The land sloped downward into a shallow valley where the air grew cooler and heavier, as if it had pooled there and forgotten how to move on. Fog clung low to the ground, thin as breath on glass, curling around stones and the roots of old trees. Every sound seemed softened by it. Footsteps landed dull. Leaves whispered instead of crackled.
Cassian walked ahead.
Not far. Just enough to lead.
Leira noticed the distance immediately.
He was not rushing. His pace was measured, controlled, the kind that came from discipline rather than ease. His shoulders stayed square, his head angled forward, eyes scanning the path ahead with quiet vigilance.
Too vigilant.
Cassian was cataloging everything without meaning to. The way the fog shifted against the wind. The soft give of the ground beneath his boots. The places where sound dropped off too abruptly. His body remembered valleys like this. Places where ambushes happened quietly. Where orders were followed before thought could intervene. He hated that the instinct still came so easily.
She shifted the strap of her pack higher on her shoulder and studied his back. The line of tension there had not eased since he'd stopped so suddenly earlier. If anything, it had sharpened, like a wire pulled taut and left that way too long.
"Do I want to know why you're walking that?" she said.
He did not look back. "Like what?"
"Like you're expecting the ground to open."
A pause. Barely a beat too long.
"Habit," he replied.
She frowned but let it go. For now.
The fog dampened sound as well as sight. Even her breathing felt muffled, like the air itself resisted being disturbed. Moisture gathered on her lashes and hairline, cold against her skin. Somewhere nearby, water dripped steadily, unseen but persistent, marking time in slow, patient intervals. It was the kind of place where voices would carry farther than intended and secrets might linger long after they were spoken.
Leira slowed, instincts prickling. "This place feels …heavy."
Cassian stopped.
Not abruptly. Deliberately.
He turned just enough to look at her, his expression calm but set. "It feels like it has borne witness," he said. "Not actively. Just… remembered."
"Well that's…comforting."
His mouth twitched, but the movement didn't reach his eyes. "I didn't say it was dangerous."
She studied him a moment longer, then stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Are you going to tell me what is going on with you? You clearly are not fine."
"I didn't say that either."
The fog shifted, drifting aside in thin ribbons as a shape emerged ahead on the path.
Leira's hand went to the dagger at her hip.
A figure stood just beyond a curve in the trail, partially obscured by mist. Cloaked. Hood up. Still.
Cassian moved instantly, stepping half a pace in front of her without thinking. His hand lifted, palm open, not reaching for a weapon but ready.
The figure did not shift its weight like someone uncertain. Whoever stood there was balanced, centered, prepared to move if necessary. That alone set Leira's nerves on edge. Fear usually fidgeted. This presence did not. It waited, as if confident the moment would unfold in its favor.
"Easy," a voice said from beneath the hood. Female. Low. Worn thin by use. "I'm not looking for trouble."
Leira narrowed her eyes. "Yeah… that's so convincing."
The woman exhaled, slow and audible. She pushed her hood back, revealing a weathered face with sharp cheekbones and tired eyes. A scar ran from her temple to her jaw, pale against dark skin.
"I'm looking for the road east," the woman said. "Do you mind pointing me in the right direction?"
"There isn't one," Leira replied. "Not here at least."
The woman's gaze flicked between them, lingering on Cassian a fraction too long. "That explains it, I've been walking for days."
Cassian felt it then.
The pull.
Not strong. Not painful.
Just a subtle tightening at the base of his skull, like a hand resting there, waiting to apply pressure.
"You've seen what happens when you disobey."
He forced his fingers to uncurl.
"This valley doesn't like strangers," he said evenly. "You should move on before nightfall."
The woman huffed a short laugh. "This would be the third wrong turn I've made this week."
She shifted her pack, wincing slightly. Leira caught the movement, the stiffness in her left leg.
"Are you hurt?" Leira said.
The woman's eyes sharpened. "I'm alive."
"That's not the same thing."
Cassian glanced at Leira, a warning in his gaze. Don't.
She ignored it.
"There's shelter not far from here," Leira said. "I saw a collapsed watchtower a few miles back. It looked like it would be warm."
The woman hesitated. "Are you offering to take me there?"
Leira shrugged. "I'm informing you about its location…and yes…I guess I'm offering to help."
Another flick of the woman's gaze to Cassian. "And him?"
"He wants to help. But it's usually on his own terms. Very quietly."
Cassian shot her a look.
The woman smiled, just barely. "Alright then, thank you. Lead the way."
They walked together in uneasy silence, the fog thinning as the ground rose again. The watchtower emerged soon after, a broken ring of stone half swallowed by ivy. The interior was shadowed but intact enough to block the wind.
Cassian stopped at the threshold.
The pressure in his skull deepened.
Get her alone. Remove the threat.
His jaw clenched.
Leira noticed.
She touched his arm without thinking.
Just once.
His body went rigid under her fingers.
The pull surged, sharper now, sliding down his spine like cold water.
"Leira needs to be left alone with you."
He stepped away from her abruptly.
"I'll check inside," he said.
"I can…" Leira started.
"I said I will."
The woman raised a brow. "Your husband is quite protective, isn't he?"
Leira's face was flushed. "Oh no… no… he isn't my husband. He's… he's my… I guess you could say he's someone I've known for a really long time."
The woman let out a smirk of disbelief. "If you say so."
The word landed harder than it should have. He pushed the reaction down before it could surface. He ignored her and moved into the tower, every sense stretched too tight. The darkness inside felt thicker than it should have been, pressing in on his vision. He scanned corners, cracks, shadows.
Nothing.
Yet the commands lingered, patient and precise.
When he stepped back out, Leira was crouched near the woman, examining her leg.
"You've been neglecting it," Leira said. "How long have you had this injury?"
"Long enough."
"You need rest."
The woman snorted. "Everyone says that but then when I wake up, they would be nowhere to be found… and neither would my things. You might be thieves as well."
Cassian's gaze flicked to Leira again.
She met it, steady. "I assure you, we're not."
Something eased in her chest when he nodded.
They shared a small fire once night fell. The fog retreated, replaced by cold air that bit at exposed skin. Sparks rose and vanished into the dark.
The woman introduced herself as Nyra. She spoke little, ate sparingly, but her eyes missed nothing.
At one point, as Leira refilled the fire with dry twigs, Nyra leaned closer to Cassian.
"You don't sleep, do you?" Nyra said quietly.
He did not look at her. "I do."
"No," she said. "You can't. It's like you are constantly waiting for something."
His fingers tightened around his cup.
Nyra continued, voice low. "Whatever is following you, it's not something loud… and that's the most dangerous kind."
Leira looked up sharply. "What are you two talking about?"
Nyra leaned back. "Nothing that concerns you."
"Oh really? I think it concerns me… Cassian?" Leira asked with a little smile on her face.
Cassian stood. "We should move at first light."
Nyra studied him a moment longer, then nodded. "Alright. If you say so."
Sleep came thin and fractured. Cassian remained awake, seated with his back to cold stone, staring into the dark beyond the fire's reach.
The voice returned near dawn.
Not spoken. Not heard.
A certainty pressed into him, smooth and inevitable.
"We are in control. Strike down the Veil Keeper."
He felt it then, the smallest shift in his hand, fingers beginning to move without his consent.
Cassian caught himself. It was hard, but he did. The effort sent a tremor through his arm. His nerves burned as if he had slammed into an invisible barrier inside himself. Resistance had never felt like this before. Not painful exactly, but exhausting, like holding back a tide with bare hands. Whatever control he had reclaimed was fragile, held together by will alone, and will was not infinite.
His breath hitched as he forced his muscles still, nails biting into his palms.
Across the fire, Leira stirred.
Her eyes opened.
She looked at him, concern flickering across her face.
"Cassian?"
He met her gaze.
And in that moment, he understood with terrifying clarity that the next time he failed to stop it, she would see everything.
Not the man he is becoming. Not a companion.
But the monster she remembered… the weapon.
The fire crackled softly between them.
The silence watched.
And Cassian wanted to make his choice. But he may not be strong enough… Not yet.
The night pressed in around them, vast and indifferent. Firelight flickered across stone and skin, stretching shadows into unfamiliar shapes. Somewhere beyond the trees, something shifted and went still again. Cassian felt the moment narrowing, the future drawing closer with every quiet breath he took.