Chapter 11 Absence
Soren
Soren woke before dawn.
For several moments he remained motionless, staring into the darkness and listening to the silence of the fortress around him.
The room was cold, though not unusually so, and the mountain winters had taught him long ago to ignore discomfort.
Yet something had pulled him from sleep, and the realization lingered as he sat upright.
No sound had disturbed him, no alarm had been raised, and the fortress remained quiet beyond the walls.
Everything was exactly as it should have been, and yet he found himself fully awake.
A faint frown touched his brow as the unease remained, though it felt neither like fear nor danger but rather something harder to define, an absence, as though something familiar had quietly shifted while he slept.
The sensation made little sense.
He closed his eyes briefly and turned his attention toward the bond.
For months it had become a background presence he rarely examined directly, and even when he ignored it, some part of him always remained aware of Eira. The connection was no longer surprising, existing beneath everything else with a constancy that felt as natural as breathing.
Now, however, it felt strange and distant, not broken or weakened but undeniably different.
Soren frowned as the feeling resisted explanation.
Eventually his thoughts drifted toward the previous evening, recalling the stables, the brief conversation, and the look in Eira's eyes.
She had seemed calmer than she had in weeks, not happier or healed, but calmer.
Perhaps that was all this was.
The explanation settled easily into place, suggesting that she had finally found some measure of peace.
The weeks following Riven's death had hollowed something out inside her, and anyone could see that. Perhaps the bond was simply reflecting the change, or perhaps the restless grief that had followed her for so long was finally beginning to ease.
The explanation wasn't entirely convincing, but it was reasonable, and reasonable explanations were usually the correct ones.
By the time the first light touched the eastern peaks, the patrol had assembled.
Horses stamped impatiently in the cold while frost clung to saddles and cloaks, and several scouts exchanged quiet remarks as final preparations were completed.
Soren mounted without ceremony.
The unease remained, quiet and persistent, like a stone lodged somewhere beneath his ribs.
Kael approached on horseback as the gates opened before them, and for a moment his gaze lingered on Soren.
"You look tired."
"I slept."
The answer came automatically.
Kael didn't appear convinced, though fortunately he chose not to pursue the matter.
The patrol rode west.
Morning sunlight gradually spread across the mountains, turning distant ridges silver beneath the growing light while snow glittered along the slopes and pine forests stretched across the valleys below.
Ordinarily, Soren enjoyed these rides because the mountains had always helped him think.
Today they only made it easier to notice that something was wrong.
As the hours passed and they traveled farther from Ironfang, the unease began to change.
What had first felt like a distraction gradually became irritation before shifting into something else entirely, something he struggled to name.
Several times he found himself looking back toward the eastern horizon without realizing it, and each time he forced his attention elsewhere, focusing on reports, routes, weather, or anything else that might occupy his thoughts.
The bond refused to cooperate.
A strange hollowness had begun to settle beneath it, as though the connection stretched further than it should.
The sensation made no sense because Eira remained in Ironfang, and where else would she be?
The thought arrived with immediate certainty, yet the unease persisted.
Soren first attempted to ignore it and then attempted to explain it.
Perhaps she was upset, perhaps she had isolated herself again, or perhaps the fortress itself had become difficult for her.
Perhaps she had finally decided to accept the possibility of leaving.
That last thought lingered longer than the others, and he disliked it immediately, not because it seemed likely but because it seemed impossible.
The very idea of leaving felt absurd.
Where would she go when the mountains were dangerous even for experienced hunters, and when she had no allies beyond Ironfang, no destination, and no reason?
The idea was so unreasonable that he dismissed it almost as quickly as it appeared.
The bond shifted again, and this time the sensation resembled distance, though not physical distance but something deeper and far harder to define.
Soren's jaw tightened.
The feeling followed him through the remainder of the morning, and by midday he had grown noticeably shorter with everyone around him.
Questions received brief answers, observations received grunts, and conversations died quickly.
Eventually Kael guided his horse alongside him.
For a time neither spoke before Kael finally asked, "Something wrong?"
The question sounded casual, almost careless.
Soren answered without thinking.
"No."
The word left his mouth automatically, but a moment later he realized it was a lie, not because he understood the problem but because he couldn't stop searching for it.
Kael studied him for several seconds before looking away.
Neither spoke again as the mountains rolled past around them and the patrol continued west.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, unnoticed by everyone except the bond that refused to fall silent, the distance between Soren and Eira continued to grow.
Mara hadn't intended to visit Eira that morning.
The decision came almost by accident. Over the past weeks, she had developed a habit of checking on her without admitting that was what she was doing, not often enough to invite conversation but often enough to reassure herself that Eira was still there, still enduring, and still moving through the fortress one difficult day at a time.
The thought lingered with her as she climbed the stairs leading toward Eira's rooms.
The corridor was quiet, as most of Ironfang had already begun the day's work. The patrol had left before dawn, hunters were preparing supplies for the coming week, and the fortress had settled into its usual rhythm.
Mara reached the door and knocked.
When no answer came, she waited a moment before knocking again, but the silence remained unchanged.
A faint frown touched her brow.
Although Eira often avoided people these days, she was rarely a heavy sleeper.
After a brief hesitation, Mara pushed the door open.
The room beyond stood empty.
At first, nothing seemed unusual. The bed remained neatly made, morning light spilled through the narrow window, and the hearth sat cold and unused.
Mara stepped inside.
"Eira?"
Only silence answered her.
She frowned again, thinking that perhaps Eira had gone for a walk or headed to the stables. The thought should have ended there, yet something tugged at her attention.
The room felt wrong—not empty, but incomplete.
Her gaze moved slowly across the space, taking in the shelf beside the hearth, the table, the chair, and the narrow chest near the wall. For a moment she couldn't identify what bothered her, but then she saw it.
Several items were missing from the shelf.
The absence was subtle, not enough to be obvious to a stranger but enough for someone familiar with the room to notice immediately.
Mara crossed toward it, feeling her stomach tighten.
The chest stood partially open. Several belongings remained inside, but others were gone.
The realization arrived gradually, slowed only by the fact that her mind resisted it.
No.
Eira wouldn't leave.
Would she?
Mara turned sharply and looked around the room again.
This time she noticed more.
The travel cloak was gone, along with the heavier boots and the leather satchel Eira sometimes carried into the mountains.
The unease settled deeper in her stomach.
She moved toward the window and looked down into the courtyard below, where life carried on as normal. Nobody appeared alarmed or concerned, and everything looked exactly as it should, which somehow made the feeling worse.
Mara stood there for several seconds before turning and leaving.
The stables were on the opposite side of the fortress.
She walked quickly at first and then faster, until she was almost running by the time she crossed the yard.
The stablemaster looked up in surprise when she entered.
"Mara?"
"Are all the horses where they're supposed to be?"
The stablemaster frowned and turned toward the stalls. For several moments he said nothing. Then:
"Actually..."
He walked a few steps farther down the aisle.
"One of the mares is missing."
"Which one?"
"The bay mare from the western pens."
Mara recognized her immediately. Not Eira's usual horse.
The man scratched his beard.
"Strange."
"Why?"
He hesitated.
"I didn't think much of it earlier. The Alpha's patrol rode out this morning and several horses went with them."
The explanation sounded reasonable.
Then he frowned again.
"No."
"What?"
"That mare wasn't assigned to the patrol."
The stablemaster frowned, clearly trying to make sense of it.
"Maybe Lady Eira changed her mind and rode after them."
The explanation sounded reasonable enough, yet something about it settled wrong in Mara's chest. Not because it was impossible, but because she already knew Eira had been planning something for weeks.
The man stepped closer to the stall and peered inside, as though expecting the horse to materialize from a shadowed corner.
Nothing waited there.
The stall stood empty.
For several moments neither of them spoke. Then the stablemaster slowly turned toward her, and Mara watched understanding arrive on his face.
"Oh."
The word was barely more than a breath.
Mara closed her eyes briefly as the pieces finally fell into place with brutal clarity. The withdrawn silence. The weeks of isolation. The supplies that had disappeared a little at a time. The missing mare. The empty room.
Individually, each detail could have been explained away.