For another few minutes, we walked in silence. The hush of this land pressed in on my thoughts, reminding me of the Ashen Expanse’s dryness, the swirl of illusions that nearly consumed me. Yet here, it felt more like a slow rot, creeping from the ground upward, draining color from everything it touched. I remembered how the Tapestry had flared in those final moments when I tore open a path back. Had I accelerated this decay?
No. The Tapestry’s unraveling was in motion well before. Belisarius was the key. Stopping him—or confronting him—was the only real solution. For that, I needed power. Real power. Read latest stories on freewebnovel
The road dipped slightly, and a distant shape loomed on the horizon—a broken obelisk, maybe a watchtower from another era. I caught a flicker of something at its base, a faint light that vanished the moment I glanced at it directly. Illusions. Or petty spirits awakened by the Tapestry’s tears. I tightened my grip on the strap of my sword’s sheath.
"We’ll camp soon," Asterion said, voice subdued. He must have realized the toll the day’s events had taken. My body still functioned, but strain built with every step. I wouldn’t collapse, not in front of him, but rest was a practical necessity. "An hour more. There’s a place near the ravine with cover from the wind."
I gave a curt nod. "Fine."
"Don’t worry. I doubt illusions prowl so openly before dusk."
I responded with a short snort of amusement. Worry was not the correct word for what I felt. Tension, yes. Determination, absolutely. But worry? Worry was for those who believed they might fail. I had no intention of failing.
Asterion must have sensed the flicker of dark humor in my expression, because he quickened his pace, as if to outrun any further conversation. I matched him step for step, ignoring the dull ache that rippled through my calves. Each footfall was a little heavier than the last, but my resolve never wavered. It couldn’t.
This was survival.
The air didn’t get any lighter as we walked. The sky overhead seemed to bruise further, a testament to the Tapestry’s growing damage. Time felt slippery, the hours melding into each other without clear demarcation. My instincts told me we’d been traveling for quite some time, yet the sun, though hidden behind thick clouds, barely seemed to shift in the sky. Perhaps illusions played havoc with day and night, twisting the natural order as easily as a child tears a page from a book.
My mind drifted to the people we’d left behind. Lorik, presumably orchestrating a precarious alliance between the Council and the Gravekeepers. Did he guess that I’d found a way back from the Ashen Expanse? Did he realize how close we all were to a new meltdown if the Tapestry tore further? Possibly. He was clever in his own maddeningly academic way. He’d do what he could, but soon enough, he’d discover that knowledge alone wasn’t enough to hold back cosmic chaos.
And the Council themselves—Lisanor. I’d known her brand of unwavering determination for years. She wouldn’t just sit idle. She’d push for more draconian measures to keep illusions in check, to quell any sign of Belisarius’s meddling. By the time I returned, the kingdom might be half-locked under martial law. Gravekeepers? No better. They’d see this unraveling as some necessary correction, or the forging of a new destiny. Both illusions.
They all chase illusions.
A stirring of wind brushed the hair at my temples, cooler than before, carrying with it the faint stench of wet decay. Asterion slowed, scanning the land ahead. I followed his gaze. The ravine wasn’t far—just a dark slash across the earth, partially filled by a trickle of blackish water. The vantage point from above revealed stunted trees, their branches contorted as though in agony. Perfect cover for setting up camp. Perfect cover for an ambush too, but that was a risk I’d accept.
He gestured for me to follow him down a short slope. Rocks shifted beneath my boots, tumbling away with each step. My entire body felt the strain, but I forced it aside. My mind flickered with images of how I’d restore myself once we reached Kael’Thorne—draw from the leyline, anchor the power inside me, and if the Cult of the Unraveled tried to stand in my way, their illusions would shatter under my renewed might.
In a small hollow at the edge of the ravine, Asterion knelt to clear away debris, creating a space for a tiny fire. The ground here was damp, riddled with roots and mud. A few large stones formed a natural enclosure against the wind. I dropped my pack, rolling my shoulders to stave off the burn that had built up since we fled the ruin.
We worked in terse silence, gathering scraps of wood that hadn’t rotted to mush, piling them in a ring of stones. Asterion produced a spark from a small flint, coaxing the damp kindling into a faint flame. Smoke curled upward, acrid and biting, but it was enough to keep the gloom at bay.
The flicker of firelight cast jagged shadows on the wet stone, revealing my face, as if in a grim mirror. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a shallow pool near my foot: eyes cold, features drawn tight by exhaustion. I recognized the man who stared back. The one who had carved a path out of illusions, who had once cut down Belisarius in the final, brutal confrontation. I recognized the calculating glint, the suppressed fury at the Tapestry’s attempts to rewrite what should have remained undone.
Asterion sat opposite me, posture tense but not hostile. The glow illuminated his face too—sharp angles, a few faint scars across his cheek. No fear in his eyes, only watchfulness. A man who’d traveled many roads, seen too much.
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"Rest," he said, voice quiet. "We’ll need it for what’s coming."
I inclined my head in a faint nod. Rest. My body demanded it, though my mind refused to fully power down. "We leave before dawn," I said. "No waiting."
He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, perhaps recognizing the finality in my words. If illusions or beasts hunted us in the night, we’d deal with them. But we wouldn’t linger longer than necessary. The route to Kael’Thorne was still uncertain, and for all we knew, Council squads or Gravekeeper scouts might be roving closer than rumored.
I settled against the stone, letting my muscles slowly uncoil. My sword lay within reach, a silent promise that I was never truly off guard. The flicker of the fire made the damp walls of the ravine dance with phantom shapes—a mild echo of the illusions we’d left behind, but these were simply shadows. No malicious intent.
The hush grew once more, broken only by the pop of burning wood and the faint drip of water from somewhere deeper in the ravine. My eyes drifted shut, though I remained alert. If something approached, I would know. That sixth sense, honed by countless dangers, would rouse me in an instant.
And so the hours passed, or seemed to pass, in that half-doze. My mind never fully left the tension coiled in my limbs. I recalled the flicker of Belisarius’s echo, the raw sense of cosmic inevitability pressing in on me. Did he sense me now, traveling these ruined paths, forging a route to power? Or was he consumed by his own half-existence, unable to manifest without the final push from the Tapestry?
It didn’t matter. I would face him, in time, and I would not make the same mistakes.
Eventually, Asterion stirred, feeding the dying fire with a last scrap of half-dry wood. The smoke thickened, swirling overhead, lost in the darkness. I cracked open an eye. Something in the air had shifted, as though dawn approached, but the sky offered no real sign of day—just the same pallor. The same gloom.
He caught my glance. "Probably time."
I pushed myself to my feet, every inch of my muscles protesting. The feeling was a dull ache, like having walked too many miles with too little rest, but it was still more than I preferred. My body would endure. It always did. I squared my shoulders, ignoring the knots in my back, ignoring the memory of illusions that tried to devour me in that ruin.
Yes. We were going to Kael’Thorne.
He said nothing else as he kicked dirt over the embers, extinguishing the last of the fire. The mist clung to the ground, trailing after our footsteps as we ascended out of the ravine. Over the next ridge, I knew we’d find another stretch of twisted countryside, perhaps more illusions, perhaps roving patrols. None of it would matter once I had the leyline’s power pulsing through my veins.
Still, I couldn’t banish a faint flicker of caution. The Tapestry was unraveling everywhere. Valemore was just one tear, the Ashen Expanse another. Kael’Thorne might prove to be the final pivot on which this entire realm balanced. If the Cult of the Unraveled had tapped into that leyline, it wouldn’t be a simple matter of walking in and claiming it as my own. I’d have to break them, subdue them, or outwit them.
I’d done worse, under less favorable conditions.
Asterion kept glancing at me, as though still gauging whether I’d collapse. I offered him no sign of weakness, only the same cold resolve that drove me from the beginning. That seemed enough to reassure him. He led the way toward the slope, the path slick with old mud. As we hiked, the horizon gradually revealed more of the battered land—a series of rolling hills, each dotted with leafless trees and the occasional ruin standing like a sentinel of a better time.
I squared my shoulders and stepped forward. Whatever lay ahead, we would face it. And this time, I would not be caught unprepared.