The energy from the ritual ground did not follow them when they left.
That was the strangest part.
Leira had expected the earth to stay angry, to continue humming beneath her feet, to remind her of what had been torn open and spoken aloud. But the moment they stepped beyond the last broken rune, the air shifted. The pressure eased. The world felt… ordinary again. Too ordinary, after everything.
The stone beneath her boots was cool and solid. No heat. No pulse. Just rock and soil and the faint scent of moss clinging to the ruins behind them.
Cassian walked a few steps ahead, then slowed until they were moving side by side without quite acknowledging it. He did not look at her. She did not look at him.
The relics were wrapped in cloth and secured against Cassian's pack, though Leira could still feel them. A low warmth brushed the edge of her awareness, like embers buried deep under ash. Quiet. Obedient. For now.
They walked.
The forest beyond the ritual site closed around them in muted greens and browns. Tall trunks rose like watchful figures, their bark damp with age. Light filtered through the canopy in thin bands, pale and dusted with drifting pollen. Somewhere in the distance, water moved over stone. The sound grounded her, pulled her attention outward instead of inward.
Silence stretched between them.
Not the sharp silence of anger. Not the brittle quiet of avoidance.
Something heavier.
Leira kept her gaze forward, jaw tight. Her body still felt strange, like it belonged to a version of herself she had not fully accepted yet. Each breath scraped her throat, dry and slow. Her muscles ached in places she did not remember straining, and her chest felt bruised from the inside out.
Cassian's presence pressed at her awareness even without touch. She could feel the heat of him when he stepped closer to avoid a low branch. Could hear the careful way he placed his feet, as if afraid the ground itself might protest.
She hated that she noticed. The awareness lingered no matter how she tried to shake it. His presence felt heavier than it had any right to be, like the air bent differently around him. She could feel the echo of the circle still humming in her bones, a phantom pressure beneath her skin, as if the ground had carved something permanent into her.
They continued deeper into the forest, the path narrowing until brush grazed her arms. A leaf caught in her hair. She tugged it free and dropped it without comment.
Minutes passed. Or longer. Time felt unreliable.
Finally, Cassian slowed again. This time, he stopped.
Leira halted a step behind him, instinctively alert. Her fingers flexed at her side.
"I think we should rest for a while," he said quietly. Not a command. Not an order. Just a statement.
She considered refusing. The habit rose fast, sharp and familiar.
Then she felt the tremor in her legs. The delayed ache blooming along her spine.
She exhaled through her nose. "Fine."
They moved off the path to a small clearing where the ground dipped gently. A fallen log lay half covered in moss, its surface slick with moisture. Cassian lowered himself onto it with visible care, like his body was still learning what it could bear.
Leira remained standing for a moment, scanning the trees, listening. Birds stirred above them. Insects hummed. Nothing watched them. Nothing followed.
She sat at last, choosing the far end of the log. Space between them. Not hostile. Just deliberate.
The distance felt measured, intentional in a way that made her chest tighten. Close enough to acknowledge each other. Far enough to pretend nothing had changed. The forest seemed to hold its breath around them, leaves rustling softly, branches creaking as if the world itself were listening and choosing not to interrupt.
Cassian reached into his pack and pulled free a water flask. He turned it in his hands once, then extended it toward her without looking directly at her face.
"Here," he said. "You should drink."
She stared at the flask.
Once, she would have laughed at the idea. Or snapped. Or turned away out of pure reflex.
Now, she hesitated.
Her throat burned. Her lips felt cracked. She took the flask from him, their fingers brushing for half a second before she pulled back. The contact sent a brief spark up her arm, not painful, not pleasant. Just real.
She drank slowly. The water was cool, clean. It slid down her throat and settled her stomach. She swallowed twice more before handing it back.
"Thank you," she said, the word quieter than she intended.
Cassian nodded once and drank after her, careful not to rush. When he finished, he capped the flask and set it aside.
Neither of them spoke.
Leira rested her forearms on her thighs, staring at the dirt between her boots. She felt exposed in a way she did not like. As if the forest could see through her skin, through the armor she had built so carefully over lifetimes.
She was aware of Cassian shifting beside her, of the way his shoulders lifted and fell with a deeper breath.
"I was thinking," he said, voice tentative. "If there's one thing we're consistent at… it's finding the worst ways to spend our time together. I mean we take the term 'near death experience' quite literally."
She glanced at him despite herself.
He was not smiling, exactly. But there was something faintly dry in his tone. A tired sort of humor.
She snorted before she could stop it. The sound startled them both.
"That's one way to put it," she said, then paused. "If it's not reincarnations, it's circles. If it's not circles, it's trials… or cursed grounds. It's like a talent at this point."
His mouth curved, just barely. "I would say it's impressive, but I think the world would disagree."
The corner of her lips lifted. She looked away quickly, annoyed at herself.
"Don't get used to this," she said. "We're still not friends."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
They fell quiet again, but the silence had shifted. It no longer pressed so hard against her ribs. It felt… looser. Like a knot that had been pulled but not undone.
They resumed walking soon after, the path sloping downward toward lower ground. The air grew cooler, damp. Ferns brushed their legs. The forest thinned, opening into a stretch of land where the trees gave way to broken stone markers half buried in earth.
Old roads, maybe. Forgotten ones.
Leira walked a little closer now. Not close enough to touch. Close enough to notice when Cassian slowed to match her pace.
She did not comment.
They spoke only when necessary. A warning about loose gravel. A quiet note about a bend in the trail. Simple things. Neutral things.
Still, something had changed.
She did not feel the constant urge to push him away. The sharp edge of her anger had dulled, not gone, but no longer cutting her from the inside with every step.
She hated that too.
The day wore on. Light shifted, growing warmer, slanting through the trees. They crossed a shallow stream, water cold around her ankles. Cassian offered his hand without thinking. She hesitated, then took it. His grip was steady. He released her immediately after.
No comment. No look.
Later, when the trail narrowed again, a low branch caught Leira across the shoulder. She hissed, more startled than hurt.
Cassian turned instantly. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she said, then sighed. "It was just the branch."
"Right. Of… of course."
She watched him turn back around, his shoulders tense in a way she recognized. Guilt, always ready to surface. Always waiting for permission.
Something twisted in her chest.
They walked on.
When they stopped again, it was not planned. Cassian simply slowed, then froze.
Leira noticed at once. "What is it?"
He did not answer right away. His eyes were unfocused, fixed on something only he could see. His breath stuttered.
Then his hand twitched at his side.
Leira stepped closer. "Cassian?"
The forest seemed to dim around them. Not dark. Just muted. Like sound swallowed by thick cloth.
Cassian's pupils widened. His jaw tightened.
A familiar voice had slipped into his mind, smooth and inevitable.
"You know what you have to do."
It was not loud.
It did not threaten.
It simply existed.
Cassian's chest constricted. His heart hammered once, hard enough to hurt. The familiar pull coiled in his spine, cold and precise.
"Shadow General."
The title was not spoken. It did not need to be.
His fingers curled slowly, painfully. He could feel the old pathways lighting up, the commands sliding into place like gears clicking together.
Not now, he thought. Not again.
Leira was watching him. Her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"
He forced air into his lungs. His vision sharpened too much, every color too bright. Every sound too clear.
The voice lingered, patient.
Waiting.
Cassian swallowed.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had.
The forest breathed around them, unaware. The path stretched forward, innocent and cruel.
Leira took another step closer, concern written plainly across her face.
Cassian did not move.
The calm between them shattered, silent and unseen, as the Keepers reached for him once more.