Valerie fell silent.
"They are sensitive to raw magic," Lena continued. "Not afraid, don't mistake me. But disturbed. Like a sense of smell forced to take in too many scents at once. If you are within that caravan, your trail will fracture. Not vanish, but scatter."
Valerie let out a long breath. In her chest, relief mingled with grief. The path existed. But it was real, and it meant she truly had to leave.
"Three days," she murmured.
"Three days," Lena nodded. "To prepare. To decide what you will leave behind and what you will carry with you."
Valerie looked down at her stomach again, then lifted her face, her resolve now harder than before. "I will go."
Lena met her gaze, then nodded once, as if accepting an oath. "Then be ready. Leaving is not merely stepping away. Leaving means accepting that you may never return as the same person."
Valerie gave a faint smile bitter, but honest. "I think… I already am no longer the same."
