They dismounted. Lina swung her right leg over Chewy's back, pausing before carefully lowering both feet to hover just above the ground.
Hands closed firmly around Lina's waist from behind. She started in surprise, her fingers clenching on the saddle as she felt herself being gently lowered until her boots met solid earth. For a moment, the supportive grip did not release.
When Galdreth finally released her, his hand slid along her arm as he pulled away. He paused, holding still as if considering the contact, then abruptly withdrew his hand.
"Lina?"
She turned to look at him. Frown lines crinkled his forehead.
"Yes?"
"Are you all right? Your skin feels like ice."
Lina placed her hand on Chewy's neck, then jerked it back in shock. To her, it felt as if her fingers had gone straight from touching cold snow to plunging into boiling water.
"It must be the travel and exhaustion," Lina mumbled.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm them. A strange tingling, cool and prickly, rippled just beneath her skin. She blinked. Pale threads of light flashed along her forearms—gone as quickly as they appeared. Something was wrong.
Not just with the world—but with her.
The thought came quietly, but it settled deep, leaving a hollow unease she couldn't shake.
Fin drew a blanket from his saddle bag and handed it to Lina as Sofia approached a guard.
"Thanks."
Her body, wrapped in the blanket, quickly soaked up the fabric's warmth.
"Is there an inn that you recommend?" Sofia asked the guard.
"There's only one inn. Sits between the apothecary and the lord's manor. It's called The Waning Moon. Might not be a lot of rooms with the harvest festival going on."
"Strange name for a place like this… always thought it should've been Harvest Moon," a second guard called out.
The first guard looked at Lina, wrapped in a blanket.
"Is she ill?" He asked and took a step back.
"No," she said, giving a watery smile. "Tired from the long ride."
He eyed the rest of the group, taking in their dusty clothes and tired eyes. Finally, his gaze fixed back on Lina.
The man opened his mouth, as though he meant to stop her, then cleared his throat instead.
"Go on," he said, waving them through. "We got more people coming in."
A group pressed in behind them, waiting to talk to the guards.
Lina offered a small, polite smile and bowed her head.
His gaze bore into the dark circles beneath her eyes and the ashen pallor of her skin.
As she turned to leave, his mouth twisted—something like a smile, but not quite.
Market stalls shouted to their group to sell their goods: apples, wheat, and fresh cuts of meat. Fin shook his head when a woman offered him a bag of flour for a silver coin.
Lina hugged the blanket tightly around herself and shivered, remembering the intensity of the guard's gaze. It felt as if he had looked straight through her, searching for something hidden. The idea gnawed at her, settling beneath her skin as a silent warning. Sofia noticed Lina rubbing her arms beneath the blanket, trying to generate warmth.
'I need to get a new warmth rune,' she thought.
Galdreth led Chewy and his horse behind her. Lina considered asking for the reins but thought she'd likely lead the horse over someone's foot. She turned her attention back to the bustling market as they moved forward.
Carts clicked down the hard-packed path in the center of the market. A few farmers sat on sacks of grain, their hats pulled over their eyes, taking a nap in the morning sun. Voices clamored for attention.
"Something happened in Eryndor's Capital!"
"Council's involved."
Tension tightened in her chest, the unseen bond pulling taut with every word. The feeling came before the meaning. She pressed her palm to her throat, trying to steady the sensation. Was this fear for her safety or fear of discovery? She couldn't tell which was worse.
'What did they mean by something happened in the capital?' Lina asked.
If Raithe heard her, he didn't reply. Absent upon her arrival at Briarwood.
"Long road in?" a passerby, a woman in thick skirts wearing a placid smile, asked.
"Long enough," Lina replied, smiling.
The woman stopped in front of Lina, studying her curiously. Lina brushed strands of hair from her eyes and raised her gaze to meet the woman's.
She nodded once, then stepped around Lina too quickly.
Lina's face pinched as she considered her words. The answer was simple. Yet, something in the woman's expression shifted, as if she'd said something wrong. Even though she hadn't.
Soon, they arrived at The Waning Moon. Its worn sign with a painted moon greeted them at the entrance, and Lina reached to take Chewy's reins and lead her into the stables.
Lina reached out to take Chewy's reins, preparing to lead her horse into the stables.
Galdreth placed a hand on hers and said, "I'll handle it. You need to rest."
He held her hand a brief moment too long before noticing and flinching. He quickly drew his hand back.
"Sorry," he said quickly and rushed with the horses to the stable.
Lina flexed her fingers, the warmth from Galdreth's touch lingering as she checked her own forehead. His skin had been much warmer than hers—too warm. Yet, her temperature felt unchanged.
'Am I falling sick?'
Fin, Lina, and Sofia entered the inn, squeezing past crowded tables. People stood over mugs of ale; only a few seats remained. Low voices slithered through the air.
Voices dipped when they entered, not silent, just quieter, as tension pressed in on her—restless and sharp. A man glanced up from his mug at her and then looked away quickly. Another watched her curiously above his stew. The attention wasn't direct, but it lingered long enough to make her aware of it.
Someone shifted their chair back as she passed. Not enough to notice—unless you were looking for it.
"We don't stay longer than we have to," Fin announced.
"Long enough to figure out what's got this small town jumping at shadows," Sofia said.
"I brought enough coin for multiple rooms, but I doubt there's much space with this lot."
"Where are you thinking of going after Briarwood?"
"Thought you'd tell us the answer to that question."
Sofia laughed and said, "All these years asking you to join, and you'll go now?"
They talked around her instead of to her. Could she go on her own, just leave? Where would she even go? She felt that question like a knot, tense at her ribs. Wasn't it her right to choose—had it ever been? Why did every path feel marked by someone else's sign? She couldn't remember when she last tried to choose for herself. So she tuned out Sofia and Fin. The only voices she heard now were the ones no one else seemed to notice.
She ignored Sofia and Fin and focused on the whispers.
"They let him in."
"No resistance."
"Walked straight through the gates."
Lina took a shaky breath. For a moment, she wasn't in the inn—there was stone beneath her armored boots, a blade in her hand, and a man trembling in front of her, along with the certainty of what came next.
She shook herself.
Fin spoke with the innkeeper, asking after vacancies, and Sofia watched over Lina, her eyes narrowed and intense like hardened resin.
"You're not looking at the same room we are."
Lina stopped moving and returned Sofia's searching gaze, waiting for her to elaborate.
Fin interrupted, "Enough. I have a room for us."
When Lina placed her bag by the fireplace in their room, Fin watched her closely, his eyes unreadable, following her movements.
'You shouldn't stay,' Raithe said, quieter now. 'They're starting to notice.'
'Notice what?'
Lina's confusion deepened. What was happening to her? Still, when Raithe warned her, she heard herself believe it without hesitation, as though the thought were her own. She shivered at how easily certainty settled in her chest.
For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to what he said before she died, 'Was this bond truly harmless?'
She walked to the window, not expecting a reply. Colored cloth draped between buildings. The people of Briarwood strung lanterns overhead. Faint music caressed her ears.
The warmth of the festival should have soothed her. But in their second-floor room, insidious unease settled in her bones, even as she listened to the people chattering in the street below.
It almost felt normal. Almost enough to make her forget.
"He looked normal."
"What if there are more?"
A woman sweeping the front step whispered, "How would we know?"
The group of women gossiping in front of the inn looked around, watching travelers visiting Briarwood before giving them a wide berth to enter the inn.
A man stepped aside to let someone pass, then didn't step back.
Lina slowly ran her fingertips along the windowsill, noticing how unusually warm the surface felt against her skin.
"We should leave tomorrow," Fin said.
"Not before we understand what's happening."
"You can find that out tonight.
"During the festival?"
"Yes. Half the people here will be too drunk to think. You could probably ask the lord himself," Fin said.
"Fine, I will send a letter to my contact. But if we don't learn what happened, we will stay another day. With undead in your inn and a messenger here in Briarwood from the Eryndorian king, I don't want to move further without more information."
Fin huffed.
They didn't ask Lina what she wanted. Nor did they wait to hear her thoughts. She wasn't choosing where she went. Even if she left the group, she knew—deep down—that she'd wind up on the same path. There wasn't really a choice; the road kept pulling her along, no matter what she said or did.
Villagers tittered with increasing paranoia on the streets, while the string in her chest tightened and loosened.
Fear tinged the air—sharp, metallic, lingering on her tongue. Yet beneath it moved anticipation, quiet but certain, stirring at her core. What was coming for her now?