Night settled over the camp like a shroud, heavy and impenetrable. The air was still, unnervingly so, as though the forest itself held its breath. Cassie stood near the edge of the camp, her dagger sheathed but within reach. The faint glow of the central fire offered little comfort against the darkness pressing in from all sides.

  A twig snapped somewhere in the distance, the sound sharp and deliberate. She stiffened, her eyes narrowing on the treeline, but nothing emerged. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her blade, a silent reassurance against the unease prickling at her skin.

  The camp behind her was quiet, the group scattered in uneasy rest. Exhaustion had worn them down, their guard lowered despite the lingering threat. She glanced toward Captain Hildiger, who sat near the fire, his head bowed in restless sleep. The others weren’t far, huddled in small clusters that spoke to their fraying trust.

  Boots crunched on gravel behind her. Cassie turned, catching sight of Theodoric approaching with slow, measured steps. His sword hung loosely at his side, though his posture was anything but relaxed.

  “Trouble?” he asked quietly.

  “Not yet,” she replied, her voice low.

  He stopped beside her, his gaze sweeping the shadows beyond the camp. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them weighty but unspoken.

  “Your plan worked,” he said finally. “The group’s holding together. If only barely.”

  Cassie glanced at him, catching the faint edge of weariness in his tone. “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “They listen to you,” he said, his gaze flicking toward the camp. “They trust you more than they trust me right now.”

  The words weren’t an accusation, but there was a tension beneath them that made her hesitate.

  “They trust me to keep them alive,” she said carefully.

  “And they question whether I can,” he finished. His jaw tightened, and he looked back toward the forest. “It’s no secret Cedric wants me to fail. Or worse. But it’s not just him. Dietrich has his claws in more than I thought.”

  The name hung in the air, a quiet acknowledgment of the deeper stakes.

  “You think this is his doing?” she asked, keeping her voice even.

  Theodoric’s expression hardened. “I know it is. The sabotage, the beasts, the attacks. They’re all too coordinated to be coincidence. He’s trying to bleed us dry before he strikes.”

  Cassie studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders and the faint flicker of doubt in his otherwise steady gaze. This wasn’t just about survival. It was personal.

  “What’s his angle?” she asked, though she suspected the answer.

  Theodoric exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cold air. “The throne. Always the throne.”

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  Her gaze drifted back to the shadows, her unease deepening. Dietrich’s reach was longer than she’d anticipated, his influence threading through their every move like an invisible snare.

  “You should rest,” Theodoric said, his voice breaking her thoughts.

  “I’ll rest when I trust this place,” she replied.

  He gave her a faint, wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good luck with that.”

  She watched him retreat toward the fire, his steps heavier than usual. Theodoric was always decisive, but there was something off about the way he handled this hunt. He kept pressing forward, even when the signs screamed at them to stop. Even now, with everything going wrong, his answer remained unchanged.

  It wasn’t just stubbornness. Cassie had seen men lead before, men who commanded with instinct, who adapted when the ground shifted beneath them. Theodoric wasn’t adapting. He was clinging to the plan as if it was the only thing keeping him steady.

  Commander Robin once told her, "No plan survives contact with the enemy. What matters is how quickly a leader adapts." Cassie had taken those words to heart.

  Theodoric, it seemed, had not.

  She doubted if anyone had ever told him that. Or if they had, he had never listened.

  Unlike Dietrich, who was more open to suggestions and willing to consider different approaches, Theodoric seemed to trust only a select few these days. The queen was the exception, but even then, it was only when their goals aligned.

  Returning her focus to the treeline, Cassie began pacing the perimeter, her sharp eyes scanning the forest for anything out of place. The silence felt unnatural, like a predator waiting to pounce.

  Her gaze snagged on a tree trunk a few paces away. Faint marks marred the bark, carvings that hadn’t been there before.

  She approached cautiously, her fingers brushing the rough surface as she examined the symbols. They were angular and precise, etched deep into the wood with deliberate intent. The language was unfamiliar, but their purpose was clear.

  A warning. Or worse, a guide.

  Cassie’s chest tightened as realization sank in. Their enemies were herding toward an ambush like prey in a snare.

  Her hand fell to her dagger as she scanned the surrounding trees, searching for more marks. The faint glint of another carving caught her eye further ahead, confirming her suspicion.

  She moved quickly, returning to the center of the camp where Theodoric was speaking quietly with Hildiger. He straightened when he saw her approach, his expression sharpening.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Symbols,” she said curtly. “Carved into the trees. They’re funneling us.”

  Theodoric’s gaze darkened, and he motioned for Hildiger to follow. “Show me.”

  She led them to the first tree, then to the next, tracing the faint but unmistakable pattern. Theodoric’s face hardened as he studied the carvings, his jaw tightening.

  “This isn’t random,” he muttered.

  “No,” Cassie agreed. “It’s deliberate. They’re steering us.”

  Hildiger swore under his breath, his grip on his sword tightening.

  “We break the pattern,” Theodoric said decisively. “Change course at first light. For now, we keep watch.”

  Cassie nodded, though her unease remained.

  As they returned to the camp, a flicker of movement caught her attention. She froze, her hand snapping to her dagger as her eyes locked on the treeline.

  A figure stood just beyond the edge of the firelight, their silhouette barely discernible against the darkness.

  “Theodoric,” she said sharply, her voice low but urgent.

  He followed her gaze, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The figure lingered for a moment, their presence deliberate and unnerving. Then, without a sound, they vanished into the shadows.

  The camp came alive with tension, the guards rising to their feet and drawing their weapons. Theodoric raised a hand, silencing the mounting questions.

  “Hold positions,” he ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

  Cassie kept her eyes on the spot where the figure had disappeared, her pulse steady but her instincts screaming.

  “They’re watching us,” she said quietly.

  “And waiting,” Theodoric added, his tone grim.

  No immediate threat materialized, but the tension lingered, coiling through the group like a taut wire. Cassie resumed her watch, her focus sharper than ever.

  She didn’t doubt Theodoric’s intelligence, nor his ability to command. But leadership wasn’t just about issuing orders. It was about knowing when to change course. And if he didn’t learn that soon… they were all going to die.

  The calm wouldn’t last. It never did.