The path to the capital was not paved in stone, but in silence.
Birds didn't sing. Trees leaned as if whispering secrets. Even the wind was cautious.
Elric rode ahead, hood drawn low. His sigil throbbed under the glove—a quiet drumbeat in his bones. Beside him, Lira flipped a dagger between her fingers, watching shadows for movent, but more for distraction than danger.
"You know," she muttered, "you could've refused the letter."
"I could've also refused being born. Didn't have much choice there either."
"Philosophy doesn't suit you," she grumbled.
A voice behind them joined in. "That's because his face already looks too tired for thinking."
Keera reined in her horse, grinning. "Figured you'd sneak off without us."
"You weren't invited," Elric said.
"I don't like invitations. They co with expectations."
Sylas followed in silence, map tucked into his coat, eyes scanning every crooked root. Veyra marched behind him, cloak fluttering like a banner soaked in dusk.
It wasn't just a trip.
It was a march to sothing darker.
---
That night, they camped by a dying stream. No fire. Just breath and moonlight.
Keera plucked a stringless lute, miming the chords.
Lira stared at her bandages. "Anyone else wondering if this is suicide?"
"It's only suicide," Sylas said, "if we die."
"Touching," Lira muttered. "Put that on my grave."
Veyra finally spoke. "Sothing's following us."
No one moved.
"What kind?" Elric asked.
"The kind that doesn't breathe. But rembers how to."
---
They found it the next morning.
A child. Pale. Eyes gone silver. Standing in the middle of the road.
"Elric," Lira warned. "That's not a child."
"I know."
He dismounted, walking forward.
The child turned its head—too slowly—and smiled with three rows of teeth.
It whispered in a hundred voices. "You co with mory. The Root rembers too."
"Then let it choke on mine," Elric replied.
He raised his palm.
The sigil ignited, and the earth split with a roar. Vines shot out, not from the ground, but from within the child's skin, trying to latch onto Elric.
But Veyra was faster. Her blade sang once—then twice.
Silence returned.
The child fell, dissolving into ash that slled like roses and rot.
---
Later, as the wind picked up, Keera approached Elric.
"What if the king doesn't just know about the Pact?" she asked. "What if he's part of it?"
Elric didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The sigil on his wrist flared again.
But this ti, it wasn't pain.
It was recognition.
---
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