Night settled over Roland like a heavy blanket, dimming the noisy camps and leaving only the crackle of small fires scattered across the clearing. Althea sat on a fallen log with a bowl of thin stew in her hands, staring at the surface as it trembled slightly. She was still thinking about the tiny barrier she managed to create. It hadn’t even lasted a heartbeat… but it had existed.

  Rowan plopped down beside her, silver hair catching the firelight. “Keal says you improved,” he said proudly.

  Althea smiled. “Well, barely. But I guess it’s progress.”

  Rowan nodded eagerly. “Progress is still progress.”

  Lyssa joined them, settling on Althea’s other side. “Everyone is excited, you know,” she said gently. “Not about the magic… but because you’re trying for us.”

  Althea blinked. “I’m not special.”

  “You don’t have to be,” Lyssa said with a small shrug. “You just have to care.”

  That simple truth warmed her more than the fire did.

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  Keal approached then, his expression unreadable as usual. “You should rest soon. Tomorrow will be harder.”

  Althea groaned. “Harder? I was already failing dramatically all day.”

  “Exactly,” Keal replied dryly. “And dramatic failures mean dramatic potential.”

  “Is that supposed to be encouraging?” she asked.

  He gave the closest thing he had to a smile—barely visible. “Yes.”

  Before Althea could respond, a soft rustling came from the trees behind them. The omegas tensed immediately. Rowan moved closer to her, and Lyssa quickly stood, scanning the shadows.

  Keal’s hand rested on the hilt of his knife—not drawn, just ready.

  Althea rose slowly. “Is it another creature?” she whispered.

  “No,” Keal answered. “Different sound. Softer. Watching, maybe.”

  “Another gragofire?” Rowan squeaked.

  Keal shook his head. “No footsteps heavy enough for that.”

  The rustling stopped.

  Silence settled around them, deeper than before, as if the forest itself was listening.

  Then, a gentle hum drifted through the air, airy and distant, almost like a whisper carried by the wind. Althea felt the hair on her arms rise. It wasn’t threatening… but it wasn’t normal either.

  Lyssa looked uneasy. “This threshold wasn’t always like this,” she murmured quietly. “Before… things were calmer. The forests weren’t so restless.”

  “What changed?” Althea asked.

  Lyssa hesitated, then shook her head. “No one knows.”

  Althea frowned. She didn’t believe that—not completely. Someone knew. Someone always knew.

  But she let the topic drop. The others were already nervous.

  Keal motioned everyone back toward the fire. “We’ll keep watch in shifts,” he said. “Whatever that was, it didn’t approach. But we stay alert.”

  Althea nodded and sat again, though her thoughts were spinning.

  First her magic misbehaving.

  Then the omegas’ strange lack of abilities.

  Now the forest humming like it was alive.

  Nothing in this threshold felt natural.

  As the others settled to rest, Althea looked up at the stars—fewer and dimmer than her home world’s. She wrapped her arms around herself and whispered,

  “Why did the game bring me here?”

  No answer came, just the fading hum of the forest and the crackle of the fire

  .

  But deep down, something in the darkness stirred… quietly waiting.