Branches tore at Ravel's arms and legs as he fell. The crevice swallowed him and Seris in complete darkness. Dry limbs snapped beneath their weight. The air smelled of earth and trapped moisture. For a breathless moment, Ravel was certain they would keep falling until the crevice crushed them.
Then Seris grabbed a thick root jutting from the wall and hooked her elbow around it, halting her descent. She reached down with her free hand and caught Ravel by his cloak before he could tumble deeper.
He choked on a gasp as she hauled him upward along the wall. His feet scraped for purchase until they found a narrow ledge hidden among the roots.
They pressed themselves into the shadows, breathing quietly.
Above them, boots thundered across the forest floor. The sound was muffled but close. Ravel tilted his head just enough to glimpse thin cracks of light between the tangled branches overhead.
Seris pressed a finger to her lips. Ravel nodded fiercely, forcing himself to still his breath.
Voices drifted through the forest.
"Spread out. The traces end here."
"Search for broken ground. They would not have vanished."
"Fan out. Scent mages are on the way."
Ravel's pulse hammered.
Seris leaned close and whispered so softly that her breath barely stirred the air. "Do not react to anything you hear. They will try to provoke noise."
Ravel nodded again and tightened his grip on the sphere. It pulsed once in his hands, as if sensing the tension. He held it close to his chest and prayed the glow stayed hidden.
Above them, branches parted and shadows passed.
A soldier's voice echoed. "Drop a flare."
"No. Commander said no fire. Risk of forest spirits reacting."
"Then send a mage down."
Ravel tensed.
Seris shifted her fingers slightly, touching the hilt of her blade but not drawing it. Her eyes were focused upward, sharp and calculating.
A new voice joined the others. Cold. Precise.
"Stand down. There is no need."
The other soldiers fell silent at once.
Ravel frowned. That voice sounded different from the others. Not commanding through volume but through presence.
Seris's eyes narrowed. "A warden is here," she whispered.
Ravel felt a spike of dread. "What is a warden?"
Seris kept her eyes upward. "Someone you never want on your trail."
The warden spoke again.
"They passed through Crown territory, but the Crown itself has sealed behind them. The path is closed and the traces are fading. They live for now, but not for long."
A soldier asked, "Should we pursue into the ravine?"
"No. The Crown marks its travelers. The forest will guide us to them in time."
Ravel's breath caught. The forest itself?
The warden stepped directly above the crevice. Ravel saw a faint outline of boots through the branches. Then a single drop of something clear and shimmering fell from above. It landed on a root beside Ravel's hand.
The moment it touched the wood, the root glowed.
Seris's eyes widened. She mouthed, "Do not move."
Ravel froze.
The glow crawled slowly along the root, seeking movement or sound. It stopped a few inches from his hand and pulsed as if sniffing the air.
The sphere in his arms warmed dangerously, ready to react.
Ravel held his breath until his lungs burned.
Finally, the glow receded. The drop dried. The light faded.
The warden spoke softly. "They passed here. But the Crown protects them still. Withdraw. We will let the forest hunt for us."
The soldiers obeyed. Boots retreated through the trees. Branches shook. Voices faded.
Silence returned to the crevice.
Ravel exhaled shakily and slumped against the roots. Seris did not relax. She listened for several long breaths before giving a slow nod.
"They are gone. For now."
Ravel let out a trembling sigh. "What was that drop?"
"Tracking essence," Seris said. "Rare. Expensive. It lets them detect anything moving within its range."
"So it almost found us."
"Yes. But the Crown's trace on you confused it. The warden realized that and pulled back."
Ravel scowled. "Why would the forest help them hunt?"
Seris climbed to a more stable root, pulling herself up with practiced grace. "The Empire binds forest spirits through old contracts. The spirits hate it but cannot refuse."
Ravel followed her, climbing awkwardly but determined. "And we are the target of those spirits now?"
"For now," Seris said, "yes."
They climbed until they reached a point where the branches thickened enough to hide them completely. Seris pushed aside the twigs and peeked into the forest. After a few moments, she nodded again.
"Clear. Come up."
Ravel climbed out of the crevice. The sunlight felt like a shock after the darkness below. Seris emerged beside him and brushed dirt from her cloak.
Ravel rubbed his arms. "What do we do now?"
"We head north," Seris said. "The Rootspire is far and dangerous, but staying here is worse."
Ravel looked back at the crevice. "We were lucky."
Seris shook her head. "Luck had nothing to do with it. The Crown protected you. It marked you. And that means it chose you."
Ravel swallowed hard. "I never asked to be chosen."
"Most people do not," Seris said. "But it does not matter now. If the Crown sees you as its bearer, then the Empire will see you as a threat."
Ravel looked down at the sphere. Its glow was dim but steady, almost like a sleeping heartbeat.
He looked back at Seris. "I will not run from this."
Seris studied him for a long moment. Her expression softened, though her gaze stayed sharp. "Good. Because running is no longer an option."
She pointed toward the distant silver haze on the horizon.
"The Silverwood is our next destination. If we reach it, we shake the Empire's scouts. If we cross it, we lose the trackers. Beyond that lies the first gate to the Rootspire."
Ravel stood straighter and nodded. "Then let us go."
They stepped deeper into the forest. The trees closed behind them. The light dimmed. The path narrowed.
And the sphere warmed again in Ravel's arms, as if guiding him forward toward a destiny he could not yet see.