The fog thickened.

  Not naturally—deliberately.

  Aerin could feel it now, the strange pressure in the valley pushing against his senses. Bloom Sense was still gone, the quiet awareness he’d grown used to replaced by an uncomfortable emptiness.

  Like losing a limb he hadn’t realized he depended on.

  Across the clearing, the two strangers didn’t look worried.

  They looked prepared.

  “That means we can’t leave you alive.”

  The taller man had said it so calmly that for a moment Aerin wondered if he’d misheard.

  Then the second figure drew his blade.

  Steel whispered from its sheath.

  “…Right,” Aerin said slowly. “Guess talking’s not an option.”

  The man shrugged. “You walked into something you weren’t meant to see.”

  “And now you’re a problem.”

  The fog shifted again.

  Aerin moved first.

  He kicked off the ground and darted sideways just as the swordsman lunged. Without Bloom Sense guiding him, every motion felt heavier, slower. He had to rely on instinct alone.

  The blade sliced through the space his ribs had occupied a heartbeat earlier.

  Too close.

  Aerin slashed back with his shortblade, forcing the attacker to step away.

  The taller man stayed where he was, watching.

  “Careful,” he said mildly. “He’s quicker than the report suggested.”

  Aerin frowned. “Report?”

  No answer.

  The swordsman came again, faster this time.

  Steel clashed.

  Aerin parried, sparks flashing as the blades met. The impact jarred his injured shoulder and pain shot down his arm. He clenched his teeth and twisted away before the second strike landed.

  Without Bloom Sense he couldn’t predict movements.

  He had to read them.

  Weight shifts. Breathing. The angle of the blade.

  The swordsman swung high.

  Aerin ducked under it and drove his elbow forward. The blow caught the man in the ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Not enough.

  The man recovered instantly and kicked Aerin backward.

  Aerin slid across damp stone, boots scraping for traction.

  “Messy,” the taller stranger commented. “But effective.”

  Aerin wiped blood from his lip.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I practice.”

  The man’s gaze flicked toward the broken relay behind him.

  “End it.”

  The swordsman obeyed.

  He charged.

  This time the attack was different—faster, committed. A finishing strike.

  Aerin waited.

  One step.

  Two.

  Three—

  He moved at the last possible second.

  Instead of retreating, he stepped inside the swing.

  The blade passed behind him.

  His own knife drove forward.

  The strike landed just below the attacker’s collarbone.

  The man gasped.

  Aerin shoved him away and staggered back as the swordsman collapsed to one knee, dropping his weapon.

  Silence returned to the valley.

  The taller stranger sighed.

  “…Disappointing.”

  Aerin straightened, chest rising and falling hard.

  “You going to try next?” he asked.

  The man tilted his head slightly.

  “No.”

  The broken relay pulsed faintly behind Aerin.

  Green light flickered through the cracked stone.

  The stranger’s eyes drifted toward it.

  “That will.”

  The ground trembled.

  Aerin turned.

  The split stone marker was glowing now, thin lines of light spreading through the cracks like roots searching for soil.

  A notification flashed across his vision.

  Suppressed Relay — Instability Detected

  Then another.

  Activation Threshold Reached

  Aerin swore.

  “Liora?”

  Her voice came strained but urgent.

  The suppression is breaking.

  The taller stranger took a step back, already retreating toward the fog.

  “Congratulations,” he said calmly.

  “You’ve just turned the key.”

  The relay behind Aerin erupted with light.

  The valley shook.

  And something deep beneath the stone took its first breath in centuries.