Page 55 of Aryn

“We’ll have to reveal ourselves eventually,” I point out. “It’s not like we can reach Maelithryne or the capital without exposing who they are.”

Cameron huffs. “Right. Sounds like a wonderful conversation. ‘Excuse me, do you remember that madman of a horned leader from a century ago? The one that ripped holes in your world and cursed this place with eternal winter? Well, motherfucking surprise—here we are, products of his little flirt with the apocalypse.’”

“While I would phrase it a touch more diplomatically than that,” I say, fighting my grin, “we have to be honest about our intentions at some point. It just hadn’t occurred to me that we might need to do so before we reach the Vaelor.”

Ronan rolls his lips between his teeth, glancing in the direction we’re headed. “Our kind aren’t known for being the most reasonable.”

I shake my head. “You’re comparing an entire population to the soldiers you’ve been around for so long. Not everyone is so bloodthirsty.”

“Are they all arrogant?” Cameron asks. “I swear to the gods, every monster I meet has extremely high opinions of themselves.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Not all of them, though some are quite… fond of themselves.” Ronan flips his hair dramatically and glares. “We have plenty of time to consider our plan, but we need to get moving again. Daylight will burn out before we know it, and we need to make up for the time we lost yesterday.”

Everyone reluctantly agrees, tossing ideas back and forth as we shoulder our packs and start walking. I try to focus on the conversation, but my mind keeps drifting back to the Aidresh rider’s words about home. Until now, I had desperately hoped Maelithryne might still stand, but I hadn’t dared truly believe it. Now my imagination runs wild, painting pictures of a homecoming filled with familiar faces—embraces, connections, family, and the chance to reclaim what was stolen from me so long ago.

For a moment, I let myself hope, and that is a dangerous thing.

Aryn

Late evening darkens around us, and as we search for a place to camp, the road passes by a farm. Fields surround the single-story home, with a few kravache grazing behind fences. They’re enormous creatures, similar in shape to elk but heavier with muscle and meat. While they can be used for slaughter, they are more commonly raised for dairy and the coarse wool from their thick coats.

Crops are sparse, but through the gathering darkness I can make out rows of the cabbage-like lyrn in full bloom and tall stalks of rhavel beans winding up wooden trellises. Raised beds and large barrel planters dot the grounds in haphazard patterns, though I can’t tell what else they might grow from here.

I turn to the others, my gaze lingering on Cato in the moonlight. “We need to stay silent through here. I know we were hoping to stop soon, but we can’t risk making camp this close to others.”

Cato watches me with a frown. “Are you okay to keep going?”

“We don’t really have a choice,” I answer with a strained smile. “But yes, I’ll be fine until we can put this place behind us.”

Ronan gestures toward the forest opposite the farm, a few hundred feet back from the road. “Let’s move off the path. We don’t want to be spotted under the moons.”

We fall back into our usual formation. Ronan leads with Lillith close behind him, while Cato and I bring up the rear. We’ve barely gotten off the road when a howl pierces the darkness, far closer than I’m comfortable with. Cato shifts nearer, his shoulder brushing mine.

“Scared of the doggy?” I whisper as I scout our surroundings.

“Nah, I’m not scared,” he whispers back. “Just making sure nothing attacks you again.”

“So noble of you.”

He flashes me a grin, some of his usual bravado returning in the dark. “Just another trait they’ll have to add to the stories of my bravery.”

“Unreal,” I mutter with a huff.

Another howl cuts through the night, much closer this time. “Ronan,” I hiss.

As if reading my mind, he breaks into a run, ordering the others to keep up as we rush to put distance between ourselves and the sound. Wild, panting breaths gain on us far too quickly. We’re not even halfway to the trees when two canine-like zarrok sprint past and wheel around to face us, fangs bared and fur bristling.

Ronan stops and flings his arms out, trying to shield the rest of the group behind him. More footsteps approach from behind, and Cato and I spin as one, weapons raised.

“Easy now,” a deep voice rumbles as a Khileon strides into view with two others following close behind. He blows out a shrill whistle, and the beasts come to his side before dropping onto their haunches. Low growls continue to vibrate from their throats, lips still peeled back in warning, but they obey the command.

Khileon are known for their size and strength, and the one in front is the largest I’ve ever seen. He’s as wide as Elas, though not quite as tall, and his pale green skin takes on a ruddy brown hue under the red light of the moons.

“What do we have here?” he demands, fingers flexing around the massive battle axe slung over his shoulder. “Trespassers? Thieves?”

I force calm into my voice and take a careful step forward, desperate to keep their attention fixed on me rather than on the humans. “Certainly not thieves, and if we are trespassing, it wasn’t intentional. We are not familiar with this area.”

His eyes dart between us, and I can only pray the humans have remembered to keep their faces hidden. I half-turn and see Cato staring up at the Khileon with his jaw clenched tight. The godsdamned brazenness is going to get him killed.