Isolde glanced back down the path she gasped sharply, she swore she the wind carried the sound of someone calling her name. Rowan turned at her sharp intake of breath. "What is it?" Isolde's heart hammered against her ribs as she strained to hear over the wind. There it was again, distant but unmistakable. "Elynor."
The name left her lips before she could stop it. "I thought I heard his voice." Rowans eyes were clear as he pressed forward, "It could be his magic calling to you." She frowned her heart aching, "Is that possible?" Rowan nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the distant path. "If he's powerful enough, yes. If he's trying to find you—" Isolde's breath caught. The thought that Elynor might be reaching out to her, even unconsciously, sent a rush of emotion through her chest. She took a step forward, then another, drawn toward the sound like a moth to a flame. "We need to go back." Rowan caught her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "Not yet."
