The trail twisted through barren hills, the cracked ground stretching endlessly beneath a pale, clouded sky. The oppressive quiet between us mirrored the desolate landscape, broken only by the occasional scrape of boots against stone.

  Aeryn walked ahead, her pace brisk and determined. The faint glow of her shadows trailed around her, a living veil that moved with her like a second skin. Her silver hair caught the light of the waning sun, cascading down her back in soft waves that shifted with each step.

  She wore her confidence like armor, but it wasn’t just her presence that had me distracted. Her fitted coat hugged her figure perfectly, emphasizing the lithe strength of her body. When she paused briefly to glance over her shoulder, I felt my stomach twist, not just from nerves but from something far more distracting.

  “Keep up, Vale,” she said, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

  “Right. Sorry,” I mumbled, speeding up to walk beside her.

  Lyra, for once, had fallen behind to scout the area. I was grateful for the reprieve; her constant teasing and provocations always seemed to amplify the tension in our group. But now, without her, the silence between Aeryn and me felt heavier.

  We stopped as the sun began to dip below the horizon, finding a small alcove tucked into the side of a rocky hill. Aeryn flicked her wrist, and her shadows spilled out like ink, forming a protective barrier that shimmered faintly in the fading light.

  “Sit,” she said, motioning to a flat patch of ground near the fire Lyra had hastily built before heading off.

  I sat without argument, grateful for the chance to rest. Aeryn stayed standing, her back to me as she scanned the horizon. The soft curve of her waist and the graceful line of her legs caught my eye, and I quickly looked away, hoping the firelight hid the heat rising in my cheeks.

  She turned suddenly, her violet eyes catching mine. “You’ve been staring,” she said, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

  “I wasn’t—” I stammered, fumbling for an excuse.

  Aeryn walked over slowly, her shadows trailing after her like a cloak. She knelt down beside me, close enough that I could feel the faint warmth of her presence.

  “You’re not very subtle, Sion,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “But I suppose I don’t mind.”

  The teasing lilt in her tone made my face heat even more. “I wasn’t… I mean, I—”

  Aeryn reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. Her fingers lingered just a moment too long, her gaze flicking over me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

  “You’re too easy to fluster,” she said, leaning in slightly. Her silver hair framed her face, catching the firelight in a way that made her look otherworldly. “It’s almost endearing.”

  “Almost?” I asked, my voice weak.

  Her smirk widened. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

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  The words were out before I could stop them: “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

  Her smile faltered, just for a moment, before returning sharper than before. “Is that so?”

  I blinked, the confidence in my voice catching me off guard as much as her. “I… guess?”

  She chuckled softly, leaning back. “Careful, Sion. Keep talking like that, and I might start to think you’ve got potential.”

  She leaned back, settling into a more comfortable position beside me. For a moment, the playful edge in her expression faded, replaced by something softer.

  “You’ve been quiet,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”

  I hesitated, glancing at the shadows swirling faintly around her. “You, actually.”

  Aeryn raised an eyebrow, though the faintest hint of color touched her cheeks. “Is that so?”

  “I mean…” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to gather my thoughts. “You’ve been helping me from the start, and I still don’t understand why. You know more about the Threads, the Rift, the shard, me—everything. But I don’t know anything about you.”

  She looked away, her expression hardening. “There’s not much to know.”

  “That’s not true,” I said gently. “You’re not doing this for nothing.”

  Aeryn sighed, leaning back against the rock behind her. Her shadows receded slightly, leaving only the faint outline of her figure illuminated by the firelight.

  “I told you,” she said quietly. “Every time I use too much magic, I lose something. A piece of my past. A memory. A name.”

  I nodded, waiting for her to continue.

  “But there’s one memory I haven’t lost,” she said, her voice tight. “Someone I cared about. Someone I failed to protect.”

  My chest tightened at the raw emotion in her voice. “Who were they?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t even remember their face anymore. Just their voice. Their laughter. And the promise I made to them.”

  “To stop the Rift?” I asked.

  “To stop anyone else from losing what I lost,” she said. Her violet eyes met mine, filled with a determination that bordered on desperation. “That’s why I’m helping you. Because if the Threads unravel, the Rift will take everything. And I won’t let that happen again.”

  Before I could respond, a faint sound of footsteps reached us. Aeryn stood immediately, her shadows coiling protectively around her.

  Lyra emerged from the darkness, her coat sweeping behind her as she approached. “Relax, shadow queen,” she said, holding up her hands. “It’s just me.”

  “You took your time,” Aeryn said, her tone icy.

  “Scouting takes time,” Lyra said with a smirk, her gaze flicking between the two of us. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

  “You weren’t,” Aeryn said sharply, her shadows bristling.

  Lyra’s smirk widened. “Sure I wasn’t.” She walked over and dropped into a seat beside me, close enough that her thigh brushed against mine.

  “So,” she said, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Did the two of you have a nice little heart-to-heart while I was gone?”

  “Go to sleep, Lyra,” Aeryn snapped.

  Lyra laughed softly, leaning back and resting her head against the rock. “Touchy.” She glanced at me, her dark eyes gleaming. “Sweet dreams, Vale.”

  Aeryn’s glare could’ve cut through steel, but she said nothing.

  The fire burned lower as the night deepened, and the three of us sat in uneasy silence.

  “What happens at the Spire?” I asked finally.

  Aeryn’s voice was steady but distant. “The Spire is where the shard was taken from the Threads. If we’re going to repair the damage, it starts there.”

  “And if we don’t?” Lyra asked, her tone more serious than usual.

  “The Rift widens,” Aeryn said simply. “And the Wraith rises.”

  “The Wraith?” I questioned, though the name brought a brief but fleeting nostalgia to my mind.

  Aeryn’s gaze darkened, her shadows curling faintly around her. “The Wraith isn’t just a name. It’s a force tied to the Rift—a being forged from the chaos of broken Threads.”

  Lyra frowned. “So, what? It’s some kind of puppet for the Rift?”

  “Not a puppet,” Aeryn said, her voice sharper now. “A consequence. The Wraith feeds on the unraveling of the Threads. If we leave things as they are, he’ll be able to escape the Rift.”

  I stared at the fire, the weight of the shard in my pocket growing heavier. “And what if I can’t fix it?”

  Aeryn’s gaze softened slightly, the tension in her voice easing. “You’ll find a way. You’re stronger than you think, Sion.”

  Her words sent a warmth through me, and for a moment, the tension between us eased. But as Lyra leaned closer, her presence warm and unrelenting, I felt the storm brewing again.

  The road ahead was only growing darker, but I knew one thing for sure: I wouldn’t be walking it alone.