They broke camp before dawn.
The cold had settled in their bones during the night, a biting reminder that safety here was only an illusion. The desert around them started to transorm, trees started to pop up here and there and Cael swore that he saw a bird.
Cael shouldered his pack, glancing at his father, who now lay bundled in every spare scrap of cloth they had. He barely stirred when lifted onto the stretcher and carried by the mule again. Whatever spark had kept him talking the day before was fading fast.
Korr moved with a quiet urgency. His wound had stiffened, but he hid the pain well. "Stay sharp," he said, voice low. "This stretch is known for waking things that should stay buried."
Cael nodded, though his own legs still felt like sandbags and his spirit hung low. The silence of his cores gnawed at him. Every now and then, he tried to reach inward to summon even a flicker of light or dark but nothing answered.
They moved along the broken ridge, through tight crags and narrow footpaths winding through old bones of the earth. Trees twisted above them, bark like scorched flesh, leaves sharp as razors. The deeper they went, the more unnatural the silence became.
Korr held up a hand, stopping suddenly.
Cael froze, gripping the crude spear he'd carved earlier from a broken piece of bone in the valley.
Then he heard it the low, wet clicking of mandibles. Followed by a sharp hiss that split the air.
"Shadecrawlers," Korr murmured, drawing his blade. "Two, maybe three. Smell the blood. Ours or the zealot's, doesn't matter."
Cael swallowed. "Can we avoid them?"
"No." Korr turned, eyes narrowed. "You'll fight with me."
Cael's stomach twisted. "I don't have the cores. I'm just… weak."
"You're not weak." Korr's voice was iron. "You're unbalanced. There's a difference. Listen carefully."
A shriek tore through the trees. Then a blur of motion black and slick darted through the undergrowth. Cael caught a glimpse of red eyes and pale fangs.
"The trick with monsters," Korr said calmly, stepping forward, "is not to beat them at their game."
Another crawler burst out of the trees, leaping toward Korr.
He moved like a shadow.
Steel flashed. The beast's head left its body mid-leap, black ichor spraying across the stones. The corpse crashed behind them, twitching.
"You make them play yours," Korr finished.
The second creature lunged at Cael all teeth and claws. He ducked, barely, and stabbed upward with his spear. It grazed the creature's shoulder, barely slowing it. He scrambled back, tripped on a root.
The crawler closed in fast, too fast.
Korr didn't intervene.
Instead, he called out, "Breathe. Focus. You don't need the cores to fight. Use your senses."
Cael rolled aside, grabbing a handful of gravel and flinging it into the crawler's face. It shrieked, momentarily blinded. He surged up, planted the butt of his spear into the ground, and rammed the point through its chest.
It thrashed once. Then went still.
Korr approached the third before it could even show itself. A single strike, precise and deep into the underbrush, ended its life before it made a sound.
Cael stood over the crawler he'd killed, panting.
"You didn't wait for your power to come back," Korr said. "You adapted. That's what keeps you alive. That's the essence of combat, adaptability."
"That's it?" Cael asked, wiping ichor from his face.
"Fight smarter, not stronger," Korr said. "Monsters are predictable. Humans, are not. Rage and instinct are their chains. Break their rhythm, and you control the fight."
Cael looked down at his hands, now stained black. "Even without the cores… I did it."
"You'll get them back," Korr said. "When you're ready."
They burned the bodies, then continued.
The path after that wound deeper through a thickening forest. Eventually, the trees thinned, replaced by jagged rocks and brittle soil. The ruins of a long-fallen bridge spanned a shallow canyon ahead.
Korr paused before crossing.
"We're close."
Cael followed his gaze.
Tucked into a cliffside beyond the canyon was a cluster of ancient stone dwellings, half-crushed by time but still standing. Vines coiled along the broken rooftops, and smoke curled faintly from a single chimney.
The Enclave.
Or what remained of it.
They crossed the canyon, Cael keeping close to Korr as they approached the largest of the buildings. The doors were reinforced with rusted iron, creaking open as they stepped inside.
A warm fire crackled in a large hearth. The scent of herbs and cooked root vegetables filled the air.
An old man stood beside the fire, hunched but broad-shouldered, with a thick gray beard and eyes sharp as daggers. He didn't flinch when Korr stepped in.
"Korr Blackhand," he said, voice like gravel. "Took you long enough."
"Didn't know if any of you were still breathing, Fenric," Korr replied.
"Only two of us left." The old man gestured toward the corner.
A teenage boy sat there, legs crossed, watching silently. He looked no older than Cael was, with amber eyes and short black hair. A travel pack lay beside him.
"Cael," Korr said, nudging the boy forward. "This is Fenric. He was once a warden of the Southern Watch. That boy there is Rell, his grandson."
Cael nodded, unsure what to say. Rell just nodded back, unsmiling.
They set Darian down near the fire. Fenric knelt beside him, hands glowing faintly with soft white light.
"Not much left to save," he muttered. "But I'll ease the pain."
Korr gave Cael a look not pity, but understanding. Cael sat by the fire, letting its warmth fight the chill still clinging to his bones.
Rell spoke first. "You fought zealots?"
Cael glanced at him. "Three of them. One was a seer. She said… something about a spark inside me."
Rell tilted his head. "They came for you, then."
"You know what it means?"
"I know what it might mean."
Before Cael could press him, Fenric stood, wiping his hands. "He'll sleep. Won't wake often, but when he does, keep him calm. The deathroots in his system will make his visions worse."
Korr sat down heavily beside the fire. "The enclave?"
Fenric shook his head. "Gone. Swept away two winters back. Zealots, monsters, starvation. Some fled. Most died. It's just us now."
"And you let your grandson stay?"
Fenric grunted. "Wasn't my call."
Cael looked at Rell. "Why stay?"
Rell met his gaze evenly. "Because I leave next week. I'm heading to the Bleeding Coast to pass my trial."
Cael blinked. "You're becoming an Ashwalker?"
Rell nodded. "The last of our line, I guess. I waited too long already. Grandfather says I'm ready."
Korr gave a rare smile. "He is. Smart, fast, focused. Reminds me of someone."
Cael furrowed his brow. "What's an Ashwalker exactly? I've heard the title but…"
Fenric answered. "It's an old name we use to give the ones marked by Solaria that sucessfully assimilated their core. They are trained in the ancient ways, wielders of more than just blade or magic. They keep the spark alive. The seer was one, even if that's not what they call themself in the church."
Cael turned to Korr. "Like you?"
Korr shrugged. "Used to be, but it was a different time. It left different scars."
Rell stood and walked to Cael, studying him. "You've been chosen by the light to?"
Cael hesitated, then nodded. "The core chose me. But it'sgone now. Or sleeping."
"It's testing you," Rell said simply. "It want to know if you're more than a vessel."
"Everyone keeps saying that," Cael muttered. "But no one tells me how to prove it."
"Maybe your trial will start early," Rell said, and there was something like sympathy in his voice. "Theirs begins with a fire. Ours with silence."
The rest of the evening passed in quiet murmurs. Fenric served a stew that tasted better than anything Cael had eaten in weeks. They patched wounds, shared maps, and made plans.
But Cael couldn't stop thinking about the boy across the room already prepared to walk into the unknown.
And himself?
He was barely standing.
Later that night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, Cael sat alone on the roof of the enclave, staring at the stars.
Korr joined him.
"Can't sleep?" the old warrior asked.
"Too much in my head," Cael replied. "Too much I don't understand."
"You don't need to understand everything to move forward."
"I want to help him," Cael said. "My father. But I feel useless."
"You're not useless." Korr leaned back against the stone. "You're just young. That's not a weakness it's a beginning."
Cael sighed. "Rell's going to take his trial soon. He looks ready. I'm not even sure what I am anymore."
"You're the son of a dying warrior," Korr said. "A boy with two cores in his chest and the will to stand again after falling. That's not nothing."
Cael was quiet a while. Then: "If they come again stronger, more of them can we fight them off?"
Korr stared out into the night. "We'll do what we always do."
"What's that?"
"Bleed. Burn. And survive."
Cael looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. The blackened veins pulsed faintly.
Still quiet.
Still waiting.
But not forever.
And somewhere deep inside past the fear and the loss something stirred.
A flicker.
A whisper.
Not yet.
But soon.