Chapter 21
Kaia
Three days out from the village, and the exhaustion is starting to show.
Not just in me—in all of us.
Thinking back, the village disappears behind us like it was never there.
Like those few days of rest were just a dream we all woke up from too soon.
One second I can feel the wards humming at my back, steady and safe.
The next, there’s nothing but open road and the faint pull of corruption seeping back into the air.
It’s subtle at first. A cold prickle at the base of my spine. The way the trees lean a little too close to the path. But by the second day, it’s undeniable—the corruption is returning, creeping in at the edges like mold.
My shadows curl tighter around my ankles.
I glance back once, but there’s nothing to see. Just the echo of something that felt, for a few days, almost like home.
Keep moving.
The group is quiet.
Too quiet.
Torric catches my eye and gives me a tight smile, his hand settling briefly on my shoulder as he passes. But his fingers linger a second too long, like he’s memorizing that I’m real. That I’m still here.
The tension in his jaw wasn’t there three days ago.
Aspen nods when I look at him, hovering closer than usual. Overprotective. Frost clings to the edges of his hair, faint and glittering in the weak sunlight. Like he’s been burning through his magic without realizing it.
Finn won’t look at me at all.
He’s walking near the back of the group, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets. But his attention isn’t on me—it’s on the shadows. Small ones, drifting out of the trees, drawn toward us like moths to a flame.
He watches each one arrive.
Counts them.
His jaw tightens when another slips from the underbrush, and he glances at me for half a second before looking away again. He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking.
Every time I look back, Darian is pretending to study the trees.
He’s keeping his distance. Too much distance. Like he’s afraid to breathe near me after that night in the garden, afraid that getting too close will shatter whatever fragile thing we built.
And Kieran—
Kieran is watching me like a hawk. Silent. Intense. His eyes track every movement I make, but he hasn’t said a word since we left the village.
Bob bristles at my shoulder. Patricia’s notebook flickers nervously. Even Mouse seems on edge, his tail twitching like he can feel my anxiety.
Knowing him, he probably can.
They’re all carrying something.
And I don’t know how to help any of them.
Malrik falls into step beside me.
I smile to myself, because he appears at my side like he was always meant to be there, quiet and steady and grounding.
I exhale.
I didn’t realize how tight my chest was until he showed up.
“Where does Revna keep disappearing to?” Torric asks breaking the silence.
“The sanctuary.” Kieran doesn’t look up. “She reports back. Keeps me informed of what’s happening there while we travel.”
“That’s… a long flight.”
“She’s done it for hundreds of years. I doubt she notices anymore.”
Something about that — the quiet loyalty of it, centuries of the same pattern — settles warm in my chest.
We walk in silence for a while, our footsteps syncing without either of us trying. The jagged road stretches ahead, winding toward the mountains in the distance. Toward Sorrow’s Keep.
Toward whatever’s waiting for us there.
“We’re running low on supplies,” Malrik says quietly. “Another day, maybe two, and we’ll need to forage or stop somewhere.”
My stomach sinks. One more thing I hadn’t been paying attention to.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he adds, softer now.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He gives me a look. Flat. Unimpressed.
“Try again.”
I sigh.
“I don’t know. Everyone’s just… off. And I can feel it, but I don’t know what to do about it.”
Malrik doesn’t respond immediately. He just walks beside me, steady and patient, waiting for me to keep going.
So I do.
“Finn’s pulling away. Darian’s nervous. Kieran feels…” I struggle for the right word. My hand flails in the air while I try to think. “Strange. Aspen’s hovering like he’s expecting an attack. Torric’s trying too hard to stay calm. And you—”
I look at him.
“You’re carrying something too. I can feel it.”
Malrik is quiet for a long moment. Something tightens in his jaw—brief, barely there—before he smooths it away.
Then he says, “Finn’s hurting. He’ll come back to himself when he’s ready.”
I wait.
“Darian’s trying so hard not to mess things up that he’s going to accidentally combust.”
Despite everything, I almost smile.
“Kieran is terrified of losing you,” Malrik continues. “Aspen’s on high alert because he loves you. Torric sees danger in every shadow now.”
He looks at me, and his voice softens.
“And none of that is your fault.”
Something in my chest loosens.
“You are not responsible for their storms, Kaia,” he says. “Only for your own.”
“And you?” I ask quietly. “What’s your storm?”
Malrik’s eyes hold mine for a beat too long.
“I’m just trying to give you the happiness you deserve.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
Nothing comes out.
Malrik doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth tilts up, warmth in his eyes, and he just keeps walking beside me, steady as always.
We walk in silence for a few more minutes.
The road curves ahead, disappearing into a stretch of twisted trees. The corruption is stronger here. I can feel it pressing against my skin like cold fingers.
“You’re sure he’s okay?” I ask quietly. “Finn, I mean.”
Malrik exhales slowly.
“No,” he says. “But he will be. And when he’s ready, he’ll come to you.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
Malrik glances at me, something unreadable in his silver eyes.
“He already has,” he says. “You just didn’t see it.”
I don’t know what that means. My stomach sinks anyway.
But before I can ask, Malrik’s hand brushes my wrist, brief but grounding, and I let myself lean into it for just a second.
Finnick settles on Malrik’s shoulder like he belongs there. Malrik doesn’t even blink.
“Stop trying to carry all of them,” he says quietly. “You’ll break yourself before we even reach the Keep.”
I don’t know if I believe him.
But I nod anyway.
The mountain looms larger as the day wears on.
By the time the sun begins to set, we’re all dragging. My legs ache. My ribs feel bruised from the inside out. Even my shadows seem sluggish, their movements slower than usual.
Sorrow’s Keep.
I’ve never seen it before, but I know it’s there. Can feel it in my bones, a pull that gets stronger with every step. Like something is waiting.
The corruption hums against my skin, and my shadows press closer.
Bob takes point, posture rigid. Mouse pads silently at my heel. Patricia’s notebook has gone still, like even she doesn’t want to record what’s coming.
Behind me, the group spreads out along the road.
I take a breath and let myself relax knowing they’re here with me. That we’re in this together.
Whatever waits at Sorrow’s Keep, it’s already watching us.
I can feel it.
We round a bend in the road.
The path narrows. The trees press closer. The mountain looms ahead, dark and jagged against the sky.
My shadows stiffen.
All of them. At once.
Bob’s edges go sharp. Mouse freezes mid-step. Patricia’s notebook flares to life. Even Finnick, who’s been lounging on Malrik’s shoulder, goes rigid.
Behind me, the guys react instinctively. All of them suddenly on edge, feeling that something, isn’t right.
And then I see him.
Standing in the middle of the road, like he’s been waiting for us the entire time.
Callum.
He looks… wrong. Thinner than I remember. Paler. His eyes have a strange, hollow quality that makes my skin crawl.
But he’s grinning.
“Hello, Kieran,” he says.
My blood turns to ice.