With my sight finally returned, I told my shadow to merge with me—not to fight, not to hunt, but simply to give me enough strength to walk.
The pain didn't lessen.
It stayed sharp and unrelenting, a blade pressed permanently into my side. Bearing it wasn't a choice. Enduring it was the cost of surviving.
I moved anyway.
I had to leave the meat behind. There was nowhere to carry it, no way to preserve it. I lingered for a moment longer than I should have, my face twitching, brows tightening as I stared at it—wasted effort, wasted life.
Then I turned away.
Hours passed in slow, measured steps. Each one sent fresh agony through my wound, my body screaming for rest I couldn't afford. The forest shifted around me, light dimming and brightening without meaning.
Then—
Footsteps.
I reacted on instinct.
I climbed.
The movement tore a sharp gasp from my throat as pain flared white-hot through my side. I bit it back, forcing myself upward, until I stood balanced on a thick branch high above the forest floor.
The garb clung close, dulling my outline, drinking in the shadows around me. My presence faded, blurred into the canopy as if I belonged there.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Thank you, Hellhide, I thought, a thin thread of relief slipping through the pain.
It was the first thing resembling comfort I'd felt in hours.
I looked down.
Two people moved carefully through the trees below. One of them I recognized immediately.
My former partner.
"Asher."
Trace said my name quietly, worry threading through her voice. Her lip trembled as she spoke, hands fidgeting at her sides as if she didn't know what to do with them. "Be careful."
"You too," I replied, giving a short, firm nod.
The other person stood a step behind her. I recognized her face—but only distantly. Someone I'd seen before, never spoken to.
I descended slowly, every movement deliberate. When my boots touched the ground, pain tore through my side and I flinched despite myself.
"Asher!" Trace yelped, stepping forward.
"Yeah," I said, scratching the back of my head as if nothing was wrong. "It's me."
My eyes shifted to the other girl.
"Who's she?" I asked, my tone cautious.
"This is Sare," Trace said quickly. "She's my ally. We found each other yesterday and helped each other survive the night."
"Ally," I repeated, letting the word linger.
I studied Sare more closely. She met my gaze without flinching. No fear. No friendliness either.
"What are you two doing out here?" I asked.
"We were heading south," Trace said. "Trying to find shelter. There's nothing—just a cliffside."
I considered that for a moment, then shook my head. "Northwest is better."
Both of them looked at me.
"We'll head that way," Trace continued. "You can come with us if you want."
I hesitated—just a fraction—then nodded. "Okay."
My eyes never left Sare.
She was the girl everyone avoided back at the academy.
So why was Trace trusting her?
We walked for a while in silence.
Then Sare spoke.
"Are you alright, Asher?"
The question caught me off guard. I glanced at her, confused. "Yeah. I'm fine."
She didn't slow. "Then why are you hiding your injury?"
My stomach dropped.
"I'm not—"
She cut me off without raising her voice. "I can see it. You don't have to hide."
I stopped walking.
"You can… see it?" I asked carefully.
Sare reached up and adjusted the blindfold covering her eyes. "I'm blind," she said evenly. "That's why I wear this. But I see life force. Everything that lives leaves an outline. A weight."
Her head tilted toward me.
"And yours is fractured."
My throat went dry. "Yeah," I admitted after a moment. "I need to find civilization. Somewhere I can get help."
Before I could finish, Trace turned on me.
Her expression was tight—anger barely holding back something closer to fear. She didn't say a word. She just shoved me backward.
I hit the ground hard, pain exploding through my side as the breath tore from my lungs.
"Trace—"
She was already kneeling, pressing her hand firmly against my wound.
"What are you—"
"Quiet," she snapped. "I'm focusing."
Her voice was sharp. Bitter.
Then it happened.
A light bloomed beneath her palm—bright, sudden, and blinding. It flared like a newborn star, white-hot and impossible, forcing shadows to recoil from it. The forest around us dimmed in comparison, leaves and bark washed pale as the glow pulsed in slow, steady beats.
Warmth flooded into me, cutting through the pain in deliberate waves. Not healing everything. Not erasing the damage. But holding me together.
I stared at the light, stunned. "She's healing me," I breathed. "That's your ability?"
Trace didn't look up. "Yes."
The light slowly faded, shrinking back into her hand until the forest reclaimed its shadows. She pulled away, breathing harder now, like the effort had cost her something.
I pushed myself up, wincing—but steadier.
We started walking again.
After a moment, I muttered, "You didn't have to push me."
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "Next time," she said flatly, "don't be so stubborn. Or so cautious that you bleed out trying to hide it."
I didn't argue.
Hours later, we found a waterfall cutting through a wall of stone. Water thundered down into a shallow basin, and behind it—half-hidden by the curtain of white—was a cavern.
"We should hold up in there," I said, confidence forced but steady. "Night's coming. Monsters will be more active."
Trace nodded without hesitation. "Good idea. We can cover the entrance and hold out for a while before night fully sets in."
We slipped through the falling water and into the cavern. The roar dulled immediately, replaced by damp echoes and the steady drip of stone. For the first time since the Solstice, it felt like the forest couldn't see us.
Then my stomach growled.
Loud.
The sound bounced off the cavern walls, impossible to ignore.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I haven't eaten in two days. The only thing I killed, I couldn't carry."
Trace reached to her side and pulled out a small bag. "This is my Ancient," she said simply.
She opened it, and the space inside bent wrong as she reached in. When her hand came back out, she was holding a small piece of preserved meat.
"This should last us tonight," she said.
"That's all you have?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
She nodded. "Yeah. This forest is packed with beasts. Most of them are high-ranking. Finding food isn't easy."
I didn't argue.
The memory of the fight that had nearly killed me answered for her.
Sare knelt a short distance away, quietly stacking wood and coaxing a fire to life, giving us space.
My eyes drifted back to Trace.
"Your armor," I said. "It's strong. Still looks… vibrant. That silver glisten hasn't dulled at all."
"I got it during my first Vigil," she replied, adjusting one of the plated straps as the firelight caught across it.
I nodded. "Makes sense."
Her gaze shifted to my side. "You have a weapon already."
"Yeah," I said. "Just got it. Took it from a beast I killed."
She studied me for a moment longer than necessary. "It suits you."
I looked down toward where Midnight rested at my side, the firelight refusing to reflect off its blade.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Almost too perfect."
The fire crackled between us.
The waterfall roared outside.
And night crept closer, unseen but inevitable.