The forest changed as they moved north—trees taller, air colder, ground sharper beneath their boots. Elaria barely spoke, but her hand never left the hilt of the blade the witch had given her. It pulsed faintly, as if guiding her.
Kael walked beside her, quiet but alert. Shadows moved with him, curling and shifting like they were alive.
"How far is Mirror Vale?" she asked.
"Three days on foot. If we're not hunted."
They both knew they would be.
By nightfall, they reached the edge of a ravine. A crumbling rope bridge stretched across the gap. At the other side, the land darkened—twisted trees, pale fog, and the flicker of movement that wasn't wind.
"We're close," Kael said.
Elaria hesitated. "What is this place?"
Kael looked ahead. "A test. The path knows who we are now. It will try to turn us against each other."
She gripped the rope and stepped onto the bridge.
The wind howled.
Halfway across, a voice echoed—soft and sharp, like her mother's.
"Your trust in him will kill you."
Elaria froze. Kael hadn't spoken. The voice was inside her head.
"You think he cares for you? He's darkness. And darkness devours light."
Kael noticed her trembling. "What is it?"
She looked back at him. "Nothing."
But deep down, the seed of doubt had already been planted.
And the path had only just begun.