The mist thickened as Kael followed the slope.
Each step took him farther from the ruins, but the weight in his chest did not lift.
The spear rested across his shoulders.
The book was tucked under his arm, its warmth steady and faint, like the heartbeat of something sleeping.
The ground softened underfoot, the charred earth giving way to damp soil.
The smell changed, too—less ash, more moss and wet leaves.
Somewhere in the fog, water ran over stone.
Kael's stomach growled.
He crouched at the stream, cupping his hands to drink.
The water was cold, but it cut through the dryness in his throat.
When he looked up, he froze.
A shape was moving in the mist across the stream.
At first, he thought it was another corpse-walker like the ones in the village—
But this one walked straight, steady.
A man.
The stranger wore a heavy brown cloak, the hood pulled low.
A long staff rested in one hand.
The other clutched a satchel strapped across his chest.
When he saw Kael, he stopped.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The fog swirled between them, carrying the smell of damp earth.
"You're far from the roads," the man said at last.
His voice was even, but Kael thought he heard… caution.
"I didn't know there were roads," Kael replied.
The man's gaze dropped—just for a second—to Kael's left hand.
The hand with the mark.
Kael shifted, hiding it under his sleeve.
"Where are you coming from?" the stranger asked.
Kael thought of the ashes, the silence, the book's whisper in his mind.
"Nowhere," he said.
The man studied him a moment longer.
Then he pointed upstream with his staff.
"There's a village that way. Small. They won't take kindly to trouble."
"I'm not trouble," Kael said.
The man's lips curved in something that was not quite a smile.
"Everyone who says that… usually is."
Before Kael could answer, the stranger turned and walked into the mist.
His footsteps were silent on the wet ground.
Kael watched him vanish, a knot forming in his gut.
The fog thinned as he followed the stream.
An hour later, he saw roofs through the trees—slanted, patched with moss.
Smoke curled from a handful of chimneys.
A wooden fence ran along the edge of the clearing, broken in places but still standing.
As Kael stepped out of the trees, the first thing he noticed was the quiet.
Not the silence of death, but the watchful stillness of people who had seen strangers before… and learned not to trust them.
A woman drawing water from a well froze when she spotted him.
Two boys playing with wooden swords lowered them and ran toward the nearest hut.
By the time Kael reached the center of the village, six people had gathered—men and women, all carrying something sharp.
"I'm just passing through," Kael said, raising his hands slightly.
The oldest man there, hair white at the temples, stepped forward.
"Then pass through quickly."
His eyes were narrow.
But they didn't stay on Kael's face.
They drifted lower—
To his palm.
Kael curled his fingers into a fist.
The mark itched, almost burning under their gaze.
"You've been touched," the old man said, his voice flat.
Kael hesitated.
"I don't know what you mean."
One of the younger men spat on the ground.
"Liar. I can smell it. The dark."
Kael's stomach knotted.
He thought of the book's words—fear is fuel.
If these people feared him…
The shadows stirred faintly at his feet.
He forced them down.
"I'm not here to cause harm," he said again.
The old man studied him, then jerked his chin toward the edge of the clearing.
"You'll find the road there. Keep walking until you see the signpost. If you value your life… don't turn back."
Kael nodded once and stepped aside.
As he passed, he felt eyes on his back.
Not just suspicion—something sharper.
And in the corner of his vision, he saw a girl leaning against a hut's doorway.
She couldn't have been older than sixteen.
Her eyes were fixed not on him, but on the shadows coiling faintly under his boots.
She didn't look afraid.
She looked curious.
Kael kept walking until the village was behind him.
The road appeared—a strip of dirt winding through the mist.
He didn't look back.
But the girl's gaze stayed with him.
And for the first time since leaving the ruins, the book spoke without him touching it.
"One saw. One will follow."
Kael tightened his grip on the spear.
The road ahead vanished into the grey.
He didn't know who she was, or what she wanted—
But he knew the Nine Circles would not let him walk alone for long.