What is happening to you, Wynessa?
The fire, animals, and dreams. Her eyes seemed to glow when she forgot anyone was watching. The way the Veilfire had flickered when she stood beneath. The burden would have crushed most, let alone her, yet she carried it with a quiet fortitude, possessing a grace for which there seemed no name. And I had absolutely no idea how to protect her from it.
I closed my eyes and the slow breath of the forest filled the silence again. Instead of the usual sound of wind, it was replaced with voices pressed between bark, as if it were waiting for a name.
Something ancient, possibly.
Andher. Right in the middle of it all.
I looked over at the small pouch tied to my belt. Inside, the frostbloom that she’d given me days ago remained pressed between folds of cloth. I hadn’t looked at it since. Now I opened it slowly, letting the folded petals catch the pale light. Even wilted, it was still beautiful. For a long moment, I stared at it, feeling the tightness in my chest ease, not gone, but quieter. I closed the pouch gently and patted it once,
Darkness descended, heavy and absolute, swallowing the sky without a single star.
We took shifts through the night. Gideon paced the edges of the grove like a caged beast. Alaric sat apart from the group, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on nothing, Bran at his side. Even Jasira had grown quiet, rubbing her thumb in circles over a worn pendant of her own, not magical, just a treasured gift her mother had given her.
And Wyn lay with her back to the group, curled beneath her cloak like a question that hadn’t yet found its words.
I wanted to say something. Just to her. To tell her again that she wasn’t alone in whatever was happening to her, that I, too, felt the shifting ground beneath my feet.
But the words stayed where they always did, buried beneath duty, beneath doubt. So, I stayed near. Not beside her, but within a heartbeat's reach, ready to respond should she stir.
I was close enough to hear when she cried out.
A fragile breath, barely audible, escaped her lips, but I was on my feet before she moved again. Her sleeping face was etched with a deep furrow in her brow, her limbs tense. Her lips moved as if she were whispering to an unseen entity.
Then: a full-body jolt, and a scream.
She bolted upright, gasping, hair clinging to her face, eyes wide with fire and fear.
I was at her side.
In the dark, her hands scrambled aimlessly for something. Her skin glowed faintly in the moonlight, with sweat and fear. Her eyes didn’t see me at first. They saw something else. Something far away.
“Wyn.” I kept my voice low. Gentle. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”
She blinked rapidly, then focused on me. “Erindor?” Her voice quavered, each word thin and unsteady.
“I’m here,” I said, crouching down closer to her. “You’re alright.”
“No,” she breathed, gripping her cloak like it might fly from her shoulders. “I saw…gods, I saw fire. A throne of flames. And a crown that was black and burning. It—it was on my head, Erindor.”
Her final wordsshatteredinto a raw sound in her throat. Shewrenchedher head, as though trying toerasewhat she’d just recalled. One hand clamped onto her temple. My hand hovered over her shoulder, unsure, then settled gently. She didn’t flinch. “You were dreaming.”
“It didn’t feel like a dream.” Her voice was small now.
We sat in silence, while the others were still sleeping. I brushed a strand of damp hair from her face, letting my knuckleslinger a fraction of a second longer than I should have. “You don’t have to face any of this alone, you know.”
Her eyes met mine, wide with fear. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she whispered. “The fire, the mark, the animals. And now this? A crown made of ash? What does it mean?”
I hesitated before answering her. Not because I didn’t believe her, but because I had no answers. Only worry and a gut-wound ache that deepened every time she looked scared.
“I don’t know,” I said at last. “But I believe you.”
A moment passed between us, quiet and threaded with something unspoken. I let it settle, didn’t run from it. Didn’t lean into it either. I was too good at walls for that.
Wyn’s breathing slowed. Her shouldersslumped, losing their stiff posture.
“Will you stay here for a while?” she asked. “Until I fall asleep again.”
