They turned east at midday, as Tessa had said. The landscape shifted gradually—less open salt flat, more broken terrain. There were gullies carved by ancient floods that had happened when Tharos still walked, and boulder fields made of fossilized organs, each stone the size of a house. Places where god blood had crystallized in veins through the rock, glowing faintly even in daylight.
Kael walked beside the lead wagon, letting his senses extend outward. The resonance here was different from the main routes—wilder, less disturbed by regular mining. He could hear layers of echo, palimpsests of non-human memory stacked like sedimentary rock.
And beneath it all, a pulse. Slow. Steady. Almost like a heartbeat, if hearts could beat once per minute and shake the ground with each contraction.
"You feel that?" Joren asked, falling into step beside him. The older man moved carefully, each breath deliberate. The corruption had spread visibly in the past few days—black veins now reaching past his jaw, creeping toward his eye. He'd stopped trying to hide it under bandages.
"The pulse?"
"Yeah. Started noticing it this morning. Thought I was imagining things." Joren coughed, wet and painful. "But you feel it too. So either we're both crazy or something's awake that shouldn't be."
"Maybe both."
"Comforting thought." Joren was quiet for a few steps. Then: "I need to tell you something. About the corruption."
Kael's stomach tightened. "Joren—"
"No, listen. It's spreading faster than it should. Usually god-corruption takes months to reach vital organs. I've had it for two years, and until a week ago it was contained. Painful, yeah, but manageable." He gestured at his face, his neck. "This? This is accelerated. Like something's feeding it."
"The resonance," Kael said, understanding dawning. "All the energy we've been stirring up—the distortion, the god-spawn, the storm. It's making the corruption grow faster."
"That's my theory." Joren's expression was carefully neutral, but Kael could see the fear beneath. "Which means the closer we get to the Spine, the worse it's going to get. By the time we arrive…" He didn't finish the sentence.
"Then we find a way to stop it. Slow it down, at least."
"Kael—"
"I'm serious. The Spine has the best medical facilities in the empire. God-engines that can manipulate resonance, physicians who understand corruption better than anyone. If we can get access to them—"
"We're fugitives, Kael. They're not going to give us access to anything except cells and interrogation chambers."
"Then we steal it. Bargain for it. I don't care." Kael stopped walking, turned to face Joren fully. "You followed me into this. Put a knife to an imperial officer's throat for a girl you'd never met. I'm not watching you die because we stirred up too much divine energy. We'll find a way."
Joren stared at him for a long moment. Then something in his expression softened—pride mixed with resignation, affection mixed with sorrow. "Who did you get your stubbornness from. Your farher?"
"So I've been told."
"It's going to get you killed someday."
"Maybe. But not today."
"Not today," Joren agreed. Then, lighter: "Besides, someone needs to keep you and the girl from doing anything too stupid. Might as well be me."
They resumed walking. Behind them, the wagons creaked and groaned, wheels finding purchase on increasingly rough terrain. The Sohm sisters were singing a working song, voices harmonizing in a way that almost rivaled Ilara's resonance. Almost.
"She's good for you," Joren said after a while. "The girl."
"Her name's Ilara."
"I know her name. And you know what I mean." Joren's grin was weak but genuine. "You're different around her. More… present. Like you remember you're allowed to be human."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it? I've known you for six months. In that time I've watched you treat yourself like a tool, a resource to be used up and thrown away. But with her, you care about surviving, about tomorrow." Joren clapped him on the shoulder. "That's worth something. Worth a lot, actually."
Before Kael could respond, a shout came from the rear of the caravan. "Riders! East flank!"
Tension rippled through the line instantly. Weapons appeared in hands with practiced speed. Tessa was already moving toward the disturbance, crossbow held ready.
Kael ran back along the wagon line, Joren following more slowly. They found Relle on eastern watch, pointing at dust plumes maybe two miles out. Three of them. Moving fast.
"Not imperial," Relle said. "Wrong formation. And those look like trade wagons, not military transports."
Tessa raised a binoculars to her eyes. "She's right. Those are prospector rigs. Probably coming from Ashmark." She lowered her hand, tension easing slightly. "Still, everyone stays alert. Prospectors can be friendly or hostile depending on the day."
They maintained defensive positions as the other caravan approached. As it got closer, details resolved: three heavy wagons loaded with mining equipment and sealed containers—probably aetherich, given the reinforced construction. Eight people visible, all armed but not aggressively so.
The lead wagon stopped about fifty yards out. A figure stood up in the driver's seat—a woman, tall and broad-shouldered, with skin darkened by years of sun exposure and hair gone prematurely white.
"Hail the caravan!" she called. "We're independent prospectors out of Ashmark. Friendly intentions. Permission to approach?"
Tessa stepped forward. "Permission granted. But keep hands where we can see them."
The woman climbed down and walked toward them alone—a gesture of trust. As she got closer, Kael could see she was older than he'd first thought, maybe sixty, with the kind of weathered face that spoke of a hard life lived on her own terms.
"Tessa Vrome?" the woman said, surprised recognition in her voice. "That you under all that trail dust?"
"Mara Chelm." Tessa's posture relaxed fractionally. "Been a while."
"Three years. You were running textile shipments back then." Mara's gaze swept the wagons, the people. "This is a different operation."
"Things change."
"Clearly." Mara's attention landed on Kael, then shifted past him to where Ilara had emerged from the supply wagon. Something flickered across her expression—recognition? Concern? It was gone too quickly to read. "You're heading east? Toward Ashmark?"
"That was the plan."
"Might want to reconsider." Mara pulled out a canteen, took a long drink, then offered it to Tessa. "Imperial garrison rolled in two days ago. Not a full complement, maybe twenty soldiers, but they're searching wagons and checking papers. They've been asking questions about god-touched individuals."
Kael's blood went cold.
"How specific were they?" Tessa asked, voice carefully neutral.
"Very. Two people, young, traveling together. One male with bone-reading abilities, one female voice resonant." Mara's eyes found Kael again, then Ilara. "They're offering a substantial reward. Ten thousand marks for information leading to capture. Twenty thousand for the individuals themselves, alive and undamaged."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush stone.
"That's a lot of money," Tessa said finally.
"It is." Mara's expression was unreadable. "Life-changing money for most people out here."
Kael's hand moved toward his knife, slowly enough not to draw attention but fast enough to be ready. Around the caravan, he could feel others doing the same. The tension was ratcheting up,.