The scar left by the burrower stretched across the plains like a wound. Ravel could not stop looking at it as he followed Seris away from the ridge. Each time the wind moved across the grass, the torn soil shivered in a way that made his skin crawl. The idea that something so massive and ancient could rise, wander and return underground without a sound of warning left him uneasy in a quiet, unsettling way.
Seris kept her pace steady and purposeful. She checked their surroundings often, listening for any shift in the ground or sky. The first pale hints of dawn began to soften the edges of the dark. A faint line of light touched the horizon, tinting the sky with muted silver.
Ravel breathed in the cold morning air. It tasted cleaner here, sharper. His legs still carried the ache of their long run, but the fear kept him awake. He glanced at Seris.
"Has anyone ever tamed something like that?" he asked.
Seris kept her eyes forward. "You do not tame a burrower. They are older than recorded history. They respond to resonance, not commands. They follow shifts in the ground the same way a migrating bird follows the wind. They do not care about life on the surface."
"Do they ever attack people?"
"Only by accident. If someone stands where they rise from the soil, there is nothing to be done. They do not change course for anything above them."
Ravel shivered. "So that thing could have crushed us without even noticing."
"Yes," Seris said. "And that would not have been personal. Just unfortunate."
Ravel took a long breath. The cold air steadied him. He looked ahead and saw the faint silhouette of the forest in the distance. Stonebrush Woods. The tops of the trees formed a jagged line against the sky, dense and dark. Even from afar, the forest looked thick enough to swallow whole caravans.
"Is the forest dangerous?" Ravel asked.
"Yes," Seris answered.
He waited.
She did not elaborate.
Ravel sighed. "More dangerous than the burrower?"
"Everything is less dangerous than a burrower," Seris said, "but the woods are still a place to be careful. The trees are close together and their branches weave tight. Shadows gather fast. Sound travels strangely. You can hear something beside you even when nothing is there. The owls avoid conflict, but they warn the forest of movement beneath their nests. And the forest listens."
"That sounds like the exact opposite of safe."
"It is safer than the open plains while we are being hunted," Seris said. "Once we reach the woods, we will have cover from gliders and scouts. The empire avoids the deeper sections. They consider it bad terrain for their machines."
"So we are heading into a place that soldiers refuse to enter."
"Yes."
"That should worry me."
"It should."
Ravel exhaled. "Good. Just making sure you were aware."
Seris cracked the smallest smile. "You will manage. You already survived more in one night than most do in a lifetime."
They walked in silence awhile. The sky grew brighter and the cold bit less sharply at Ravel's skin. He rubbed the sphere through his shirt. It felt cool now, as if it had retreated into rest. He thought of the vision. The gate of light. The figure waiting. The words spoken without sound.
A beginning.
A first signal.
More coming.
It made his stomach twist again with dread and something else he could not name. Awe, maybe. Or fear shaped like awe.
"Seris," he said softly, "have you ever seen anything like these visions?"
"No," she said. "I have seen illusions caused by certain relics, but those are tricks of the mind. They do not carry weight. They do not speak. Yours was different. Connected. Purposeful."
Ravel touched the sphere again. "Do you think I am meant to do something with this?"
"We do not know enough yet," Seris said. "That is why we find the historian in Sulen Ridge. She studied ruins no one else dared to approach. Her exile was the empire's way of hiding what she discovered. She might know how the signals work."
Ravel nodded. "And if she does not?"
Seris looked at him with serious eyes. "Then we find someone else. But one way or another, we will learn what the sphere wants."
Ravel believed her. It surprised him how much he trusted her now. They had only met because of chaos and coincidence, yet she had become his anchor in the storm that had swallowed his life.
A sharp caw broke the silence overhead. Ravel looked up to see a black bird circling high above them. It turned in a slow spiral, wings catching the early light.
Seris watched it. "Crow. Good sign. They stay far from military noise."
"So we are not being followed?" Ravel asked.
"Not from the ground," Seris said. "But the empire may have another glider sweeping the area by midday. We cannot remain in the open longer than necessary."
The wind shifted. It brought the scent of trees. Resin. Damp bark. Soil that had been untouched for years.
"We are close," Seris said. "Another hour."
Ravel nodded and picked up his pace. He wanted the forest to swallow them quickly, even if the idea of entering it unsettled him. Anything was better than the endless plains with burrowers and soldiers lurking somewhere out of sight.
The ground changed as they approached the woods. Grass faded into patches of darker soil. Small stones littered the earth. The wind carried less across this area, and the silence felt heavier.
The first trees of Stonebrush Woods towered overhead. Their trunks were thick, wide enough that three people could not wrap their arms around one. The bark was pale gray, almost silver, with raised ridges that looked like cracks in old pottery. Their branches twisted together high above, forming a dense canopy.
Ravel stepped closer, brushing his fingers along the bark. It felt cool and rough, almost like stone.
"So that is why it is called Stonebrush," he murmured.
Seris nodded. "These trees grow slowly. Their wood is dense enough to blunt metal tools. That is why the empire never cut them down."
Ravel peered between the trees. The forest seemed to absorb light. Shadows pooled deeply, layered in ways that made it difficult to see more than a few steps ahead.
"Are we really safe inside?" he asked.
"Safe is not the right word," Seris said. "Hidden is better."
She stepped forward into the forest. Ravel hesitated for a moment before following. The air changed around him immediately. It felt heavier, cooler, filled with the scent of old earth and fallen leaves.
The forest floor was soft underfoot. Layers of earth and needles muffled their steps. Light filtered through the canopy in thin beams that shifted gently with the branches above.
Ravel's shoulders relaxed for the first time in hours. The vastness of the plains had made him feel exposed and small. The forest, for all its shadows, felt like a shelter.
Seris moved with practiced steps. She stepped lightly, avoiding dead branches and dry leaves that could crack underfoot.
Ravel tried to follow quietly, but his boots found every root and stone possible. The forest seemed intent on reminding him he was new here. Seris glanced back each time he tripped or snapped a twig, but she said nothing.
After a while, Ravel noticed something. The deeper they traveled, the quieter the forest became. No rustling. No birds. No insects. Only their footsteps.
"Seris?" he whispered.
She raised a hand and stopped instantly.
The silence pressed around them like a heavy blanket.
Ravel felt a sharp prickle glide down his spine.
Seris turned slowly. "Do you feel that?"
Ravel swallowed. "Yes."
"It is too quiet," Seris said. "Something is awake in the woods."
Ravel's hand drifted toward his satchel. The sphere was cool again, but he felt its weight more than before. As if it knew the silence.
A faint rustle drifted above them.
Not wind.
Not leaves.
Something alive.
Ravel looked up slowly.
In the branches above, high among the woven limbs of the trees, a pair of eyes watched them.
Round. Pale. Reflective.
Not the eyes of a human.
Not the eyes of a beast he recognized.
The eyes blinked once.
Then another pair appeared beside them.
And a third.
Seris exhaled slowly.
"The owls are awake," she whispered.