We were three hours from Stonecross when the mana shifted.
Not violently. Not enough to trigger alarms. Just a distortion—thin threads pulling too tight, too quickly.
Rhea noticed first.
"That's not right," she said, slowing. "You feel that?"
Brenic frowned. "Feels like pressure."
Elian had already stopped.
"That's coming from the village," he said.
The road ahead split—one branch leading directly toward Stonecross, the other continuing along the escort route.
Protocol was clear.
"Escort priority," Brenic said. "If we break formation—"
"We lose time," I finished.
Elian looked at me.
Not accusing.Not pleading.
Assessing.
"If something's wrong there," he said carefully, "it won't wait."
I evaluated it the same way I evaluated everything else.
No confirmed distress signal.Unknown threat scale.Deviation risked the caravan.
"We complete the escort," I said. "Then investigate."
Brenic nodded with visible relief. Rhea hesitated—then followed.
Elian stayed where he was for half a second longer.
Then he turned and walked with us.
It was the correct decision.
It had to be.