Damp cold seeped through the tent floor as Ana stirred awake, clinging to her skin and making every movement feel like wading through molasses. She groaned, blinking at the dim lantern glow swaying overhead, its flicker dancing across the worn canvas. Before her vision cleared, she sensed Caden beside her—his bright energy a small comfort against the chill. She smiled, and he opened his eyes in slow stages. For a heartbeat they lay there, savoring the fragile warmth of the tent, until a gruff voice cut through the hush.

"We're moving out—come on, or stay here."

Garin, the ink-stained merchant, sounded impatient. Ana sat up with a start and met Caden's gaze. No words passed; she tilted her head, offering him the choice. He stretched, his face lighting up with excitement. In that instant, the tent flap whipped open and a blast of cold air, heavy with horses and mud, rushed inside.

The promise of the day spilled in, banishing the tent's quiet cocoon. Caden rubbed his eyes and a grin of pure eagerness spread across his face. He sprang to his feet with the restless vigor only youth can summon. Ana watched, a wistful smile tugging at her lips—she remembered that boundless drive. With a slow stretch, she slid off the threadbare cot, damp clothes clinging to her.

Garin peered in, squinting, then pushed the flap wider. Behind him, a battered wooden table held their scant provisions: two cracked waterskins, a handful of hardtack, and a frayed canvas roll, scattered among patched cloaks and battered packs.

"Up and at 'em," he called, voice warm but teasing. "Don't make me leave you behind."

Ana exchanged a glance with Caden, who was already shouldering his pack. She couldn't help but smirk despite the cold.

"You hear him," she said softly.

Garin chuckled, a soft rumble like stones sliding down a slope, and waved at their meager feast. Caden tightened his straps, excitement practically vibrating through him. Ana lingered a moment to wrestle into her cloak.

"Quite the banquet," she quipped, pulling the hood over her damp hair. "Merchant's trying to spoil us?"

He shrugged, feigning exasperation. "Not exactly a king's feast," he said. "But it'll hold you for a few days."

He turned to Caden, raising an eyebrow. "You sure about this, lad? These woods don't take kindly to the unready."

Caden's eyes sparkled. "We'll manage," he said, glancing at Ana for support. "Right?"

Ana lifted one brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Provided he doesn't offer us up to the bears," she teased.

Caden's trademark crooked grin appeared—the one that always smoothed her scowls. "No one's bear bait," he declared, though a thread of nerves lingered, looking to Ana for her verdict.

Stepping outside, Ana felt the cold bite deeper. She glanced back to find Caden hesitating at the tent flap, fingers fumbling with a strap on his pack. His bold front seemed to waver in the frosty air.

"Are there—" Caden lowered his voice so Garin wouldn't overhear, "—real bears out here?"

Ana tightened her cloak around her shoulders. She paused, reluctant to admit how endearing his worry was. "Not near the trade roads, no," she said slowly. "But the deeper you go, the more toothy the locals get." She offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry—I did all the bear-running when I was your age."

Caden studied her, searching for any hint of falsehood.

Garin laughed, warmth flickering in his eyes. With a final nod, he stepped back into the morning light, leaving Ana and Caden alone to finish their preparations.

Ana's gloved hands danced over her gear, snapping each buckle into place. Caden mirrored her, though his fingers trembled with impatient eagerness.

Again, Ana's hands moved swiftly while Caden stood still, gathering courage.

The caravan wound its way along the narrow, dirt path, a thin procession threading through the dense forest. Towering trees loomed on either side like ancient sentinels, their branches arching overhead to form a living canopy that filtered the pale morning light into soft, ghostly hues.

Garin stood at the head of the procession, his silhouette outlined against the lush greenery, a sharp difference from the dry savannah they had just crossed. The line of wagons creaked along the path, each one piled high with wares covered in canvas to protect against the forest's dampness. He watched with a knowing smile as Ana and Caden emerged from the dense underbrush, its leafy tendrils clinging stubbornly to their cloaks, a far cry from the sparse vegetation of the desert-like savannah.

"Didn't know the boy has that amount of stamina!" he called out with a laugh.

Ana came up beside him, her breath steady despite their pace. "He doesn't," she replied.

They both turned, just in time to see Caden huffing and puffing. He threw himself onto one of the wagons with dramatic flair, gasping for air as he sprawled across a pile of burlap sacks. Ana smirked, shaking her head.

Ana kept to the rear of the caravan, her footfalls landing in perfect time with the wagon wheels' groans and the horses' rhythmic hoofbeats. The forest canopy arched overhead like a cathedral ceiling, amplifying every sound. Her gaze never settled, scanning each shadow between the trunks as though expecting ambush. At the column's head, Garin consulted a map worn thin at its creases, calling out commands that carried back to Ana's elven ears. His finger jabbed toward barely visible breaks in the wall of trees.

When the caravan paused to rest, Caden slumped instantly onto his back, arms splayed. Sunlight poked through the shifting leaves overhead, dappling him with gold bruises. The mossy ground beneath was soft, a welcome change from the coarse gravel that had battered his feet since dawn. His chest heaved, every muscle shivering in revolt, but it was a good sort of pain—a badge. He watched a lime-green beetle trundle across his knuckles, its carapace glinting with arcane iridescence.

Ana's shadow flickered over him, her silhouette cutting a sharp edge against the shifting light as if the sun itself deferred to her. He closed his eyes, braced for a kick or, worse, a "lesson." Instead she crouched by his head and balanced a flat pebble inscribed with a glowing rune on his forehead.

"The weakest apprentice in the Kings army would have run twice as far carrying a wounded comrade," Ana said, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. "You'd be dead before the first demon even noticed you."

Caden kept still, the rune-stone warm against his skin. "I'm conserving my ...energy."

"You're conserving nothing but excuses," she retorted, her fingers glowing faintly as she traced a symbol in the air above him. The beetle lifted from his knuckles, suspended in her magic. "A true warrior knows rest is earned, not taken. Your ancestors weep."

Ana levered herself upright with a tired grace, then spun the pebble through her fingers and flicked it against Caden's chest.

She half-dragged him upright, dusted moss from his shoulder.

The world steadied on its axis. Ana released her grip and let Caden stumble along after the wagons, his lungs still raspy. She didn't offer praise, or a drink, or a hand. He had breath enough to survive, and that was the only measure that mattered out here.

The road shrank to a muddy groove framed on both sides by the forest. The slow parade of wagons crushed weeds and saplings underfoot, leaving deep ruts shiny with yesterday's rain. The canopy above tangled higher and thicker until even pale sunlight was a rumor, flickering on the edges of their path.

The path narrowed, trees pressing closer, their shadows pooling deeper. Something whispered through the branches—perhaps wind, perhaps something else. Caden froze mid-step. His mouth fell open as he pointed to a stone jutting from the earth, half-shrouded in moss. Across its surface, strange markings caught the dappled light, pulsing faintly like embers refusing to die.

"What are these?" he asked, voice barely louder than the rustling leaves.

Ana knelt beside him, tracing the symbols with a thoughtful expression. "Old wards," she replied, the words carrying a weight that made Caden's skin prickle. "The spirits here play tricks with the mind. These were meant to keep them at bay."

Caden watched her intently, the mix of wonder and uncertainty plain on his face. He reached out to touch the stone, and Ana caught his wrist with a suddenness that startled him. Her grip softened almost immediately.

"Best not." she said, an enigmatic smile tugging at her lips.

Her gaze flitting over the ancient markings. "They're strong here. Shifting lines of magic running through the land. Always moving, like restless spirits."

The boy's eagerness was infectious, and Ana found herself drawn into his unflagging thirst for knowledge. The dense underbrush pressed in around them, a tangled web of life that seemed to pulse with its own hidden rhythm. She watched as Caden absorbed every detail, his steps quick and light, even as the path grew more treacherous.

"Are these what give us magic?" he asked, his breath coming in quick, excited bursts.

Ana's mouth parted in surprise, caught off guard by the boy's perceptiveness

"In a way," Garin cut in, his voice carrying a mystery that enveloped them. "They channel mana. Most people can't see them, but they're everywhere. Feeding life, bending reality. Some call them 'Aurora's Veins' or Ley Lines."

Caden's eyes shone, his youthful spirit undampened by the growing gloom of the forest. Ana marveled at his resilience, the way he approached each new revelation with the hunger of a scholar and the joy of a child.

They moved deeper into the forest. The air was thick with the scent of earth and leaves and the merchants' hushed conversations mingled. Ana's ears caught every whisper.

Caden walked closer, his trust in her guidance unshakeable. "Have you seen them before? Why do people call them 'veins'" he asked, glancing at the shimmering lines as they flickered in and out of view.

"Not like this," Ana said, her thoughts drifting to the city and its shadowed corners. "There, they're hidden. Here, they're like rivers on fire."

She paused, giving him a sidelong glance as if weighing how much to reveal. Her hand brushed against his unruly hair in a gesture both playful and exasperated.

"Because," she began, her voice catching the cadence of a well-worn story, "some believe the Godess of Creation 'Aurora' bleeds for us. Her very essence flowing into the world so that we can have magic."

The boy grinned, shrugging her disturbances, with the ease of someone who had grown accustomed to it, off. His eyes drifted again to the arcs and swirls of power that danced through the forest, their ephemeral glow casting strange shadows across his face.

"So even the gods suffer for it?" he asked, a mix of reverence and boldness in his voice.

Ana paused, caught between amusement and a deeper reflection. "They say it's in their nature," she murmured. "To give and to lose."

Caden's laughter rang out, bright and untroubled, a stark contrast to the somber tones of the forest. "I want to see all of it," he declared, his enthusiasm an anchor for Ana's drifting mind.

"Careful what you wish for little kid," Garin replied, though his smile betrayed his affection for the boy's unflagging spirit.

Ana noticed Caden, captivated by the Veins, seemed unaffected by the tension, his youthful spirit shielding him from doubt and fear—a trait she admired and envied.

"Do they change?" Caden inquired, gesturing to the lines that flickered like fireflies in the mist.

"Constantly," Garin replied, "What you see now might vanish in the next moment."

The merchants kept their distance. Ana caught their sideways glances—the kind reserved for elves in human lands—though they nodded respectfully when she met their eyes. Temporary allies, nothing more. She'd seen too many fair-weather friends vanish at the first hint of trouble to believe otherwise.

The path narrowed between ancient stones, half-swallowed by earth and time. Ana's fingers brushed a moss-covered carving as they passed—a face or perhaps a symbol, worn smooth by centuries of rain. Something stirred in the air around them. Not wind, but something older. The forest floor seemed to pulse beneath their feet, as if they walked on the back of some slumbering giant.