Torric tears into his portion of food with gusto, still radiating heat from his transformation. “You know,” he says between bites, “I always thought being a berserker would involve more, I don’t know, berserking. Less weird heart stuff.”
Aspen nods, absently rubbing his chest. A fine layer of frost still coats his fingertips. “It’s like… a drum. But inside. Does anyone else feel that?”
We all nod, and I notice how we’ve unconsciously arranged ourselves in a tight circle, with me at the center. Malrik sits to my right, his silver eyes reflecting the firelight as he scans the darkness beyond our camp. Finn’s on my left, his usual grin a bit strained as he fidgets with a coin, making it dance between his fingers. The twins have positioned themselves directly across from me, their larger frames like a living wall between us and whatever lurks in the shadows.
“Maybe it’s this place,” I suggest, trying to ignore how my heart seems to skip a beat every time I catch Aspen or Torric’s eye. “Everything here feels… wrong. Like reality is coming apart at the seams.”
Malrik shifts beside me. “That’s because it is.”
Everyone turns to him. His silver eyes are distant, haunted. “Absentia was never meant to be what it became. It was supposed to be a realm between realms—a bridge between life and death.” He exhales, his breath misting despite the lack of cold. “But it was corrupted, twisted into something else. A prison for things that couldn’t be contained elsewhere. And now the corruption isn’t just spreading, it’s trying to break what little balance remains.”
Something twists in my chest. Not fear. Not exactly. But a pull, like my magic is trying to respond to the mention of balance, like it recognizes something in his words that I don’t yet understand.
Aspen watches Malrik carefully. “And what about berserkers?”
Malrik glances between the twins, his expression unreadable. “Berserkers were warriors that walked the edge of balance. Too much rage, and they burned themselves out. Too much control, and their power faded. They needed purpose, something to anchor them. Without it, the magic consumed them.” He looks down at his hands. “It always consumes.”
A chill runs through me. My shadows stir, restless. They don’t like this place.
Torric frowns. “So what are we supposed to do? Just keep walking and hope we don’t burn out?”
Malrik looks at me. “Maybe that depends on Kaia.”
I stiffen. “Why me?”
He gestures toward my shadows, how they move differently here. Slower. Sharper. Watching.
“They’re reacting to this place. Not just to protect you, but because something in Absentia is… responding to you.”
I swallow hard. “That’s not ominous at all.”
Before anyone can say more, the fire sputters and dims.
Finn swears, rubbing his arms. “Why is it colder all of a sudden?”
Aspen’s breath mists. “It’s not just the fire. The whole area just shifted.”
The air presses heavier. My magic coils inside me, twisting in warning as my shadows freeze in place. Something is watching us from beyond the firelight.
Malrik’s expression has gone eerily still, his silver eyes fixed on the darkness beyond our camp. “We’re not alone,” he murmurs.
For a long moment, no one speaks. Then Finn stretches his arms overhead, feigning nonchalance. “Well, whatever it is, let’s hope it has bad vision, ‘cause I’m calling it a night.”
Torric huffs but rises to his feet, shaking out his shoulders like a predator shedding tension. “We set watches?”
“Obviously,” Malrik replies, still scanning the distance. “I’ll take first.”
None of us actually sleeps, though we pretend to. We arrange ourselves in shifts, weapons within reach, eyes only half-closed. Even Torric, whocould normally sleep through a battle, keeps twitching at every sound. My shadows maintain a constant perimeter, Bob directing them with silent efficiency.
I lie down, wings curled tight against my back, but I’m hyperaware of every shift in the darkness. The weight of this place, of the watching presence, makes true rest impossible. We’re all just waiting, coiled and ready.
Aspen catches my eye from across the fire. His expression says what we’re all thinking: whatever’s out there isn’t going to wait forever.
I get up after an hour of this farce, moving to stand beside Malrik. He doesn’t seem surprised.
“You should sleep,” he murmurs, not looking at me.
“I can’t.”
