The cart lurched violently to the side, and Alucent's shoulder slammed into the wall. His cane slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor, rolling beneath the bench. Beside him, Joy let out a sharp breath as she was thrown against him, her shoulder pressing into his chest for a moment before she caught herself on the edge of the seat.
Across from them, Gryan grabbed the bench with his right hand while his mechanical left arm shot out and braced against the wall. The rune-etched metal fingers dug into the wood with a faint grinding sound, and the joints locked with a click. At the same moment, Raya's hand moved to her Weaveblade before she had even straightened, her fingers wrapping around the hilt.
The horses screamed.
Alucent heard them thrashing against their harnesses outside, hooves stamping on dirt and leather straining as they pulled against the reins. The cart shook again, and then something struck the undercarriage with a heavy thud that made the entire vehicle tilt onto two wheels. For a moment, everything hung suspended, and Alucent thought they would tip over entirely.
Then the cart crashed back down. The wheels hit the road hard enough to rattle his teeth, and the cushioned bench groaned beneath him.
Silence followed.
Alucent bent down and reached under the bench until his fingers found the familiar wood of his father's cane. He pulled it back and pushed himself upright, then turned to the window on his side and pulled back the white curtain with its golden edge.
The turquoise moon hung at half-phase above the treeline, its pale light falling through the branches and spreading across the road in uneven patches. The undergrowth was thick and dark, and the spaces between the trunks were filled with blackness that the moonlight could not reach. Alucent scanned the trees, then the road behind them, then the bushes and the low branches and the patches of dirt where the wheels had carved shallow ruts.
Nothing. He saw nothing.
At the same moment, Joy had turned to the window on her side and pulled back the curtain, her blue eyes moving slowly across the darkness. Her face was calm beneath the gauze veil, but her shoulders were stiff beneath the dark forest green fabric of her bodice. Gryan had leaned across Raya to look out her window, his bulk pressing against her shoulder as his mechanical arm hummed faintly with the shift in weight. Raya moved to give him room without taking her hand off her Weaveblade, and both of them stared out at the forest.
Outside, the horses continued to stamp and snort, their heavy breathing audible through the walls. One of them let out a high whinny that cut through the night, sharp and panicked. The driver cursed, the words muffled but the frustration clear, and then his voice dropped lower as he spoke to the horses in a firm tone, trying to calm them.
Wind stirred the curtains, and the turquoise moonlight shifted across Joy's face.
Raya spoke first. "Did anyone see it?"
Her voice was tight, and her fingers had not loosened on the Weaveblade's hilt.
Gryan pulled back from the window and sat down heavily on his side of the bench, the leather creaking under his weight. His mechanical arm settled on his knee, the joints clicking faintly as they relaxed. "No," he said, shaking his head once. "I didn't see a damn thing."
Joy let the curtain fall back into place and smoothed the fabric where it had bunched, the motion practiced and unhurried. Then she folded her hands in her lap. "I saw nothing as well."
Alucent turned away from his window and looked at each of them in turn. Gryan's face was tight beneath his stubble, his jaw clenched. Raya's eyes were narrowed, her body angled toward the door. Joy sat with her back straight and her expression unchanged.
"Something struck us," Alucent said, keeping his voice level. "From below. That was not the road."
"It wasn't," Joy agreed, her voice soft and measured. "The impact came from beneath the cart. Not from the side."
Raya's jaw tightened. "Then what was it?"
No one answered.
The horses stamped outside, and the wind moved through the trees with a low rustling sound. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out once and then fell silent.
Alucent considered his options. Record of All would let him perceive the recent past of this location, would show him exactly what had struck the cart and from where. The answer would be there, written in the echoes of the last few minutes. But Joy was sitting beside him, her shoulder less than a foot from his, and she did not know about the Journal. She did not know about the abilities it had given him, or that he could read the past from the air itself.
If he used it now, she would see. She would ask questions, and those questions would lead to more questions. How does a Thread 3 Silverline have access to abilities beyond his level? Where did he get that artifact? The Green Council already had reasons to watch him. He did not need to give them more.
He let the thought go.
"Perhaps it was an animal," Gryan said, though he did not sound convinced. His right hand rested on his thigh while his mechanical left arm hung at his side, the rune-lines along its surface glowing a dim amber in the darkness. "Something large. A boar, maybe. Startled by the cart and lashing out."
Raya looked at him. "A boar does not strike from beneath."
"I know," Gryan said, his voice rough. "I'm just saying what it could have been."
"It wasn't a boar," Alucent said.
Gryan grunted, and the metal fingers of his mechanical hand flexed once. A habit Alucent had noticed before. The man did it when he was thinking, or when he was uncomfortable.
Before anyone could respond, the cart was struck again.
This time the impact was harder, much harder. The vehicle rocked violently to the left, and Alucent heard wood crack somewhere beneath them, a sharp splintering sound that cut through the night. Joy was thrown against the wall, her elbow striking the window frame with a dull thud. Raya had to brace herself with both hands on the bench to keep from falling, her Weaveblade half-drawn from its sheath. Gryan's mechanical arm shot out again and slammed against the opposite wall, the metal fingers punching into the wood and locking in place.
The horses shrieked, and Alucent heard them fighting against the reins. The cart lurched forward as they tried to bolt, then jerked to a stop as the driver hauled them back.
But Alucent was not watching the others.
The moment the impact came, he had turned to the window and pressed his face close to the glass, searching the darkness outside for any sign of movement.
Fortunately, he saw it.
For a split second, there was something there. A distortion in the air between two trees. The turquoise moonlight bent and shifted where it passed through that space, twisting in a way that light should not twist. It was not a shape, not a creature. It was a ripple, a warping of the air itself, visible only because of how the moonlight moved through it.
Then it was gone.
Alucent stared at the space where it had been. His heart was beating faster now, and he forced himself to breathe slowly.
"Driver—halt at once."
Joy's voice cut through the chaos, soft but with iron beneath it. No panic. No urgency. Just a command that expected to be obeyed.
The driver obeyed. The cart slowed, and the horses fought against the reins, stamping and snorting, but the driver spoke to them in a low firm voice until the wheels ground against the dirt and went still.
Wind moved through the curtains, and the turquoise moonlight fell across the interior of the cart in pale uneven bands.
Alucent turned away from the window and looked at the others. Raya was gripping her Weaveblade so tightly that the tendons stood out on the back of her hand. Gryan's face had gone pale beneath his stubble, and his mechanical arm was still braced against the wall, the joints locked and the rune-lines pulsing faintly. Joy was sitting upright with her hands folded in her lap, her expression unchanged.
Alucent kept his voice level. He thought of Joy's calm, the way she had spoken of corruption and madness without raising her voice, and he tried to match it.
"I saw something," he said.
All three of them looked at him.
"A distortion," he said. "In the air between the trees, the moonlight bent where it passed through. It was there for a moment, then it vanished."
Raya's eyes narrowed. "A distortion?"
"Yes, the air was not right," Alucent said. "Something was there, I don't know exactly what it is, but it is something that bends light around itself."
Gryan let out a slow breath, and his mechanical arm finally relaxed, pulling back from the wall with a soft whir of gears. The rune-lines along its surface pulsed once and then dimmed. "Invisible," he said, the word coming out flat.
"Possibly," Alucent said, and he turned to Joy. "Are there creatures in these lands that can conceal themselves in such a way? Creatures that can bend light or move unseen?"
Joy did not answer immediately. She was quiet for a moment, her blue eyes fixed on Alucent's face, and the turquoise moonlight coming through the curtains cast pale shadows across her features.
"There should be," she said finally. "The old records speak of such creatures, beasts that dwell in the spaces between light and shadow." She paused and smoothed a fold in her skirt. "But I have never encountered one myself. I have only read of them."
"So you don't know what it is," Raya said.
"No," Joy said, her voice still calm. "I do not."
Wind stirred the curtains again, and outside, one of the horses let out a low nervous whinny. The driver's voice came through the walls, murmuring something meant to soothe.
Gryan sat rigid in his seat, his right hand clenched on his knee and his mechanical left hand curled into a fist, the metal fingers clicking faintly as the joints contracted. He stared at the floor of the cart without seeing it.
Not Waros, he thought. Please, Not Waros again.
He had survived that night, Barely. If this was Waros, he did not know if he would survive a second time.
Raya's mind had gone somewhere else entirely.
She thought of Joy's words from earlier, the corruption and the madness and the flesh that twisted and turned monstrous. The maggots that spewed from skin.
We spoke of "her", Raya thought. We spoke of Anima. We asked questions about "her" origins. We wondered if she existed before this Myric. Is this because of that? Is this punishment?
She had worshipped the Goddess since she was a child, had prayed to her every morning and every night. She had believed, truly believed, that Anima watched over her and protected her and guided her steps. She had held to the creed of Runepeaks. A crooked line is a crooked life. She had trained for years to maintain focus, to keep her inscriptions pure, to honor the path.
But Joy had said that those who dug too deep became corrupted. That certain misfortune fell upon those who sought to understand.
Had they dug too deep? Had they asked too much?
Her grip on the Weaveblade tightened, and the metal was cold against her palm.
Alucent watched both of them. He saw the tension in Gryan's shoulders, the way the mechanic's right hand had curled into a fist on his knee while his mechanical hand clicked and whirred faintly with micro-adjustments. He saw the distant look in Raya's eyes, the way her breath had quickened, the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.
But he did not let himself drift into speculation.
He stayed in the present and focused on what he knew. Something was out there. It could strike the cart without being seen. It could move fast enough to disappear between one glance and the next. It was strong enough to crack wood with a single blow.
The Journal could tell him more. Record of All could show him exactly what they were dealing with. But he could not use it here, not with Joy watching.
What else could it be?
He turned the question over in his mind. Waros were dangerous, but they did not turn invisible. They were monsters, but they were visible monsters, they did not bend light.
Shadebinders could phase through walls, but they did not strike from outside. They slipped through solid matter and appeared where they should not be. They did not attack carts from below.
Are there demons in this world? True demons?
On Earth, demons were creatures of hell, servants of evil, enemies of God. Religious concepts debated by theologians and dismissed by scientists. Here, the rules were different. Here, Anima existed. She had created the laws of the Threadweave. She had birthed the rules that governed Runeforce itself. That was not faith. That was fact.
If gods existed, why not demons?
He had no answer.
He felt the familiar frustration rise in his chest. If I had reached Thread 4, I might be able to sense it. A Goldscribe's perception was sharper than a Silverline's, their mental capacity greater, their ability to process information and see patterns beyond what lesser minds could grasp. The Journal had told him as much.
But he was still at Thread 3. Still incomplete. Still unable to reach Acceptance because of the Shadowcage, still carrying the weight of Mira's memory in a corner of his mind that he could not touch without triggering the Taboo.
He pushed the frustration down. It would not help him now.
He looked at Joy.
She sat with her back straight and her hands folded in her lap, her breathing even and her expression unchanged since the first impact. She looked exactly as she had when they were discussing the Sixth Myric over dried fruit and cold water.
She has done this before, Alucent thought. She has been in danger and learned how to carry herself through it.
Thread 3 demanded Acceptance. He knew that much. The Bloodmark required its bearers to confront something within themselves, to accept some truth that they had been avoiding. Those who failed to accept broke. Those who succeeded emerged changed.
Joy had clearly succeeded. She had passed through the Acceptance that Thread 3 demanded, and she had come out the other side with a calm that did not waver even when invisible creatures struck their cart in the darkness.
Alucent was not sure he had reached that point himself. He had the Etch. He had the Mastery. He had passed through Unraveling. But Acceptance still eluded him, and the Shadowcage was still there, still anchored to his memory of Mira, still waiting.
Wind stirred the curtains again, and the turquoise moonlight shifted across the interior of the cart.
Outside, the horses had finally stopped stamping. Their breathing was still heavy, but the panic had faded. The driver's voice came through the walls, low and soothing.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then a voice spoke.
It was thick and male, deep with a resonance that seemed to come from somewhere far away. And yet it was close, too close. The words did not come from the forest or from behind the trees or beyond the road.
They came from right outside the cart, as if the speaker were standing just beyond the thin wooden walls.
"You have made a good decision to halt the cart."
Alucent's hand went to the pouch at his belt. His fingers brushed against the leather, against the shape of the Journal beneath, and the Caster beside it.
Raya's Weaveblade was half-drawn before the voice finished speaking, the blade catching the turquoise moonlight. Gryan had gone completely still, his breath caught in his throat, his mechanical arm frozen at his side with the rune-lines dark. Joy's hands remained folded in her lap, but her knuckles had gone white beneath her grey kid leather gloves.
"May the Goddess Anima welcome you all into her warm embrace soon."
The words hung in the air.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
The turquoise moonlight fell through the curtains in pale silence, and the wind had gone completely still.