The trail the carrier left behind wasn't physical. No broken branches. No trampled grass. Just stillness. An unnatural quiet that moved ahead of them like a ripple through time. Even the insects they had glimpsed earlier had vanished.
Leon checked his blade's edge out of habit, though he knew it would make no difference. What they were tracking wasn't flesh or spirit. It was design. Purpose. Something meant to reach a destination.
The trees thinned as they approached the base of the mountains. Jagged stone jutted from the earth like broken teeth, and the moss underfoot was thicker, darker—damp with rot. The stars faded as clouds moved in, but the path ahead still glowed faintly green, illuminated by the seedlight pulsing from the carrier's chest.
"It's slowing," Mira whispered. "Do you feel that?"
Leon nodded. "It knows we're behind it."
Tomas winced with every step but kept up. "Then why not stop and finish us?"
Leon pointed ahead.
A clearing.
