“I don’t know what I have to offer,” she admitted.“But I’ll travel with you and help where I can.I’d like to see people with power freed and educated.I’d like to help withthat.”
“Then, it’s settled.”Fael’s voice cut into the endless loop of self-doubt, his unfettered confidence sweet as sunshine.“We head to Terrepin, make some money, and maybe even find you new clothes.”
Ren’wyn looked down at her torn, filthy dress.They both smelled awful, and she sighed at the thought of hot water, pumice stone, and scented soaps.
“Make money?”she asked with a wry quirk of her lips.“Are we mercenariesnow?”
“I’d prefer ‘help-for-hire’ to ‘contract soldiers,’” Fael replied lightly.
Ren’wyn felt her chest lighten with humor.She would be agreeing to an arrangement with a man she barely knew.She didn’t know his family name, and he didn’t know hers.But he trusted her, laughed with her, and shared his food, honesty, and magic.He had saved herlife.
Her brother’s words echoed in her mind:Good, yes.Safe, no.
Fael was still smiling encouragingly.She returned it, feeling lighter than she had in months.
“Would anyone believe I was a contract soldier?”she teased.
“Going on smell alone, you might convince a few,” Fael quipped.
She swiped at him playfully, and he caught her hand effortlessly, his grin widening.
“Get some rest, Ren’wyn,” he said gently.“The Dark Forest will only grow wilder, and I can feel there’s more tocome.”
8
Day-old deer was cold and slimy, but hunger proved more powerful than disgust.Ren’wyn choked it down over breakfast, grateful for Fael’s hunting skills.His practicality made her appreciate her own strengths—adding foraged plants to their meals was a small but satisfying contribution.
They traveled slowly through the woods, covering a bit more distance each day as Ren’wyn healed.Her emotional recovery was slower, and sadness suppressed her usual friendly demeanor.She wanted to wallow.She missed Esrin, and every hollow and dark shadow seemed to hold the faces of the soldiers she had killed.They weren’t true shades—just memories—but their haunting presence felt thesame.
Through it all, Fael remained steady.His ease with silence slowly shifted the oppressive quiet into something more bearable.Companionable.Occasional small jokes lightened the atmosphere.He kept up a stream of questions about medicinal plants, never offended when she drew back into herself.Without even realizing it, Ren’wyn began to enjoy their daily rhythms—wildflowers in the shade, Fael pointing out animals in the distance, stories shared over simple meals.
By the end of the week, her ankle only ached after long walks.She let Fael teach her the beginning of the Passage.He was patient and didn’t laugh when her ankle buckled from the strain of unfamiliar movements.He checked her carefully and, satisfied that she was alright, finished the exercises while she took over cooking.
Their routine settled—early mornings, quick washes in the stream, simple meals, and restless sleep on uneven ground.Some mornings, Fael hunted.He rationed their supplies with military precision.Ren’wyn admired his methodical calculation as he stretched their food to last until they reached Terrepin.
At night, they shared memories—childhood stories and favorite lessons.Ren’wyn taught Fael how to identify new plants and prepare simple remedies for pain and fever.His sharp memory made him a quick learner, and he asked thoughtful questions, identifying groups of plants as they walked.In the evenings, Fael moved through his sword forms while Ren’wyn wove shadows, summoned frozen wind, and whispered to thedead.
But the nightmares neverleft.
Some nights, her mother begged for mercy while Ren’wyn watched herself strip Lyr’ren of life.Other nights, Esrin shunned her in front of his family, dragging the soldiers’ corpses out into the light for all to see.His blank stare broke her heart over andover.
“Ren’wyn.”
Fael’s voice woke her each time.His calm hands grounded her until her breathing steadied.He offered her the water skin and spoke in soft tones of sunny days—boating with his mother, riding Cloud through meadows.He never demanded she speak.He simply stayed, steady and strong.
More than once, she woke to find her blanket tucked tightly around her, with no memory of falling asleep.
As they ventured deeper, the undergrowth thinned, and the air grew heavy.The shadows deepened, darker than twilight even at noon.Ren’wyn didn’t need to reach for her power to know the Void was restless—the whispers began without warning.Glimpses of shades flickered at the edge of her vision, their cold presences brushing against her awareness.
When a branch cracked behind them, Fael nearly jumped out of his skin, drawing his sword to face the unseen enemy.
Ren’wyn didn’t know whether to laugh or worry.Steel wouldn’t protect him from theVoid.
The whispers grew louder, an unintelligible wind of language around them.Fael remained alert, stance at the ready, breathing slow and deep, but gold flecks in his eyes shimmered as his power stirred beneath hisskin.
At lunch, he sat unnaturally still, his knuckles white as he squeezed the water skin.His eyes scanned the trees continuously.
“You hear it too,” Ren’wyn said, breaking the silence.
