The plan was simple.

  Two to three days, that was all it would take to reach the Trial.

  Ariel knew it lay at Sol Garden Hills, at the edge of Solvaras borders

  The journey itself wasn’t long. They’d planned to reach the forest’s edge by nightfall, rest there, and continue north.

  But the further they went, the quieter the world became.

  No birds. No wind. Just the creak of the cart’s wheels and the crunch of their steps against the grass.

  Then Lilia froze.

  Footprints, deep, wide, and uneven, sank into the soil ahead of them. Too many.

  Each one larger than her entire torso.

  “How…” she whispered, voice tight.

  Ariel didn’t answer; her brows only furrowed, her golden eyes scanning the trail.

  Lilia swallowed hard. She’d known things beyond Solvara’s walls were getting worse, the rising attacks, the Abberation’s creeping closer until scouts could no longer leave the gates, but seeing it with her own eyes was something else entirely.

  There were too many tracks, too fresh.

  Aberrations had passed through here recently. A whole cluster.

  ‘But it makes sense,’ she thought to herself.

  ‘The Fellfields keep spreading from the south… and whatever that light was in Solvara—it’s drawing them here.’

  They kept walking through the forest, one step at a time.

  The air was damp, heavy with the scent of dung and wet earth. Every few steps, Lilia’s boots sank into the mud, pulling free with a quiet squelch. Some Ash from Solvara had drifted here, clinging to the leaves, drifting down like dull snow whenever the wind stirred the branches.

  The forest was dense, the kind that swallowed light; only thin beams managed to pierce through the canopy, painting the path ahead in uneven gold.

  Their breaths came in quiet rhythm with the creak of the cart’s wheels.

  It was as if the entire forest was holding its breath, watching them pass.

  By the time they reached what Ariel and Lilia guessed to be halfway through, the sun was already climbing high, its pale light threading weakly through the cracks in the leaves above.

  Lilia glanced up through the canopy. And continued

  They walked until the light began to change.

  The sun, once high and pale, had started its slow descent, bleeding warm amber through the trees. The forest’s green deepened with it; shafts of gold flickered through the branches whenever the wind moved the leaves.

  Birds began to stir again, faint chirps, cautious, as though testing if the silence had truly lifted.

  The path narrowed, winding between old roots and stones slick with moss. The air smelled of pine and damp soil now, cleaner than the scorched scent that had clung to them near Solvara.

  Ryn’s cart rattled behind them, its wheels creaking over uneven ground. Every so often, Lilia would stop to adjust the bindings or catch her breath, while Ariel walked ahead, gaze distant, tracing the thin streaks of sunlight that fell across the dirt.

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  By the time the last of the daylight slipped beneath the canopy, the trees began to thin. Ahead, the forest opened, not into the endless green hills they’d hoped for, but a quiet clearing dotted with tall grass and the faint hum of evening insects. The air felt different here… softer.

  Lilia exhaled, glancing back at the cart. “We’ll stop here,” she said quietly. “It’s getting dark, and we need to rest.”

  Ariel opened her mouth asif to counter, but closed it.

  She only nodded, eyes drifting toward the horizon, where the fractured moon had already begun to rise, its veins glinting faintly against the deepening blue.

  They settled into the clearing as the last light slipped beneath the trees.

  Lilia moved first, gathering what cloth and splintered wood they’d scavenged from the tower, tying it all together with torn strips of rope.

  It wasn’t much, but after a while, a small makeshift tent took shape beside the cart.

  Ariel helped where she could, though her hands still trembled when she tied the knots.

  When the tent was up, Lilia crouched near the fire pit she’d dug and coaxed a flame to life. Smoke curled lazily upward, carrying the scent of damp bark and burning pine.

  Their rations were meager—dried fruit and a handful of nuts—but Ariel pushed them aside. Lilia frowned, nudging them closer. “You should eat something,” she urged softly. “Even a little. We need our strength for tomorrow.”

  Ariel shook her head, staring into the fire as though it held answers. “I’m not hungry,” she said firmly, her voice tight.

  Lilia paused, studying her friend’s pale face in the firelight.

  “Ariel… you can’t keep ignoring yourself. You’ll wear yourself down before we even reach the forest edge.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Ariel muttered, her fingers tightening around her knees. “Just… not now.”

  Lilia sighed, brushing crumbs from her own hands. She studied the small pile of rations, then the thin cloth over Ryn’s chest, and finally Ariel’s stubborn figure curled beside the tent’s entrance. “Alright,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

  “We’ll save it for later. Ryn will need it, and maybe… You will too, when you’re ready.”

  Ariel didn’t respond, the firelight flickering across her tense shoulders. The only sounds were the quiet crackle of the flames and the soft rush of wind, carrying the weight of their shared silence. Lilia sat back, glancing once more at Ariel, worry lingering in her eyes, before letting the night settle around them.

  The forest had gone quiet now. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  The fire crackled low, shrinking into faint orange embers.

  Lilia let her head rest against the ground, exhaustion pressing at her eyelids.

  Somewhere nearby, Ariel still sat awake, the faint light tracing gold across her hair.

  Lilia’s body sank into the cold grass, the sounds of the fire and the forest blurring together until they were only warmth and silence.

  she lay down inside the tent, Exhaustion pulled at her eyelids. The forest seemed to quiet itself for her—no wind, no rustle, just the slow, steady rhythm of her own breath.

  Sleep was just beginning to take her when she heard it.

  Clattering.

  ‘huh?’

  Her brow furrowed.

  At first, she thought she’d imagined it, a trick of drifting sleep, or maybe Ryn shifting in the cart.

  But then it came again. Louder. Closer.

  Lilia’s eyes snapped open.

  Ariel was already moving, rushing to the cart where Ryn lay. Lilia scrambled up, heart hammering in her chest. The night pressed heavily around them, and the shadows between the trees seemed to shift with every breath.

  They stood back-to-back in the center of the clearing, Ariel clutching the knife in both hands, her knuckles white, her eyes darting through the dark.

  A sound came again, a faint, wet chittering, followed by the sharp crack of snapping roots. The trees trembled.

  Lilia’s pulse roared in her ears.

  “Don’t tell me…” she whispered.

  And then it emerged.

  From the forest’s edge, dragging itself forward on half-melted limbs, came the same monstrous shape they had barely escaped.

  Its shell was torn and blackened, its once-glossy legs fused and twisted like melted wax. One of its many eyes hung ruptured, oozing green liquid, but the others burned just as bright, unblinking, fixed on Ariel.

  It found them.

  It had found her.