There, they were the things that didn’t belong.
Here, they are the most unnatural.
And below, they could pass within the hellscape unnoticed.
Now, whether by coincidence or design, their fire, strength, speed, and other abilities may just be the most valuable assets we have against the demons who have risen. Both are indestructible. They can go days without food or water and show no signs of fatigue. Where Cali and I must stop for rest, they could simply press on.
I nearly tell Kahill to do just that—go ahead, leave us behind, reach whatever this is before it’s too late. I open my mouth, and the thought settles heavy on my tongue.
Wrong.
The sky splits open.
A bolt of lightning tears through the darkness and strikes a lone massive tree ahead of us. Dead branches catch like tinder, and within seconds, they’re engulfed with flames devouring them from the inside out.
Cali rears beneath me, a startled cry breaking from her throat. Fiero answers with a low, rumbling chuff that leans closer to a snarl, heat rolling off her as smoke curls from her nostrils.
I still.
The fire has nowhere to spread. It’s—contained, deliberate—a single large tree burning bright in the center of our path.
Kahill huffs under his breath, gaze fixed on the blaze. “Subtle,” he mutters. Then, after a beat, quieter, he asks, “His doing?”
Somewhat in awe, I answer, “I think so… yes.”
We stare at the tree for a long while.
“A warning?”
Yes, not to rush ahead.
Not to divide.
A sign, perhaps of what happens when something stands alone.
“Looks that way.”
When we move forward, we do so as one—carrying with us the faint, fragile hope that God is watching. And though His hands may be tied, He will aid us in whatever ways He can manage.
I just hope time proves forgiving… and doesn’t make a liar out of me.
We leave the burning tree behind us, its light fading at our backs as the night swallows it whole.
Kahill is the first to break the silence. “Any luck locating Orán?”
“Not yet.” The answer comes easily, even if it sits like an anvil on my chest. “I’ve searched, but I can’t find his spiritual or emotional signature anywhere. For whatever reason, he’s muted himself,” I add, more to fill the space than anything else. “Something he'd better have a damn good reason for.”
If not for the quiet certainty that he still lives, I would be incapable of thinking with any amount of clarity.
I change the subject to distract myself. “Tíarnach’s on his way. That, at least, is something we can place trust in.”
Kahill hums as if in deep thought. He scans the sky for a moment. “Yes, but a continent and an ocean stand between us… and you and I both know he won’t risk the jump. Based on how strong the scent is that we’re following, we’re close.”
The words settle heavily between us.
And then—nothing.
Silence takes hold again, thicker this time. Weighted.
