We don't sleep.
Nobody even tries. The air is too thick, too wrong. It's like breathing in poison. Every shadow twitches. Every snap of a twig puts a hand on a hilt.
Felric has us gathered around a map scratched in the dirt, his face a grim mask in the pre-dawn dark. "Three hours' march," he rasps. "But the approaches are saturated. Patrols, wards... scrying."
"Definitely scrying," Nyssa corrects, her voice flat. "I know the markers. They've laid detection grids. We walk in there—anything living—and they'll know."
The air gets colder. "So we can't sneak in," Thea states.
"Not... really," Nyssa says. "The wards are calibrated for mass. Big groups. We'd have to be ghosts. No magic. No heat. Even then..."
"That's just suicide with extra steps," Elira mutters.
"They want us to come," Felric grunts, ignoring her. "They've been pushing us this way since yesterday."
"Then why not attack?" Toren's hand is white on his sword hilt. "Why wait?"
Seraphine answers. Her voice is a quiet, silver thread, and it's the most terrifying sound I've heard all night. "Because they want Ren. Intact."
All eyes turn to me. Great.
"So... so I go in alone," I whisper. "You all go back—"
"No." Kaela's voice is a whip-crack. "Absolutely not. Don't be an idiot, Ren. You walk in there alone, they own you. We're not doing that."
Lysara steps into the dim light. "She's... tactically, she's right. But... a smaller team. The wards are for armies, not infiltrators. Ten is too many. Three? Four?"
Felric just looks at her. "Who?"
"Me," I say.
"Me," Lysara says at the same time. "My magic... it's elven. It might not register the same."
"Me," Kaela snaps, before anyone else can even breathe. "I'm quiet. No magic signature."
Lysara nods, as if this was her plan all along. "We need... a guide. Someone who knows the layout."
Every head turns to Nyssa.
She just... stares. For a long, long time. I can't imagine what she's thinking, being asked to walk back into that place. She closes her eyes. "Yes. I... I know where they keep prisoners. I can... I can get you there."
"Four," Felric says, his face grim. "The rest of us... we make noise. A lot of noise. Eastern perimeter. We pull the guards. We pull everything."
"That's suicide," Marcus says. No emotion. Just a fact.
"Yes," Felric agrees. "It is. But it buys them time. It's the only plan we have." God, it's a terrible plan. "Thirty minutes," Felric says, standing up. "Check your gear. Say... what you need to say."
Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to... what?
I find Kaela. She's sitting on a log, sharpening her new sword. Shing. Shing. Shing. The sound is... steady.
"You don't have to do this," I say.
She doesn't even look up. "Yeah, I do."
"Lysara's magic... we could be quiet..."
"Lysara's a mage," she says, finally meeting my eyes. "She's smart. She's not a fighter. Not up close. What happens when they see us, Ren? You need me."
"I need you alive, Kaela."
"Then don't get us caught." She stands up, grabs my shoulders, and shakes me. "Look. We're not failing! I'm not dying. You're not dying. Your mom is not dying. We go in. We get her. We get out. That's it. That's the fact."
Her... her certainty... it's almost enough. "Warrior's oath?" she asks, her voice a little softer.
"Warrior's oath," I whisper.
She pulls me into a hug. It's fast, and hard. It... it knocks the breath out of me. Then she's gone, picking up her sword. "Stop... that. Your 'woe-is-me' face. We have work to do."
My chest feels... weird. I find Lysara. She's... counting. Laying out crystals and herbs on a cloth, her lips moving. She looks up.
"You're... worried."
"Terrified," I correct.
"Statistically reasonable," she says, all business. "Success rates... are low. Seventeen percent. Maybe... with my magic, and Nyssa's knowledge... maybe thirty-two."
"That's... awful, Lysara."
"Yes. It is." She... she fumbles. She drops a crystal. She never fumbles. "Ren... I... I need to... for tactical reasons..."
"Lysara?"
"If... if it goes wrong. In there. And there is a... a choice... between me... and your mother..." My blood runs cold. "Don't."
"You... you save her," she blurts out, her face... flushing. "That's... that's who you are. And... I do not... wish... for you to... to lose yourself... trying to... save me."
"Lysara, you're... you're going to be fine..."
"Probably! Yes! But if not..." She turns away, grabbing her staff. "This is... for resource allocation. Tactically. It is not... personal."
"Right. Tactical."
"Exactly." She won't look at me. "Rest. Twenty minutes."
I walk away and find Nyssa. She's just... standing at the edge of the camp. Staring. Staring at where we're going.
"You okay?" I ask.
She laughs. A short, ugly sound. "No. I... I ran from that place. I left them. My family. My... everyone. I ran, and they... they died. Or worse." She turns, and her violet eyes are... haunted. "And now I'm... I'm walking back in."
"You're saving someone this time," I say.
"Am I? Or am I just... part of the cycle? The cult is... patient, Ren. They're... it's a philosophy. The void is... it's entropy. We're not just fighting people. We're fighting... reality."
"So... we give up?"
"No." She almost smiles. "We fight anyway. That's the only choice. That's the only thing that matters." Her hand grips my shoulder. "In there. If I... if I tell you to leave me..."
"I won't."
"You will," she says, her voice hard. "You promise me. You live. You get out. Promise me, Ren."
"...I promise."
Felric has the others in a huddle. Toren. Seraphine. Elira. Marcus. Thea. The... distraction.
"Your job," Felric is saying, "is to pull everything to the east. And survive. Forty minutes. That's what you're buying them."
"Comforting," Thea mutters.
"I don't do comforting," Felric snarls. "I do honest. You're going to get hurt. You might... you will... die. But you'll buy that kid the time to save his mother."
Toren steps forward. "My wife is in there. My son is going in. I'm not dying until they're out."
"Then don't die," Felric says.
The sky is turning from black to a sick, gray-purple. It's almost time. Felric calls us all together. Ten of us. A... a tiny, broken, terrified army.
"This is it," he says, his voice low. "No going back. Some of us... aren't coming back. But Miren Amaki... she doesn't deserve this. And... Ren... he deserves to be more than... this." He looks at me. "Verdwood doesn't abandon its own."
Kaela's hand finds mine. Squeezes. "See you on the other side," she whispers.
"You'd better."
The sun... it's... rising. Red and gold. It's... beautiful. And it's... terrible. Far away... Umbral Hollow. A... a shadow... a stain on the horizon.
"Move out," Felric commands.
And we go.