lightning lit up the sky—far too close to the mountains.
The path was opening.
And so was something else.