Chapter Six

  The ship rocked gently in the Grimhold docks, the sea whispering against its hull like a restless ghost. In the dim-lit cabin below deck, the lanterns barely flickered, as if the air itself were holding its breath.

  Valdis sat cross-legged on a woven rug of Aria silk, her cloak folded neatly beside her. In front of her, Ravyn’s dagger hovered a finger’s width above a map of Islehaim. Her pale hands rested lightly on her knees, tattoos along her arms glowing with slow pulses of violet light.

  A low hum left her lips — the ancient tongue of Aria, the first tongue, the language that shaped wind and bone and truth.

  The dagger spun slowly, its tip vibrating with the faint trace of magic she’d followed across the sea. A weak scent—like old ash and dying flame—but it was there. A lingering echo of Ravyn. The dagger shimmered, then stilled, its point landing not far from the center of the island.

  Valdis opened her eyes.

  “He’s here,” she whispered.

  Behind her, Argus leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. His broad silhouette was tense even in stillness. “That place… it’s forest, no settlement marked.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Valdis murmured, brushing her fingers across the parchment. “He’s not hiding in a city. No magic shield to veil him, no glamour. But this island…” She frowned. “It’s strange. It breathes like something old.”

  “You sure it’s him?” Argus asked. His voice was low, cautious.

  Valdis nodded. “The spell reacts only to his blood. He touched this blade. It remembers.”

  Argus stepped forward, brow furrowed. “If he’s alive… then what’s the play?”

  Valdis looked up at him. “We go inland. Quietly. No guards, no fanfare. We ask no more questions in town.”

  “Think the Jarl suspects?”

  “He’s clever enough to lie,” she said flatly. “But not clever enough to hide this forever. The girl with the spirit-beast… she radiated something I’ve only read about. If Ravyn is tangled in that kind of magic…”

  She let the thought trail.

  Argus pushed off the wall and pulled his traveling cloak over his shoulder. “Then we should move before he does.”

  Valdis gently rolled the map, slid the dagger back into its sheath, and stood. The ship groaned as another tide shifted beneath them.

  “If Ravyn’s trying to disappear,” she said, “then the Islehaim wilds are the perfect place to be reborn… or to die.”

  The moon hung low above the treetops, veiled in a thin mist that made it look like a watching eye. Beneath it, two figures moved quietly through the thick forest, their boots crunching dried leaves softened by dew. Neither spoke much, only when needed—there was no room for idle words this far from the village.

  Valdis led the way, her cloak drawn tight, her gaze flickering between trees as if following something only she could see. The rune-marked staff in her hand pulsed faintly, reacting to the magic trail that only she could sense. Argus followed behind her, his massive sword strapped across his back, ever-watchful and tense.

  They had been walking for three days now, sleeping beneath trees and waking to the howls of beasts that dared not come too close. The forest was ancient here—older than the kingdom, older than memory. It whispered in tongues even Valdis could not fully understand.

  Then, on the fourth dusk, she stopped.

  “There,” she said.

  Argus stepped beside her. They stood on the edge of a small clearing. The embers of an old campfire had been buried, but not well. A ring of stones still marked the pit. Scattered footprints—some light, some deliberate—surrounded the area. Valdis crouched and touched the soil.

  “Three days ago,” she murmured. “Maybe four. It’s faint, but…”

  Her eyes fluttered shut. The air tasted of ash and pine and something more—smoke laced with memory. Magic. Ravyn’s magic.

  “He was here,” she said. “Not just passing through. He rested here. Slept. Watched the stars, maybe.”

  Argus knelt across from her, scanning the surroundings. “Alone?”

  Valdis shook her head. “No. One other. Bigger prints. Could be a local—one of their hunters.”

  Argus narrowed his eyes. “Think he’s working with them?”

  “Maybe,” Valdis said. “Or maybe he’s just surviving.”

  She stood slowly, brushing pine needles from her knees.

  “He’s clever. He didn’t mask his presence fully, but this trail… it’s like chasing smoke through fog. He wants to disappear, but he can’t help but leave shadows behind.”

  Argus stepped to the edge of the clearing, peering into the dense woods beyond.

  “Which way?”

  Valdis turned to the southeast, eyes narrowed. “Toward the ridge. The energy fades that direction—but something lingers.”

  “Then we follow,” Argus said. He pulled up his hood and unslung his sword.

  Valdis nodded. “He’s close. And if we don’t find him first… someone else might.”

  Together, they moved once more into the deepening forest, the light fading behind them like a closing door.

  Valdis pushed aside a curtain of hanging moss as the narrow deer path gave way to stone. The earth sloped downward here, dipping into a gash in the hillside where jagged rocks jutted like broken teeth. The air grew damp and heavy, thick with the scent of moss and old bones.

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  Ahead, the trail of Ravyn’s magic seemed to pool—stronger now, almost too strong.

  “This is it,” she whispered, her voice almost reverent. “He came through here.”

  Argus stopped just behind her. His hand hovered near the hilt of his sword. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes scanned the edges of the clearing with the instincts of a seasoned fighter.

  “Something’s wrong,” he muttered.

  Valdis turned, impatience flashing in her eyes. “You say that every time I sense something.”

  “No,” he said, sharper now. “This is different. The silence. No birds. No bugs. The wind’s holding its breath.”

  She didn’t answer. Her hand raised, holding the dagger they’d used to track Ravyn. It pulsed again—stronger, unmistakable. It pointed toward the dark crack in the stone.

  Valdis moved forward, ignoring Argus’s protest. “Magic doesn’t lie.”

  Argus gritted his teeth. “But people do.”

  They entered the cave, boots scraping on old stone. The air inside was colder. The walls were slick with moisture, the ground uneven and cluttered with debris—bones, mostly. Goat, deer… something larger.

  And then they saw it.

  At the far end of the chamber, curled in a slouch of sleep, was a troll. Its skin was the color of mountain rock, thick and calloused. Its breath rumbled like distant thunder, the exhale reeking of rot and earth. A massive club lay by its side, carved from a tree trunk and banded with old iron.

  Valdis stopped in her tracks.

  “This isn’t right,” she said, frowning. “Why would he come here? Unless—”

  Thunk.

  A rock struck the wall near Argus’s head.

  Then silence.

  Then the troll's eyes snapped open.

  They glowed like molten gold in the darkness. Its nostrils flared. Its massive body shifted, stone grinding against stone as it rose—slow, deliberate, menacing.

  “Move!” Argus roared, shoving Valdis aside as the troll let out a deep, guttural bellow that shook dust from the ceiling.

  Another rock whistled through the air—this time striking Valdis’s staff and knocking it from her hand. She spun, eyes wide. It wasn’t the troll throwing them.

  Something else was in the cave.

  It was a trap.

  Argus drew steel, blade catching what little light filtered in. “We’re not alone.”

  The troll stepped forward, chains on its ankles rattling—old runes carved into the iron, broken.

  Valdis scrambled for her staff. “Someone released it—”

  Argus was already moving, placing himself between the troll and her. “I told you this felt wrong!”

  The beast lunged.

  Argus rolled low beneath the massive swing, shards of stone exploding where the club struck the ground. He gritted his teeth, feeling the shockwave in his bones. His sword was already in motion, slicing across the beast’s ankle—not to wound, but to bait.

  “Valdis!” he barked, ducking behind a boulder. “We need to trap it! The chains—look at the runes!”

  She didn’t answer.

  Above him, fire bloomed in the air as Valdis summoned a ring of flaming orbs that whirled around her like angry stars. She raised her hand and hurled one—then another—at the beast. The troll roared as flames erupted against its thick hide, momentarily blinded.

  “Don’t collapse the cave!” Argus snapped. “You’ll bury us—”

  Too late.

  A thunderous crack echoed as one of her firebursts struck the stone arch over the entrance. With a shriek of grinding rock, boulders rained down, sealing the way behind them.

  Dust rolled in like a choking wave. Argus coughed, dragging Valdis behind cover as another furious blow from the troll shattered their cover.

  “You damned fool—!”

  But Valdis’s eyes were wild, unfocused, lips moving as she began to channel again. This one was more complicated, older—a spell not meant for small fights. It surged with runes that pulsed violet beneath her skin.

  She’d only ever listened to one person without hesitation. One man whose voice could halt her rage and guide her flame.

  Ravyn.

  The one who lied. The one who left.

  She would never obey again.

  “Valdis—stop—!” Argus began, but her spell took shape too fast.

  The troll struck.

  Its massive hand backhanded her mid-casting, and she flew like a ragdoll against the wall. Her staff clattered, and she crumpled to the floor in silence, unmoving.

  Argus roared—more in rage than fear—and threw himself at the beast. His sword danced in brutal arcs, carving through hide and muscle, dodging blows that would pulverize stone. He moved like a man possessed, landing hit after hit—but it wasn’t enough.

  The troll caught his arm mid-swing and flung him into a pillar. Pain exploded through Argus’s body. Blood ran down his brow. He staggered, panting, barely holding the sword.

  The beast loomed over him, drooling and furious. It raised its weapon for a final blow.

  Now or never.

  With a hoarse cry, Argus lunged—not back, not aside, but forward, driving his blade deep into the beast’s side. He pivoted and dragged it in a final arc, slicing through muscle and bone, severing its hand.

  The club fell.

  The beast screamed—and Argus drove the sword into its throat.

  The cave fell silent.

  He stumbled back, vision swimming. His knees buckled. He dropped beside Valdis, his fingers barely checking her pulse. She was alive. Barely.

  His own wounds caught up to him.

  Blood loss. Fractured ribs. He was done.

  The last thing he saw, before his eyes slipped shut, was the silhouette of someone approaching—quiet, steady steps. A pair of worn boots stepped into the fading light, stopping by Valdis’s body… then turning toward him.

  Everything went dark.

  Valdis awoke to the sound of crackling wood and the sting of rough rope around her wrists.

  She jerked upright—but couldn’t move. Her arms were tied behind her, ankles lashed. Panic surged before discipline clamped down. She inhaled slowly, scanned the surroundings.

  A camp. Temporary, quiet. Smell of herbs and smoke. To her left, Argus—still unconscious, face bruised, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. A poultice had been applied to his wounds.

  Then her eyes moved forward.

  And there he was.

  Ravyn.

  He sat across the fire, one knee bent, forearms resting loosely on his leg. The flames danced against his face, but the light in his eyes was colder than steel. Silent. Heavy. That look.

  Her heart skipped.

  She’d seen it once before.

  Years ago, in the Duskhollow Ravine. Bandits ambushed them. She'd been pinned, bleeding, her magic faltering. She remembered the terror, the helplessness. Then Ravyn had appeared, eyes like this—like death itself. He moved through the camp like a shadow of vengeance, wordless and unstoppable.

  That same look now held her frozen.

  But this time, she was the one on the ground.

  “Ravyn…” she breathed. The name tasted like ash. “You’re alive.”

  He didn’t answer.

  The fire popped. Silence thickened.

  “Why…?” Her voice cracked. “Why did you run? Why didn’t you tell me? You betrayed everything. Everyone.”

  Still, no response.

  Her lips trembled, rage and sorrow swirling in her chest. “You left me,” she whispered. “You left us. We bled for you. I trusted you, Ravyn. I—” her voice broke, “—I followed you without question.”

  Ravyn slowly stood. He stepped into the firelight fully. Shadows wrapped him like old friends.

  His voice, when it came, was low and controlled. “You followed me until Crowfather gave you a better reason not to.”

  Valdis blinked. “W-what—?”

  “I saw the report,” he said. “Signed with your seal. Marked with his ink.” His gaze didn’t waver. “You told him we were leaving. You led him to us.”

  Her heart dropped. “No. I—I didn’t—”

  He crouched before her, close now. The firelight flickered in his eyes. “Loyalty isn’t a word you get to use anymore.”

  “I found this in Crowfather’s vault. Your seal. Your name.”

  Her heart pounded as she stared. “I never—”

  “I thought you told him,” Ravyn said. His voice was flat but brittle, like something sharp and breaking. “I thought you betrayed us.”

  “I didn’t,” she said quickly, urgently. “Ravyn, I swear to you—I never sent a report. I never told anyone about the plan.”

  His gaze lingered on her, uncertain.

  Valdis continued, “I thought you betrayed us when you vanished. I thought you left without saying anything because you lost faith.”

  Ravyn’s jaw tightened. “I lost faith in the system. In the Crowfather. In Hayes. But never in you.”

  He turned slightly, back to the fire. “Until I found that.”

  Valdis’s voice cracked, eyes burning. “Someone forged it.”

  He didn’t respond, but he didn’t walk away either.

  “Please,” she whispered. “You have to believe me.”

  A long silence.

  Then Ravyn spoke, barely audible: “It was him. Hayes.”

  Valdis’s breath caught.

  “He played us all,” Ravyn said. “He knew I’d see your seal. Knew I’d believe it. He needed to divide us before Crowfather made his next move.”

  Valdis lowered her head. “He wanted your place.”

  “And he got it,” Ravyn murmured.

  Argus groaned beside her, slowly stirring.

  Argus stirred beside her, groaning as consciousness returned. His fingers flexed against the ropes. He winced, shifting, and slowly opened his eyes.

  Valdis turned her head toward him. “Argus,” she whispered.

  His gaze drifted. First the fire. Then the trees. Then her—bound. And then—

  Ravyn.

  He stiffened.

  “You’re alive,” Argus said, voice raw.

  Ravyn didn’t respond. He stood still across the flames, arms crossed, silent as the forest itself.

  Argus’s jaw clenched. “We searched for you.”

  “I know,” Ravyn said.

  Valdis looked between them, her throat tight. “He found a report,” she said. “With my seal. Crowfather’s ink. It was forged.”

  Argus frowned. “Forged…?”

  “By Hayes,” Ravyn cut in. His voice was quiet. Controlled. “The report said I was planning to defect. That I couldn’t be trusted. That I had to be watched—neutralized if necessary.”

  Valdis added, “Ravyn thought I sent it. That I betrayed him.”

  Argus went still.

  “I found it weeks before I escaped,” Ravyn continued. “Buried in the Crowfather’s vault. He didn’t even bother hiding it.”

  “I never sent anything,” Valdis said, her voice low. “I would’ve died first.”

  Ravyn looked at her. And for a long moment, he said nothing. The fire flickered between them. Shadows stretched like silent witnesses.

  “Hayes played us,” he said at last. “Drove a wedge between us with a single lie. And I believed it.”

  Valdis dropped her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “So did I.”

  Valdis’s wrists burned as Ravyn cut the rope. She didn’t move right away. Her gaze was still fixed on his face—not with fear, but with something quieter. Guilt. Relief. The weight of what was never said.

  He turned to Argus, slicing the bindings at his ankles and wrists.

  Argus sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists. “So... now what?”

  Ravyn stepped back, the ceremonial dagger still in hand, its edge catching the light. He looked at them both. His expression had softened, but it hadn’t lost its weight.

  “I need eyes inside the Crows,” he said.

  Valdis blinked. “You’re asking us to go back?”

  “I’m asking you to survive,” Ravyn replied. “You know Hayes. You know what he’s capable of. He’s already fooled the Crowfather. Now he’s carving the guild into something worse. And if I resurface—if they learn I’m alive—he’ll come with fire.”

  Argus stared into the fire. “So you want us to lie.”

  “I want you to convince him I’m dead,” Ravyn said. “That you found the wreck, searched the coastline, asked every villager and every port-guard from here to the ice cliffs. That they all said the same thing.”

  “No survivors,” Valdis said quietly.

  Ravyn nodded. “Sell it. Bury me. If Hayes believes it, he’ll stop looking. At least for a while. And in that time, you find out what he's planning. Who’s loyal. Who’s bought.”

  Argus rubbed his jaw. “It’s risky.”

  “It’s the only way,” Ravyn said.

  Valdis looked down at her wrists, then at him. “Why should we trust you again?”

  Ravyn met her eyes, calm but unyielding. “Because if I was wrong about you—and I was—then I’m not making that mistake again.”

  Silence. The fire popped softly.

  Valdis finally nodded. “We’ll do it.”

  Ravyn offered her a small nod in return—grateful, but still distant. “You’ll need to leave before first light. I’ll leave supplies at the southern ridge.”

  Argus stood, brushing ash from his coat. “You’ll hear from us when we know something.”

  Ravyn stepped back into the shadows of the woods. “Be careful.”

  Valdis watched him fade into the dark.

  “I never stopped,” she whispered.