The journey away from the ruins was silent at first. Asterion was watching the land, noting the subtle changes—a wilted tree here, a stretch of grass turned blackened and brittle. It was quiet, too quiet, and that unnatural hush seeped into my thoughts. In the distance, a sluggish wind skimmed over the tops of dead shrubs, rustling through leaves that were more gray than green. The sun, if it could be called that, lay hidden behind a gauze of mist, dimming the light to a weak, colorless haze.
I felt a heaviness in the air, a sense that the very fabric of reality was growing thin around us. The Tapestry was unraveling in ways that went beyond the Ashen Expanse. That alone made the urgency of our next steps clear.
Kael’Thorne.
I let the name settle in my mind, rolling it around like a piece of jagged glass. Asterion had mentioned a leyline that ran beneath it—a powerful one, enough to restore some of my depleted strength. Enough, perhaps, to level the field against whatever cosmic forces insisted on bending me to their will. But the rumors of exiles and cultists clinging to that power like parasites gave me no illusions about an easy path.
My boots crunched through layers of dead grass, and I caught the faint odor of something acrid beneath the breeze—a smell halfway between rotting vegetation and ozone, as though magic had scorched the earth here. The Tapestry’s distortion was evident, creeping across the land in subtle ways. A twisted branch, leaves that oozed blackish sap, a scattered pile of feathers that looked as though they belonged to no known bird. In another time, I might have paused to study them. Now, I just took note and moved on.
Asterion led the way, though I never lagged more than a step behind. I refused to show any sign of weakness, even as my limbs protested the constant movement. My body, hammered by the forced transition from that crumbling ruin, still managed to hold together with a stubborn resilience. Perhaps it was nothing more than my refusal to yield. Perhaps it was the faint scraps of arcane fortitude I had left. Either way, I kept pace, eyes scanning for threats that might emerge from the gloom.
"Tell me about it," I said at last, my voice low but carrying easily in the hush. "The conduit. The city."
Asterion didn’t look at me as he spoke. His eyes were locked on the next ridge, the next patch of ground that might harbor illusions or twisted beasts. "It’s not a city anymore. Whatever it was before, it’s ruins now. A leyline runs beneath it—a powerful one. That’s why it still stands." A pause, and he exhaled softly. "That’s why they’re there."
I took in a slow breath, tasting the tang of metal on the back of my tongue. "They?"
He hesitated. "The Cult of the Unraveled. Or something like them. No one’s sure. Exiles, remnants, madmen clinging to whatever they think they can take from the leyline. They don’t take kindly to visitors."
Good. I didn’t take kindly to obstacles.
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As if sensing the cold finality in my thoughts, Asterion turned his gaze to me, a subtle flick of his eyes. "You know what that means," he said. "They’ll fight. Possibly on sight."
"Then they’ll die," I responded, my voice devoid of warmth. It wasn’t a boast, merely a statement. If they stood in my way, I would do what needed to be done.
We continued on, stepping over a fallen trunk that had rotted from the inside out. The bark crumbled beneath my boot, releasing a puff of gray spores that dissipated in the drizzle. Asterion commented on it, muttering something about necrotic fungi that had been creeping through the forests since the rift first emerged at House Valemore. I filed the information away, caring only insofar as it might signal another manifestation of the Tapestry’s unraveling.
My mind churned with calculations, probabilities stacking one atop the other. We needed to reach the leyline. I needed to regain my strength. Belisarius’s presence was growing stronger with every breath I took, every step we made across this blighted land. If we hesitated, we would lose the one advantage we still had: time. Time to prepare, time to gather the power required to end this once and for all.
I felt the memory of his half-formed face flicker through my thoughts—a shape caught in the swirling illusions, back in the Ashen Expanse, or perhaps in the rift at Valemore. Either way, it haunted me, reminding me of the cost of failure. If he returned with the Tapestry’s full backing, the entire kingdom might bow to the inevitable rewriting of destiny.
I met Asterion’s gaze, my own resolve settling like steel. "We’re going to Kael’Thorne."
He exhaled through his nose, nodding once, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Figured."
He said nothing else. He didn’t need to. The tension was thick, the hush of this withered landscape reinforcing our mutual understanding: we had no choice.
Ahead, the mist thickened, curling over the road like waiting hands. The air had the weight of expectation, as if the world itself anticipated the violence yet to come. Perhaps illusions prowled through that fog. Perhaps Council patrols or Gravekeepers lurked. Possibly worse—scattered beasts twisted by the Tapestry’s corruption, or even fragments of Belisarius’s echo, the same kind of entity we’d encountered in the ruin.
Something was watching.
Something was waiting.
I squared my shoulders, forcing my body upright despite the sluggish protest of my exhausted muscles. My mind drifted to the short blade at my hip, the well-worn steel that had tasted the essence of illusions in that crumbling ruin. My sword was sheathed across my back, heavier but lethal in a direct confrontation. If we were ambushed, my reflexes would have to suffice.
And yet, the thought didn’t worry me. This was familiar ground—a predator’s stance, the readiness for conflict, the constant vigilance. My body might be strained, my mana near-empty, but my resolve remained intact. If some threat emerged from the mist, I would cut it down, one way or another.
Asterion touched a short charm hanging from his belt, presumably some minor talisman for detecting illusions or distortions. The faint glow told me the device was working, though the swirling fog made it difficult to see how effectively. He glanced my way, then gestured for us to skirt a patch of land where the grass had turned blackish-gray, forming a large, unnatural circle. Experience more content on freewebnovel
We walked in silence for a stretch, the only sound our footsteps crunching on brittle leaves and the distant drip of moisture from twisted tree branches. Every so often, the wind shifted, carrying with it the faintest echo—like distant wails, or perhaps just my mind conjuring memories of the horrors behind us. I refused to let illusions nest in my head.
At length, Asterion spoke, his voice pitched low. "You know it’s only going to get worse."
"It always does."
He nodded, as if expecting no less from me. "I heard talk in one of the villages on the outskirts. The Council’s begun cracking down on rogue mages, anyone dabbling in magic they deem ’dangerous.’ Even small illusions can get you arrested now, or worse."
I snorted softly. "That’s Lisanor for you. She always liked a firm hand."
Asterion eyed me sidelong. "You speak as if you know her."
I shrugged. "We crossed paths." Understatement. Chancellor Lisanor had once been among those who recognized my talents, who believed I could be shaped into a loyal pillar of the Tower. She was disappointed, I imagined, that I refused to be molded.
He didn’t push further, which I silently appreciated. We had more pressing matters than recounting old grudges.
We passed the remains of a campsite—a ring of stones marking where a fire once burned, the ashes scattered. Several footprints trailed away into the fog, but the pattern suggested a hurried departure, perhaps forced. I crouched, running a hand over the prints. They were a few days old, maybe less. Human or near-human, no sign of monstrous distortion. Possibly refugees or travelers who realized the land was turning hostile.
"Kael’Thorne’s not far beyond this region," Asterion remarked. "But we’d do well to avoid the main roads. Council patrols run them, searching for anomalies. Or so the rumors go."
I straightened, brushing the dust from my palms. "Let them patrol. They’d be a nuisance, not a true threat."