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With each step closer, the air changed.
It grew warmer, humming faintly, as though the light itself breathed. The scent of moss and earth gave way to something sweeter, like wildflowers after rain, crushed herbs, and a hint of summer carried on a breeze that didnae touch the surrounding trees. The stone seemed to pulse, the glow brightening in slow, deliberate waves.
Then the feeling came.
Not a voice. Not words.
A knowing.
The light wrapped around him, slipping beneath his skin, tugging at something deep in his chest. His breath caught as understanding bloomed unbidden in his mind. The stone was waiting. Inviting.
Speak yer desire. Tell me yer wish.
The thought settled fully formed, heavy with promise. His deepest longing rose without permission, unspoken, undeniable. A life not spent alone. A heart no longer guarded. A future that held more than duty and quiet nights alone.
Camden took another step forward. Then stopped.
Cold fear cut through the warmth.
Wishes came with prices. He knew that as surely as he knew the forest paths and the healing properties of every herb he gathered. Magic never gave without taking, and whatever force lived within that stone was far older and far more powerful than any human was.
“No,” he breathed, the word steady despite the ache in his chest.
The pull intensified, urgent now, almost pleading. The light flared brighter, as if angered by his refusal.
Camden backed away, one careful step at a time, not breaking eye contact with the stone. The moment he turned, the warmth faded, the hum dissolving into the cool night air. By the time he reached his horse, the forest sounds slowly returned, cautious and tentative.
He mounted quickly, unease prickling his skin.
Without looking back, Camden urged the horse into motion, the path unfolding before them as though nothing had happened at all. Behind him, the glow dimmed, swallowed once more by shadow and moonlight.
But the sensation lingered. The certainty that the stone was not finished with him.
*
“Camden.”
“Camden.”
Brae’s voice dragged through Camden’s sleep like a stone across glass, jarring and unwelcome. He woke slowly, the weight of too few hours clinging to his limbs. Bright sunlight broke through the window, far too bold for the state of his head, forcing his eyes into a squint. Late morning already.
He groaned inwardly. When he’d headed home earlier, the sun had only just begun cresting the horizon. Four hours of sleep, if that. Not enough to soothe aching muscles or the dull throb behind his eyes.
“What is it?” The words came rough and sharp, irritation curling through them before he could temper them.
“I tried to dissuade the woman and talk her into returning later, but she insisted ye would wish to see her now.” Brae glanced over his shoulder, voice lowered as if secrecy might soften the intrusion. “I didnae notice any injuries.”
Of course there were none. Camden exhaled slowly through his nose, temper simmering beneath the fog of fatigue. Someone’s curiosity or imagined ailment had dragged him from the only rest he’d managed in the last few days.
Deciding the sooner he saw her, the sooner he could crawl back into bed, Camden pushed himself upright. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet. He dressed as quickly as possible, every motion sluggish, and splashed water onto his face from the basin. The chill shocked his skin, but did little to clear the fog in his head.
His hair fell forward, damp strands clinging to his brow as he leaned over the bowl. He let it be. Combing it felt like an effort beyond reason.
Sleep clung stubbornly to the edges of his awareness as he crossed into the apothecary. The familiar scents of herbs and dried roots hung in the air, grounding him, until he saw who the woman was, then every thought vanished.
The drowsiness evaporated in an instant.
Eara stood before the shelves, sunlight catching in the glass jars that surrounded her, their contents glowing in muted greens and golds. Unaware of his presence, she lifted one and removed the lid, bringing it to her nose with quiet curiosity.
