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Chapter 7 - Chapter 7: Ash Before the Fall

Morning came late.

Or maybe it didn't come at all.

The sky above Marrowvale remained the same dull, choked gray it always was. No sunrise, no warmth. Just light... less black than the night before.

Cael sat against the rotting trunk of a half-dead tree, boots coated in frost, cloak wrapped tight around his shoulders. Sleep had visited him in pieces—short, sharp jolts between dreams he couldn't remember. Not really. Only the feeling lingered.

Something chasing him.Something wearing faces it shouldn't have.

Across from him, the fire was little more than a glow under ash. Sela sat beside it, sharpening her dagger with slow, quiet drags. Her eyes, though half-lidded, never stopped watching the shadows.

To his right, Jarrik stirred. He blinked blearily at the light, then frowned.

"I was supposed to be on watch…""I didn't mean to—"

"No one heard anything," Elise said. She was already up, pulling her coat tighter. "Or if we did, we forgot it."

Cael looked over at Myka.

She was standing a little away from the rest. Her back was to them. Her posture was... off. Not slouched, but not alert either. Still, like she was listening for something only she could hear.

"She's been up for a while," Jarrik mumbled. "Didn't speak."

Cael's gaze lingered on her. Something in the air felt thinner around her. Like the fog refused to touch her, like the frost near her boots hadn't settled at all.

Then she turned and smiled at them.

It wasn't a strange smile. Not too wide. Not cold.But Cael felt it behind his ribs like a chill.

"We should keep moving soon," she said. "The Wretched come easier when we sit too long."

The road was barely a road anymore.

Roots clawed up through the broken stone. Trees bent inward from either side, their branches like arms reaching to pull the squad off the path. Fog licked at their ankles, thick and slow-moving, too dense for morning mist.

No one spoke much.

Even Jarrik, usually the one to crack a joke when things got heavy, kept quiet. He walked near Elise, eyes darting to the trees like they were watching him back.

Myka was in front. That alone felt… wrong. She usually stayed near Elise, or tried to walk beside Cael. Today she moved with purpose, like she already knew the way.

"She keeps looking straight ahead," Sela whispered, drawing beside Cael. Her voice was barely audible. "Not scanning the sides. No tension in her walk."

"You think something's wrong?" he murmured back.

"I think she's not tired. And she should be."

Cael didn't answer. Instead, he watched how the fog seemed to curl around Myka's steps but never touched her skin. As if it recognized her.

A New Find

The squad slowed when they reached a clearing.

At its center was the body of a Soulbranded scout—armor half-melted, Soulbrand seared into the skin like it had exploded from within. His weapon lay untouched beside him.

Elise knelt beside the corpse. Her breath hitched.

"No wounds. Nothing physical," she whispered. "But his face…"

Cael looked. The man's expression was frozen in something worse than fear. A mouth open in a silent scream. Eyes still wet.

"He saw something," Jarrik said, jaw clenched. "Something that broke him."

"Maybe he wasn't strong enough," Myka said.

The words were too casual. Too smooth. And they came so suddenly that everyone turned toward her.

"What?" Elise asked, her voice sharp.

Myka blinked at them. Her expression was calm.

"I mean… maybe it was just bad luck."

But Cael saw it.

That flicker of something behind her smile. Not guilt. Not fear.

Something else.Something watching.

They didn't speak much after they left the clearing.

Even the forest felt quieter. Not peaceful—just… expectant. Like it was holding its breath.

By the time the squad made camp, the light overhead had dimmed again. Not night. Just that gray nothingness pressing in. They huddled close around the fire, but it gave off barely any heat. The wood here didn't burn right.

Cael sat with his back to a dead tree, cloak drawn up tight. His bones ached. His mind heavier still.

He hadn't looked at his own shard since yesterday. Not after the tower. Not after the illusions.

But it was still in his pocket. And every now and then, he felt it shift. Not move—but… pulse. Like a second heartbeat. One that didn't belong to him.

Across the fire, Myka sat with her arms around her knees. She hadn't eaten. Hadn't spoken since the clearing. Her head was tilted to the side—listening to something no one else could hear.

Jarrik was already asleep, mumbling in half-dreams.

Sela didn't sleep. She watched.

"She's different," Cael murmured. His voice barely reached the flames.

Sela didn't blink.

"I know."

The fire had died again. Just embers now. The forest stretched long and deep into the dark.

Cael couldn't sleep.

He turned over quietly, adjusting his coat—and that's when he saw it.

Myka was standing.

Not far from the fire, just beyond it. Her back to them. Her head tilted up to the sky where there were no stars.

And in her open palm, something glowed faintly.

Black. Dull red veins. Pulsing slowly.

Not a stone. Not from this world.

A shard.

She was whispering to it.

Cael couldn't make out the words—but his blood ran cold just from the sound. Like wind inside bones.

Then she turned, slow and gentle, and walked back to her spot. Curled up like nothing had happened. Eyes closed.

Cael didn't move for a long time.

He only clutched the ribbon at his waist—his sister's ribbon—until his hand ached.

In his pocket,his own shard no longer pulsed.

It was ice-cold.

[The End of Chapter 7]

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