Morning came with no sun—only mist. It clung to the trees like breath on glass, wrapping the world in a veil of silver and silence. I stood at the edge of the clearing, a small pack strapped to my back, Sable beside me, her presence as still and sharp as ever.
"You remember what I told you?" she asked, not looking at me.
"Trust no one. Walk with your eyes open. Don't speak your name unless you must."
"Good," she said. "You're not ready. But you'll have to act like you are."
I nodded, heart pounding. My fingers curled tightly around the strap of my pack. I was leaving the clearing. Leaving the quiet routine of bruises and hard lessons and cold nights under Sable's roof. And stepping into a world that didn't even know me—yet had already marked me.
The Vessel.
A myth made flesh. A girl made for seven.
And none of them knew me. Not yet.
But others would find me first.
The path east wound through dense forest, narrow and winding. The trees here leaned in, their roots tangled like secrets, their leaves whispering things I didn't understand. I walked alone—Sable had vanished the moment I stepped off the stone at the center of the clearing. No goodbyes. Just a ghost in the woods again.
Hours passed. Maybe more. I counted steps to keep from panicking, whispered my lessons under my breath like a prayer.
Stillness before strength. Awareness before action. Harness what you have, before what you don't consumes you.
By the time I reached the first fork in the road, my legs ached and my throat was dry. There was no sign of civilization. Just carved stones, half-buried in moss, and a broken wagon wheel hanging from a twisted branch like some kind of warning.
I chose the left path.
It felt colder. And something in me said the right path was too easy.
Hours later, I stumbled across my first sign of life—a campfire still smoking, the scent of herbs in the air. No one in sight. Just a bowl of half-eaten stew left on a rock, and footprints pressed deep into the soft dirt.
I crouched and touched them.
Human. But not alone.
They were chased.
I rose quickly, every sense on edge, when I heard the snap of a twig behind me.
"Easy," said a voice, smooth and deep. "You're either lost… or very bold."
I turned slowly to see a man leaning against a tree. Young, but older than me. Brown skin, hair braided back, bow slung over his shoulder. His eyes were sharp and kind all at once. A traveler, maybe a scout.
"I'm neither," I said. "Just passing through."
He looked me over. "Then you're headed into the pass. Bad idea."
"Why?"
"Bandits. Monsters. Old magic." He tilted his head. "Take your pick."
I held his gaze. "I don't scare easy."
His smile was soft, amused. "No, I don't think you do." He stepped forward, hand extended. "Name's Kael."
I didn't take his hand.
He dropped it with a shrug. "Suit yourself."
He turned, walking toward the trees.
I hesitated only a moment before following.
Because something in the way the forest held its breath told me—Kael wasn't here by accident.
And neither was I.
But knowing I was meant to be here didn't make the air feel any less heavy.
As I followed Kael into the woods, branches whispered above us, rustling like they were passing secrets from tree to tree. He didn't speak again for a while, weaving effortlessly through underbrush I had to push through, my pack catching on thorns and bramble.
"You're not from anywhere near here," he finally said without turning.
"No."
"Don't talk much, do you?"
"I talk when there's something worth saying."
That made him laugh. Not mockingly—genuine, surprised. "Fair enough."
We moved in silence again, the forest opening slightly as we reached a ledge that overlooked a long valley, cradled in mist. Kael stopped. "This is where I camp. Safe enough for the night."
He crouched, brushing leaves away to reveal a hidden circle of stones. Protection runes, faint but real. Whoever he was, he wasn't just a wanderer.
"You can sleep under the rock ledge," he said, nodding to a stone overhang covered in moss. "Dry. Out of sight."
I looked at the space, then at him. "Why are you helping me?"
Kael's eyes met mine, darker now in the fading light. "Because I know what it's like to walk into the unknown with nothing but what's in your chest." He tapped his sternum. "Not your pack. Not your blade. But your will."
That silenced me.
He stood, brushing off his hands. "Rest. We move at first light. There's a town beyond the pass. They may not know who you are yet—but someone will."
That weight again, low in my belly. The sense of being watched.
I sat beneath the ledge, pulling my cloak tight around me as the wind picked up, carrying the scent of something faint and strange—burnt sugar and rain.
Magic.
Something out there was stirring.
Maybe Kael was right. Maybe I wasn't ready.
But the world wouldn't wait.
So I closed my eyes and prepared.
Because whatever came next, I would face it.
And I would not break.
But the truth was—I wasn't sure what not breaking would look like anymore. Would it mean standing tall when I wanted to collapse? Staying silent when fear clawed up my throat? Or trusting someone, even when everything in me said to run?
The wind outside the ledge howled low, like something ancient was breathing just beyond the trees. I curled tighter beneath my cloak, not from cold, but from the weight pressing down on me—destiny, choice, danger. All of it.
I reached into my satchel, pulling out the smooth river stone Sable had pressed into my palm before I left. "You'll know when to use it," she'd said. She never explained more than that.
Typical.
The stone pulsed faintly now—warm against my skin. Not hot, just... aware.
I wasn't alone.
Kael had finished arranging the wards and was now sitting cross-legged near the fire, humming something soft under his breath, barely audible. The song sounded old. Sad. Woven with a language I didn't know, but felt like it remembered me.
"Kael," I said, voice barely above a whisper.
He looked up.
"Have you ever seen something coming… before it did?"
He studied me for a moment. "Yes. And it still hit harder than I expected."
I nodded slowly, resting my head against the cool stone behind me. The forest grew quiet again. Too quiet.
Kael's hand drifted toward the bow at his side.
I sat up straighter. "What is it?"
He didn't answer right away. Then—
"Stay down."
A low growl echoed from the edge of the clearing. Not a wolf. Bigger. Heavier.
Eyes—three of them—glowed from behind the brush.
The first test had arrived.
And it wasn't going to wait until morning.