Dawn came late in Wildglow, gray and grudging.
Group 32 woke curled beneath a sagging pine, bodies wedged between roots and snow as if the forest itself meant to swallow them whole.
The fire had died hours ago.
Only a little smoke trailed from the blackened pile of twigs. It did nothing for the cold.
Katsu blinked crusted snow from his lashes, the world blurred and raw.
His hands wouldn't close all the way; fingers stiff and tingling, veins bruised blue from where magic had burned through the night before.
He flexed them and winced, pain spiking up his forearms. Every movement left a ghost of cold behind.
Sydney was already awake, hunched over, cradling her hands.
Her palms were wrapped in strips torn from her undershirt, pink where the burns met cold.
She watched Katsu from beneath a tangled mess of hair, not hostile, not warm.
Just wary.
As if waiting for him to make a mistake she could name. Rei sat a little apart, one boot unlaced.
The heel blackened and pocked with shallow tooth marks. He probed the wounds with a flat stick, face unreadable as always, jaw set tight.
He hadn't spoken yet. Maybe he wouldn't.
Nobody asked how anyone slept.
The air tasted sour. Stale breath, melted snow, the scent of sweat turned bitter.
The ration pouch had been split again: hard bread, half an apple, the last of the cheese, and a single gulp of water each.
Katsu passed his share without a word.
Sydney ate in silence. Rei pocketed his, eyes on the shadowed woods.
Sleep deprivation made every sound louder.
Branches snapped in the distance; a bird called, sharp and lonely, then fell silent again.
Katsu tried to warm his hands at the ashes, but nothing answered. He rubbed them on his knees, fighting the tremor that wouldn't leave.
No one spoke of the river.
No one spoke of the beast beneath the ice, or the way Katsu's magic had warped the water into unnatural shapes.
They didn't talk about how close they'd come to dying, or who had saved whom.
Silence stretched, heavy and brittle.
Outside the makeshift camp, Wildglow pressed.
Old trees hunched close, frost thickening in the air, the snow not melting, only waiting for the next storm. The forest did not forgive.
Neither did the night.
By the time Katsu stood, shaking off what little warmth he'd gathered, he felt the weight of three sleepless souls hanging in the air.
Resentful, withdrawn, each nursing wounds the others couldn't see. Supplies were dwindling; trust, even more so.
The day had barely begun, and already, it felt too long. Katsu scouted the edge of their camp with slow, careful steps.
He knelt beside the roots, brushing frost aside.
The prints were subtle. A heel mark pressed deep, a boot with a torn tread. Not one of theirs.
The distance between steps was wrong.
The angle was too sharp.
Someone had circled the camp before dawn.
He called Sydney over, voice low.
She frowned, studying the tracks.
"Could've been a patrol," she muttered, but her eyes flickered with doubt. Katsu didn't reply.
He pointed out a second trail: a broken twig, the faint shine of mana burned into the snow.
Whoever it was, they'd been close. Close enough to touch their bags, if they wanted.
When Rei checked his pack, his jaw tightened.
"The flare's been moved," he said, tone cold and exact. "Only a finger's width, but it wasn't like that last night." He looked to Katsu. "Someone's hunting us."
Sydney glanced at her own supplies, mouth pinched. "My charm's missing. The sun-braided one. I tied it to my pack."
Katsu stared at the trees, a dull ache pounding behind his eyes. Shadows shifted between the trunks. Maybe nothing, maybe everything.
The sense of being watched crept in, settling heavy on his shoulders.
He stood, shaking dirt from his hands.
"We need to move. Get out of the open, find higher ground—"
Rei cut him off with a look.
"You want to make us more visible?"
Sydney's voice was sharp, brittle.
"Moving now might just show them we're scared. If we leave a trail, we're easier to track."
Katsu's hands curled to fists. "Staying makes us sitting ducks. We're already being watched—"
"Or we're not," Rei replied, eyes hard.
"Or this is just nerves. Tired minds see patterns everywhere."
Sydney shook her head.
"We split the food last night. We were careful. But someone was here, Katsu."
Paranoia gnawed at the edges of the group; trust began to rot. Every suggestion Katsu made was questioned.
When he motioned for them to pack, Sydney hesitated, glancing at Rei as if waiting for permission. Rei eyed the shadows, not trusting either of them, not even himself.
Every branch was a spyglass.
Every gust of wind, a warning.
They moved, finally, but it was not together; it was three people watching their backs, watching each other, wondering who would flinch first.
They followed the compass north, moving single file through brush so dense even light seemed to give up.
The woods funneled them toward a narrow gorge.
Steep-walled, rimmed in white, a sliver of river glinting far below.
The only crossing was a thicket of thorned brambles coiled over a natural stone bridge.
The thorns shimmered faintly, each tip pulsing with mana, radiating cold.
Sydney hissed as she touched one.
"These aren't normal. They'll drain you if you bleed."
Rei eyed the bridge's span, then the ravine below.
"Circle around, lose half a day. Try to force through, risk poisoning. Or try something clever." His gaze settled on Katsu. "You're the water prodigy."
Katsu crouched near the edge.
He studied the thicket, watching how frost gathered along the stems, how mana drifted between the thorns like spider silk.
Brute force would only trigger a backlash; a flare of magic might set the whole bridge pulsing with wild energy, alerting anyone nearby.
They couldn't afford noise.
They couldn't afford mistakes.
Sydney shifted, arms crossed, jaw clenched.
"You're not going to freeze it, are you? That's what you did with the river. That nearly killed us."
It's also what saved you.
The Leviathan spoke.
Shut up.
Katsu replied. And she listened.
Nori shook his head.
"I'm not using that much power. Just… wait."
He cupped his hands, summoning only the faintest ripple of mana. Enough to draw moisture from the air, not shape, not command, but coax.
He let it drift, breathing slow, focusing on the flow instead of the force. The water condensed in mist, settling across the thorns like dew.
He waited. Watched.
The brambles seemed to slacken, their tension easing as the mana in the air cooled, their needles turning glassy and dull.
He whispered a word.
Old, nearly forgotten, more breath than language.
And the mist shifted, pooling into the crevices, slipping between the barbs.
Sydney watched, eyes wide.
Rei knelt, studying the effect, grudging respect flickering in his expression.
The path didn't clear, but the thorns drooped.
Their mana field flickering just long enough for a careful passage.
"Now,"
Katsu said, voice low.
"Single file. Step where I step."
They moved together. Slow, thought out.
Katsu leading, Sydney next, Rei last.
Each footfall was measured, every breath held.
The brambles brushed their sleeves but didn't bite, the mana only buzzing faintly against their skin. At the far side, they stumbled out, shivering and whole.
No one congratulated Katsu.
But for the first time since dawn, all three looked forward, not over their shoulders.
For one moment, at least, they'd survived as a team. They stopped to catch their breath beneath the shelter of a leaning cedar, the air sharp with resin and lingering mana.
The world felt hushed, brittle after the thicket.
Every sound rang louder than it should.
Sydney pulled her hands inside her sleeves, eyes fixed on Katsu.
She spoke first, voice raw from cold and something older.
"What are you really, Katsu? Don't say 'just Velthra.' Don't act like yesterday was an accident. You froze a river—nearly drowned all of us. Then you handle magic like it's nothing, like the rules don't apply to you. So what are you?"
Katsu looked away, jaw clenched.
The question was heavier than his pack; he could feel Rei's stare from a step behind, unreadable, withholding judgment but listening hard.
Sydney pressed, voice trembling.
"I want the truth. Not for the teachers. Not for your reputation. For me. For Rei. For us. I can't follow someone if I don't even know if he's… human."
Rei's silence was a blade.
Sharp in the space between them.
Katsu struggled for words.
His hands shook. Maybe from the cold, maybe from the fear of what would happen if he answered honestly.
"I'm not… I'm not what they say. I didn't ask for this. My father warned me… never show what I can do. Never let anyone see. If I tell you more, you'll wish you didn't know."
Sydney didn't look away. Her voice dropped.
"That's not enough. I'm tired of secrets. I'm tired of pretending like we're not all in the same danger."
Katsu's throat tightened.
"I'm Velthra. I'm… someone who survived. That's all."
Rei's eyes narrowed, assessing.
Sydney shook her head, bitter.
"No. That's not all, and you know it."