The path split at sunrise.
Not marked by signs or stones—only by the way the land itself seemed uncertain which direction it wanted us to take. One trail dipped into a valley wrapped in mist, quiet and hidden. The other climbed sharply toward exposed cliffs where the wind screamed warnings no one had taught me how to ignore.
Rowan stopped. "We can't stay unseen much longer."
Elara's gaze lingered on the valley. "There are places that still forget," she said. "If we hide long enough—"
"No," I said.
The word came out steadier than I expected.
They both turned to look at me.
"Hiding is what broke me," I continued. "I won't survive it again."
Rowan studied me, something like pride flickering across his face before it hardened into concern. "Then the high road it is."
The climb was brutal. The wind tore at us, carrying voices that weren't real—or maybe were, once. I felt them brush against my thoughts, testing, probing, searching for fractures they could widen.
Halfway up, the cost of knowing revealed itself.
My vision blurred, the world bleeding into overlapping shapes. For a heartbeat, I was no longer Ariana—I was standing in a hall of obsidian and fire, surrounded by faces frozen in accusation and awe.
"She won't kneel."
"She won't belong."
"She won't stop."
I screamed.
Rowan caught me before I fell, his grip grounding, solid. "Stay with me," he urged. "Not with her. With yourself."
I forced a breath, anchoring to the present—the bite of cold air, the weight of my body, the sound of my own heartbeat.
"I didn't ask for this," I whispered.
"Neither did she," Elara said quietly behind us. "That's why they couldn't forgive her."
At the summit, the world opened wide.
Below us lay lands I had never seen—rivers cutting through stone like silver scars, forests thick with shadow, distant structures half-swallowed by time. Beauty and danger tangled together, inseparable.
And then I felt it.
A tug—not from power, but from people.
Figures moved along the lower paths, cloaked but purposeful. Hunters, not soldiers. Their presence pressed against my awareness like a bruise.
"They've learned to follow the echo," Rowan said grimly.
I closed my eyes, focusing inward—not reaching for Nyxara, but for myself. The space between us no longer felt like a wound. It felt like a bridge.
"What happens if I don't run?" I asked.
Rowan hesitated. Elara's face crumpled.
"You'll change everything," Elara said. "Including us."
I opened my eyes.
"Then let it change."
I stepped forward, power stirring—not wild, not destructive. Intentional.
Below us, the hunters stopped.
They had felt me.
For the first time, I didn't shrink.
I let them know exactly where I stood.
And in doing so, I understood the final cost of knowing the truth.
Once seen, I could never be unseen again.