His heart kicked.
Not around her wrist, not tied to her satchel, not forgotten by her pillow. She’d chosen it. Chosen to weave it into her hair—intoherself.
Something stirred in the chaos beneath his soul. Not rage. Not hunger. Not the madness he’d long since learned to shoulder like a sin. This wasdifferent—quieter, sharper. It swept aside war and bloodlust in favor of a single sliver of starlight. Something raw and ruinous.
Astenos stilled and turned.
Their eyes met again.
The beast sensed the shift.
Auryn, too, felt it.
She stroked Astenos’ mane one last time then padded over to Resh. “I haven’t tamed him,” she said. Her eyes dropped to his chest, to the runes beneath his armor. “War isn’t something one can tame.”
Resh didn’t trust his voice enough to reply. But she saw it—the second shift, the one he hadn’t meant to show. Her smile softened as though sheknewand understood.
5
Tokens By Firelight
Auryn could hardly believe it when Resh pulled her aside and explained she’d somehow sedated all the horses, blinking at him in genuine confusion when he asked her to undo it.
“I didn’t mean to put them to sleep,” she said. “They were tired. So, I sang.”
He bit back a groan. Of course she had. When he pressed if she couldunsingthe lullaby, she only tilted her head and shrugged.
“How do you take back a song?”
He had no good answer to that. And so, they departed hours later—well past the point of proper expedition etiquette. It was a poor start by any measure. The sun had already begun its descent, and every delay gnawed at their chances of outrunning the Cycle of Dark.
The Reskala took to the road in tight formation, wagons creaking under the weight of rations and reinforced steel. The draft horses—now very much awake, if a bit groggy—pulled steadily through the patchy terrain of the outer Moores. Warhorses flanked the convoy, manes whipping in the wind, armor plates gleaming beneath a gray and brooding sky.
The Stone and Vanguard Wings surrounded the Arcane and Anvil at all times, keeping a barrier of bodies between the heart of the company and any threat that might encroach. Scouts rode ahead in a fan, searching for holes, pits, or muddy terrain that could stall the wagons.
Some menders were skilled and strong enough to carry wooden trays strapped to their chests part of the day, working on chopping herbs, grinding powders, and compounding oils for salves to save time for rest during the night.
Auryn walked beside Resh at the head of the company without complaint, barefoot still, her silver hair bound loosely at her nape. When he offered her a cloak, she shook her head. When he offered his arm, she didn’t take it but stayed close, her shoulder brushing his forearm now and then, a quiet anchor in the shifting light.
They didn’t speak of the glade. Of the flowers that grew out of season. Of Astenos made docile. The memory lingered in Resh’s chest like an ember—not hot enough to burn, but impossible to forget. Even Zarrek, ever skeptical, walked in silence for much of the day, eyes shadowed, hands flexing every so often like he needed to ground himself in the weight of his own skin.
By twilight, the wind picked up. Cold and strange. The kind that slithered under armor and made fire a necessity, not a comfort. A bad omen, to be certain. Cold shouldn’t have been setting in so soon after Fire, even in Duskfall.
He moved the company as far as it could safely go, not stopping for a rest. Not until the sun dipped low and the scent of rain kissed the wind. Only then did Resh signal for them to halt, and a roaring bonfire was kindled to gather the men beneath the stars.
When camp was finally struck, the men stayed quiet. Subdued. Edges frayed by the dropping temperatures. It was the kind of night where most wanted to keep their distance, chew their dried rations, and speak only if spoken to.
The campfire cracked and spat embers into the dusk, sending them swirling up into the velvet sky where the first stars had begun to emerge.They were not bright, not yet. Just hints of starlight, barely peeking through the remnants of daylight clinging to the horizon.
Auryn sat down beside him without hesitation, folding herself cross-legged like she’d done it a hundred times before. As though the ground belonged to her. As thoughhedid. Like the space near his body was hers by right.
Resh didn’t look directly. She was too close. Too unbothered. Instead, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She reached for one of the skewers resting near the coals, picked the meat off the stick with her fingertips, and gave a little hum of approval as she chewed.
Her hair, tangled from the wind, caught the light like woven smoke.
“Do you need anything?” he asked after a moment. “Blanket, water…shoes?”
She shook her head and brought her fingers to her lips. One by one, she licked them clean.
