The Outlands hit me harder than I expected.

  Zephyris, for all its chaos and misery, at least had the comfort of noise and life. Out here, in the vast stretch of barren rock and jagged cliffs, silence reigned. The wind whispered through cracks in the earth, carrying a faint chill that settled in my bones.

  “Stay close,” Aeryn said, her voice breaking the stillness.

  “Not like there’s anywhere else to go,” I muttered, tightening the strap of my coat. I wasn’t dressed for this—just a patched-up black jacket over a threadbare shirt, frayed pants, and boots that were starting to give up on life. Aeryn, of course, looked as composed as ever.

  “Keep complaining, Vale. It’s great motivation,” she said, smirking faintly.

  “Where the hell are we even going?” I shot back, squinting at the horizon.

  She rolled her eyes. “Just trust me for now, the explanation wouldn’t help you anyway.”

  “Comforting.”

  Aeryn Lune was a vision of composed danger and elegance. Her long, flowing silver hair framed her sharp features, catching the light in a way that made her look ethereal, yet grounded in shadow. Her violet eyes burned with intensity, their piercing gaze revealing layers of cunning and a guarded soul.

  She wore a black leather outfit adorned with silver accents and intricate stitching, giving her an air of practicality mixed with sophistication. A tailored coat with a fur-lined collar draped over her shoulders, its hem flaring slightly when she moved, adding to her commanding presence. Thin belts and chains accented her ensemble, subtly shifting with her movements. Her gloves, snug and well-worn, concealed hands that held both finesse and lethal skill.

  Despite her sharp and battle-hardened appearance, there was an undeniable allure to her—a subtle, magnetic elegance. She carried herself with a confidence born of necessity, her every step measured, her every gesture calculated. But beneath her unshakable exterior, a faint vulnerability lingered—one she hid well but could never fully suppress.

  As we walked, I found myself studying Aeryn more closely than I should have. It wasn’t intentional—at least, not entirely. But there was something about the way she moved, confident and deliberate, that kept drawing my attention.

  “You’re staring,” she said without turning, her tone light but teasing.

  I stumbled slightly, pulling my gaze away. “What? No, I’m just—”

  “Relax, Vale. I don’t blame you.” She glanced back, her violet eyes glinting with amusement. “Not everyone gets to walk beside a shadow witch.”

  “You’re a humble one, aren’t you?” I muttered, trying not to blush.

  Aeryn stopped abruptly, her shadows rippling out in a sharp wave. “We’re not alone, must be nightmares” she said, her tone suddenly serious.

  I tensed, clutching the shard in my hand. “Nightmares?”

  Her gaze swept the cliffs above us. “Watch the ridge.”

  I followed her line of sight, my heart pounding. The jagged rocks cast long shadows in the fading sunlight, and for a moment, I thought I saw movement—something too fast to track.

  “Will they attack us?” I asked, my voice lowered.

  “Hopefully not,” she said, drawing her shadow blade. “But stay ready.”

  As we moved cautiously through the plains, I noticed strange patterns etched into the rocks. Symbols, carved deep into the stone, pulsed faintly with green light.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “What are these?” I asked, running my fingers over one of the markings.

  Aeryn hesitated, her expression unreadable. “Remnants of the Threads,” she said finally. “When a core Thread is torn, it leaves fractures—scars in the fabric of reality. These symbols are part of the fallout.”

  “Like… echoes?”

  “More like anchors,” she said, stepping past me. “They hold the fractures in place. Without them, this entire region would collapse into the Rift.”

  I frowned, tracing the edges of the symbol. “So… if someone destroyed one of these?”

  “The Rift would spill out,” she said bluntly. “And everything nearby would cease to exist.”

  “Good to know,” I muttered, stepping away from the symbol.

  By nightfall, we’d found a small alcove in the cliffs. Aeryn set up a faint magical barrier—just enough to deter anything wandering too close. I watched as her shadows wove into the shimmering outline of the ward, her movements deliberate but strangely familiar, though I couldn’t say why.

  The air was cold, biting at my skin even through my coat. I huddled closer to the small fire we’d managed to spark, rubbing my hands together for warmth.

  “Here,” Aeryn said, tossing me a small bundle.

  I caught it clumsily, unwrapping a thick blanket. “Didn’t think you were the sharing type.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” she said, sitting cross-legged a few feet away. Her shadows coiled lazily around her, flickering in the firelight.

  I gestured toward the glowing barrier she’d set up. “Your magic is...really good. Almost too good. How’d you learn that?”

  Aeryn gave me a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  She let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You’re the one who taught me.”

  I blinked. “Me?”

  Her eyes flicked toward the fire. “Before you lost your memories. You don’t remember it, but you did. You weren’t exactly the nurturing type, but you knew how to unravel a problem better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s… surprising,” I said, though it felt like I was grasping at smoke. “Must’ve been one hell of a teacher.”

  “You were,” she said, her tone softer than I was used to. “You taught me how to weave shadows, how to anchor myself when the magic tried to take too much. It’s why I’m still standing.”

  I shifted, feeling the weight of the shard in my pocket. “I guess I knew what I was doing back then.”

  “You did,” she said, watching me carefully. “But you weren’t perfect. You pushed too hard, tore things apart just to see if they’d fall back together.” Her voice lowered. “Not everything does.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t respond. There was an ache in her words that felt like it belonged to me, even if I didn’t remember why.

  “Do you remember much of your past?” I asked finally, breaking the quiet.

  Aeryn’s gaze flicked toward me, sharp and assessing. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Just wondering. You talk a lot about the cost of using the Threads. What’s yours?”

  Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she sighed, leaning back against the rock wall.

  “I lose memories, but only if I overdo it” she said quietly. “Every time I use too much magic, another piece of my past disappears. A name, a face, a moment—it all slips away.”

  Her words hit harder than I expected. “That’s…”

  “Brutal?” she said, smirking faintly. “Yeah. But it is what it is.”

  I hesitated, unsure of what to say. “Do you remember anything important?”

  Aeryn’s smile faltered. She looked away, her shadows curling tighter around her. “I remember enough,” she said softly. “Enough to keep going.”

  I didn’t sleep well that night. The shard pulsed faintly in my pocket, and the whispers in my head grew louder.

  When the vision came, it was like falling into a dream that wasn’t mine.

  The Rift surrounded me, a chaotic swirl of colors and shadows. The voices rose to a deafening roar, but one cut through the rest—familiar and sharp.

  “Sion Vale.”

  I turned, and there it was. The shadowy figure from before, its form rippling like smoke.

  “You continue to resist,” it said, stepping closer. “But the blade cannot deny its purpose.”

  “What do you want?” I demanded, my voice trembling.

  “What you stole,” it said simply. “The Threads demand balance. You cannot keep the shard.”

  “I didn’t steal it,” I said, though the words felt hollow.

  “Didn’t you?” the shadow said, tilting its head. “Search your memories, thief. Search the fragments of what you were.”

  Images flashed in my mind—Zephyris, the Spire, a hand reaching toward mine. Light, pain, and a scream that tore through the air.

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “You will,” the shadow said, its voice both a whisper and a roar. “When the blade cuts, it cuts both ways.”

  The vision shattered, and I woke with a gasp.

  Aeryn was already awake, sitting by the dying embers of the fire. Her violet eyes met mine as I sat up, my chest heaving.

  “Another vision?” she asked.

  I nodded, rubbing my temples. “The Rift. It showed me… something.”

  “What?”

  I hesitated, the shadow’s words still echoing in my mind. “Fragments. Memories. It said I stole the shard.”

  Aeryn didn’t reply right away. She stared at the embers, her expression unreadable.

  “Do you think it’s lying?” I asked.

  “No,” she said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s telling you the whole truth.”

  Her words lingered as we packed up and continued into the plains.

  Whatever the shard was, and whatever it had done to me, I was starting to think Aeryn was right.

  The truth would break me.