Dust curled off the old oak table, catching in the lone candle’s glow as Rin dropped his pack onto it with a dull thud.

“Tal and Moons should be out in a minute. You said the house is northeast of the square?” Rin asked, replaying Erith’s warning from just before the scramble.

Erith nodded, settling against the edge of the lectern. Maeric sat in the front row, chin in his hand, watching the candlelight glimmer across the stained-glass windows.

“And she said someone would ask for Tal?” He nodded again. Amun stepped out from the hallway into the lecture room, his movements slow under the weight of the pack slung across his back.

“Right. If anything goes bad before then, the docks wouldn’t be a bad fallback. We could take a boat, if it came to that,” Rin said, mulling over any outcome he could.

“Ah, easing into casual criminality, are we? Is that what we’re doing now, Rin?” Maeric’s tone held faint amusement, his gaze never leaving the windows.

Amun turned toward Maeric with a blank expression, then pointed toward Erith. “I think blowing up a diplomat’s house puts him a little past casual.”

Rin scratched his forehead. “Maeric, I know your heart is in the right place, but Cerus doesn’t seem the type to be interested in brokering peace between kingdoms.”

“The Illuminary speaks for the King,” Maeric said. “Ranoric counsels him—they’re not simply warmongers.” He held Rin’s gaze. “I know my brother. They want to heal this world.”

Rin’s hand drifted toward the bridge of his nose. “And what do you think healing this world will cost, Maeric?”

Silence pressed in as every eye in the room found Erith.

Maeric shook his head. “Erith wishes to leave Velmoran. There’s nothing more to it.”

He rose—quicker than he meant to. “Call it a selfish desire to stay who we are—not what others have already decided we must be.” His coat brushed against the wooden bench as he turned toward the hallway Tal had just stepped through. Without another word, he bent to lift his pack.

Tal scanned the lecture hall, eyeing each one of them before she nodded. “Okay. Rin, Maeric—you’re with me. You don’t know this side of the city, so stick close. Erith, take Moons. You know where to go?”

Erith could feel his friends’ eyes on him. His chest was warm. His heart hadn’t steadied since he’d seen the Warden.

And he couldn’t shake the look Cerus had given him as he turned to leave—almost triumphant.

He couldn’t lift his eyes to meet Tal’s, but nodded to her question. “Erith.” Her tone had lightened. When he finally glanced up, there was a grin stretched across her face.

“We’ll be alright. Better than Verael. Whatever happens, we’re all here.” She turned toward Rin, tugging her shoulder straps back into place. “And if we need to regroup, we’ll meet at the docks. Find a boat. Erith blows up the docks—we’re out without a hitch.”

She moved to the steps leading up to the doorway, then turned back to face the others.

“Not a word until we leave the Soliri. Not until we reach the gardens. We meet in the alley under Saryn’s house. Erith—if you’re followed, lose them before you reach the alley—do you want to check around for Kaida, see if anything feels off?”

Erith shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about that since Saryn mentioned you can lure Murasi… I don’t know what Cerus can and can’t do. What if he can sense me feeling around? I don’t want to risk tipping him off.”

With a final nod, she started up the steps, the group falling in behind her one by one.

They crept through the empty hallways, lit with a single candle at the corners, keeping their steps soft, until they reached the stone staircase down to the Soliri pavilion.

Candlelight spilled from the base of the stairs. Tal descended slowly, pausing a few steps from the bottom to peer around the pavilion.

She glanced back at the group, her expression uneasy, then gave a small motion forward.

“We’re not alone. But we don’t have a choice. Just—don’t go in a straight line. That’ll look suspicious.”

The group descended the stairs and rounded the corner into the pavilion entrance.

Erith glanced back over his shoulder, down the grand staircase. The faint bluish glow of the healing ward flickered from below when two figures in Soliri garb emerged from the staircase.

He turned forward at once.

The pavilion was quiet—though not as quiet as any of them would have liked at this hour. Small groups of healers, townsfolk, and guards lingered in the evening hours.

The group moved together, drifting toward the open edge where the pavilion gave way to the garden path beyond.

Passing through the soft echoes of chatter, Erith tilted his head up toward the ceiling. Even in a moment like this, he couldn’t help but take in the faded carvings, etched by a civilization long before them.

What was life like here? Did they know their time was coming? Was the last time they set foot in this temple anything like now?

He looked down as they reached the stairs toward the garden into the open night. Without a word, the group walked through the garden until they reached the cobblestone street facing the city.

Tal raised a hand slightly, and nodded to the group. “Don’t draw attention. Lose anyone before you get there. See you soon.”

With that, they split off. The two groups faded into different alleyways, swallowed by the night.

“Stay close, Moons. Be my eyes in back,” Erith said in a hushed tone, picking up his pace.

The two wound through alleyways, avoiding every main road they could. Behind him, Amun’s ragged breaths were the only sound stirring the night air.

They slipped from one alley to the next, crossing a narrow stone staircase.

A yelp tore through the quiet. Then a crash.

Amun was picking himself up off the stairs, the pack had rolled a few steps below. Erith darted toward Amun, who raised his hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just—grab the pack.”

Erith swung the pack over his shoulder and hoisted himself upright. He scanned the alley before extending a hand to Amun. Amun clasped his forearm, but slipped—leaving a streak of blood across Erith’s skin.

“Just a cut. Nobody put an arrow in my back or anything,” Amun muttered between breaths.

Erith reached out again, pulling him to his feet.

For a heartbeat, his thoughts drifted—dust swirling over the ridge of the Narrows, Elian’s hand clasping his as he lay close to the ledge.

The pulse in his ears grew louder, until Amun’s voice broke through. “Let’s keep moving. We’re close, right?”

“Yeah. Only a street away.” Erith’s voice held a note of caution.

He glanced at Amun. “You haven’t seen anyone either?”

Amun shook his head as they moved down the alley.

From the next bend, the edge of the town square came into view. Erith pointed toward a small, two story building tucked in at the corner. They cut across the quiet street, weaving through the shadows as they slipped into the alley behind it.

“Erith?” A whisper had come from the alley.

Both he and Amun stopped cold.

From farther down the alley, the three familiar figures of Tal, Rin, and Maeric emerged—moving fast, but quiet.

“No trouble from your end, then?” Rin murmured with a quiet skepticism in his voice.

Erith shook his head.

“Same with us,” Tal added, her tone mirroring Rin’s. She caught Erith’s eye. “You said Saryn was worried this is what Cerus wants—that our steps aren’t our own?”

“Didn’t seem like we were followed,” Rin cut in, “but maybe we didn’t need to be.”

He turned toward Erith, “You’ve got the key, right?”

Erith reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled it out.

Their eyes drifted to the stairs leading up to Saryn’s door.

Erith glanced at his friends. He could see the tension in their faces, the quiet unease in their eyes.

He could still picture the Narrows clearly.

The panic that shot across Elian, Minisk, and Amaru that night—paralyzing, overwhelming.

Not again.

He closed his fingers around the key.

“I don’t care if they’re our steps or not,” he said, meeting their gaze. “We’ll make them ours.”

The others nodded.

Erith turned and started up the stairs.

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