LOGINEliraThe journey out of the wastelands felt longer than it should have.Not because the distance had changed, but because everything between us had.The cart rolled steadily beneath us, the rhythm of the wheels blending with the soft, uneven cadence of hooves against dry ground as we moved farther from the harsh stillness of the wastelands and closer to something that resembled life again. The air shifted gradually, losing that hollow, watchful edge, but the tension inside our small group didn’t ease with it.If anything, it tightened.Caelan sat beside me, one arm resting loosely along the back of the cart, his posture relaxed enough for anyone looking to think nothing was wrong—but I felt the subtle awareness in him, the way his attention kept drifting forward without him fully turning his head.Because of them.Dex rode ahead of us on his own horse, his back straight, his movements controlled in a way that didn’t match the usual easy confidence I had seen from him earlier. There w
EliraSomething shifted the moment Zane stepped through the door.Dex went still in a way that would have gone unnoticed if I hadn’t been watching him already. It wasn’t obvious, nothing dramatic enough to draw attention from the others, but it was there in the subtle tightening through his shoulders, in the way his focus narrowed too quickly, locking onto Zane as though the rest of the room had quietly fallen away.Zane didn’t notice at first. He stepped inside like he had any other time, his attention moving through the space, taking in the supplies, the people, the shift in atmosphere without giving it much thought.Then his gaze landed on Dex.And held.Not long enough to be called out, not long enough for anyone else to question it, but just long enough to feel like something had passed between them without a single word being spoken.Caelan and I had been the only ones to hear Dex’s whispered declaration. I felt the shift in Caelan beside me, the subtle turn of his head as he c
EliraThe path to the next cabin felt shorter.Not because the distance had changed, but because something in me had finally settled into the rhythm of what we were doing. We weren’t searching anymore. We weren’t reacting. We were gathering—pulling together the pieces of a life that had been scattered and forced into survival for far too long.By the time Brad, Crawl, and Dex’s cabin came into view, the weight of the wastelands felt different beneath my feet. Still harsh. Still watchful. But no longer suffocating.The door stood open.Dex was already inside.He moved with a kind of focused efficiency that didn’t match the chaotic reputation I’d heard about the three of them. Bags were stacked neatly along the wall, blankets folded with surprising care, smaller items grouped together in ways that suggested he had already thought through what would be easiest to transport.He glanced up as we stepped inside, his expression shifting immediately as his gaze landed on Caelan.A slow smirk
EliraMorning came easier than it should have.That was the first thing I noticed as I stepped outside the cabin, the early light stretching across the wastelands in pale, muted tones that softened the harshness of the land just enough to make it feel almost… still. Not welcoming, not peaceful, but quiet in a way that didn’t press against my nerves the way it had when we first arrived.After everything that had happened the night before, I expected to feel it.The tension.The unease.The lingering edge of danger.Instead, there was only a steady awareness sitting beneath the surface, not gone, but no longer sharp enough to keep me from breathing.We had slept.All of us.And not the restless kind of sleep that came from exhaustion, but something deeper, something that had settled into my bones like the world had decided to give us a moment before demanding more.It didn’t make sense.But I wasn’t going to question it.Behind me, I heard movement inside the cabin as Caelan and Zane be
EliraThe further we traveled, the more the world seemed to change.It didn’t happen all at once, and it wasn’t something I could point to directly at first. The land didn’t suddenly darken or twist into something unrecognizable, but there was a gradual shift in the way everything felt beneath us. The air grew thinner, quieter in a way that didn’t feel natural, and the ground lost the warmth it had carried near the villages, turning dry and brittle beneath the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves.The wastelands.Even before we crossed fully into them, I felt it settling into my bones.Grimm slowed slightly as he rode ahead, his posture shifting from relaxed to alert in a way that didn’t need to be announced.“Keep an eye out,” he called back, his voice carrying easily over the open stretch of land. “Rogues like to linger out here.”Brad didn&rsq
EliraThe road to the wastelands was quieter than I expected.Not silent, not empty, but steady in a way that felt almost unfamiliar after everything we had just come through. The cart moved at a consistent pace beneath us, the wheels rolling over packed earth with a rhythmic creak that blended with the soft sounds of the horses ahead. The supplies behind us shifted occasionally with the motion, blankets and provisions packed tightly enough to last the journey, but loose enough to remind me with every turn that we were carrying more than just ourselves now.We were carrying a promise.I sat beside Caelan in the cart, my shoulder brushing his every so often as the path unevenly dipped and rose beneath us, and despite the weight of where we were headed, there was something… lighter about this moment.For the first time in a long while, we weren’t running.We weren’t reacting.We were moving forward on purpose.Ahead of us, Brad rode slightly off to the side of Grimm, his posture relaxed
EliraThe world came back in pieces.Not all at once, but like fog rolling off a battlefield—bit by bit, breath by breath, revealing ruin underneath.The first thing I felt was cold stone beneath my back. Smooth. Too smooth.The second was the air—dry and still, heavy with something metallic. Not b
RonanThe basket was pathetic.Lopsided, brittle in places, half the weave too loose, the other half too tight. It looked like it had survived a war. Or been made during one.But Elira had made it. First thing she ever wove with her own hands. I’d watched her curse every strand of straw, had to pry
RonanShe stood wrapped in that wool blanket, skin warm and flushed from the fire, but it wasn’t the flames painting her golden.It was her.That glow—the soft, pulsing shimmer just beneath the surface—lit her like something sacred and sinful all at once. And it wasn’t fading.“Still glowing,” I sa
EliraMy thighs were still trembling.Every part of me—skin, breath, bones—felt stretched too thin, like I’d been pulled apart and stitched back together with fire. The kind of fire that licks at you slow, threatens to consume you whole, and then stops just before it does.And it wasn’t just the se







