The northern woods didn't welcome strangers.
Even Kaelen felt it in his chest as they moved past the ridgelines—every tree watching, every branch holding breath.
Liora said nothing the entire way.
But Kaelen didn't miss the way her fingers brushed her dagger every time the wind shifted.
It wasn't just the cold that crawled under their cloaks.
It was expectation.
---
They didn't bring guards.
Didn't tell the council.
It had to be the two of them.
If Alric was truly waiting, he wouldn't show his face to a crowd.
He would show it to blood.
And Liora was the only thing keeping Kaelen's blood from boiling over.
---
They reached the abandoned forge site by dusk.
The land was dead.
No wolves. No scent of firewood. Just an eerie stillness that wrapped around the broken stones.
Liora stood in the center of the ruins, boots crunching ash.
"He's watching," she said.
Kaelen nodded. "He always was."
Then the wind changed.
And Alric stepped out of the trees.
---
