Breakfast was a quiet, familiar affair, the comforting scent of roasted grain and dried meats mingling with the crisp morning air. Between them, Paolo and Donna had ensured they were well-supplied for at least the first few days of their journey, and the thought was not lost on Del. Even as he sat eating, he realised how much he had overlooked—how much he had been missing by being so wrapped up in his own mind.

  While he had trudged through his inner turmoil, barely paying attention to anything outside of it, Elara had been productive. Ever practical, she had mended her broken arrows with deft efficiency, replacing those beyond repair with new ones. It wasn’t just a matter of skill; it was discipline, a refusal to let circumstances dictate her readiness. He admired that about her.

  As they packed away the last of their things, Elara spoke up.

  “Last night,” she said, securing her quiver to her belt, “Naomi’s astral walk showed her a path about a mile ahead.”

  Del turned to Naomi with interest, chewing over the implications of that. Her ability still unsettled him on some level—perhaps because it was yet another thing that defied everything he thought he knew about reality.

  “So,” he asked, “what was up this path, then, young lady?”

  Naomi grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s what makes it so fun to go find out.”

  Del huffed out a quiet laugh, casting a glance towards Elara, who simply lifted a shoulder in a small shrug.

  “All she could see was that it glowed,” she explained. “Something up that path was shining brightly, but she couldn’t make out what.”

  Del frowned slightly. “A puzzle, then. Any thoughts on what we might be walking into?”

  Elara shook her head. “We need to be careful. That kind of brightness usually means magic—strong magic. It could be anything, from an item to an entire building.”

  Del exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Nothing like a mystery to get the juices flowing in the morning,” he muttered, eliciting a giggle from Naomi.

  By the time they set out, the morning mist had begun to lift, retreating in slow, curling tendrils that clung stubbornly to the low hollows of the land. A faint sheen of moisture still clung to the grass, catching the pale morning light in tiny, dewdrop prisms. The air carried the lingering chill of dawn, mingling with the faint scent of damp earth and distant riverweed.

  The track followed the river’s lazy curve, its waters sluggish and grey beneath the sun’s early ascent. Here and there, clusters of reeds jutted from the shallows, their feathery tops swaying as unseen creatures stirred within. Occasionally, the rippling surface would break with the subtle movement of something below—a fish, perhaps, or one of the smaller river-dwellers Naomi had once mentioned but Del had never quite caught a good look at.

  An hour passed before they spotted the trail Naomi had seen in her astral form. It was barely more than a whisper of a path, half-consumed by creeping vines and wild undergrowth, winding its way towards a distant stand of trees at the base of the valley’s rising slope.

  Del came to a halt, studying it with a frown. His hand drifted to the hilt of his sword—a habit more than anything, a grounding motion.

  “So,” he asked, glancing toward Naomi, “how far up this trail was your glow?” As he spoke, he loosened the weapon in its scabbard, just in case.

  Naomi tilted her head in thought, then gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not sure. I can fly really fast in astral form, so it’s hard to say how long it takes on foot.”

  Del sighed, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off some unseen weight. “Alright, then. No rushing in blind. We take it slow until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  His gaze flicked toward Misty, who sat just ahead of them, her tail flicking idly as she groomed herself with leisurely precision.

  ‘Want to scout ahead, girl?’ he asked, the thought reaching her across their shared link.

  Misty paused mid-lick, golden eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded him with something close to mild irritation. Then, with a final, deliberate swipe across her hindquarters—one last polish for good luck—she flicked her tail and slipped noiselessly into the undergrowth, vanishing in a fluid ripple of movement.

  Del exhaled through his nose. “If it’s no trouble of course,” he muttered under his breath.

  Elara had already unslung her bow, her fingers resting lightly along the curve of the grip, ready but relaxed. She had considered the possibility of trouble before he had even spoken, and the quiet readiness in her stance made that clear.

  Satisfied they were as prepared as they could be, Del took the lead, stepping onto the narrow track.

  The path was treacherous from the start, rough underfoot, uneven where the remnants of old stonework had been overtaken by creeping grass and tangled roots. It had the unmistakable feel of something forgotten, a place that had once been known but had since been left to the slow reclamation of nature.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  What had likely been a proper road long ago had deteriorated into little more than a game trail, winding unevenly through thickening undergrowth. The scent of damp bark and rich, loamy soil thickened the air. More than once, Del had to duck low-hanging branches or carefully navigate thorny brambles that reached out as if seeking to snag at his clothing.

  Signs of life were everywhere, if one knew where to look.

  In a patch of softened earth, he spotted a set of fresh hoofprints—likely from a dinkus, it’s tracks quite distinctive. Nearby, fainter still, were the delicate indentations of smaller paws—perhaps funnips, though he hadn’t caught sight of one so far today. A little further along, the faint traces of Misty’s own prints joined them, her movements precise and deliberate, weaving effortlessly through the shifting wilderness.

  Crouching, Del ran his fingers over the shallow indent in the damp soil, tracing the faint impression left behind. The print was fresh—hours old at most. He tilted his head slightly, observing the spacing of the tracks. The creature had moved cautiously, as if aware of something it didn’t quite trust.

  ‘I hope you aren’t getting distracted with hunting,’ he murmured through his link with Misty.

  A dry, contemptuous snort echoed in the back of his mind, the unmistakable touch of the cat’s unimpressed amusement.

  Del smirked, shaking his head. ‘Alright, alright. As if I could doubt your professionalism, you are a good cat.’

  They continued up the trail, and gradually, the world around them seemed to shift. The river’s soft murmur, which had been a constant presence, faded behind them, swallowed by the thickening embrace of the trees. A hush settled over the path—not silence, exactly, but something more delicate, more deliberate.

  The usual background noise of rustling undergrowth and chittering creatures felt… dampened. As though the land itself was holding its breath.

  A breeze stirred the canopy overhead, sending a ripple of movement through the scattered leaves. Their branches swayed gently, but down here, closer to the earth, the undergrowth remained unnervingly still. No small animals darted through the brush. No insects hummed at the edges of hearing. Even the birdsong, which had been so constant earlier, now came in hesitant, scattered notes rather than a continuous chorus.

  Del’s fingers instinctively curled around the hilt of his sword. The change was subtle but unmistakable.

  Whatever lay ahead, it was waiting for them.

  The scent of damp earth and sun-warmed greenery filled the air, mingling with something lighter, almost floral—perhaps a lingering trace of glasswort or some other delicate woodland bloom. The terrain remained open, not quite a true forest, but the trees were denser here, their roots curling through the soil in a network of twisting, knotted shapes.

  As they walked, Del reached down now and then to gather plants, slipping them into his pouch with practiced ease. Some he recognised—common herbs and roots that he had learned to use for teas or simple remedies—but others remained unfamiliar, their leaves tinged with odd hues or their stems exuding faint, unplaceable scents.

  He wasn’t the only one collecting supplies. Elara moved with quiet efficiency, pausing at intervals to examine certain plants before plucking them with precise movements. Naomi trailed beside her, listening intently as Elara explained the uses of each find.

  “That one?” Naomi asked, pointing at a deep green fern with red-veined leaves.

  Elara nodded. “Bloodroot Fern. A great plant for helping bones heal.”

  Naomi blinked, glancing between the fern and Elara with new appreciation. “That’s amazing. You know so much about this stuff.”

  Elara smiled faintly. “You pick things up when you need to survive.”

  Del caught Naomi’s thoughtful look at that. For all her youth and boundless energy, the girl was beginning to understand that survival wasn’t just about play fighting and hide and seek.

  The scent of fresh mint drifted on the air, catching Del’s attention. He followed it to a shaded thicket where the leaves grew in abundance, the plants thriving in the damp soil. Crouching, he plucked a few sprigs, rolling a leaf between his fingers and inhaling deeply. The crisp, cool aroma was instantly refreshing.

  “Tea’s going to taste better tonight,” he murmured to himself as he tucked the mint into his pouch.

  Then, as he straightened, he realised that something had changed.

  It wasn’t immediate, nor was it dramatic. But a shift prickled at the edges of his awareness—a sensation just beyond the grasp of words.

  Not a spell. Not a physical disturbance.

  Something deeper.

  The air thickened, though it remained clear. A weight pressed at the edges of perception, an ambient charge that tingled against his skin. It reminded him of the static in the air before a storm, that peculiar sense of gathering potential before the first crack of thunder.

  Glancing back, he caught sight of Elara a few paces behind. She, too, had stopped, her posture alert but still, her gaze scanning the treetops and the path ahead. When their eyes met, she gave a slight nod.

  She felt it too.

  “Any ideas?” Del asked.

  “Not yet,” she murmured, brow creasing in thought. “But whatever Naomi discovered last night is close.”

  Del carefully tucked the mint into his pack, securing it neatly before shifting his focus inward.

  ‘Anything, Misty?’

  He waited. A few moments passed before her voice curled lazily through his thoughts.

  ‘Dusty building.’

  Del’s lips quirked slightly. That was about as much detail as he had expected.

  ‘Any dangers?’

  The response came with a familiar, dry amusement.

  ‘Spiders?’

  He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Damn cat,” he muttered under his breath before turning back to the others.

  “I just had a chat with Misty.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a small ‘O’ of surprise, while Elara merely arched a brow in mild curiosity. Del realised he had never actually mentioned Misty’s talent to Naomi before now.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “up ahead is some old building. From what I can gather, it seems deserted—aside from a few bugs.”

  Elara gave a slow nod, considering.

  “Do you think it could be the source of this increase in ambient mana?” Del asked her.

  She thought for a moment before answering. “If it is, that would explain why all Naomi could see was a bright glow. Her talent is only just beginning to develop, and the mana concentration in this area might have been enough to overwhelm it.”

  Del exhaled, casting a glance up the overgrown trail. “Well, let’s go explore a creepy old building, then,” he said with mock enthusiasm. Lifting his arms, he let out a long, theatrical moan, adopting the clumsy lurch of a storybook spectre.

  Elara rolled her eyes and gave him a playful slap on the arm, while Naomi giggled, clearly enjoying the moment.

  Their path lay ahead, waiting.