The hours blurred together.
The landscape changed subtly as they moved deeper—the cracks in the ground grew wider,
the remnants more recent. Once, they passed a formation that might have been a village
once, now reduced to jagged stones and scorched earth.
"Look," Mirelle said, pointing.
Ahead, lights flickered in the distance. Soft, pale, like candles in the fog. They danced and
swayed, forming patterns that seemed almost intentional.
"Verant said don't trust the lights."
"What are they?"
"I don't know." Roen veered away from them, keeping to the old road that was barely visible
beneath the cracked earth. "But I don't want to find out."
The lights followed.
Not directly, but always there—always at the edge of vision. Sometimes closer, sometimes
further, but never gone. Roen tried to ignore them, focusing on the road, on putting one foot
in front of the other.
It was Mirelle who noticed it first.
"Roen." Her voice was tight. "The sphere."
He looked down. Through the fabric of his pack, he could see a faint glow. The sphere was
reacting—to the Severed Lands? To the lights? To something else entirely?
"Don't open it," he said, echoing Verant's words. "Whatever happens."
"I wasn't going to." Mirelle's hand found her knife. "But something's happening."
The lights were getting closer. And they weren't random anymore. They were forming a circle
around the two of them, closing in.
"Run?"
"Run."
They ran. The lights pursued, flickering through the ruins, always just behind. Roen's ribs
burned. His breath came in ragged gasps. But he kept moving, kept running, because the
alternative was whatever those lights wanted to do to them.
He didn't see the hole until it was too late.
The ground gave way beneath his feet. He fell, tumbling into darkness, the sphere tumbling
from his pack. He hit bottom hard—pain exploding through his shoulder, his head, his
everything.
"Roen!" Mirelle's voice from above. Distant. Worried.
He tried to respond, but his voice wouldn't work. His vision swam. The last thing he saw
before darkness claimed him was the sphere, lying just out of reach, glowing brighter than
ever.
Inside it, something moved.
Something woke.