Following the moonleg lilies wasn't the hard part. It was easy to see the leg-like stalks emerge from the soil, the bone-like pallor of their structure, the black petals that pointed downward, and their centers which glowed just enough to see in the pitch-black night.
"You tired?" Cal asked without looking back.
Vincent shook his head, sticking close. "No. I slept on the ride here. I'm feeling alright."
Cal nodded. "Alright. Just... let me know, yeah?"
Vincent nodded in return, continuing to follow Cal through the path of the flowers. The two had walked for some time now, but there was no clear sense of how long.
Cal stared up as the moon was near the end of its arching path across the night sky, which meant one thing. Dawn would soon be upon them. Which seemed like a good thing at first, but many of the creatures would awake at that time as well.
They couldn't afford to linger at any time.
By Cal's estimation, four to five hours may have passed since they left for Nareth.
The thought surfaced uninvited, settling into his mind as his boots pressed softly against the forest floor. He anchored himself to the walk — the steady pace, the faint glow beneath his feet. Time slipped loose in places like this. Still, his body told him enough. The stiffness in his shoulders. The dull ache in his legs. His breath measured and economical.
Darius would've been awake by now.
His grandfather rising before dawn as he always did, the house still steeped in silence. He'd move through it without sound, stoking the hearth, setting water to boil, going through motions long worn into habit. If Cal were still there, Darius would've called him lazy for sleeping in, even if he knew better. Even if he knew Cal hadn't slept much at all.
Wonder if he knows I've left by now... He's probably insulting me like he always does.
The thought was a normal one. He'd always assume Darius would be ready to criticize him. Or jump to conclusions on Cal's whereabouts, regardless of whether Cal was just running errands or working in the workshop.
Cal wondered how long it would take before Darius noticed he hadn't returned.
The thought tightened something in his chest.
He forced himself to breathe out slowly and let it pass. There was no sense dwelling on it now. What was done was done. Worrying wouldn't shorten the forest or make the path ahead any clearer. If anything, it would only dull his focus.
And that was the last thing he could afford to let happen.
As they continued to walk on the path the moonleg lilies, something sounded from the forest that froze them both where they stood.
A low scrape, slow and deliberate, dragging against bark.
He stopped.
Vincent nearly walked into him, halting just in time. "What-"
"Quiet," Cal murmured.
They stood still, the faint glow of the moonleg lilies casting pale light around their feet. For a moment, there was nothing. Just the oppressive hush of the forest pressing in from all sides.
Then came another sound.
A bleat — raspy and wet, like air forced through a ruined throat.
Vincent jumped, swallowing. "You... you heard that too, right?"
Cal nodded in silence, his jaw tightening.
The sound echoed again, farther off this time, followed by a hiss that slid through the trees like breath drawn across teeth. It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. The noise carried intent, curling around them, seeping into the spaces between thought and instinct.
"Yeah, I did," Cal said. "Might be something settling down. Dawn's close. Forests make noise. Would be weird if it was dead silent."
Cal tried to sound certain, but his voice wavered in doubt. His hand had already tightened around the hilt of his sword. The leather creaked softly under his grip.
He shifted his stance, weight settling evenly between his feet, every sense drawn taut. His pulse thrummed in his ears, steady but insistent. He loathed how aware he was of his own breathing, how loud it seemed in the stillness. Every shadow between the trees felt deeper now, heavier, as if something were crouched within them, waiting.
Vincent edged nearer, shoulder nearly brushing Cal's arm. "Still nothing," he said, voice firm. "That's… that's good, right?"
"Doesn't mean anything," Cal replied quietly. "Not yet."
The forest seemed to breathe around them. The moonleg lilies continued their pale vigil, their glow unchanged, uncaring. If they noticed the shift in the air, they gave no sign. Cal followed their line forward, though every step now felt measured, deliberate. He resisted the urge to rush. Moving too fast would only invite mistakes.
A hiss sounded again, sharper this time, followed by the crack of bark splintering somewhere to their left.
Vincent flinched before he could stop himself.
Cal noticed.
"You okay?" he asked, turning to Vincent.
"Yeah... I am," Vincent replied. "It's just... I never found myself in a place like this. Guess that's what happens when you decide to chase something like the Merlin Trials, huh?"
Cal glanced at him. Vincent's expression was steady enough, but his hands told a different story — fingers flexing, shoulders tight. He was scared. Anyone would be. But he was still here. Still moving forward.
"That's not why you came, though," Cal said.
"Yeah, you're right," he admitted. "But I won't pretend I'm not hoping it works out for you."
Cal froze, not responding right away. His gaze drifted ahead, into the dark, where the lilies led them deeper still.
"I feel like you're thinking too far ahead," Cal replied, honestly. "I'm going just to see what's out there. To get away from Lamnor. What happens when I get there is something I'll deal with later."
Another bleat rang out — close enough now that Cal felt it in his chest rather than heard it. His vision swam for a heartbeat, a sharp tug flaring behind his eyes. He hissed through his teeth, steadying himself as something dark and familiar stirred beneath his skin.
They moved again, not because the sounds had stopped, but because standing still felt worse.
Cal took the lead, eyes following the faint, unbroken trail of moonleg lilies. Their glow was steady, indifferent, as though the forest itself hadn't shifted. As though something unseen hadn't begun to pace them from the dark.
Each step was quieter now. Measured.
The forest resisted them in subtle ways. Roots pressed up against the soles of his boots. Branches hung low, snagging at his cloak. The air felt heavier, thick with damp and rot, and the deeper they went, the more Cal became aware of the way sound behaved strangely here — how it seemed to slide instead of echo, how it carried just far enough to be unsettling, never far enough to place.
His palms prickled.
Cal flexed his fingers once, then again. The sensation lingered, crawling beneath the skin. He slowed his steps without meaning to, letting Vincent draw closer.
A faint pulse spread across his hands, like heat blooming under the flesh.
He looked down.
Black veins traced their way along his palms, thin and branching, spreading from the center outward like cracks in obsidian. They weren't raised. They didn't throb.
Cal closed his fist at once.
His sleeve fell back into place as he slid his hand into the fabric of his cloak, fingers curling tightly against his forearm. He tugged the cloth down and forced his breathing to steady.
Not now. This could be dealt with later. It had to be dealt with later. But not without Vincent noticing such hesitations.
"Hey," he called out concerningly. "Are you okay?"
Cal nodded immediately, his gait tightening and his eyes snapping to the ground out of whiplash. "Just watching the ground," he said instinctively.
Vincent hummed in acknowledgment but didn't pull away. If anything, he drifted closer, close enough that Cal could feel the brush of his shoulder now and then. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't said aloud. But the message was clear. He was going to be a support, just as he promised.
They walked like that for a while, the lilies guiding them forward, the forest murmuring and scraping just beyond sight. The bleats came again — once to the right, once behind them, distorted enough that Cal couldn't tell if it was the same creature or many.
Every single time it arose, Vincent stiffened more and more, if that was even possible at this point.
"We haven't encountered anything," he said with a swallow. "But I don't how much longer that'll be the case."
"Don't worry about it," Cal reassured. "Besides, if something goes wrong, maybe that light will save us."
Vincent gave a small chuckle. "Speaking of that, did you ever see it again?"
"No, I didn't. But..." Cal began, only to pause abruptly. He didn't know if he wanted to speak about what he just saw in his hand. If it was connected to the light or if it was something else entirely. He breathed deeply.
"But maybe it'll come around some other time. After all, that voice told me it would." he said finally.
Vincent nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Cal in concern. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you know I'm here, right?"
Cal didn't reply for a moment, his heart's rhythm and the tension in his body slowing down from Vincent's words. For a moment, he felt grateful about such reassurance. After all, Cal didn't think anyone would've been as supportive in such circumstances.
"Yeah, I do," Cal replied. "And yeah, I'll tell you if something's off. Once we're in the clear, we can stop to talk about what comes next."
He almost smiled. Almost.
"By the way," he started. "You don't have to keep going. I won't hold it against you."
Vincent snorted under his breath. "You say that like I'd actually leave you alone out here."
"I'm serious." Cal replied quickly.
"So am I." Vincent glanced at him, eyes catching a sliver of moonlight. "Besides, I told you I'd support you in Nareth."
Cal looked ahead, jaw tightening slightly. "Even if it gets bad?"
Vincent hesitated. Just a fraction. Then he nodded. "Especially if it does."
Another scrape echoed through the trees, closer this time. Something dragged itself against bark, slow and deliberate, as though it wasn't in any hurry.
"There's something out there," Vincent said. "There's something waiting for us."
"You feel it too, huh?" Cal asked in reply.
They walked faster after that, though neither of them spoke it aloud. The path narrowed, lilies growing closer together, their glow overlapping until the forest floor seemed washed in pale light. Shadows clung to the spaces beyond, deep and layered, refusing to give up their shapes.
Cal's head throbbed.
At first, it was dull. A pressure just behind his eyes, familiar enough now that he recognized it instantly. He slowed his breathing, grounding himself in movement, in the rhythm of his steps.
The tug didn't fade.
Instead, it sharpened.
The bleat cut through the air — louder, closer, its rasp wet and wrong. Cal felt it in his chest, vibrating through bone rather than ear.
Vincent flinched harder this time. "That sounded-"
"Closer," Cal finished for him.
The veins in his palms burned.
He flexed his fingers inside his sleeve, jaw clenched as the sensation intensified. The tug behind his eyes pulled, not painfully, but insistently, like something trying to turn his attention in a specific direction.
Left. Then behind them. Then ahead again. Cal slowed to a stop.
Another bleat rang out, so close this time that Vincent recoiled, nearly losing his footing. Cal caught his arm instinctively, grip firm.
Vincent's eyes were wide now. "That's not one thing, is it?"
Cal didn't answer.
The tug behind his eyes flared sharply, stealing his breath for a heartbeat. His vision swam, the forest tilting as something clicked into place.
The sounds weren't random. They weren't warnings. They were adjustments.
Cal slowly turned in place, scanning the trees. Shadows shifted — not retreating, not advancing, but repositioning. The forest no longer felt vast. It felt structured. Narrowed. Focused.
A realization settled cold and heavy in his gut. They weren't being stumbled upon. They weren't being threatened. They were being marshalled along like a moth to the flame.
Cal's grip tightened on Vincent's arm.
"We need to keep moving," Vincent whispered. "Right now."
Cal nodded once, but the understanding had already rooted itself, unshakable and precise. They had never been alone in the Mourning Forest.
They had been watched from the moment they crossed its threshold.
And whatever was out there — whatever rasped and scraped and bleated in the dark—had been following them patiently.
Hunting them. Ever since they set foot among the moonleg lilies.