Sleep took Zelene in pieces.
Not all at once — not mercifully.
Her dreams came fractured, stitched together by memory and grief.
Stone corridors bled into marble halls. Firelight became torchlight. Laughter twisted into screams.
She ran barefoot through blood-slick floors, calling names that never answered back.
Her sister's braid lay on the ground, severed.
Her brother's sword lay where his hand had fallen.
Her mother didn't turn when Zelene screamed for her — because her mother was already gone.
"Wake up."
The words echoed through the dream.
Wake up.
Zelene jolted upright with a strangled breath, hands shaking as she pressed them to her chest.
Darkness greeted her.
The chamber was quiet — too quiet. Finn's soft snoring came from somewhere to her left. Corvin lay against the wall, half-asleep, one hand resting near his dagger. Ray sat nearest the entrance, alert even in stillness.
Her heart pounded painfully.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe.
I'm alive.
She dragged a hand down her face.
That was when she heard it.
Not a whisper this time.
A presence.
A subtle shift in the air — like the mountain itself had drawn a slow breath.
Zelene stilled.
The narrow tunnel.
The one behind the wall.
Her fingers curled into the furs beneath her.
He's real, she thought.
I didn't imagine him.
She waited.
Nothing spoke her name. Nothing called.
But she felt him — the same warmth, the same quiet awareness that had followed her back to the chamber before vanishing.
Zelene rose slowly.
Ray noticed immediately. "You're not asleep."
"I know."
His voice lowered. "Nightmare?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
Ray shifted closer. "Do you want—"
"I need to ask him something."
Corvin opened his eyes fully. "Ask who?"
"The one who saved me," Zelene said quietly. "I think… I think he's still here."
Ray frowned. "Zelene—"
"I'm not chasing shadows," she said firmly. "I want answers. If he's the Cerulean Auryn… or if he knows where the Auryn is… I need to hear it from him."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Ray exhaled. "I'm going with you."
"No," Zelene said gently. "Not this time."
Both men stiffened.
"This place is too narrow," she continued. "He trusts me enough to approach once. He might not if there are others."
Finn groaned in his sleep and rolled over, oblivious.
Zelene met Ray's gaze. "Please. Trust me."
Ray held her eyes for a long moment — then nodded once, reluctantly.
"Five minutes," he said. "If you don't come back—"
"I will," she promised.
The wall gave way beneath her touch as if it remembered her.
The tunnel breathed cold air against her skin.
She stepped inside.
---
The Narrow Path
The passage was tighter than she remembered — stone pressing close, uneven beneath her palms. She moved slowly, guided by memory and touch, counting each step to steady herself.
Her breathing echoed.
So did something else.
Footsteps — soft, measured — matching her pace.
Zelene stopped.
"I know you're there," she said quietly.
The steps stopped too.
She turned slowly.
He stood a short distance away, partially illuminated by a faint blue glow that clung to the stone rather than him. His presence felt… careful. As if he didn't want to frighten her.
"You don't have to hide," she said. "I won't hurt you."
Silence.
Then — the sound of fabric shifting.
He stepped closer.
Now she could see him better: blue hair falling loosely around his shoulders, darker in the low light. His clothing was layered and worn — deep cerulean cloth wrapped beneath a heavy cloak, leather bindings at his wrists and boots, scuffed and repaired countless times.
The mask obscured part of his face, smooth and pale, unfamiliar — but his eyes…
His eyes were sharp and impossibly calm.
"You saved me," Zelene said softly. "Why?"
He hesitated.
Then spoke, voice low and quiet, like stone sliding over stone.
"Because you were lost."
Her throat tightened.
"Are you the Cerulean Auryn?" she asked.
The question hung heavy between them.
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly — studying her, not her face, but something deeper.
"Names," he said slowly, "are dangerous things."
Zelene swallowed. "I don't need your name. I just need the truth."
Another pause.
Finally, he said, "I hear what remains."
Her breath caught.
"You hear echoes," she whispered.
A flicker passed through his gaze — surprise, then something like resignation.
"Yes."
Zelene stepped closer, heart pounding. "Then you know what this mountain remembers."
"I do."
"Then you know why I'm here."
He looked away.
"For someone like me," he said quietly, "the village is loud."
Zelene frowned. "But you live beneath it."
"Above them, below them," he replied. "Between."
Understanding settled slowly in her chest.
"You're hiding."
"I am surviving."
The words struck harder than she expected.
Zelene hugged her arms around herself. "You don't have to be alone."
He met her gaze then — truly met it.
"I have always been alone."
She shook her head. "That's not true. You saved me. You could have let the villagers find me."
"I chose not to."
"Then choose again," she said gently. "Help us."
He studied her for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he asked, "If I am what you seek… what will you do with me?"
Zelene answered without hesitation.
"I won't use you," she said. "I won't cage you. I just want to understand — and maybe, if you allow it… walk beside you."
The blue glow brightened faintly.
For the first time, something softened in his expression.
"You are different," he said.
She gave a small, sad smile. "So are you."
Silence wrapped around them — not empty, but full.
Finally, he stepped back.
"Not yet," he said.
Her chest tightened. "Then when?"
"When the mountain agrees."