"Let them patrol. They’d be a nuisance, not a true threat."
He raised an eyebrow, though said nothing. Perhaps he found my confidence arrogant. But I wasn’t underestimating them. I knew the Council’s enforcers well enough. They were disciplined, yes, but right now my priority was regaining my power. Without that, a protracted battle with well-armed soldiers might be riskier than I cared to admit.
Still, I wouldn’t let fear shape my decisions. Kael’Thorne was our goal, and no one would stand in my way.
Asterion pointed to a break in the tree line. "We can cut through there, follow the creek for a while. It’ll bring us out beyond the bigger roads."
"Lead."
He moved with a hunter’s grace, and I kept close, scanning the undergrowth for signs of illusions. My mind flickered briefly to Lorik, that meddling scholar left behind at House Valemore, presumably juggling the Council’s demands and the Gravekeepers’ fervor. If the Tapestry was continuing to degrade, I doubted he could hold them together for long. The entire kingdom might unravel at the seams, one friction point at a time, while I traversed the outskirts chasing raw mana. Part of me almost felt a pang of regret for not turning my steps back to Valemore, but the rational core of my mind insisted: I was useless at half-strength.
We trudged on for another mile or so, the creek leading us through a narrow ravine shrouded in dripping moss and more of that cursed mist. The water itself was blackish-brown, swirling with silt or possibly corrupted magic. I had no intention of testing it. Overhead, the sky was a dull gray, the sun a bleary eye offering no real light, no warmth. I suppressed a scowl. The entire realm felt half-dead, waiting for a final blow to tip it into ruin.
"So why Kael’Thorne?" Asterion asked, after a long stretch of silence.
I considered how much to reveal. My reasons were straightforward enough: to restore the power I’d lost. But Asterion might glean more from my tone than I intended. Carefully, I chose my words. "Because Belisarius won’t wait. He’s coming. If we don’t meet him with strength—" I let the threat hang unspoken.
Asterion pressed his lips together. "You speak of him like a force of nature. But he’s just a man, right?"
I let a short, humorless laugh slip. "A man the Tapestry deems vital, given a second chance at life it shouldn’t be able to grant. We’re past illusions of mortality. If he returns at full strength, with cosmic rewriting at his back, tell me, would you still call him just a man?"
He had no answer, just a pensive quiet. Good. This wasn’t about stirring fear; it was about facing facts. Belisarius was on the threshold of existence, and the Tapestry was fraying at the edges to accommodate him. The glimpses I had seen in that swirling half-world, the illusions that took on his echo, suggested we had precious little time before he tore his way fully into the realm.
The creek gurgled softly at our side, no comforting lullaby but a reminder of how nature itself was tainted. Strange lumps of fungus clung to rocks, shining with an odd sheen that made me uneasy. Asterion avoided them deftly. I followed his lead, unwilling to risk any contact with flora mutated by the Tapestry’s bleed.
Eventually, we emerged from the ravine into a bleak clearing. The mist receded slightly, revealing more twisted silhouettes of trees. Once, I imagined, these might have been lush forests. Now, the branches were blackened, the bark peeling in thick sheets that revealed a pale, sickly wood beneath. A pungent smell, almost like burned leather, wafted from them.
We paused at the clearing’s edge, scanning the horizon. The land rolled gently here, leading toward a distant line of hills. Somewhere beyond those hills lay Kael’Thorne—the key to everything I needed.
Asterion touched a charm at his belt again, muttering a short phrase. The charm glowed faintly, but no illusions sprang up from the ground. He exhaled. "Seems clear."
My gaze lingered on a distant shape, maybe a ruin of a farmhouse or a broken tower, half-swallowed by overgrown weeds. I forced my mind to remain on the present. Kael’Thorne. That was our target, not every battered structure along the way.
"How far?" I asked.
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He frowned, calculating. "A few days, if we keep to the lesser roads. Longer if we run into trouble."
"Then we’d better not run into trouble," I said coldly.
He cast me a sidelong look. "You talk like that’s a choice."
I said nothing, letting my expression speak volumes. In my experience, avoiding trouble was never a matter of luck; it was a matter of how lethal you made yourself appear. If patrols or illusions decided to cross our path, I’d ensure the confrontation ended swiftly.
The road we followed stretched like a scar across the land, the dirt hardened into a cracked mosaic underfoot. Once, it might have been a thoroughfare connecting thriving towns. Now it was abandoned, the only signs of life the occasional ragged footprints leading off into the wilderness or deep wagon ruts that vanished abruptly. No carriages traveled here anymore.
My mind wandered briefly to the concept of a "Cult of the Unraveled," as Asterion had called them. People who believed that rewriting the Tapestry—letting it collapse or warp—might lead to some twisted salvation. They would cling to the leyline at Kael’Thorne like scavengers on a dying beast, harnessing whatever scraps of power they could, heedless of the consequences.
They’d learn otherwise, soon enough.
We walked in silence again. I listened to my own breathing, each inhale accompanied by the faint pang of fatigue in my chest. Despite my battered state, I felt no inclination to slow down. The battered remains of my mana reserves itched, longing for a chance to feed on a stable source of arcane energy. My body, hammered but not broken, marched onward. My mind remained sharp, turning over contingency plans: infiltration if the Cult was strong, direct assault if they were disorganized, or subterfuge if an advantage presented itself.
Asterion broke the silence. "I heard the Council’s begun patrolling even out here," he said, gesturing at the empty stretch of road. "They’re pushing deeper every day, supposedly to ’keep illusions in check.’ In reality, I think they’re just trying to reassert authority."
"They always did fear losing control."
His mouth twitched in a humorless half-smile. "Then again, if illusions are spawning in random pockets, maybe they have a point. I passed a hamlet two days back—every inhabitant was gone, or turned to shadow, or… something. I found no bodies, just echoes, like watchers behind windows that didn’t exist."
I felt a faint stir of unease in my chest, though I kept my expression cold. "The Tapestry’s fraying. People vanish. Places twist. None of this should surprise you."
"Surprise, no." He paused, eyes scanning the horizon. "But it’s still horrifying."
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I didn’t disagree. Once, maybe, I would have felt a flicker of pity for those consumed by illusions or lost in the tears. Now, I had honed my detachment into an art. Mercy was a currency I spent sparingly. "They chose their fate by ignoring the signs," I said softly, more to myself than to Asterion. Or maybe it was a justification. I couldn’t tell anymore.
We skirted another stand of trees, blackened trunks rising like fingers of a dead giant. A dull gloom hung over us, and overhead, the sky appeared bruised, shot through with faint streaks of pinkish light that had no right to exist at this hour. Something about the color set my teeth on edge. A warning sign—the realm fracturing further, day and night merging in the sky.
I inhaled. The air tasted like ashes.
Soon, Kael’Thorne’s influence might overshadow everything. The rumors said it was a city of spires and catacombs, once a place of grand learning centuries ago. Now, twisted by isolation, haunted by a leyline that pulsed with raw magic. My mind conjured images of labyrinthine streets, monstrous illusions prowling the alleyways, exiles and cultists worshipping the energy that coiled beneath the stones.
Asterion slowed, gaze flicking between two branching paths ahead. One road curved west, the other east. The difference was subtle, just a shift in direction across the barren plain. I scanned them both, searching for illusions or watchers. "Which way?" I asked.
He closed his eyes briefly, recalling some mental map. "East. Fewer travelers. The Council patrols a main route northwest. If we go west, we risk crossing them."
I nodded, pivoting east. "So be it."