They left Lucent Reach under a sky the color of old metal, thin light sliding over the ruined city like a slow film. Leo walked at the rear of the small column now, an arrangement Sofia insisted upon though she never explained why in words. Perhaps it was habit: to keep the thing she had to protect within sight, but not too close. Perhaps it was mercy. Perhaps it was strategy.
The Ash Walker, called Mara's keeper when the name felt too large, moved with the quiet economy of someone who had taught a child to step around danger. Her real name, when asked once and given in a half-laugh, had been lost between contracts and seasons; she let them call her Ash. The child Mara walked with her small, decisive steps, eyes always scanning as if the world might reassemble itself at any moment and catch them unawares.
