Dawn seeped through the mist like watered wine. The rain had eased, leaving only the hiss of insects and the slow heartbeat of dripping leaves. Aiden crouched beside the roots of a fallen tree, wringing swamp water from his sleeves. The marsh smelled of iron and ash, the scent left behind when magic burned too hot.
They hadn't slept. All night the sky had flashed with distant lightning, and once or twice the sound of armored footsteps had carried across the water before fading into silence. Now the marsh was still again, deceptively peaceful.
Lyra sat a few paces away, hair tangled, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. She was sketching a rough map on a piece of bark with charcoal. "The ridge runs east," she said, voice hoarse. "If we follow it, we'll reach the mana wells by nightfall."
Eira crouched beside her, peering at the crude lines. "You trust the rumors that the wells lead to the old vaults?"
"I trust anything that isn't this marsh," Lyra answered.
Aiden managed a weak smile. "Vaults sound like a place with walls. I miss walls."
Lyra didn't return the smile. "It won't be safe. The wells were sealed after the Cataclysm. The air down there eats mana and flesh, if you breathe too deep."
"Then why go there at all?" Aiden asked.
"Because it's the only place the queen's patrols won't follow," Eira said. "They fear the dark as much as the old spells that guard it."
Aiden studied them both. Lyra's fingers trembled over the map; Eira's calm hid worry. They'd been running for days, their rations nearly gone. Even the frogs were silent now, as if the marsh itself held its breath.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "We could turn north instead. Find higher ground. Maybe cross into another province before they tighten the net."
Lyra shook her head. "The net's already closed. Didn't you hear the horns last night? That was the last sweep before they collapse the line inward. They'll burn the marsh if they have to."
Eira added quietly, "The queen has declared you sacred property. Every Order has orders to deliver you alive."
Aiden gave a bitter laugh. "Sacred property. That's new."
"Royal decrees rarely favor the subject," Eira said.
He looked out across the fog. "So that's it. I keep running until I drop."
Lyra's gaze softened. "Not running. Searching. If the vaults still hold the records of the old world, they might tell us what really caused the male extinction and maybe how to reverse it."
Aiden glanced at her, startled. "You still believe it's reversible?"
"I have to." Her voice was almost a whisper. "Otherwise everything I've done is just… guilt without purpose."
The silence that followed was thick. Somewhere nearby a heron shrieked, startled by something unseen.
Eira broke the quiet. "If we go to the wells, we need supplies, water charms, breathing runes, light stones. The nearest settlement is Miren's Ford, half a day north-east."
Lyra frowned. "Too exposed."
"Then we take only what we can scavenge," Eira said. She turned to Aiden. "You have a decision to make, Progenitor. We can keep fleeing, or we can seek answers."
He met her gaze. "Don't call me that."
"Then choose a name for what you are."
He looked down at his hands, the same hands that had glowed faintly when he touched the shard. The memory made his skin crawl. "I don't know what I am. But I'm done being cargo."
Lyra's eyes met his, cautious hope flickering there. "Then we go to the wells?"
He hesitated only a moment before nodding. "We go to the wells."
They spent the next hour breaking camp. Eira packed herbs and poultices into small pouches; Lyra sealed her maps in oilcloth. Aiden scavenged a length of pipe and some cloth, fashioning a crude spear. It felt ridiculous in his hands, but the weight was reassuring.
By midmorning the fog began to lift, revealing stretches of mirror-still water and the black shapes of dead trees. They moved in single file along the ridge, keeping low. Once, the sound of wings passed overhead, a messenger hawk, its harness glinting with the queen's crest. They froze until it vanished into cloud.
Aiden's thoughts wandered as they walked. The marsh seemed endless, yet every direction led back to the same fear: capture, ritual, chains of gold. He wondered what would happen if he surrendered. Maybe the queen's scholars could find another way. Maybe it would all stop.
But then he remembered the look on Lyra's face when she'd watched the Orb shatter, half awe, half horror and the stories she'd told of women forced into experiments to restore fertility. No, surrender would not end anything.
When they stopped to rest, Eira sat beside him on a stone slab half-buried in mud. "You're thinking too loudly," she said.
He snorted. "That obvious?"
"Your aura flickers like a torch in wind."
He stared at the water. "Do you ever think maybe this world doesn't need men anymore? That maybe nature decided it was done with us?"
Eira tilted her head. "Need and want are different. The world remembers men; the balance mourns them. But memory can't shape itself without a vessel."
Aiden gave a hollow laugh. "So I'm a vessel now."
"Perhaps," she said gently. "Or perhaps you're the start of a new equation."
Before he could answer, Lyra's voice cut through the air. "Someone's coming!"
They dropped into the reeds. Across the water, two shapes appeared, women in worn armor, carrying fishing nets and spears. Hunters, not soldiers. The women's voices carried faintly: talk of new patrols, a royal bounty, and strange lights seen over the marsh last night.
Aiden held his breath. One of the hunters pointed toward the ridge. "Said the queen herself wants him alive. Imagine the reward!"
"Alive for what?" the other replied. "You believe those temple stories?"
"Doesn't matter. Gold's gold."
They laughed and moved on. Only when the sound faded did Aiden exhale.
Lyra whispered, "It's spreading. Every village will be looking for you."
"Then the wells it is," Aiden said, voice steady now. "If the whole world's hunting, we go where the world can't follow."
Eira gave a small nod. "Then we move by night."
As they resumed their march, the sun finally broke through the mist. Light glimmered on the water, turning the marsh briefly beautiful. Aiden looked at his reflection, mud-streaked, hollow-eyed, but alive. For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt the pull of direction rather than escape.
Behind them, unseen in the reeds, a single droplet of violet mana floated where their footprints had been, quivering like an eye before fading into the water.