The trek out of the valley was silent, but for Lyra, it was the loudest walk of her life. Every time Lucian's boots crunched on a dry twig, she felt the vibration in her own shins. Every time he scanned the treeline with narrowed eyes, her own vision seemed to sharpen, catching the shimmer of moonlight on dew.
"How much further?" she whispered.
"Just beyond the Weeping Falls," Lucian replied, his voice a low rumble that resonated in her chest. "The High Order calls them 'The Forsaken.' They are the survivors of the earlier Purges—shadow-wielders and light-rejects who managed to slip through the Oracle's fingers."
As they rounded a jagged cliffside, the sound of crashing water filled the air. Behind the waterfall lay a massive, hidden cavern, lit not by the blue moss of the shrine, but by dozens of small, warm cookfires.
The Welcome Party
