The forest felt alive in a way it hadn't before. Each rustling leaf, each faint animal call, carried an undercurrent of tension, as if the trees themselves were aware of us. The dirt path beneath our feet was uneven, winding through dense clusters of moss-covered trunks. I walked with my sword in hand, the weight of it a comfort despite the silence between Lyra and me.
She was a few steps ahead, her movements precise and deliberate. The light filtering through the canopy played off her blade, which remained sheathed at her side. For all her usual confidence, I could tell she was on edge. Her eyes darted to the shadows with every sound, and the hand resting on her hilt tightened whenever the wind shifted.
"Do you always look this tense when you're walking through the woods?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
She glanced over her shoulder, her expression unimpressed. "Not unless I'm traveling with someone the whole world seems to be hunting."
"Fair point," I muttered, my gaze shifting to the forest.
For the first few hours, neither of us spoke much. The path was narrow, forcing us to move single file, and the undergrowth rustled with unseen life. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched.
"You've been quiet," Lyra said after a while, breaking the silence.
"Just thinking," I replied.
"About the village?"
"No," I said, though the image of Krael standing at the gate lingered in my mind. "About what's waiting for us. You said Ebonreach has scholars and magical archives. What are the chances we'll actually find what we're looking for?"
Lyra shrugged, her steps never faltering. "Ebonreach is as good a place as any to start. If anyone knows about the Vanguard or the Shattering, it'll be someone there. And even if we don't find answers right away, we'll find leads. The city's full of people with information—for the right price."
Her words hung in the air, heavier than I wanted them to be. "And what happens if we find someone who doesn't want me remembering my past?"
Lyra stopped and turned to face me, her hand still resting on her hilt. "Then we deal with them. Together."
The certainty in her voice was steadying, though it didn't ease the knot in my chest. I nodded, and we continued walking.
The sun had begun to dip below the horizon when we reached the edge of the forest. The trees thinned, giving way to open plains that stretched toward a distant ridge. Far ahead, I could see a faint glow on the horizon—the lights of a settlement, though it was still too far to make out any details.
"We'll stop here for the night," Lyra said, motioning toward a small cluster of rocks that offered some shelter from the wind.
I dropped my pack and began gathering wood for a fire while Lyra set up a perimeter of small, glowing runes etched into the dirt. She worked quickly, her movements practiced, and the faint hum of magic filled the air as she activated the ward.
"What's that for?" I asked, setting down the pile of sticks I'd collected.
"It's a basic ward," she said, standing and brushing off her gloves. "It won't stop anything strong, but it'll alert us if something—or someone—gets too close."
"Good to know," I said, striking a spark to light the fire. The flames caught quickly, casting a warm glow over the small clearing.
We ate in silence, the quiet crackle of the fire filling the space between us. My thoughts drifted to the watchers, the man who had called me Vanguard, and the runes on my sword that had lit up during the battle. No matter how much I turned the pieces over in my mind, they refused to fit together.
"You're frowning again," Lyra said, breaking the quiet.
"Am I not allowed to think without smiling?"
She rolled her eyes. "Thinking is fine. Brooding gets old fast."
I sighed, staring into the fire. "I just don't get it. The power in my sword, the man in the hood—it's like everyone knows more about me than I do. And every time I try to figure it out, I hit a wall."
Lyra's expression softened slightly, and she leaned back against a rock. "You'll figure it out," she said. "You don't have to solve everything tonight."
"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "You're not the one people are calling Vanguard and hunting through the woods."
"No," she admitted, her voice quieter. "But I did choose to follow you. So whatever's coming, we'll face it together."
Her words settled over me, less like a comfort and more like a challenge. I nodded, letting the fire's warmth push back the chill of the night.
I woke to the faint hum of magic.
Lyra was already on her feet, her sword drawn as she stared toward the edge of the clearing. The runes she had etched into the dirt were glowing faintly, their light pulsing in time with an unseen presence beyond the perimeter.
"Something's out there," she said, her voice low.
I grabbed my sword and stood, the weight of it familiar in my hand. The pendant at my chest pulsed faintly, the warmth spreading through me like a warning.
A shadow moved at the edge of the firelight, just beyond the ward. It was human-shaped but wrong—its limbs too long, its movements too smooth. My grip tightened on my sword as the shadow stopped, just barely visible against the darkness.
"Think it's a watcher?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Maybe," Lyra said. "But it's alone. That's... strange."
The shadow didn't move closer, and for a long moment, the three of us were locked in a tense standoff. Then, without warning, the figure stepped back into the darkness, disappearing as quickly as it had come.
The runes dimmed, and the night returned to its uneasy stillness.
Lyra lowered her sword, though her hand remained on the hilt. "It wasn't here to fight."
"No," I said, my voice tight. "It was here to watch."
Her eyes met mine, and we both knew the truth: the watchers hadn't stopped following us.
As the fire crackled and the night pressed in around us, I felt the first real stirrings of what lay ahead. The journey to Ebonreach wasn't going to be a simple search for answers. It was going to be a test—a game of shadows and secrets. And the only way to win was to keep moving forward.