The magical image of Amelia shimmered before me, her features tight with a worry that seemed to warp the very air. “Thalia? Where are you? Are you safe?” Her voice crackled, thin and strained across the distance.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the sudden quiet of the tent. “I’m safe,” I managed, my own mind a chaotic swirl. “We reached the elven encampment last night.”

I sank onto my bedroll, my hand trembling so badly the sight of her wavered. A cold dread, heavy and familiar, coiled in my gut. The question tumbled from my lips before I could cage it. “Did something happen at Glen’s Crossing?”

Amelia’s gaze lost its focus, drifting to something unseen beyond her. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with a sorrow that chilled me to the bone. “Glen’s Crossing was attacked. Last night.”

The world tilted. A wave of vertigo washed over me, the canvas walls of the tent seeming to ripple. “That’s impossible,” I breathed, shaking my head in denial. “We were just there. We ran into Shadowveils, but we dealt with them. The town was secure.” I took a ragged breath, forcing my voice steady. I needed facts, not fear. “What happened?”

“It’s gone, Thalia,” she said, her words striking me like a physical blow. “They razed it.”

Images flooded my mind, sharp and painful: the innkeeper’s booming laugh, the scent of fresh bread from the bakery, the children playing tag in the cobblestone square. A town so vibrant, so full of life. “The people,” I choked out, my voice barely audible. “Are they…?”

“Everyone is alive.”

The relief that swept through me was so immense it left me lightheaded. But it was fleeting, a single ray of sun in a gathering storm.

Amelia continued, her voice grim. “They destroyed the marketplace, tore homes apart, shattered walls… but they didn’t harm a single soul. They weren’t there to conquer, Thalia. They were looking for something. Or someone.”

“I believe it,” I said, a new horror dawning. “When Cassius and I first arrived, the Shadowveils didn’t even fight back. We struck them, and they just… stood there. No reaction, not a sound.”

She ran a hand over her mouth, her expression deeply troubled. “That’s not natural. They’re puppets. Someone is pulling their strings.”

My mind flashed to the crude drawings I’d seen posted on trees, the desperate pleas for lost loved ones. “The kidnappings,” I said, the pieces clicking into place with sickening certainty. “It has to be connected. Someone with immense mana is behind this, and the people they’re taking… they have it, too. They’re being collected.”

“I think you’re right.” Amelia’s attention shifted. She reached for a stack of papers on a nearby table, holding them up to the light. “The situation is worsening. These posters arrive every day now.” Even through the shimmering projection, I could see the faces staring out, stark and desperate.

A cold knot formed in my stomach. What does this mean for us? What is coming? I thought we had more time, I lamented silently, the memory of another, different life flickering at the edge of my consciousness. At least, we did last time. Have the small ripples I’ve made already created such a tidal wave in the currents of fate?

“Is that all the news from Glen’s Crossing?” I asked, needing to ground myself in the present.

“For now,” Amelia confirmed, her face etched with grim determination. “I’m working on getting more.”

I managed a faint smile. “Thank you, Amelia.” My thoughts drifted, seeking a less painful anchor. “Any word about Lyra?”

Amelia’s demeanor shifted, a flicker of pride cutting through the gloom. “He broke into her home last night.” A wry smile touched her lips. “She’s far stronger than he anticipated. Threw him out a window. She’ll be able to hold her own.”

“Was he injured?”

“Only his pride,” she said dismissively. “Hopefully, this is the final push she needs to seek out the others.”

“Good. I hope so.”

“She will,” Amelia replied, and a look I knew well came over her face—one of ancient wisdom and unshakable certainty. “The loom of fate reshapes itself around strength, Thalia. You have set a stone in the river; now the current must find its new path. Her destiny is aligning.” Her gaze met mine, soft yet firm. “You are doing well. Do not carry the weight of things beyond your control.”

“I’ll try,” I said, offering a weak smile.

“Now,” she said, her own smile returning, “tell me what happened on your end. An elven encampment is no small feat to find.”

I welcomed the change of subject. “An elf named Paitelia. She used to trade in Glen’s Crossing, selling jewelry but really gathering news. We ran into her, and she guided us here. We arrived late last night.”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Amelia said. “And I assume Cassius has been reunited with his people, since this is the first I’ve seen you when he isn’t hovering at your shoulder.”

A genuine smile, the first in what felt like hours, broke across my face. “He has. Oh, Amelia, you should have seen it. They welcomed him as their king without a single question. There was so much joy.”

“That is wonderful news.” She paused, her gaze turning perceptive. “Though your silence is louder than the celebration you describe. What is it?”

I sighed, the brief warmth of my smile fading. How could she always see right through me? “Paitelia… when she first met me, she hated me on sight. She thought I was human. It was only after she learned my mother was Syanna that she welcomed me.”

Amelia’s expression softened with sympathy. “Their wounds run deep, Thalia. Humans have done terrible things to their people.”

“I know,” I whispered, looking away.

“What are you truly afraid of?” she pressed gently.

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m worried they won’t accept me,” I admitted, the words tasting like ash. “That they’ll only ever see the human in me. That they won’t accept me being… with Cassius.”

Silence stretched between us. “It may not be easy,” Amelia said finally, her voice soft. “But you are Syanna’s daughter. Your blood is your truth. I hear you have an uncle here. Perhaps seeking him out would be a start.”

“I will,” I promised, a new resolve taking root. “But not yet. Right now, they’re preparing a festival for Cassius’s return. I won’t be the one to tarnish that. They’ve lived in hiding for so long; they deserve this moment of pure happiness.”

“A wise choice,” Amelia said. “Shall we talk a while longer, then?”

“I’d like that,” I replied, a real smile returning as I tried to ignore the growing sounds of merriment outside the tent. “How are things on your end?”

“Quiet, for the most part. Though your cousin Dolion is proving far more persistent than I anticipated,” she said, rolling her eyes with theatrical annoyance. “I have it under control, but the boy is relentless.”

I chuckled. “Sorry. I suppose you’re just too captivating.”

Her answering laugh was a welcome balm. “On a brighter note, I finally acquired that rare text on elemental linguistics I’ve been searching for. One of the kitchen staff had a cousin who…”

Her voice was suddenly swallowed by a swell of music. A chorus erupted from the heart of the encampment—dozens of voices rising in a traditional elven anthem. The song was hauntingly beautiful, ancient and powerful, and it drowned out Amelia’s words completely. A pang of sadness hit me; I had been enjoying our moment of normalcy.

Amelia’s voice came through, strained and loud. “IT’S GETTING LOUD! I’LL LET YOU GO! BE SAFE, THALIA!”

I tried to muster a smile. “Bye, Amelia.”

Her image dissolved, leaving me alone in the sudden silence of my tent, the joyous singing outside feeling a world away. I fell back onto the bedroll, staring at the canvas ceiling as the melody rose and fell. It was a song of homecoming, of a king returned. It should have filled me with hope. Instead, it only amplified the knot of worry in my chest.

I’ve faced worse than this, I told myself, closing my eyes for just a moment, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.

And then I felt it.

The same unseen gaze from before. A piercing awareness that felt like it was peeling me apart layer by layer, studying every fiber of my being. It was followed by a wave of malevolence so pure it was a physical force, prickling at my skin like a thousand icy needles.

My eyes snapped open.

My breath caught in my throat. Terror took over. In one silent, fluid motion, I was on my feet, my body coiled like a spring.

A shadow fell across the canvas wall of the tent—the distinct silhouette of a figure standing just outside. The oppressive hatred intensified, seeming to bleed right through the fabric, cold, suffocating, and impossibly close. Before I could draw a breath, the canvas ripped open with a sound like tearing flesh, and a hand wreathed in shadow shot through the opening, its icy grip closing around my throat.