The sky didn't change.
By morning, it was the same blank stretch of gray it had been the night before, neither night nor day, just a tired in-between. The mountains weren't sleeping.
Lyra packed in silence.
Kaal moved slower, favoring his side, but he didn't complain. Not once. He hadn't said anything at all, really, not since last night. Just offered her a look this morning: quiet, steady, unreadable.
She didn't know what to do with it.
So she did what she was best at.
Ignored it.
Thalin was already up, standing a little too comfortably on a crumbling ledge that overlooked their camp. He jotted something into his leather-bound journal, glancing at the horizon like it might offer answers.
He hadn't asked about anything. Not the way Kaal had nearly collapsed the room with a single dream.
Smart man.
Still annoying.
He looked over his shoulder as they approached. "There's a fork in the trail half a mile west. The northern path hugs the ridgeline. Narrow but stable. The other dips into a ravine with some kind of… residual magic."
Lyra squinted at him. "Residual?"
"Old," Thalin clarified. "Thin. Still humming."
"Like you know the difference," she muttered.
"I do, actually." He closed the journal with a soft thud. "One hums like memory. The other growls like warning."
"And this one?"
"A whisper."
Kaal stepped up beside her, pale but standing straight. "We take the ridge."
Thalin gave a small, respectful nod. "As you wish, Your Highness."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "Please don't encourage the royalty."
They set out.
The ridge path was exactly what Thalin promised, narrow, sharp-edged, the kind of place where a single misstep meant a long, poetic fall. Wind hissed between cracks in the cliff face. The rocks had strange patterns in them, faint spirals, faint ridges, like something had scratched its memory into the mountain's skin.
Kaal walked between them, his movements careful, deliberate. He was watching the trail, sure, but Lyra knew that look. He was thinking too loudly.
She'd seen that expression on mercenaries before a mission. Or prisoners before execution.
That haunted, deliberate quiet.
She hated it.
"So," she said finally, just to break the tension, "Thalin. What's in the journal? Your last will and shopping list?"
"Observations," he replied easily. "Topography. Energy fluctuations. Manifestation zones. And sometimes poetry."
She blinked. "That last part better be a joke."
"Would you like to hear one?"
"Oh gods," she muttered.
But Kaal smiled. Just slightly.
They stopped at midday to rest where the path widened near a fractured outcrop. The ground beneath their feet was littered with broken stones and bird bones that didn't look like they came from anything living.
Lyra didn't sit.
Her side ached again, the mark burning low and steady like a coal buried beneath skin.
She turned toward the cliff face, trailing her fingers along the stone. It vibrated, just faintly. Not a warning. A heartbeat.
She snatched her hand back.
Kaal watched her. Said nothing.
Thalin passed them a water skin. "We'll need to descend another ridge before nightfall if we want shelter."
"You're awful good at finding shelter in a place no one's mapped for decades," Lyra said.
He didn't rise to it. "I've been here before. Not this trail, but close."
Kaal glanced up. "Alone?"
Thalin nodded. "Research doesn't wait for an entourage."
"Or you didn't want one," Lyra muttered.
Thalin looked at her. "Both, actually."
There was something in his voice then. Not defensiveness, something older. Something that made her pause.
She hated that it made her pause.
"You didn't want an entourage then, then why are you with us?"
"It is my honour to travel with the prince." He replied walking away.
They reached the second ridge by late afternoon. The climb down was trickier than it looked. Some of the ledges were only wide enough for one boot at a time, and the stone was slick with frost.
Kaal slipped.
Lyra grabbed his arm before he could pitch forward. Their weight shifted, her boot skidded, and for a terrifying breath, they both tilted toward the drop.
Then a hand clamped around her other wrist, strong, steady.
Thalin.
He anchored them without a word, teeth clenched against the strain.
When they were steady again, Lyra exhaled sharply and didn't say thank you.
But she didn't shake off his grip either.
When they reached the bottom, she sat down hard on a flat stone, breathing through the ache in her thighs.
Kaal settled beside her, eyes narrowed. "You alright?"
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I'm annoyed, not shaking."
He gave her a look. The kind that said he wasn't buying it.
She scowled.
Thalin sat a little distance off, hands resting on his knees, calm as ever. Like he hadn't just saved both their lives.
It irritated her more than it should.
"What?" she snapped at him.
Thalin looked up. "Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm thinking."
"Well, stop doing it with your face."
He chuckled softly, and that made it worse.
Kaal leaned back against a stone. "We're all still alive. Let's count that as a win."
Lyra nodded. "One of those rare victories where no one bleeds."
Kaal paused. "Yet."
That night, they camped at the edge of a shallow basin ringed in white stone. The stars didn't return. The mist stayed heavy.
As Lyra sat by the low fire, sharpening her blade in small, thoughtful motions, she felt the pressure again.
Not like before, not the creature's presence.
Just… eyes.
She looked up.
Thalin sat near the fire, writing. But every so often, his gaze flicked upward. To her. To Kaal. Back to the flame.
It wasn't malice.
It was intent.
Like he was memorizing them.
She hated how calm he was.
She sighed and returned to her blade.
Nothing was ever simple in these mountains.
And everything that looked steady always had a crack waiting to widen.