“I’ll make it,” I said, though it sounded more like a challenge to myself than an actual statement of confidence.
Leo and Thorne exchanged glances, both of them unwilling to let me off that easy.
“You’re not making it anywhere if you don’t take care of that wound,” Leo said, the concern evident in his voice.
I exhaled slowly, the words coming out in a frustrated rush. “It’s not that bad, Leo. I’ve had worse.”
“Elira,” Thorne said, his tone steady but firm as he turned his gaze to her. "Get his gear. We’re not leaving until we’re sure Slade is stable."
Elira hesitated for a split second, but then she nodded, moving swiftly toward the small pile of supplies near the door. She grabbed my gear with efficient hands, her gaze flickering to me once more before she ducked out of the room.
I wanted to argue, to tell them that we didn’t have time to waste. But the dull throb in my side reminded me that, for once, I didn’t have all the answers.
Phoenix burst through the door, his breath ragged and his eyes wild. His boots scuffed against the floor as he came to a stop, his hands clenched at his sides. Everyone in the room shifted, immediately on alert.
Thorne was the first to speak, his voice low and sharp. "What did you find?"
Phoenix didn’t waste any time. He dropped a handful of blood-soaked flyers onto the floor, the red stain stark against the parchment. The symbol was unmistakable—a crude insignia of the resistance. “It’s them," he growled, his voice heavy with urgency. "Vael's men. The resistance."
Thorne's eyes narrowed as he bent down to pick one up. He scanned the flyer, his jaw tightening at the sight. "This is bad," he muttered under his breath, then looked back at Phoenix. "Tell me everything."
Phoenix's gaze flickered briefly to the floor before meeting Thorne’s, the weight of his words pressing down on him. "I followed them. They’re dragging people—civilians—out of the city on to transports, and I couldn’t get close enough to hear everything they were saying, but… I know they were talking about setting up something. A bigger operation."
Leo, who had been silent up until now, leaned forward, his voice low but edged with tension. "And the captives? Were they...?"
Phoenix clenched his fists, eyes burning with anger. "They were alive. But they’re taking them somewhere. I couldn’t catch them in time before they disappeared into the alleys. But I know where they're headed."
“Where?” Thorne asked.
“Darkmoor Forest.”
“Fuck.” Thorne cursed.
“What’s the problem?” Elira asked, folding her arms as she eyed the map over Thorne’s shoulder.
Thorne didn’t look up. His jaw tightened. “Darkmoor Forest sits at the base of the Widow’s Spine.”
Leo let out a low whistle. “That place is cursed.”
Phoenix nodded grimly. “It’s practically no man’s land. Bandits, twisted creatures, things that aren’t supposed to exist. Locals say even the trees whisper in there. Not many who go in ever come back out.”
“Great,” Elira muttered. “And that’s where they’re keeping the prisoners?”
“That’s what I heard,” Phoenix said, voice clipped. “One of them mentioned a stronghold past the forest—deep in the foothills. Said they’d be safe there, whatever that means.”
Elira’s eyes narrowed. “Safe for them. Not for us.”
Thorne finally turned to her. “It’s a death trap, Elira. They’ve likely carved out a fortress in one of the abandoned keeps beyond the ridge. If we go charging in without a plan, we won’t make it halfway through the trees before we are attacked.”
“So, we’re just going to let them take people?” Her voice sharpened, raw with frustration. “Let them vanish into the dark while we sit on our hands?”
Thorne met her gaze without flinching. “No. But we can’t save them if we’re dead.”
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant howl of wind against the stone walls.
I shifted on the spot and let out an involuntary moan of pain.
Thorne’s jaw was tight. “You can’t keep going,” he said, looking at me. “Leo, take him and Elira back to Blackspire. Phoenix and I will track the ones they took.”
